❛ ⋆ ˚｡ ꗃ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏.𝟐𝟖 | . . . ❜ 🔪 ࿐
🔦 👻 ❪ 𝗲𝗽𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗱𝗲 23, 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝟬𝟭 ❫
' this life has done tore you
up and spit you out.'

Three brothers, driving down the highway out of Salvation, Iowa, had no real direction to go. They had more questions than answers. It seems every time they uncover what felt like the truth; it only left them stumbling in the dark. 

John was missing. Kidnapped, actually. Meg and her goons got to him, and Bowie knew that meant Azazel wasn't far behind. At least they still had the Colt, for now.

Bowie grabs the benchseat, feeling Dean swerve the car at unforgiving speeds, "You wanna ease up on the breaks there, De?" He feels his breakfast coming up.

"I'm telling you, Dean, we could've taken him." Sam clenched his jaw.

"What we need is a plan," Dean corrects. "They're probably keeping Dad alive we just gotta figure out where, they're gonna want to trade him for the gun."

Sam scoffs, "If that were true, why didn't Meg mention a trade? Dad, he might be-"

"Don't."

"Look, I don't want to believe it more than you but if he is, all the more reason to kill the damn thing!" Sam bellows.

"Stop yelling!" Bowie snaps, "Meg wants us to act erratic. She wants us to run in half-cooked, so that we all die. Dean's right, we need a plan." 

Dean motions to Bowie in thanks, giving Sam a look.

"But we still have the Colt! We can still finish the job!"

"Screw the job, Sam!" Dean snaps.

"Dean, I'm just trying to do what he would want. He'd want us to keep going." Sam falters.

Bowie closes his eyes, leaning back in exhaustion, "The last thing your Dad would've wanted, is for one of you to end up dead."

"Would you two quit talking about him like he's dead already?" Dean huffs, "Listen to me! Everything stops until we get him back. Everything."

Sam takes a long moment to collect himself, keeping his head down as he accepts Dean's rule over the situation, "So... how do we find him?"

"Maybe we go to Lincoln."

"You really think these demons are gonna leave a trail?" Sam questions, doubtful.

"If they did, I'll find it." Bowie vows.

Great, back to square one. Finding John Winchester.

"As good as that is, we'll need help." Dean frowns, glancing at Bowie in the backseat, "And I know just the guy." 

Sioux Falls, South Dakota, will always be considered Bowie's birthplace. It was the residence of the father he's always known, where a home connected to a scrap yard was the only place Bowie was able to be himself.

Bobby Singer was a spitfire. Every Hunter you've ever crossed has met him, been saved by him, or straight up know his legacy as the 'go-to' Hunter when shit hits the fan.

He was also a father of three. If you could believe it.

Bowie was already out of the Impala before it came to a full stop in the lot, ignoring Dean's calls for him as he happily passed Rumsfeld. The Rottweiler barked in excitement, curious as to why Bowie's brown Lab wasn't with him.

Bowie knocks on the door in rapid hits. By the time Sam and Dean walked up to the porch, Bobby was swinging the door open with a gun pointed out.

"Bobby. ." Bowie greets breathlessly.

Bobby slowly lowers his gun, opening the door. His eyes looked wide, horrified at the sight of Bowie. 

Truly, the young hunter didn't think he looked that bad.

Bobby's perspective was a different one. Bowie's shirt hung off his boney collar, exposing the bruises and knicks from hunts. His eyes were sunken, lips cut and chapped, he was pale. 

If Bobby didn't know any better, he'd say he was reliving a memory of a 13-year-old Bowie showing up at his doorstep.

"My god, boy. . ." Bobby whispers rawly, grabbing Bowie's face gently in his hands, "What've they done to ya?"

Dean looks down in utter guilt. 

Bowie's eyes fill with tears at Bobby's gentle touch, leaning into the feeling, "Bobby..." He repeats, "We need-I. ."

"We need your help," Sam finished firmly.

Bobby hums in dismay, "Come on in then."

Bobby demanded that Bowie went up to his old bedroom at take a shower as Sam and Dean filled him in. 

The feeling of taking care of himself was agonizing to Bowie. His shower hurt, putting on clothes was a sore feeling. Brushing his teeth felt like a chore. However, when it was all over, he looked more like himself. 

His clothes from eighteen, now fit like a glove. His childhood bedroom was still the same. Same easels, school awards, old fidget toys and knickknacks. Bobby didn't change a damn thing.

"Looking fresh, Bow." Dean tries to compliment, handing him a small cup of whiskey. 

Bowie looks down at the glass, and swallows his desire, shaking his head and making a bee-line to his spot on the couch. "Thanks," He mutters, pulling at his shirt that felt skin-tight on him, showcasing the well-developed hunter's bod.

Bobby walks into the room, handing Dean one of two identical flasks, "Here."

"Is this Holy Water?" Dean questions.

"That one is. This is Whiskey," Bobby answers, holding up his own flask and taking a sip, pulling a face as he walked up to Bowie and handed him a bowl of eggs, "You eat something, I ain't asking."

Bowie nods slowly, picking at his eggs.

"Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything." Dean swells, pulling Bobby aside. "To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure if we should come. Then Bowie. . ." He trails off, glancing at his little brother, "He really needed ya, Bobby. I made a mistake, bringing him along." Dean admits in a whisper, feeling the urge to cry.

"Nonsense. Your daddy needs help. You all need help," Bobby grabs his shoulder firmly, "And I'll give it to ya, on one condition."

Dean falters, Bobby was never one to make deals, "Anything."

"Bowie stays here, with me. If you two really wanna go after John, I'll help ya, but that boy stays with me. No ifs or buts." 

Dean instantly nodded, thankful, "He's yours."

"Damn straight," Bobby agrees. 

"You know, the last time Sam and I saw you, you did threaten to blast John full of buckshots." Dean jokes, "You cocked that shotgun and everything."

They both remembered why.

Bobby sighs, "Yeah, well what can I say? John just has that effect on people. None of that matters now, all that matters is that you and Sam get your daddy back."

Sam looks up from Bobby's hunting books, "Bobby, this book is like nothing I've ever seen before."

Bowie perks up at this, getting to his feet to read over Sam's shoulder, "Key of Solomon?" He reads out, frowning, "Nah, that's not real."

"Oh, it's the real deal, all right." Bobby explains.

Sam points to the drawings, "And these protective circles, they really work?"

"Hell yeah, you get a demon in one? They're trapped. Powerless. It's like a satanic roach motel." He educates.

Bowie hums, running his finger along the drawing, taking note of the scorpion in the middle, "I can draw this once we get there, anywhere really." He nods firmly, grabbing some spray paint of the table and walking into the living room, still able to hear their conversation.

Dean and Bobby glanced at each other.

"Man knows his stuff," Dean praised.

"I'll tell you somethin' else, too. This is some serious crap you boys stepped in." Bobby frowns. 

Ah, here came the fatherly speech on safety.

