្.˚⠀━━━⠀⠀MOTEL 8
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

❛ BOHEMIAN ━━ BOOK ONE ❜
𑁍ࠬ¸𓍢 ━━ ❪ SUPERNATURAL ❫ ˖ ୧ 。
𓆸 ┊ ⠀𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 SEVEN ⠀┊ ❀
◟ ✦ I GOT YOU! ❞
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

** content warning: sexual assault, PTSD symptoms, alcohol & child abuse **

1994 ━━ November 10th

          THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD BOWIE WINCHESTER SAT WITH his hand rested under his chin as he looked up at his little brother through his eyelashes. Sam, recently turned eleven, stood on a crate with a jar of vaseline and a dollar-store bandage, looking very focused as he applied the salve to his brother's cut.

"Stop flinching," Sam commands.

"It hurts," Bowie grumbled.

"You're clumsy," The younger boy retorts, ripping open the bandage and pressing it against Bowie's forehead, leaning back to admire his work.

Bowie smiled softly at him, "You're getting better at that, Sammy."

Sam hops off the crate and puts the supplies back in the cabinet. As he turns, his eyes catch sight of headlights from outside. "Hey! Dean and Dad are back!" He says happily, pressing his face into the window and giving a wave.

The smile on Bowie's face vanished, pushing off the bed and going toward the window where fifteen-year-old Dean was helping his father unload the Impala.

A light breeze brushes against Bowie's bare feet when Dean opened the door, giving his little brother a large smile━ignoring Bowie's presence like usual as he threw the duffle bag on the counter.

"Hey, Sammy!" He greets, "Guess what? Dad and I hunted a Vamps nest, we killed every single one of them!"

Sam gave him a look, "Is that why it took you guys three days to finish?"

Dean winced, "Dad didn't think it would take that long."

Bowie was silent, keeping his eyes strictly on John as he walked past his children without a word, heading for the fridge. He held his breath when John did, shifting away when the man instantly looked to Bowie with a glare.

"Where are my beers?" John asked him.

"It's gone. . ." He admits it, keeping eye contact, "Sammy spilled the juice, so I sat down to clean it but my head bumped into the door. . .the beers dropped and shattered."

There was a silence.

"You're lying," John settled on, stepping forward.

"He's not," Sam spoke up. Dean glared at his little brother but Sam was never one to keep silent, "I dropped the juice and he cleaned it."

"You got my son lying for you now?" John seethed, face turning red, "You drank my beer and forced Sammy to lie about it?"

"No." Bowie clenched his jaw.

John is standing in front of him now, pointing a firm finger in his face, "No what?" He bellowed. Bowie said nothing, "No what, boy?!"

"No, sir." He forced out the correction.

Sam's eyes watered watching them fight, glancing at Dean who kept his head down.

John leaned down to level with him, talking low, "You best be lucky I don't beat you one for lying to my face. You want to keep living here, you learn to respect me."

Bowie couldn't help it, "Respect goes both ways, don't you think? Sir."

Like a crack of a whip, John slapped Bowie in the face. The sound of Sam and Dean's gasp made the man glare at them. Closing his eyes, Bowie felt the sting on his cheek, his heartbeat in his ears.

Naturally, one would assume one good hit was disciplined enough. To John, it wasn't. The second Bowie opened his eyes another slap crossed his face.

John gripped the front collar of Bowie's shirt and tugged him forward to hit him again. Bowie raised his hands in defense, covering his head and trying to curl himself into a ball. It only seemed to make John even angrier.

With every hit Sam and Dean flinched until eventually, Sam was full-on crying, hiding behind his big brother as he watched the other get hurt for something that he caused.

If he never spilled the juice none of this would've happened.

Bowie never cried. He never sobbed, never screamed. He wouldn't dare give John the satisfaction.

"You want to be a smart ass, boy?" John bellowed between hits, "You think talking back makes you a man? You want respect, you earn it! You understand me?!"

Bowie said nothing.

"Say you understand!" He snapped.

He didn't.

So, John hit him again. And again. And again. Until, For the first time in Dean Winchester's life, every piece of hatred he had for Bowie vanished.

He didn't know if it was the mixture of his little brother's crying or the sound of John's hand but for the first time Dean had said:

"Stop!" He screamed, "Stop it! Get off of him! You're killing him, Dad! You're killing him!"

