SEASON 1 ; EPISODE 16 ┈•
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𓍢 ━━ ❪ ACT ONE of BOHEMIAN ❫ ˖୧
❝ DON'T YOU HAVE A GIFT? ❞

     Bowie felt like a child standing in that doorway. His body burned and screamed on the inside, as he unnoticeably shaking on the outside — like he was reacting to a cold breeze. His eyes felt heavy with tears, the panicked kind. The overwhelming kind.

     Like a child.

     He couldn't help but feel betrayed when Dean met John halfway across the room and hugged him. A tight hug of a relieved son showing affection towards his father so quickly.

     Bowie felt betrayed.

     Unfortunately, that betrayed turned to anger.

     He tilts his head at their interaction, suddenly amused by his brother's true colors as he ran his tongue against the inside of his bottom lip.

     He was tired of feeling crazy for despising John.

     Still, Bowie said nothing.

     The old flash of a scared little boy with shaggy little curls that took his place— the shaking, cowering in his oversized flannel shirt that dangled off of his bony shoulder, his eyes down boy— was gone quicker than he appeared.

     Now he was an adult, newly twenty-five in the same clothes, fit like a glove, hair against his forehead in sweaty waves. He holds the bleeding wounds on his chest with the press of his palm. His eyes forward, hard.

     Angry.

     God, he was so angry.

     He forces his eyes to burn into John skull. Still, Bowie stays quiet, stays firm.

     Sam goes next, slowly and cautiously.

     "Hi, Sam," John greets warmly.

     "Hi, Dad," He nods, dropping his bag down. He doesn't hug him, too on edge. The last time he saw his father was in Bowie's position, going away to college.

     "It was a trap," Dean reports, "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

     "It's all right," John says, "I thought it might have been."

     Bowie frowns. Don't say anything, don't say a word.

     "Were you there?" Dean asked.

     "Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take a swan dive," He nods, giving a smile, "She was the bad guy, right?"

     "Yes sir," Sam and Dean reply.

     Sam's eyes diverted to Bowie, who now stood behind John, with them on the other side. The distance from him scared Sam.

     For a second, Sam was a little boy, standing beside Dean. He would cower at John's yelling, his back turned away from Bowie— who was always on the other side alone.

     Bowie was always on the other side alone.

     "Uh," Sam clears his throat, his feet carrying him around his father and hovers near Bowie, "We all went in completely blind."

     John's eyes followed him as he moved, "It doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before."

     There it was.

     The eye contact.

     Bowie locks eyes with John. Cold hazel eyes on honey. A challenge—or at least that was how Bowie perceived it as— on who would blink first.

     The young hunter's eyes narrowed sharp, the adrenaline of fear and the loss of blood creating his sudden arrogance. He could hear his heartbeat in his head, tense.

     A sting of confusion builds when John looks away first, continuing to ignore him.

     Was that a test? Bowie thinks. Was it a power play? Some kind of manipulation tactic?

     "The demon has?" Sam asked.

     John confirms with a nod, "It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exercise it or send it back to Hell, actually kill it."

     Bowie frowns, How?

     "How?" Dean asked.

     "I'm working on that," He smiles.

     "Let us come with you, we'll help," Sam requests.

     Dean looks at him with a glare.

     "No, Sam," John's expression goes firm, "You can't. Listen, try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in the crossfire. I don't want you to get hurt."

     It hurts holding back to scoff Bowie desperately wanted to release at those words.

     "Dad, you don't have to worry about us." Sam promised.

     "Of course I do," John sounds teary-eyed, and it makes Bowie confused, "I'm your father."

     Bowie feels his fingernails dig into his chest, making him lightheaded. He knew the pain in his heart came from the cuts on his skin, but when John spoke like that to them it made the pain worse.

     Dean seems to notice now, that Bowie didn't look so good. Sam was clawed at the face, Dean was thrown around, but Bowie had put up a fight, he had taken the most.

     He's been clutching his wound for at least an hour now.

     "Listen, Sammy," John began, "The last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight." — Sam recalls it well— "It's good to see you again. It's been a long time."

     "Too long," Sam agrees.

     "But of course, not as long as Bowie here," John turns to face him, giving a warming chuckle, "What? Did you go mute too, boy? Or can you say hi?"

     The way he said his name made Bowie feel the kind of discomfort that weakened his knees— or possibly the blood loss.

     Bowie says nothing, grabbing onto the counter top with a blood fist.

     "Oh I see," John drags, coming close, "You fighting those urges to wrap your hands around my throat huh?" He says it in a light-hearted way, but that wasn't how anyone took it.

     "Don't." Bowie forced out.