"On a normal year, I hear, say, three demonic possessions? Maybe four, tops. This year I heard of 27 so far." He sighs, "You three get what I'm saying? More and more demons are walking among us, a lot more."

"Do you know why?" Sam frowns.

"No, but I know it's something big." 

Bowie's whole body clenched, feeling that familiar phantom that reminds him to keep his mouth shut. Or else. Bobby noticed his change immediately.

"A storm is coming, and you three boys, your daddy? You're all smack in the middle of it." He concludes.

Rumsfeld's bark made everyone stiffen. 

Bobby rushes to the window, the dog nowhere to be seen. 

"Something's not right," Bowie feels, frowning as the goosebumps on his skin started rising, jumping off the couch where he was spray painting the ceiling.

The front door is blasted open by a single kick. Meg smiles widely at them, sporting her familiar red jacket and blonde pixie cut.

Bowie wasted no time, grabbing his knife and throwing it airborne. It lands directly into her skull, and she laughs, pulling it out. 

"Oh, come on, Bow, you didn't really think that would work, did you?" She laughs. "No more crap, okay?" She throws the knife on the floor, healing her face.

Dean tries next, ready to throw Holy Water at her. Meg flings him across the room.

"I want the Colt. The real Colt, right now." She demands.

Sam is covering Bobby, "We don't have it on us. We buried it." He lies.

"Didn't I say no more crap?" She drawls, following them slowly as they backed up into the living room. "I swear, after everything I've heard about you Winchesters, I've got to tell you, I'm a little underwhelmed." She turns to Bowie, smirking and racking up his body shamelessly, "Well. . .accept you. You lived up to your hype until about say. . .five days ago?" She giggles, proving that she knew about his deal.

Bowie reddens.

"What is she talking about?" Sam mutters to him.

"Oh, they don't know. I forgot," She smirks, "Guess we're keeping that plot twist in the back pocket for a different occasion." 

"Shut up, bitch, or I'll skin you." Bowie replies darkly.

Meg shivers, "God, I almost believe that. Leash boy. First Johnny tries to pawn off your fake gun, almost had me there, and then he leaves the real gun with you three chuckleheads."

Bowie puts a hand out in front of his little brother.

"I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find you?" She drawls, "Considering one of you is basically a mirror. Predictable at best."

"We were counting on it," Dean replies from behind Meg, trailing his attention up to the ceiling.

Her eyes follow, where fresh paint trapped Meg in the perfect circle.

"Gotcha," Dean smirks, "Bowie, strap the bitch down."

"My pleasure." 

With Meg tied to a chair, the brothers felt like they finally got the upper hand. They stood side by side in front of her, arms crossed, game faces on. Bowie played with his knife for kicks, glaring at Meg in warning.

"If you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask." Meg flirts.

"You can try and get out of them, but I have my knot badge." Bowie smirks.

Dean jerks a thumb at him, "Self-taught boy scout, bitch!"

Bobby walks in with a gallon of salt, "I salted the doors and windows. If there are any demons out there, they ain't getting in."

"Where's our father, Meg?" 

Meg glares at Dean, "You didn't ask very nice."

"Would you still want to be asked nicely when I cut your fingers off one at a time?" Bowie asked nonchalantly.

"Mm, sure a waste of this pretty host, don't you think?" 

"Where's our father, Bitch?" Dean demands again.

"Ooo, do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh, I forgot. You don't."

Dean gets in her face, "Hey you think this is a fucking game?! Where is he? What did you do to him?!"

"He died screaming. I killed him myself." Meg vows.

The silence is suffocating. 

And yet, Bowie's shoulders sag in relief. 

Dean slaps her across the face.

"Oo, that's kind of a turn on, you hitting a girl." Meg drawls. 

"You're no girl." Dean mutters.

"Dean," Bobby walks out of the room, and all three of them follow.

"You okay?" Sam asked him.

"She's lying, he's not dead." Dean instantly replies.

"That's not what we asked." Bowie firms, grabbing his shoulder, "Are you okay?" He emphasized.

"No." Dean admits, searching Bowie's eyes for some strength. 

Bowie squeezed back, showing support, "If you don't think he's dead, then he isn't. We'll find him."

"Dean, you've got to be careful with her. Don't hurt her," Bobby explains.

"Why?"

"Because she really is a girl, that's why." Bobby pressed, "She's possessed. She's a human possessed by a demon; can't you tell?"

"Doesn't matter," Bowie cuts in darkly, "We watched that bitch fall off a seven-story building. Hell, I gave her a lobotomy just for stepping in here, whoever that girl is, is gone." 

Dean agrees, "You trynna tell us there's some poor innocent girl trapped somewhere in there?" 

"I'm trying to tell you," Bowie continued, frustrated, "Maybe in her head, or her soul, but that body? It's gone. She'll die either way." 

Dean thinks long and hard, "Maybe that's some good news." 

"How?" 

"We can talk to her. Exorcise Meg out of her, that way we all win. That girl isn't possessed anymore." 

"Yeah, just dead." Bobby replies. 

Bowie thinks back on his conversation with Azazel, a spark of realization coming to him, "Wait a minute." He turns around, closing his eyes and trying to remember.

"Bow, what's wrong?" Bobby questions, worried.

"Shh, let me think." Bowie holds a hand out.

     "You ever wonder why you just know when you're in danger? Your senses amplified at birth?"

     There had been a point where Mary and John thought he was mute, but maybe the reason Bowie was always so quiet, so observant, so cautious as a child, was because — well, it was because he wasn't human. Not completely.

     Not when he could hear the calls of Angels in seashells.

     Not when fields of flowers swayed in the same rhythm as him.

     As if he was created by the hands of God.

     "Inhuman strength, healing the sick, hell maybe even walking on water—" Azazel cuts himself off to laugh at the thought of that kind of born power, "Helping people only to die and resurrect even stronger every time like a phoenix from the ashes!"

     Bowie is shaking for control of his body, trying to stable his breathing, "Like," He heaves, "S-some kind of Jesus?"

     "If the shoe fits," Azazel smirks. "You're crazy," He chokes, "People don't just. . . come back from the dead. . . like nothing. A-And last I checked, I didn't make a deal so whatever John did, I can undo!"

     "Why do you Winchester's fail to see the bigger picture?" Azazel asked, "Oh, right, you're not a Winchester. Are you?"

Bowie opens his eyes, "Dean, give me your phone."

Dean instantly hands it over, "Why?" 

"Bowie, what's going on?" Sam frowns.

"Sam, this is gonna be a weird ability thing." He replies, and Sam instantly understands.

"I'm sorry, what now?" Bobby speaks in.

Dean waves between Sam and Bowie, like it was no big deal, "Psychic visions, and super-strength or somethin' Supermanish. We think it has something to do with Yellow Eyes." 

Bowie drags down the contact list, before click on one.

"Dean?" Layla Rourke's healthy laughing voice answers, "I didn't think you'd call."

"Oh, hey Layla, it's actually Bowie." The hunter falters in surprise.

