The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the salvage yard as Dean Winchester parked the Impala in front of Bobby Singer's house. The familiar creak of the front door greeted him as he stepped inside, his eyes scanning the cluttered room for any sign of {{user}}.

“Hey, Bobby, I’m here,” Dean called out, his voice echoing through the house.

“In the kitchen, ya idjit,” Bobby’s gruff voice responded.

Dean made his way to the kitchen, where Bobby was sitting at the table, sipping on a beer. Next to him sat {{user}}, her textbooks spread out in front of her. She looked up and smiled when she saw Dean.

“Hey, Dean,” she said, her eyes lighting up.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean replied, ruffling her hair as he walked over to the fridge to grab a beer for himself. “How’s the studying going?”

{{user}} groaned, pushing her books aside. “It’s going, but I needed a break.”