John froze, his hand hovering just over Bowie. The little boy didn't ease, just stayed silent and stared him right in the eyes, breathing heavily with a splotched face.

The man faltered slightly.

Not turning back to look at his sons, John scratched the corner of his mouth and grabbed his keys, "I'm going out to grab some beers. I'll be back. Watch your brother." He says to Dean.

"Yes, sir." Dean nods once.

"And, Dean?" He voiced calmly, hand on the handle as he looked down at his eldest. Dean looked up at him, "Never talk to me like that again."

The door slammed hard behind John and all three boys flinched, almost instantly Sam ran up to Bowie.

"Are you okay?" He asked worriedly, trying to grab his brother's face.

"I'm fine, Sammy." Bowie pushed the boy away lightly, swallowing thickly.

"Sam," Dean voiced, "Go get him some ice at the front."

The little boy nods, looking at Bowie one last time before running out of the room.

"Why can't you just do what you're told?" Dean accused once he was gone.

He was mad at himself for protecting Bowie, for being looked down on by his father after trying for so many years to be praised by him.

"Not to men like him," Bowie replied, crawling into bed and pulling the blanket over his head.

Dean scoffed, offended. "You should be thanking him, Bowie. He's saved your life by taking you in!"

"If that's what he calls saving my life, I'd rather not have one." The teen snapped from under the sheet.

Dean pauses, "Yeah, well. . . don't expect me to jump in front of you or something when he tries to hit you again. I only stopped him for Sam."

To that Bowie nods bitterly, "Yeah, whatever."

There was a silence between them for barely a minute.

"Word of advice?" Dean says slowly, "If he puts his hands on you, don't fight back. Just take it. It hurts less."

Bowie closed his eyes, trying to block him out. He knew that Dean spoke from experience from all the times John put his hands on him, too.

Still, Bowie was too stubborn to allow himself to feel bad for his older brother, just like Dean was to him.

After that, Dean walked into the bathroom to shower.

2005 ━━ November 10th

          SILENCE STAYED THICK IN THE AIR OF THE MOTEL ROOM the Winchester brothers stayed in. It had been a week after their hunt in Black Water Ridge and Sam had never felt so suffocated between his big brothers━who haven't shared a real conversation since Bowie had beaten Dean in the middle of the street.

Both of them were still nursing wounds from that night.

Dean winced at the pain of the bandage that peeled off the thin skin against his wound. He avoids his own eyes in the steamed mirror as he turns on the faucet to brush his teeth.

His jaw was still bruised, his lip was split and his eye was busted.

But through all of that pain, Dean found himself looking at Bowie through the mirror.

He was laying on the bed, his back turned and the blanket pulled over his head as the blanket mountain moved up and down slowly to show he was still alive.

Sam opened the door to the motel room, slamming it closed behind him with a bag of ice in his hands, "I just paid for another night. I saw a diner when we drove down━I think we should grab something and look into the next case."

Bowie said nothing. He didn't so much as stir when Sam placed the bag of ice next to his bed.

Dean walks out of the bathroom, wiping his hand on a rag, "I'm down for some grub."

Sam gives him a stiff nod. He made it known to his oldest brother that he wasn't happy with him.

Dean had tried apologizing to Bowie days ago, but the man hadn't said a word. Ignoring him like he wasn't even there.

How the tables had turned.

"Bowie, are you coming?" Sam asked.

Nothing.

Sam frowned, it wasn't like Bowie to ignore him. Ignoring Dean, sure, but Sam? Never.

"Are you okay?" He asked, rounding the bed and shaking Bowie's shoulder.

"Dude, did you turn off your hearing aids again?" Dean asked.

Nothing.

He sighed, "Come on, we'll bring something back for him." He tells his little brother lightly.

Sam hesitated, giving a nod.

Bowie waited until he heard the slamming of the door before rolling over to the other side, his head popping out just slightly as tears welling in his eyes as he tugged at his ears., where the hearing aids sit uncomfortably.

Sam and Dean found themselves sitting across from each other at a diner twenty minutes later. They were flicking through the news as they waited for their breakfast, Dean biting at his pen in thought.

"You think he meant it?" Dean asked suddenly, looking at his little brother.

"What? That he wants you to rot in hell? Yes." Sam replied, nonchalantly flipping another page.

Dean rolled his eyes, "No, I mean, do you think when this is all over he'll officially go off the grid? Change his name, spy shit."