Sam and Dean instantly turn to each other.

"Layla? Like Layla from the Reaper case?" Dean whispers.

"I thought she only had a few months left to live? She should've been long gone by now." Sam whispers back, trying to understand how.

"Bowie, uh. Hello, is something wrong?" 

"That's kinda what I thought you could explain," Bowie admits, "I don't mean to come off rude, Layla, but I didn't think anyone would be around to pick up this phone."

"Yeah," She sighs happily, "A few days after you left, I went into the hospital for my normal check-ins," Bowie instantly puts her on speaker so the others can listen, "When I went in, it was like one of the Revenant's miracles. My brain tumor was gone. All of my cells had somehow been tumor free. I guess that's what happens when you have faith, right?" 

Bowie smiles softly, "Layla, I'm glad to hear you're alive and well. Thanks for picking up." 

"No worries."

Bowie hangs up and looks at his brothers with wide eyes.

"How is Layla alive?!" Sam instantly questions.

"I thought we killed the damn thing! And Sue Ann. Who could've had the juice to do something like that?" Dean adds in.

Bowie stares at the phone in shock, "Me."

"You?" Bobby repeats, "What are you on about?" 

"I bumped into her, when I went to grab a drink. A regular drink," He adds in before Bobby could complain, "Anywho, I dropped it, we both went to pick it up and I...I felt her skin-" 

"Uh, dude." Dean reels back in disgust.

"Not-, like that dumbass. I'm saying without meaning to, I think my touch healed her." He explains, "When the Reaper killed me-"

"Excuse me?! Killed you?" Bobby bellows, clenching his heart.

"Just," Bowie holds out a hand, closing his eyes to gather his thoughts. He had to step lightly, he couldn't handle another demonic seizure, "When my heart stopped, it came back on its own. I died. It unlocked something else in me, I don't know what. I can't explain it. But I did heal Layla... and I think we can save this girl." 

Dean thinks, "On the scarecrow case. When that Sherrif shot you, you bled out and died. I heard your heart stop; I knew it did. I just convinced myself I was so worried about you that I was just tricking myself. After that, it was like you needed no EMF, no weapon, no nothing. You got us through that apple maze and straight to the source."

"So, you're sayin', every time ya die. . ." Bobby trails.

"I'm reborn." Bowie whispers.

"What are you?" Dean asks the real question.

"How did you figure all this out?" Sam adds.

Bowie shakes his head, unable to answer. He couldn't. Bowie wouldn't have known about himself if it wasn't for Azazel.

A sickening twist.

"Well, whatever this is, whatever's happening to you, Bowie." Bobby emphasized, "We'll figure it out. Could just be some ghost sickness."

"Is that a thing?" Dean's eyes widen. 

Bobby shrugs, "I dunno."

"Wait, does this mean you can't die? Immortality?" Sam pressed.

"You're overwhelming me, man. Are we gonna save this chick or not?" Bowie chances the subject with a bounce of his feet.

Dean nods, "One problem at a time. If you think you can do it, we should try."

They walk into the room, but Bobby grabs Bowie by the arm, stopping him last minute and dragging him to the side.

"No. No way in hell." Bobby firms.

"Bobby, you don't understand." Bowie falters.

"I know enough!" He replies, "You died, boy. Twice, if I recall. Now, I don't know what's going on with ya, but this," He motions to Bowie's figure, "Whatever this is, it ain't to be messed with."

"Dad," Bowie whispers brokenly, and Bobby instantly straightens, "I gotta stop this demon. This might sound crazy, but I've felt different since I was a kid. I didn't know what was wrong with me, it was like. . .I couldn't be a normal person. I felt too much, I knew too much. The frequency I'm on," He motions to his head, feeling broken, "Whatever's in my head has been here long before anything else. It'll never stop."

     Bowie grabs Bobby by the shirt, his voice raw and gentle, "I can stop this. This demon has a new hold on us, on-" He feels his throat close, out of his control, "On me." He forced out, "And it won't stop until it's dead. It has to die." 

"You'll die." Bobby reminds, grabbing the sides of his face roughly, "Damnit, boy! You'll die! It's killing you. This life has done tore you up and spit you out, and I can't stand for it! You sound just like John when you talk like that, and he ain't your daddy. I can take that talk from your brothers, but not from you. You've worked too hard for this! This universe has done no good for you since the moment you enter this dammed world. But you're a gift to it, boy! Not a damn soldier!"

Bowie looks down at his hands, his face growing hard, his eyes darkening, "If you try to stop me, it won't end well. I'm doing this," He pierced into his eyes, and Bobby falters in. . .fear. "Yellow Eyes will die, and this will be over, we'll be free. Whoever gets in the way of that? Well, just try not to." 

He walks past Bobby, and into the room.

"What? You gonna read me a bedtime story?" Meg drawls.

"Something like that. Hit it, Sam." Dean commands.

Sam starts the Exorcism, reading from the pages he was forced to study. The words didn't flow on his tongue the way it did as a child, but it was enough. 

"An Exorcism? Are you serious?" Meg seemed annoyed at the thought.

"Oh, we're going for it, baby. Head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards." Dean remarks.

Meg groans as the pain starts to surface, "I'm gonna kill you." She vows, "I'm gonna rip the bones from your body."

Dean gets eye leveled with her, "No. You're gonna burn in Hell. Unless you tell us where our dad is." She doesn't answer. Dean tries to keep his anger in check, "Well, at least you'll get a nice tan."

He motions for Bowie to start. Reluctantly, Bowie walks up to Meg, crouching on one knee as he slowly placed each hand on her tied wrists. 

He refuses to make eye contact with Meg, and every part of him wished he could use this power without touching anyone at all.

"Aww, you gonna hold my hand?" Meg drawls, "We can do more than that, you know?" 

Bowie clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, staying focused.

Sam keeps chanting. Bowie puts all of his energy on the concept of healing. The more he pushed himself, the more he felt the energy tingle from the bottoms of his feet to the palms of his hands. 

"Is it working?" Dean whispers to him.

"Shhh." Bowie demands, squinting his eyes together. 

He thought about Layla. How easy it was for him to heal her without even trying, or thinking about it. Bowie wouldn't allow himself to fail. If Meg's host had even the slightest chance of survival, he was going to see it through.

"He begged for his life with tears in his eyes!" Meg screams. Her voice was distorted and demonic. Meg was losing her grip, and it only made Bowie more determined. 

Sam stops mid-chant, and Bowie starts to feel his hold break.

"He begged to see his sons one last time. That's when I slit his throat!"

Bowie can feel her, the girl behind the monster. She was there, fading and flickering in the back of her own consciousness like a candle. Bowie latches onto it. He can feel himself pulling her soul back to the surface, healing what damage he could from the inside out.

A bright orange takes over the soft brown hue in his eyes, matching the light that bled from his palms and into Meg's skin. Meg reels back in complete horror, "Keep chanting, Sam! I got her!"