     Sam and Dean hold their breath like second nature, eyes on John. They wonder if he's going to do something, that thought alone makes Dean step forward just a little.

     John simply laughs, "Don't? You spent all this time looking for me and now you want me gone? You got close to me. Real close. That photo at the gas station, I'm impressed you had me flagged. You have a gift." He continued.

     A gift.

     He calls the things he drilled into Bowie's young brain as a gift. You should be blessed. That's what John meant.

     That praise alone still sounded bitter on John's tongue, a hit of annoyance lingered but he continued to smile, continuing to pretend in front of his boys.

     That was his play, he realized. To pretend. To pretend like the things he had done didn't hurt Bowie— like they never existed.

     Ignorance hurts more than acknowledgment.

     "Answer me, boy!" John snaps a little, still holding his smile, "Don't you have a gift?"

     "I. . ." Bowie starts, not knowing what to say as his blinks slowed, "It's just something I picked up."

     Picked up. That was a jab. Not taught, not learned. Picked up. Bowie wouldn't give him the credit, the satisfaction of being reminded that John drilled those abilities into his mind.

     It was the way the Government tracked. The way the people in the shadows find people with quick clicks of buttons and even quicker clips of bullets.

     John's jaw noticeably clenched.

     Dean goes to change the subject, "Bowie maybe we should get you stitched up—"

     John gets thrown into the kitchen by something in the shadows.

     Sam is knocked down, then Dean.

     Bowie is still near the kitchen table, right beside John. He feels a cold phantom hand tug him back on the ground, his grip loosening around his arm to catch himself.

     A slash on his upper cheek appears in the corner of his face in warning. Daeva's hands pin John against the cabinets, slashing against his skin.

     Bowie feels like his eyes are going to roll in the back of his head.

     "Shut your eyes!" Sam screams, grabbing a flare in the duffle bag, "These things are Shadow Demons, so let's light 'em up!"

     He drops the flare on the ground, and the whole room is blinding white.

     Dean calls for John first, then Bowie, searching through the light until he sees his little brother half-asleep on the ground, bleeding everywhere.

     "Bowie?!" Dean panics.

     "Dean!" John calls out. His father was closer to the door, a cut on his head and kicking towards the exit.

     Dean hesitates.

     Sam doesn't, slugging the duffle bag over his shoulder and pulling Bowie up on his other side, "Come on, grab Dad!"

     Escaping the motel was the easy part, the adrenaline had kicked in for most of them and Bowie was still breathing and conscious by the time they got to the Impala.

     "All right, come on. We don't have too much time," Sam drops Bowie against the tire to open the car door, "As soon as the flare's out, they'll be back!"

     "Sam, wait! Wait!" Dean ushers, his heart leaping. The eldest rushes to Bowie, grabbing his face, "Bowie? How long have you been bleeding out? Since the damn warehouse? You idiot."

     Bowie held eye-contact, heavy breathing. He didn't want to get into the backseat with John, he didn't want to be there.

     And Dean knew that.

     "Dad, you can't come with us," Dean spoke up.

     "What? What are you talking about?" Sam snaps.

     "You boys, you're beat to hell," John announced, going to crouch down near them but Bowie pushes his head away.

     "We'll be alright," Dean tells him.

     "Dean, we should stick together! We'll go after those demons—"

     "Sam, listen to me!" Dean bellows, "Bowie is going to die and we almost got Dad killed in there. Do you understand that? They're not gonna stop. They're gonna try again and we can't protect Bowie like this, he needs our help. They're gonna use us to get to Dad again. Meg was right, dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He's stronger without us around."

     "Dad, no," Sam turns to him, "After everything. After all the time we spent looking for you, please. I've got to be a part of this fight."

     "Sammy, this fight is just starting, and we are all gonna have a part to play," John tells them, looking down at Bowie for a moment, "All of us. For now, you've got to trust me, son. Okay? You've got to let me go."

     Sam nods, holding back tears. He missed his father overall, how couldn't he. The youngest band of brothers trying to walk in all their footsteps at once.

     So, he pulls back. Letting John go.

     "Come on, help me get Bowie in the car," Sam says.

     He'd been hospitalized overnight with severe wounds on his stomach, chest and face. Sam and Dean lied their way through Bowie's treatments and took shifts watching him every two hours. He's been in and out of consciousness since, seeing glimpses of his brothers every now and then.

Which is why Bowie was surprised to wake up and find them both gone.

     Their things weren't in the corner of the room, Dean's candy wrappers, Sam's paper scraps. All of it, as if it didn't exist.