Sam sighed softly, finally looking at him, "Honestly, Dean, if he does I don't blame him. He had a shot of being normal. A damn Art Professor. He could've had a big house, some kids, I don't know." He rubbed his eyes, "You have to think about it from his perspective."

"Which is?" Dean pressed.

Sam leans forward on the table, talking low so his brother can soak up each word, "Imagine you spend your whole life being second to nothing until you finally find something you're good at. And I mean something that genuinely makes you happy in a dark time and the person that you're supposed to trust the most takes it away from you for their selfish gain. Throwing you back into the dark for their purpose."

Dean swallowed thickly.

"I know that you and Bow never saw eye-to-eye as kids but at the end of the day you're brothers." He scoffed a laugh, "I mean did you see how good you two worked together when you weren't at each other's throats?"

The eldest rubbed down his face, "I don't know what to do. . ." He admits, "I-I'm an asshole, okay? And after a good twenty years, I see that now but some things between us can't be fixed. Things you don't know about, hell, things that even he doesn't know about━"

"What are you talking about?" Sam narrows his eyes softly, "What things?"

Dean grew instantly uncomfortable, "Just. . .things I can't tell you, that I have no right telling you. I want to make things right but there's always going to be some part of me that hates him and I can't change that."

"Why? Because dad did?" Sam pressed, "Because mom cheated on him and he took it out on her son when she died? Dean, whatever dad told you about Bowie━"

"You wouldn't understand." Dean dismissed, growing defensive.

"Then, tell me!" He seethed.

Dean opened his mouth to snap at him, but the sound of the diner's bell made his head turn slightly to the left.

A young girl━hardly twenty━walks into the grimy place. Her hair is pulled up into a bun, fringe hanging just beyond her brow. She scans the diner with her arms crossed over her jacket, full pink lips set into some expression of determination.

Her eyes found Dean, and the determination morphed into...well, Dean had never seen a woman look so angry.

"Oh, shit."

"Dean Winchester," Her voice carried through the diner as she strutted up to the table, her jaw set and her blue eyes blazing.

He quickly stands, backing away, "Katherine Donovan," He greets back with a chuckle, "What brings you in town?"

Her words are like acid. "Screw you," she spits, standing toe to toe with him.

"You're not my type," He eased into the joke with a charming smile, "Unless you want to be━"

A singular eyebrow raises, and a lethal smile tugs at her lips. Dean's hands go cold. "Do you want another gun leveled at your crotch?"

"You must be Katherine Louise," Sam butts in, giving her a small smile, "Bowie talks about you a lot. You're a lot younger than I expected."

She gives him a light, albeit insincere, smile. "He talks about you a lot too." Katherine turned her attention fully to him. "Where is he? He hasn't called me in three days."

"Relationship problems?" Dean mused.

She glared, ignoring that, "Bowie has been keeping in touch with me every day since he left and today out of all days is the worst time for him to shut me out. So, where is he?"

Sam frowns at this, "He's back at the motel, we think he's sick or something."

He noticed a mild change in her demeanor. He wasn't exactly sure what softened...or maybe it was the shift in her feet...the slight panic in her voice as she asked, "Sick? Sick how?"

"I don't know," Dean shrugs, "He's been moody all week, and hasn't gotten out of bed since Tuesday. He stopped talking to us all together this morning. We just assumed━"

"He's been in bed since Tuesday and that didn't raise any red flags?" She raised that eyebrow again.

"Well. . ." Sam cuts in, "Dean and I just came back from a hunt yesterday, something in Lake Manitoc. So, it could've been longer." He admits.

Katherine sucks in a deep breath, turning to Dean with a plain expression, "Put your two brain cells together and think about what today makes 11 years on the dot."

Dean furrowed his brows, looking away. His mind wracked for something out of the ordinary, something that Katherine thinks that he should know. His eyes flit back to the newspaper, reading the date over and over again until:

November 10th.

His eyes widened with controlled concern as he slowly stood to his feet, "Shit. ." He breathed out.

"Yeah, no shit. Take me to him."

1994 ━━ November 10th

          A DRUNKEN JOHN WINCHESTER STUMBLES INTO the motel room with a firm face. He smelled like hard liquor and mint gum but he seemed functional enough to kick against Dean's foot to wake him up.

"Grab your brother, we're leaving." He grumbles.

Dean rubs at his eyes, standing up. "Wha━" He looks at the clock, "It's five in the morning."