"What the fuck." Dean's eyes widen at Bowie's hands.

Bobby pushed himself off the wall, his mouth slacks open, watching Bowie's eyes flicker. "Ya gotta be kiddin' me."

Sam chants in haste.

"For your sake, I hope you're lying. 'Cause if it's true, I swear to God, I'll will march into Hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God." Dean turns to threaten Meg, feeling the familiar twitch breed into him.

Sam looked scared, but Bowie understood how Dean felt. 

The uncontrollable rage, the shaking fist ready to punch through any monster in the way. 

It was the familiar feeling of having to die with your fists up, or you weren't a man.

The wind in the room picks up, even with all the windows shut. Pages in books began to flip, and the lights flicker over their heads.

Bowie feels a dark tingle from the back of his neck. It wrapped itself slowly around him like a noose, suffocating him. He began to choke on his own tongue, his fingers loosening.

"Bow?" Bobby frowns, stepping forward.

"I got it." Bowie grunts.

"Where is he?" Dean asks Meg quickly.

"You just won't take dead for an answer, will ya?" Meg groans.

"Where is he?!"

"Dead!" 

"No, he's not! He's not dead! He can't be!" Dean screams in her face, letting his emotions get the better of him. He turns to Sam, "What are you looking at? Keep reading!"

Bowie's knees felt weak. He starts to hyperventilate. A black, vine-like goo runs itself around his arms and straight to his palms. He must've been hallucinating, because no one else seemed to comment. 

It was a symbolization, showing him exactly what was taking over.

"Bowie!" Bobby screams, watching the man shake violently in place. He puts his hand on his son's shoulder, "Stop it!"

"We almost got her!" Dean screams at Bobby.

The chair started moving Meg back and forth. Bowie loses his grip, falling backwards as the demon in Meg continued to fight. He rushes back to her, grabbing her by the shoulders to keep her in place.

"He will be! He's no dead, but he will be after what we do to him!" Meg screams.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Dean pressed.

Bobby pried Bowie off Meg.

Bowie turns over his hands, checking for any lingering presence. He couldn't stop them from shaking no matter how hard he tried. 

"You don't."

"Sam!" Dean commands him to start chanting.

"A building!" She cries out, "A building in Jefferson City! Just keep your brother out of my head!" Meg pushed away from Bowie.

In response, Bowie swallows his fear, pushing away from Bobby's grip, and closed the distance between them again. 

He grabs Meg by the center of her head, pressing his thumbs into her temple immediately.

He didn't know what he was doing, but when he set his intention, Meg started to thrash more. She started to scream. 

Was he torturing the demon and saving the soul? He didn't know. All Bowie knew was that Meg was pissing him off, and her screams had become a symphony for his ears.

"Missouri? Where! Where?! Give us an address." Dean demands.

"I don't know!" She sobs.

"And the demon we're looking for? Where is it?" Sam pushed on, wanting as much information out of her until she cracks.

"I don't know I swear!"

"Ease up, Bow." Bobby comments, "She don't know anythin' else."

He hesitates, glaring at Meg before pushing her head back with his palm roughly. Bowie takes his place beside Dean, holding his shaky hands behind his back.

"That's everything. That's all I know." Meg continues breathless. 

"Finish it." Dean orders.

"What?" Meg reels in disgust, "But I told you the truth!"

"Yeah, after you lied a thousand times before that." Bowie replies, "And tried to kill us, as recent as twenty minutes ago!" 

"You son of a bitch! You promise!" Meg turns to Dean.

"I lied!" Dean bellows in her face. "Sam." 

Sam hesitates.

"Sam, read."

Sam pulls them both aside, "Guys, we can still use her. Find out where the Demon is!"

"She doesn't know!" 

"She lied!" Sam defends.

"Sam. There's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there." Dean reminds, "We've got to help her."

"I fixed what I could but her insides are severely fucked." Bowie mutters, feeling a migraine form.

"That girl's body is broken," Bobby walks up, "The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside."

"What Bowie did will work." Sam nods in faith.

"We don't know what Bowie did, not even Bowie!" Dean reminds.

"She's still in there." Bowie confirmed, "We have to try."

"She is a human being." Bobby starts.

"And we're gonna put her out of her misery!" Dean finished, silencing the room. "Sam, finish it."

With great hesitations, Sam grabs the book to finish the chant. Meg's eyes go black. Within seconds, black smoke escapes from Meg's mouth. It flights up into the ceiling, vanishing to Hell in seconds.

Meg, the real Meg, starts to groan and choke. Blood seems from her nose in seconds.

Bowie drops to his knees, touching her a thousand times more gentler.

He grabs her face, making her look at him. She's scared, but he rubs her jaw in comfort. "Stay awake, okay?" He commands softly. "Call an ambulance!" He yells at anyone who would listen. 

"She's alive. . ." Dean replies, shocked, "Bowie, you did it."

Dean couldn't wrap his head around the concept. None of them could.

"Barely," He whispers back. "Come on, Meg, stay awake."

"They're coming!" Bobby answers, still on the phone with the medics.

"Thank you." She mutters, repeating it over and over.

Sam starts to untie her wrists and ankles.

Bowie closed his eyes, trying to focus more energy but his migraine was starting to pound his skull, warning him not to.

Still, he tried anyway.

"I'm gonna keep this hold on you until the ambulance comes," He vows strongly. His hands interlock with hers.

"A year," She strains, "It's been a year. I was awake for some of it. I couldn't move my own body. The things I did. . .It's a nightmare."

"You're awake now." Bowie promised.

"Was it telling us the truth about our dad?" Dean cuts in.

Sam frowns, "Dean."

"We need to know."

Meg nods slow, "Yes. But it wants you to know that they want you to come for him. A trap."

Bowie hears the ambulance overhead, more focused on her life than all the questions, "Stay awake, Meg."

"If Dad's still alive, none of that matters." Dean tells them.

"Where is the demon we're looking for?" Sam adds.

"Oh, great, now it's both of you." Bowie mutters.

"Not there," Meg answers, "Other ones. Awful ones."

"Where are they keeping our dad?" 

"By. . .the river." She answers.

"Okay, we're done here." Bowie swoops her up bridle style.

"Bowie, we need more information!" Dean stands up with him.

Bowie swirls around, "And she needs a fucking hospital! We've hunted on less." He demands.

He walks down to meet the medics. They rush up, a stretcher and IV ready to go. Bowie placed her gently on the stretcher, making sure her arms were in and the pillow was comfortable.

"What happened?" The Medic asked.

"She came to us like this." Bowie lies quickly, "Asking for help. I think she was attacked by an animal."

The Medic nods, ready to move her.

"Wait." Meg grabs his wrist tight.

Bowie shook his head, "You have to go-"

"He's waiting for it," Meg chokes. "For it to fully grow inside your body. Once it takes over. . .there's no going back. You're Azazel's forever." She warns him in tears, "Bowie. You have to fight it. I couldn't. You can."

"We need to take her now." The Medic firms.