His eyes finally steadied, the smell of strong sanitizer stinging his nose as he took a deep breath in. Slowly, he sits up, his hands rubbing against the wraps on his chest as he looked around the dim-lit room.

     Sam and Dean were really gone.

     Bowie grabbed his hearing aids off the dinner tray, letting the discomfort of new sounds to pass, only to hear nothing. Even when he turned the volumes up slow.

     "Finally! You're awake!"

     He turns his head to the door and the face of a familiar dark pixie cut comes into view. Jasper's smirking face is on Bowie, the boy holding a tray of food from the cafeteria, placing a bucket full of cleaning supplies behind the door.

     "Sam and Dean said it would be hours but I guess you proved them wrong." Jasper goes on, placing the tray at the bottom of Bowie's bed.

     The Hunter blinks slow, "Jasper. ."

     The boy blinks back, "Yeah? Man, you really ghosted me a few months ago! I thought you died," He paused, "Or found me annoying—"

     "Where are my brothers?" Bowie cuts in, grimacing at his sore body as he tried to get out of bed.

     "Woah relax!" Jasper tries to steady him, "You got jumped by a group of muggers! You gotta take it easy."

     "'Muggers?" Bowie scoffs.

     "That's what your brothers said. Slashed right through your chest."

     Those idiots lie for a living and the best thing they came up with is muggers? He looks like a Freddy Krueger victim. Bowie was surprised they didn't put him in the Psych ward with how Sam and Dean dragged him in.

     "Right," Bowie nods, sitting back down, pulling down the hospital gown to reveal a clearly healed chest, like it didn't exist.

Bowie's eyes widened.

Jasper frowned, "How is that possible? I saw them when they pulled you in?"

Did I do that?, Bowie thinks.

"Uh, um, were they with someone? An older guy?"

     Jasper frowns, "No. They were alone."

     "How did you get here?" Bowie demands, narrowing his eyes at the boy. It was too much of a coincidence with Sam seeing Meg again.

"Your brother's called," He crossed his arms, "Said they needed to go on a family business trip and couldn't watch you. Why? Think I'm stalking ya or something?"

"Maybe," Bowie shoots back, finally forcing himself back on his feet and grabbing his jeans. They went on a hunting trip without him? Low blow. "No offense, Jasp, but why would they call you? And not Katherine?"

Jasper crossed his arms, "Last I checked, J comes before K in the phone contacts."

At that, Bowie patted down his pockets, they took his phone. They must've been so in a rush that they called the first person they saw and left.

Great, with them closing in on the demon, Bowie was being benched and stuck with someone who doesn't have a clue about what was going on.

In Bowie's eyes, they were putting Jasper in danger. A teenager. All without a second thought. Did they stop to think that separating wasn't a good idea after what Meg pulled? Did they not care?

"I need to find my brothers," He says.

"Can't," Jasper responds, "You're on the Psychiatric floor, it's 4 in the morning, there's guards at every exit."

     Great.

     "You need to stay until you're checked out and discharged in two days, or wait for your brothers in the morning!" Jasper finished.

     Sam and Dean aren't coming. Bowie knew it deep down. They were going on without him, finishing the puzzle that they begged him to find the pieces for.

     It made him angry.

     Bowie pressed his nails into his palms, the familiar twitching coming back, "I can't wait that long. I need to find them before they get any farther."

     Jasper sighed, "I'm trying to help—"

     "Well you're not!" Bowie snapped angrily, causing the boy to flinch back. The Hunter instantly softened, his hands falling to the side, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I know you're trying to help me. Thank you for coming this far."

     "Just a town over," Jasper shrugged, "I'm staying with my dad for two months, then going back to my mom's. It's a system!"

     He nods, sitting back down on the bed, "Well, now that I'm up you don't have to watch me anymore," He says nonchalantly, leaning back on his hands, "You can go."

     The teenager raised an eyebrow, "I'm no idiot, I know you're gonna try to escape the second I leave."

He deflates in annoyance, "Don't you have school or something?"

"Homeschooled."

"Ugh." Bowie rolls his neck. Then, a lightbulb goes off in his brain and he sits up, "If you're gonna stay, can you please get me a drink?"

Jasper narrowed his eyes, and pushed the hospital tray of food he brought in with a small plastic cup of warm apple juice.

"I'm more of an orange juice guy."

Jasper gives him a look of 'You can't be serious.'

"I was just mugged," Bowie reminds far too happily for a man who could be mugged, "I think a chocolate milk is in order here."

"Fine," He holds out his hand. Bowie just looks at it, "I don't have change."

He clenched his jaw, grabbing his wallet from his iconic red jacket draped on a chair and handed him three dollars.