"Got a hunt in the town over, let's move." He orders.

He ignores that his father is too drunk to drive, slipping on his shoes. Without a word, he hooks his arm under Sam's legs, the other holding his head up as he moved him toward the car.

John kept grumbling to himself, slamming the motel door closed and rounding the front.

Dean frowned, "Bowie's in the bathroom taking a shower."

"Well, go get him. I'll wait five minutes and I'm gone," He responds, starting the engine.

Sam stirred in his sleep.

Dean yawned a little, walking back into the room. He could feel the steam coming from the shower through the crack at the bottom, his hand gripped the handle, turning it left and pushing it open.

He stops suddenly, catching Bowie's figure from where he could see him in the mirror.

Bowie stood tall in front of the glass, his hand running through the soft wet curls but instantly wince at the bruise of his ribs. Little spots on his face were already turning a darker shade, a little split on his lip.

It was no wonder Bowie couldn't hear them, he had headphones in, most likely listening to something classical that Dean hated.

He was always the first one up, the first one ready to go. His head bopped softly, ignoring all the pain he felt as he brushed his teeth.

It was at that moment that Dean Winchester made a decision that he would regret for the rest of his life.

A choice that he would kill to take back.

"Dean!" John shouts, beeping the horn. "Hurry up!"

Dean closes the bathroom door.

"Coming!" He calls back, glancing back at the door once before rushing out of the motel room.

Dean makes sure to open the back door and slam it shut again, rounding the side and sliding into the passenger's seat without a word.

His whole body was screaming at him, his heartbeat was in his ears. He thought he was making a good decision. Leaving Bowie behind.

To Dean, it was a form of twisted mercy. That hopefully Bowie would be picked up by a good family and finally be free from John.

"Next time, I'll leave you there!" John slurred out, his eyes catching a glimpse of what he thought was Bowie's green sweater as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Dean sunk into his seat, not daring to look back.

Moments later, Bowie walked out of the bathroom, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

He froze, looking around the room with rising panic. The emptiness of the room was so loud to him, "Guys?" He voiced, slowly pulling off his headphones.

The walkman drops to the ground at his bare feet, his chest starting to heave. Somehow, he knew. Bowie knew that he was left behind even without real confirmation.

The young boy throws open the door, stepping out into the cold morning with just a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt. The Impala was gone. Sammy was gone. Bowie spun around, starting to hyperventilate.

"Sammy?" His voice creaked in the air, "Dean!"

He flopped down on the curb, pressing his face into his knees as he cried.

He didn't know how long he had been there, two hours, maybe four hours of just standing outside waiting for John to come back.

Waiting for anyone to come back.

"You lost little boy?"

Bowie raised his head, realizing it was already mid-day through his hysteria. Two men stood in front of him, obnoxiously taller and smelled strongly of booze.

The first man looked familiar to him━the kind of familiar that you can't put your finger on. His hair was a faded blond, and his beard looked unkempt.

"No," Bowie instantly replied, moving to stand as he took a step back.

The second man, slightly shorter and mean-eyed, gave the little boy a glance over, chuckling, "Looks lost to me, don't he Moe?" He responds.

The blond, Moe, rubbed his chin aggressively, "I know you." He tells Bowie, "Yeah, yeah. You're John Winchester's kid." He elbowed the other, "Len, this is Johnny's boy."

Bowie instantly shook his head, "No. No, I-"

"Dean, ain't ya?" Len questioned, "His eldest."

Bowie said nothing.

"They left you behind, boy?" Moe asked, already speaking again before Bowie could answer, "Don't worry. We're friends of your dads, we'll take you back to him."

"If you want to go back," Len responds, reaching up to twirl one of Bowie's curls.

Len holds up a pack of beer, "Don't be shy, invite us inside," He says lightly, already walking toward the motel door, "I'm sure they'll be back for ya, any moment."

The little boy swallowed thickly. John always said that hunters were your best bet if something goes sideways.

No police, no bypassers. Hunters.

And considering these hunters knew John, then maybe they really could help him get back to Sam.

Moe motioned him to come back inside with a smile, one that Bowie wished he could tell was anything but kind.

"Come on, son. You're gonna freeze out there," He says.

Bowie nods, glancing back at the road before walking back toward the motel.