Bowie lets her go, not knowing what to say.

"He saved me," Meg cries over and over. "He saved me."

They take her into the ambulance. Just like that, she was gone.

Bowie stands outside the scrapyard, watching it fade off down the road. 

At least he saved a life today. 

When he walks back inside, Bobby and his brothers were talking in hush whispers.

Bowie frowns, unable to hear. "What's the move?" 

They stop whispering.

"We're going to Jefferson City." Dean responds after a long beat.

"Okay, I'm grab my stuff." Bowie goes to walk past them.

"Uh, no..." Sam falters, "We're going to Jefferson City." He repeats, motioning between Dean and him with a heartbroken expression.

Bowie paused, looking between all three of them. A small rage bubbles in his chest, stepping back, "You're trying to bench me?" 

"Bowie. ." Dean starts.

"No. Fuck that!" Bowie scoffs a manic laugh, "You-you can't just go without me. I've been back boning this since day one!"

"And look where that's got ya." Bobby finally speaks, arms crossed. "Don't yell at your brothers. This was my choice."

"No. It's my choice," Bowie corrects, motioning to his chest. "All of this has been my choice! Mine!"

"But it hasn't." Sam steps forward, "It was your choice to help us find John, yeah, but everything else? Dean taking your letter sent you further down the hunting path. Then, when Jess died? You forced yourself to stay because you couldn't bare letting me go through that alone. You've done a thousand things more than just finding our dad." 

"Bowie, you're not sharp, you're sick." Dean says a little more bluntly, still gentle. "Maybe not batshit crazy sick, but actually ill. I can't- no, I won't allow you to dive headfirst into danger like this. I need to keep you safe."

"And what?" His eyes water, "I'm just supposed to sit back and watch you two dive headfirst?" 

Dean puts his hand on Bowie's shoulder and squeezed. Bowie wanted to pull away at the touch, but didn't, "It's time I take care of you. Alright? Stay here, help Bobby with research that'll help us. Doesn't matter if we fight together, we're still winning together."

Bowie hesitates, then nods. 

Suddenly, all the weight on his shoulders was taken off. 

It left him feeling so tired.

Bowie is the one who pulls Dean into a hug, surprising all of them.

He squeezed tight, pulling away just as fast as it came. He then turns to hug Sam just as tightly, "Good luck." 

"We'll come back for you, Bow." Sam promised.

"Thanks for everything, Bobby." Dean nods, "And be careful."

"You two just find your dad," Bobby smiles back, "And when you do, don't bring him around. He'll end up with a bullet between the eye."

Sam and Dean take that seriously, and nod rapidly in sync. 

Bowie watches them pull out of the driveway through the window, leaning his head against the wood. A hundred feelings swarm him at once, all battling to take control. 

God, save the ones that stand so calm, when a storm sweeps itself through their brain every second of every day.

"Go on, get put some pajamas on," Bobby gives him a soft look, "I'm makin' spaghetti."

Bowie turns away from the window, and smiles. Bobby doesn't even hide how happy he is to have his boy home.

"Sausage instead of meatballs?" He asked.

Bobby pulls a face, "There ain't no other way to eat it in my house."

"Then it's good to be home."

Bobby and Bowie fall back into their natural routine.

Bowie helps Bobby with dinner, prepping and plating their spaghetti. While it's hot, they'd sit on the couch side by side in front of the TV. Bowie gets his favorite blanket, and they share garlic bread.  

Bobby picks one of his many Spanish soap operas. 

Bowie ate three bowls before Bobby had to tell him to slow down or he'd choke.

As the night goes on, Bowie grows more relaxed. He finds his old rhythm back home. He'd wash the dishes; Bobby would dry them. 

Lore books scatter around the table by 10pm, and Bobby allows Bowie to put his mixtapes on. 

Bobby reaches up to dig a soft knuckle through Bowie's loose curls, "How's Katherine doin'?" 

He kept his eyes on a page about possession, "Uh. I don't know actually."

Bobby hums, "You two were always attached at the hip. What happened?" 

"Nothing," He sighed, "I just couldn't keep in contact. I didn't want her involved; she's been out of the life for years. But she didn't like that. Especially after. . ." He hesitates, but feels comfortable enough to share, "We kissed at the Lakehouse, but then I kinda went MIA again after that. I'm just not good for her right now."

Bobby thinks for a moment, closing his book and leaning against his elbows.

"Oh, no. Lecture." Bowie instantly cued.

"Nah, not a lecture." He paused, trying to seem cool and laid back, "So. Ya kissed her." The young man blushed red, nodding. "Your first kiss." He continues.

"Stop." He grabs his face.

"No, no. That's good to hear," He held a hand up.

"Katherine wasn't my first kiss," Bowie blushed. 

When Bowie was in school. There had been a boy named Logan.

He was an it-boy even in middle school, and as the new kid everywhere Bowie always had a hard time making friends. He remembers a friendship between them that lasted a month before he had to move again.

The night John planned to leave; Logan kissed Bowie.

His first kiss wasn't magical, or even memorable. That could be because Logan was a boy, and Bowie didn't understand why his heart fluttered towards Logan the way it should've fluttered for a girl. 

Not to mention, John.

Bowie recalled the year he was fifteen. It was the year before he lost his hearing. Even now he missed the sound of the ocean, and windchimes. 

That year, Bowie and Dean had grown oddly close – as close as they could be back then. In school, Bowie remembered a guy that Dean was friends with. 

One day they went to the movies, for the opening night of Independance Day. 

Bowie was there the day Dean had his first kiss with a guy.

His name was Peter.

It was outside the theater, and Bowie had left to grab some lemonade while they waited for John. When he came back, the kiss had just ended, and Dean never looked red and giddy.

That's when John pulled up.

To this day, Bowie didn't know what John saw. 

All he knew, was the next day Dean was sent on his first solo hunt. 

Two Nuns in love, who killed themselves in Riverton, Wyoming. 

Dean came back closed off, changed. He dropped Peter in seconds, and they moved away days after.

Bowie would take that story to his grave; Dean didn't even need to ask.

"Still," Bobby shrugs, "I know you well enough, son. You must've felt really safe with Katherine, if you're the one initiatin' stuff like that. Maybe it's not all black and white. You should call her-," 

"No." Bowie grows cold, his voice hard. He relaxed in seconds, "I-I can't call her. Not with everything still going on." Not when I'm like this.

Kit's smile flashed in his eyes again, and he wanted to cry. He couldn't let anything happen to Katherine. He had to protect her. 

Even from himself.

Bobby nods, understanding what he didn't understand, "Maybe when it's all over then." 

"You sound so sure."

"Gotta be." 

They fall back into a comfortable silence.

"Hey, Bow?" 

"Yeah?" 

Bobby leans back, debating with himself. "I want you to be honest with me about something."

Bowie turns fully, putting down his book.

"I know Demons like to stir the pot, but Meg... there's somethin' she said that I just can't shake," He starts slowly, "About you."