The second the door closed behind Jasper, the Hunter made a dash for his shoes in the corner.

     He thinks about his brothers. Where they were, why they didn't leave a note, why they're such idiots, if they're okay.

     He also thinks about John. Why wasn't he with them, why did he let them walk into a trip, why didn't Bowie say more.

     He hated it being so weak near John. Anger was only a shield that got him so far. He wanted to heal from John, stay away from him.

     Which he thought he was doing perfectly after college outside of Sam's little snitch fit in his first year at college.

     Bowie stops. Maybe if Sam hadn't snitched on him, maybe if he had never given Sam his address he wouldn't be here. In a hospital planning an escape to chase them across state lines for a demon.

     His heart stung. Hating himself for thinking a poisonous thought about his little brother. It brought tears to his eyes.

     He wanted Sam to come with him, he was willing to pick up extra shifts and do his classes just so Sam could live with him, and he could afford his little brother's school supplies. He wanted Sam to be safe.

     He wouldn't allow himself to feel regret for trying to give Sam a way out.

"Seriously?"

     Bowie blinked, turning to him with a frown, "Huh?"

     "You're trying to escape right now?" Jasper adds, holding up a small bottle of cold chocolate milk.

     "Don't take it personal," He answered, catching the chocolate milk that Jasper throws. He looks down at it, frowning at the already pre-twisted cap.

Jasper shrugged, "I took a sip, sue me."

He rolls his eyes, drinking it anyway.

After that, Jasper had convinced Bowie to stay until morning, the two asking each other questions back and forth until they were both comfortable across from each other, playing cards.

Bowie told him as much as he could without spilling his secret. Like his life at school, his good memories with Bobby Singer, how he met Katherine, his experience at college.

Jasper told him about his parents divorce, and how his father got custody of him even though he wanted to be with his mom. Drug addiction aside, Jasper's mother accepted his transition faster than his dad.

He explained how he realized he wasn't a girl, and what that was like for him at school in a generation where most people still believed AIDS is only given to gay people. Apparently, Jasper's school tried to shove those things down his throat when he started showing up in boy clothes.

He felt comfortable enough to share his deadname with Bowie, a secret that will stay between them.

As the hour dragged on, the more harder it got for Bowie to keep his eyes open.

The more Jasper found it harder to suppress his tears and guilt.

It was then Bowie realized that no nurses had come to check on him, no calls from his brothers.

Out of place, in isolation.

How did Jasper get here again? Car did he say? He's seventeen— is his dad not worried? His mom?

"Jasp. ." He trailed, realizing how hard it was for him to speak.

"I'm sorry," Jasper responds, pressing his hand to his mouth as he slowly got off the bed, "I had to.."

Bowie tries to get out of bed, but it's hard for him to move, "What?"

"He has my mom. . .he said I had to o-or he'd kill her!" He tried explaining in a fumble.

Bowie blinked, "This. . ." His dazed eyes looked at the assistance remote, clicking the help button. It didn't work, it wasn't even plugged in, "Isn't a hospital?"

That's the last words Bowie had uttered before his eyes rolled back and his head dropped against the pillow, the remote slipping from his hand.

     He woke up in what felt like seconds later, but three hours had passed and morning was stretching from the small window in the corner.

     Jasper is gone.

     For a second, he thinks it was a bad blood loss trip.

     That he's in a real hospital, and his brothers are just outside ready for him to get in the Impala and go.

     Then the second passed, and he knows that something is watching him.

     The hairs on his neck stand, his eyes narrowed to the door. Something tells him to go, urges him.

His feet are moving before his brain could register it, grabbing at his aching chest as he pulled the door open.

     The halls are empty, not a single person in sight.

     Bowie swallows thickly, going up to the counter and grabbing the heavy metal hole puncher off the table, weighting it in his hand for a good grip.

     He picks a hall, and walks down it.

     It was an abandoned hospital, two floors, things scattered everywhere, flipped over and broken, graffiti on the walls.

His room was the only one cleaned up, the only one that could fool him.

     "Jasper?" Bowie calls. He wants the creature to know he's near, whoever had control of Jasper, who ever wanted to play games, "Jasper, you out here?"

     He opens the double doors slowly, in a little square between another set of doors to a different wing. It was locked with chains and warning signs.

     A dead end.

     "Hello, Mian."

     Bowie stops, his heart dropping in his stomach. That voice, that familiar drawling voice from the back of his mind. One he heard as a child and forced out until recently, "No. ."

     "Yes," Azazel smiles, looking at Bowie with his haunting yellow eyes, "Oh, yes. Welcome to the real stage of your training, kiddo."

:D