2005 ━━ November 10th

         KATHERINE DONOVAN PULLS OPEN THE MOTEL DOOR OPEN. Her panicked eyes land instantly on the unmoved figure of Bowie Winchester━who she hadn't seen in what felt like forever. Her shoulders sag unnoticeably in relief, a small sigh escaping her lips as she placed her keys on the table and shrugged off her jacket.

She ignored the eyes of Sam and Dean, who were standing in the doorway and watching her every move.

"Bowie. ." She began softly, the bed dipping slightly at her weight as she placed her hand softly on his shoulder, "Bowie, it's me Katherine."

She could feel his whole body stiffen under her touch and she quickly pulls her hand away.

"You can't do this, Bow." She says more firmly, "It's not fair to yourself."

He says nothing.

Her jaw clenched, "What did I say to you, huh? I told you that you couldn't keep sacrificing your mental health for these people. This is what happens, you get overwhelmed and you never get out of bed I━" She sighed, composing herself. "Well if you think I'm going to leave you like this you're crazy."

Katherine reached forward, brushing back the hair from his forehead to get a better look at him. His face was pale, he hasn't eaten anything. A frown tugged at her lips when she noticed the hearing aids in his ears, which turned his earlobes red and irritated.

She stands up, grabbing her keys and moving to leave.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked her, growing concerned, "What's wrong with him?"

"What happened to his hearing aids?" She asked, pushing past the both of them and toward her car.

Dean frowned, "What does that have to do anything?"

"His ears are obviously irritated, he could get an ear infection, you didn't notice?" She narrowed her eyes in accusation.

He falters, "No? I mean, I didn't think━" He groaned having to keep up with her, "One of his hearing aids broke on a hunt, and one of the people we saved gave him her mom's or something." The brothers stop in front of her car.

"Well, that should do it. They aren't his size," She says more to herself, sliding into the front seat and popping open her glove compartment, and pulling out a box, "These are his spares." She pauses when Sam and Dean toward in front of her before rounding over them and back toward the motel.

"Hey!" Sam snapped, "Talk to us! What's wrong with our brother!━"

"Oh, so, he's your brother now?" Katherine spun around angrily, her face twisting into disgust, "You spend a few weeks with him and suddenly you think you know everything about him, that you have a right to be concerned?"

"Relax, blondie!" Dean snapped, stepping forward, "If there's anyone who has a right to be worried, it's Sam."

Sam clenched his jaw, "If he's sick or-or in pain━"

"He's depressed," Katherine corrects, "He's been in a depressive episode for days and neither of you noticed it. I spent almost three years helping Bowie heal and you dumbasses somehow knocked it all down in less than a month. He should've never come back here!"

"We needed his help and he agreed," Dean pressed, not allowing her to attack them.

"Of course he agreed!" She scoffed, "You threw the fact that people were being killed in his face, you threw his mom in his face...of course he's going to want to help! Did you ever stop to think about what he needed?!"

"Well, I do now!" Dean bellowed in her face, their toes touching as they argued, "Alright? I'm trying to fix this but I don't know where to start! I know I should've never taken his Art letter, I feel like an asshole but that doesn't change anything!"

Katherine reeled back, holding a finger up as she closes her eyes at the revelation. "Wait, wait, wait." Then her eyes burn like the coldest ice, like the hottest star, and it's all at him. "You took the letter from him?"

Dean faltered, "I realize how wrong it was━"

"No. No, you don't get to play the victim here," She says lowly, "I know you're the reason that Bowie was stuck in that motel. He told me everything. You took his letter around this time, you might as well have thrown what happened when he was thirteen in his face, too!"

Sam frowned, "What are you talking about?"

Dean and Katherine were silent.

Sam threw his arms up, "Fucking tell me!" He bellowed, turning mostly toward Dean, "What are you all hiding from me? What happened?!"

Dean's eyes began to water.

Katherine scoffed, "You're a coward, " She says, knowing that he would never say it out loud as she turned back toward the motel, "Stay away from Bowie until I figure this out!" She tells them, slamming the door closed.

"Fine!" Dean shouted back.

"Dean," Sam says lowly.

The man turned on his feet and toward his car, most likely heading to the nearest bar and far away from the situation.

Leaving Sam in the middle of the parking lot.

1994 ━━ November 10th

          BOWIE SAT ON THE FLOOR AT THE BOTTOM OF HIS BED with his knees pulled up, cautiously watching the men that stood in front of him. Moe stood against the wall, smiling that overly happy smile as Len leaned against the door, unknown to Bowie that he was blocking it.