Bowie shifts, "She's just a liar." He dismissed.

"Then humor me," He replies, "Somethin' happened five days ago. No doubt about it. Sam and Dean, they said everyone thought you died for three days. You went missin'-"

"Bobby." Bowie says suddenly, standing up, "Stop."

Bobby stands up, "Bow... what did the demon mean when it said you were on a leach? A mirror? What do they have on you?" 

"Bobby." He pressed his palms into his ears, making his hearing aids bend at the force, "Please, stop." 

Bobby steps forward, not understanding the weight of his questions as he placed a hand on his shoulder, "Whatever it is, we can find a way. Just-, just tell me what it is." He pressed.

'Kill him.' 

Bowie stumbled back. 

That voice. It didn't sound distorted, or demonic like it did all those times before. 

It sounded just like himself.

"No!" He shouts, "I-I-," He starts to twitch, grabbing at his ears.

Bobby's eyes widen, "Bowie, what's wrong, son? You can tell me."

"I gotta go." Bowie pushes the table back and runs for the stairs.

"Bow!" Bobby tries to go after him.

He slams the door of his bedroom closed, locking it.

"Give me a second." He chokes, putting all his weight against the door. "Just," He grabs his chest, "Just give me a second!"

"Bowie..." Bobby's voice is muffled behind the door, but loud enough to help him hear, "If ya can't tell me with your voice, just... try telling me in your own way...when you're ready. I just want to help ya, son. Ya don't have to do it alone." 

Bowie can feel the vibrations of creaking wood as Bobby walks away from the door. His body slowly drags him to the floor, where he pulled up his knees and rested his chin against it.

His eyes scan his childhood bedroom, wishing he could go back in time and change his future.

He would've run away sooner. 

He would've begged Bobby to take custody of him. 

He would've ended it all that day at the motel when he had the peak urge to. 

Every action leading up to this moment, sealed his fate.

His head starts to tilt, his teary eyes adjusting to the canvas in the corner. 

His face hardened, a sudden determination flaring in his chest.

Every Artist gets their inspiration at the brink of a tragedy.

Bowie stood up. He grabs all the blank canvas' scattered around his room, unfolding his easels and rushing out of his room like a madman.

Bobby hears him come down the stairs. 

He puts his whiskey down, his exhaustion turning to panic when he saw Bowie made a sprint to the backdoor.

"Where are you going?!"

"Shed!" He screams back, running through the scrapyard.

"Don't break nothin!" 

Bowie placed the canvas' around, breathing heavy as he laid out his brushes. He could feel the entity eating at him; he didn't care. 

"You might have my voice," He speaks, walking up to the canvas and dipping his brush into the paint, "But it's still my voice motherfucker." He slaps the paint against the white as hard as he could, "You can never take it away." He mutters low.

In seconds, he got to work, dipping his fingers into the paint and pouring out every word he wanted to say. 

An hour turned to three. 

Three turned to six.

By 4am, Bobby couldn't hold back anymore. 

He gets up from the couch, grabbing his flashlight. 

Just as he goes to open the door, Bowie is bursting in. His eyes looked wild. 

He grabs Bobby by the wrist and starts dragging him out to the shed in haste.

"Slow down!" Bobby commands, "What's gotten into you?!"

Bowie laughs loud and brokenly at that, "Haha! Exactly!"

"What?"

Bowie could be heard talking to himself in incoherent words. He pulls the door open, walking in.

The flashlight drops out of Bobby's hand. He steps back at the sight, "Bow?" 

In the middle of utter chaos, Bowie Winchester holds a paintbrush.

In the light, Bobby could see him better. 

His pajamas were stained with black paint, splats across his face and skin symbolized more than Bobby could ever know. 

A dozen canvas' leaned up against sheets of metal and old cabinets, dripping with black that still hasn't dried. The floor was worse but Bobby didn't comment on that. 

Bowie's breathing heavy, staring at the biggest canvas in front of him. Bobby didn't see it fully until Bowie turned around, tears streaming down his face.

"My voice," Bowie points helplessly around him.

The painting was of a white figure; a person. Behind it was the black paint, creating the form of a horrifying entity, latching onto the white. 

The worst part? Those haunting yellow eyes were the only pop of color.

All the other paintings were the same. The white entity being swallowed, or torn to shreds, some even of the white entity hurting others, black swarming the body like vines. 

All with yellow eyes.

Bowie drops the paintbrush. He can't talk. It hurts to. 

"You're being possessed?" Bobby realized, growing defensive. Bowie can't nod, or move. He just shook in place. Bobby continues to look around, gathering his own conclusions as he walked slow in front of each painting, "No..." He realized, "You are the demon. Ain't you..?" 

Bowie's whole body breathes out in salvation. His shoulders sagging.

"You made a deal?!" It all clicks, "Damnit, boy." He grabs his chest, "Tell me you didn't!"

"I-I didn't think-," He chokes out. He didn't think it would be like this.

"Course ya didn't think!" Bobby snaps in fear, but when Bowie starts crying, he stops, "Damnit, boy..." He repeats more softly, pulling him into the tightest hug he could muster. Bowie releases the weight, crying into him.

"I'm fighting so h-hard, Bobby." He sobs, "It hurts."

"I'm gonna fix this," Bobby vows. 

"You gotta help me, Bobby. Help me!" He chokes.

"I gotcha, Bow. I gotcha." He rubs smooth circles on his back.

That night, Bobby painted a devil's trap under Bowie's bed. He salted his windows, and plugged in his dinosaur night light.

Bowie leans back against the pillow, emotionally exhausted, "You kept that?" He says in surprise.

"It's yours ain't it," Bobby sassed. He sits at the edge of his bed, "In the morning, we'll drive up to Missouri."

"Meet up with Sam and Dean?" He sits up.

"Nah. Missouri Moseley," Bobby corrects, "She'll know what to do; or at least what not to do."

Bowie groans, throwing himself back, "She's gonna yell at me though."

"Well maybe you deserve a stern talkin' to." He gives him a pointed look, "I can't image what made you take a deal." He shook his head.

Bowie looks down at his hands. He wanted to give more details. He wanted to explain to Bobby the context, all the things leading up to that moment. 

Would it make it worse? Telling Bobby the whole truth, the people he hurt.

"I'm surprised you're not angrier." Bowie admits.

"I am. It just ain't what you need right now," Bobby replies, patting his knee and standing up, "We'll figure it out."

The door closed behind him. Bowie is ingulfed in darkness, the only light coming from the green t-rex in the corner. 

He gets comfortable, staring up at the ceiling until he drifted off. Letting his guard down in his own mind.

It had been the most comforting sleep of his life.

Until the clock hit 6am.

His eyes peel open – and they aren't his own.

Sam and Dean felt like they finally had a win.

After saving their father from a Demon invested apartment complex, the Winchester men made their way to a safe house. They salted every window and drew every warding symbol they could think of. Sam and Dean were surprised they came out unscathed. 