"You drink?" Moe asked, pushing off the wall and grabbing a beer off the table. He crouched down in front of Bowie, holding out the bottle.

"I'm thirteen," He reminded softly, staring the bottle down.

Moe opened it anyways, "Well, hell, I started drinking younger than you, Dean" He responds, "What about you, Len?"

"Me? I ain't never drank a day in my life!" He joked, taking a large gulp of his drink.

Bowie awkwardly chuckled at that, causing Moe to mirror it.

He should've commented on the fact that he wasn't Dean, that he wasn't the boy that they thought he was, but in the back of his mind, maybe they'd leave him behind for being himself.

Maybe John had mentioned his rejected child from his dead wife and the whole hunting world wouldn't help him. So, if being Dean got him a ticket back to his brother, then he'd pretend to be the golden son.

"Take it," He commands more firmly.

Bowie grabbed it, holding it up to his lips and taking a very small sip. Moe didn't seem to like that, and tilted the bottom of the bottle up, causing Bowie to start chugging it.

The boy spluttered, moving the bottle away. Moe and Len let out a loud laugh.

"You're one hell of a man!" Len bellowed.

Bowie coughed, "I guess so."

He didn't notice Moe and Len sitting on either side of him under he felt Len grab at his curls again, "You miss your daddy?" He asked.

"He's not my dad," Bowie admits, already feeling buzzed when Moe handed him another beer, and then another.

Moe hummed as he pulled out a cigarette, "Daddy issues?"

"I'll be your new daddy," Len replies after a while.

A chill runs up Bowie's spine, making him want to stand. It had been the first time he heard the static ringing in his ears like a heavy warning.

"W-When can we leave?" Bowie slurred.

"It's a little cold today," Moe responds, "We can go in the morning."

"But, they might be gone by then━"

"Relax," Len responds, running a hand up his thigh, "Ain't nothing to worry about."

Bowie's eyes watered, "I-I think we should call someone━"

"You aren't calling anyone," Moe says firmly, cigarette still between his lips as he pulled him up from the ground and brushing off his shoulders, "Look are you, all worked up."

From behind, Len slowly pulled off Bowie's jacket, rubbing at his shoulders, "Baby boy needs to relax. Hunting gets lonesome, huh?"

Bowie froze when Moe plucked the cigarette from his lips and placed it between his, watching him like entertainment. The tension in the room was spiked and every part of Bowie screamed that he was in danger.

His fight or flight kicked in.

Bowie makes a break toward the front door, tripping on his own feet as he drunkenly giggled the handle. The feeling of arms tugged him backward causing the boy to scream out.

Len pressed his hand firmly into Bowie's mouth, slamming him onto the bed.

"Shut the fuck up!" He screamed, "Shut up!"

"Keep him still, Len." Moe grunts, the sound of a buckle causing Bowie's eyes to water.

"Let me go!" Bowie trashed, "Get off me! Get━ off!"

The feeling of Moe above him set the little boy in hysteria, straddling his waist and making him feel suffocated as Len held down his hands by the wrist, his other hand gripping his throat to keep him still.

"Your daddy, John, gave us a lot of trouble," Moe says lowly, "Made us look like fools on a hunt, told him he'd pay for it." At some point, Bowie's shirt had been ripped open, "You gave us the perfect opportunity."

"You seen that?" Len asked suddenly, looking on edge as he looked toward the window.

Moe didn't look behind him, "Stop being paranoid," He snapped, "Hurry up!"

"I thought I saw━" He shook his head, "Nevermind. Look at him, Moe." Len chuckled already bringing his attention back, "So pretty like that."

Bowie slammed his eyes shut. If he puts his hands on you, don't fight back. Just take it. It hurts less. Dean's voice rang through his ears, so he listened, not saying a word.

2005 ━━ November 10th

     KATHERINE SMOOTHED DOWN BOWIE'S HAIR with a small smile, muttering soft words of comfort as she waited patiently for Bowie to say something back. His ears weren't as red as it was before, the correct hearing aids a soft golden color. Sam sat a little away, his eyes burning with tears as he watched his brother.

"Remember that one Christmas, we got Mrs. Adler turned up with a bit of champagne and she started telling us all those War stories?" Katherine asked softly.

He didn't move.