If Bowie was there, he would've told them it was too easy.

"How is he?" Sam mutters when Dean comes out of the bedroom. Though the concern meant for a question like that was zero to none, his voice stoic as he thought about Bowie.

"Eh, he just needed some rest that's all." Dean replies, anxiously rubbing his necklace as he paced, "How are you?" 

Sam inhaled deeply, keeping his focus on salting the last window, "I'll survive. You don't think we were followed here, do you? Not like we have Bowie here to cover all our tracks."

"I don't know," He admits, "I don't think so. We couldn't find a more out of the way place to hold up. I'm good at my job too ya know." He smiles. The joke was halfhearted, and he wished Bowie was there to make a smartass comment about how Dean could never be as cool as him. 

"You saved my life back there."

"So, I guess you're glad I brought the gun, huh?" He smirks.

Sam stares back stonily, "Man, I'm trying to thank you here."

"You're welcome." He says instantly. Dean looked at his hands, deep in thought, "Hey, Sam?" His brother hums in response, showing that he was listening, "You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there."

Dean can't help it. He compares himself to Bowie more than he'll ever admit. Bowie saved a life yesterday. Meg should've died; hell, Dean wouldn't have thought twice about the host if nobody brought it up.

Now, here he was, taking a life. Killing a Host without an ounce of hesitation. How does Bowie keep the lid on? How does he not turn into what their father made them? Dean couldn't shake it.

"You didn't have a choice." Sam responds.

"I know. That's not what bothers me." Dean answers, "Killing that guy, I didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch. For you. . for Bowie, even Dad; the things I'm willing to do or kill, it scares me sometimes." 

In that moment, John emerges from the bedroom, looking heathy and smiling. "It shouldn't. You did good."

Dean reels in surprise, "You're not mad?"

"For what?" 

"Using a bullet."

John's calm persona scared Dean, he didn't understand why his father seemed so happy, "Mad? I'm proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you, you watch out for this family. You always have. You know the three of us-"

"Four of us," Dean corrects instantly, deflating at his father's words.

"What?"

Dean scoffs, bitterly, standing up, "Four of us, dad. There has always been four of us. Bowie is a part of this family, whether you want it or not. Now I don't know why you've never accepted that, but I'm tired, man." He scoffs sadly, his exhaustion so clear in his voice, "I'm tired of you making me pretend that he isn't." His voice broke, "That's my baby brother, too. I'd die for him just as easy as I would for any of you."

He meant it with his whole chest. John doesn't clench up, or look away like he always did. Instead, he smiled oddly, as if hearing what Dean had to say was some amusing joke.

"If you knew half the things I know about that boy-"

"We don't care, Dad." Sam speaks up gently, feeling confidence in Dean's determination, "We know Bowie enough, and whatever you have to say about him. . .it's just wrong."

"You're right," John pulls instantly, "No, you're right. I've been too hard on him. When we get back, we should all sit down and have a discussion."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other; the thought was too good to be true. Not to mention Bowie would never agree to something like that.

When John tried to speak again, the lights in the motel began to flicker. The wind picked up; the weather grew harsher. All three men huddled in front of the window, looking out for any signs of danger.

"It found us. It's here." John commands.

"The demon?"

"Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door."

"Already done-"

"Well, check it again." John demands. Sam leaves. "Dean, you got the gun?"

"Yeah."

"Good, give it to me."

Don't.

Every fiber in Dean's body stopped him in his tracks. 

"Dad. Sam tried to shoot the Demon in Salvation, it vanished."

"This is me! I won't miss. Now, give me the gun. Hurry!"

Dean looks at the gun, then at his father in hesitation.

"Son, please!"

Dean steps back, his eyes sharpening in realization.

"Dean, what are you doing? Give me the gun."

"He'd be furious. That I wasted a bullet," Dean responds, anger growing in his chest, "He wouldn't be proud of me, he'd tear me a new one." He cocks the Colt, and points it at John, "And as much as I wish every day that you'd accept Bow for who he is, we both know that would never happen. You're not my dad."

"Dean, it's me!" John tried to reason.

"I know my dad better than anyone, and you ain't him."

John grows furious, "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He replied.

Sam enters the room, faltering at the sight, "Dean? What the hell is going on?!"

"Your brother's lost his mind!"

"He's not dad! I think he's possessed!" Dean's heart rate picks up, feeling overwhelmed, "I think he's been possessed since we rescued him."

"Don't listen to him, Sammy!"

Sam instantly turns to Dean, "How do you know?" 

"He's different!" He yells, "All that crap about Bow, you really think Dad would ever say that? Come on! As if he'd just up and change his opinion because we said something?!"

"Sam, if you want to kill this demon, you've got to trust me!" John begs.

It took just one look. 

One look between Sam and Dean for the youngest to make his choice. 

He stands behind Dean strongly, "No."

"Fine." John nods, "You're both so sure. Go ahead. Kill me."

Dean hesitates.

John looks down, waiting to be shot with tears, before his expression instantly sobered into a small smirk, "I thought so."

John stares back at his son's with yellow eyes.

Yellow Eyes didn't have to move a muscle to send both Sam and Dean flying into a wall, holding them there with a fantom grip. 

It picks the Colt off of the floor, examining its beauty with a smile.

"What a pain in the ass this thing's been," It sighed.

"It's you, isn't it." Sam clenched his jaw, trying to fight, "We've been looking for you for a long time."

"Well, you found me."

"But the Holy Water?" 

It laughs. "You think something like that works on something like me?"

Sam continued to fight, "I'm gonna kill you!"

"Oh, that would be a neat trick," It tilts John's head, "In fact, here." He puts the Colt on the table, "Make the gun float to ya there, psychic boy." 

Sam couldn't, and it made Azazel laugh.

"Aw, that's okay." It pretends to pout, "You get a prize anyway! Consider it a-, what do you call it-, a handmade art project."

Yellow Eyes gives a low 4-beat whistle.

The sound of footsteps causes Sam and Dean to panic, looking at each other in confusion. 

The front door flies off the handle, making them both flinch.

Two steps in, then three-

"Bowie?" 

Dean's heart sank at the sight. 

Bowie looked pale, unrecognizable. The kind of cold-hearted that would make even a soldier bow his gaze. If you looked too long you could feel your lungs tightening, sucking the soul straight from the rib. 

Bowie's smile is different. It wasn't soft, kind, and gentle. The way he walked, even the way he moved was like watching a predator mock prey. 

"Surprise." Bowie grins. "Did you like my light show outside? Made it just for you." He bopped Sam's nose. 

"What did you do to our brother?!" Sam screams. 

Dean thrashed against the wall, "You son of a bitch! You let him go!" 

"Let him go?" Azazel circles Bowie, eyeing him like a prized horse, running a hand along his shoulders. "Let him go?! He basically crawled to me!"

Sam shakes his head, "No. No, he'd never do that!"

"Look at him. At his peak potential." It dusted Bowie off, "Sure, I have to work out the kinks. I mean obviously I couldn't just stuff a demon in him; corruption takes time. I needed him just the way he is," It brushed a finger against Bowie's face. Bowie doesn't move a muscle, simply dissociating in a lucid mania. "Just better." 

"No, we saw him just yesterday-," Dean gets cut off by Azazel's laughter.

"What does that matter? Don't you get it? He's been my little trojan horse. You think he just waltzed out of my care burn free? No. Everyone's gotta make a choice eventually." Azazel explains.

"Why are you telling us all of this?" Sam grunts out.

Azazel pushes Bowie toward them, who happily complied. "Because you love your brother and you'll never leave him again," He turns to Dean specifically, "You made a vow." 

"You're one evil shank, you know that?" Dean mutters bitterly. Watching his own father and brother stand beside each other, possessed, wanting to tear them apart – it was like a nightmare.

"Be nice," It snaps, "You're lucky I still let you keep him. You still get your goofy little brother Bowie, for however long he continues to fight it. At night? The second he slips into dreamland; his corruption takes over and he's mine. You can't stop it. Got it?"

"Why are you doing this?! What do you want?!"

"For you to realize that you'll never win. My plans are bigger than you will ever be." He steps toward Dean, "Well, isn't this fun? I could've killed you a hundred times today, but this...this was worth the wait."

Dangling their brother's free will in their face, before taking their lives was a different form of torture that Sam and Dean could never recover from. 

Once again, helpless. 

Unable to protect Bowie, unable to defend him. 

They'll die failing him all over again.

"Your dad, he's in here with me, trapped inside his own meat suit." It says, "Bowie couldn't be luckier. He's asleep, forget it all in the morning. Your dad says hi by the way; he's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood."

"Let them go, or I swear to God-," Dean snaps.

"What? What are you and God gonna do?" It threatens back, "You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice. You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter. The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand?"

"You've gotta be fucking with me," Dean groans.

"What? You're the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?" It smirks darkly, "Oh, that's right. I forgot; I did. Still, two wrongs don't make a right. Besides, what do you two know about family?" He grabs Bowie's shoulder, "I mean, your daddy sold me him for a pretty penny; more time with you. Pretty sour deal."

Dean felt disgusted, "He-he wouldn't. ." He falters, not having faith in his defense, his eyes locked with Bowie's. Dean's eyes began to water, feeling a panic attack rise, "He-. .I-I'm so sorry, Bow. I'm sorry, I had no idea, I swear."

"What's the matter, Dean?" Bowie tilts his head, faking confusion as he stood inches away, "Didn't you know daddy likes toy soldiers? What do you think happens when one of us bends too far? Why are you shocked? Honestly, you're not that far off. You just need to let those morals go, join the real fight."

Dean clenched his jaw, making sure to keep eye contact so It knew Dean wasn't afraid. His expression grows cocky, "My brother would never sacrifice his morals, hell maybe that's why he's a pain in my ass. Bowie's too good." He snaps the word. "You're not my brother."

"I was never your brother." Bowie replies instantly.

"You were always my brother." Dean firms, "I just had a shitty way of lovin' you." He made sure to look beyond Bowie's haunting eyes, searching for something. Anything that showed his brother was still there. 

And there was. The little gold flex in his hazel eyes. Dean's only ever seen those exact replicas in pictures of his mother. Bowie's warmth was still there. 

"We'll figure it out, Bow." He mutters to his brother.

"Aw boohoo," Azazel drawls, "Let's get into the real reasons we're here, shall we?" He turns to Sam, "You wanna know why I killed mommy and pretty little Jessica, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"You know, I never told you this, but Sam was gonna ask her to marry her? Been shopping for rings and everything. You wanna know why?" He smiles at Sam, "Because they got in the way."

"In the way of what?" 

"My plans for you, Sammy. You and all the children like you."

Dean groans, "Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh?" He taunts, "'Cause I really can't stand the monologuing, and I just know Bowie is dyin' inside every time he hears it, too."

"Funny, but that's all part of your M.O, isn't it? Mask all that nasty pain, mask the truth." 

"Yeah? What's that?" 

"You fight, and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don't need you. Not like you need them." It drills, "Sam? He's clearly John's favorite. Bowie? Hell, he had it the worst but in your sick head he was still getting more attention than you. Even when they fight, it's more energy and concern than he's ever shown you."

Dean looks deadly, his cockiness barely masking his rage, "You know, I bet you're a real proud dad of your kids, too, huh? Oh, wait, I forgot. I wasted 'em."

It just smirks back, using its ability to claw Dean from the inside out. His chest started pooling blood. Sam screams from his brother. Fear immediately takes over Dean, not being able to mask the tears and hopelessness in his voice as he turned to Bowie.

"Bow! Don't you dare let it kill me!" He chokes out blood, turning back to his father, "Don't you let it kill me!"

The entity of Bowie began to shake. It starts to splutter, eyes wide as Bowie's hand flew upward like a tick, sending Azazel back just slightly. 

"What the hell?!" Azazel yells at him.

"I didn't do it on purpose, asshole!" It snaps back, using his other hand to try and push the other one down, "I-I think he's fighting me."

"Well keep it under control!" 

"I'm fucking trying!" Bowie screams.

Azazel turned to continue torturing Dean. 

Once Dean head rolled back from the pain, Bowie's entity was basically screaming.

"Stop! Stop it!" John gained control for only a second.

It was enough for Sam to break free, running for the Colt. He aimed it at John, then quickly aimed it at Bowie when he tried to step toward him.

"Kill either of us, and ya kill them." Azazel reminded.

"I know." Sam vows, shooting John in the leg. In rapid pace he turns to Colt to Bowie.

But that version of Bowie disappears in a blink.

He wakes up screaming, kicking the sheets off him, clawing at his chest. 

Bobby runs in, gun cocked as he searched around the room before rushing over to the bed, "Bow! Bowie, wake up!" He turns on the lamp, giving him a light shake.

Bowie is trying to brush something off of him, but he didn't know what. Screaming his lungs raw, "It's got me! It's got me!"

"Nothing's got you!" Bobby tried to reason over his screams, "Nothing's got you but me, do you hear? I got you, Bowie! It's me!" 

Bowie's screams grow quiet, trying to calm his breathing as Bobby held him in his arms. 

Slowly his teary vision landed on the devil's trap under his bed, "Bobby. . ." 

Bobby follows his gaze.

The devil's trap had a crack down the middle, and the window was wide open. 

"We gotta go now," Bobby seemed collected, but his voice gave away his fear, "We gotta get you some place safe!" 

"You gotta check on my brothers," Bowie doesn't move, "Something happened! I know it! Something happened, Bobby! It wasn't a dream this time!"

"They can handle themselves! Think about you." 

"But-" 

"Bowie, get your ass in that car." Bobby orders.

Bowie needed help. 

He needed to be saved.

Bobby wasn't going to stop until his son's life was back in his own hands.

( shall we enter act two? )
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