"She was flirting with you because you looked like her ex-husband, and I think I laughed so hard I pissed a little," She said through soft laughter, "You were the only sober one...I felt so bad you had to drag me to bed. ."

Bowie's eyes watered, saying nothing.

"You always took care of me," She continued softly, "Ever since I was sixteen, started college alone with no help. Until I saw you across the hallway that day when I was struggling to carry in my things. You dropped everything and helped me even though you didn't know me. Made a comment about how much you liked my car, that's when I knew you were gonna be my best friend."

Bowie found the courage to look at her, tears forming in his eyes. Still, he said nothing.

"I remember when I was eight," Sam suddenly spoke up, taking a seat on the other side of Bowie, "I came back from school in a panic because I had a Spanish test the next day and I held it off." Katherine smiled softly, "I knew Dad was gonna get mad at me but I didn't know Spanish or the continents so knew I was going to fail."

Sam's eyes drifted toward his brother, "So, uh, Bowie tugged on his shoes and walked two blocks to the local library in a drizzle, brought back a bunch of Spanish learning books, and stayed up with me all night. I scored an 82," He chuckled at the memory.

"You walked two blocks in the rain so I wouldn't fail a stupid test at a school we didn't even stay in for a month. . .and I didn't even ask you to, you just did it."

Bowie turned to face him, a small smile tugging on his lips.

"I think I have a good idea what happened. . ." Sam admits lowly, "And if it's true, I want you to know that if I was there. . .I would've killed them, Bowie. I would've killed them, I should've━"

Bowie instantly shook his head, but said nothing, turning away from Sam.

"Let's get him something to eat," Katherine suggests, standing up and pulling Sam away from the bed, "Come on, he's probably starving."

He hesitates, "Should we leave him there?"

She nods, "We don't want to crowd him."

He mirrors her as they stepped outside, "How do you know so much about this stuff?"

"I educated myself," She responds firmly, "When you have a friend like Bowie, with his conditions. . .I didn't want to be ignorant. He has severe PTSD. He's your brother, you should know these things."

"I haven't seen him in six years," Sam reminded, "He's a lot different than he was when we were younger. . .like a completely different person."

"Is he a lot different, or is he just tired of hiding the real him?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow, "The Bowie you remember was the brother that just wanted you to be happy no matter what, the one who always made the best out of everything."

"And the him that I don't remember?" He asked lightly.

She points toward the door, "That's him. So you either accept it or let him go."

"You love him, don't you," Sam says bluntly.

Katherine reeled back, scoffing, "What? He's my best friend━"

"That doesn't mean you can't love him," Sam shrugged.

"I care about him," She corrects, "Do you?"

"I've been looking for my brother for the last six years," Sam began, "I've been following his footsteps since I was six years old. Of course, I care about him."

"Does Dean?" She asked lightly.

To that, Sam couldn't give a firm answer.

The second Katherine and Sam pulled out of the parking lot, the Impala had rolled in with a slight swerve.

Dean stumbles out of the car, cursing when he almost tripped as he walked back into the motel with a slam of the door, wincing at the loud noise and rubbing his forehead.

Bowie flinched, popping his head from the blanket with a blank expression.

"I gotta tell you something." Dean pointed at him, his voice firm and still slightly slurred as he walked toward Bowie, "I'm so sick and tired of us tip-toeing around this bullshit. Because that's what it is, it's bullshit!"

Bowie slowly sits up, saying nothing as he watched Dean pace in front of his bed.

"You want me to apologize? Fine. I'm fucking sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I took your letter. I'm a fucking asshole and I know that." His face turned red. "I needed your help and I didn't care how I got it because you're Bowie and I'm Dean and we've never seen eye-to-eye anyway so why should I care about your feelings?"

He swallowed thickly, "But I do care, and I hate that I do. Because my whole life, I've watched you do whatever you wanted without any real consequences because Dad never cared that you weren't perfect when all he ever expected was for me to be. Okay? Does that make you happy?"

Bowie said nothing. So, Dean continued.

"I hated you because mom loved you," He admits, "I remembered it. Dad told me she cheated on him, and then she died and we were stuck with you. You were a reminder that mom wasn't perfect and I was so mad at her. . .so I took it out on you, just like dad did. And," He sighed, flopping down on the bed, "As much as I pretended that I would trade you to have her again, I wouldn't."

Dean was crying now, "I hated her for putting us in that position and I took it out on you and it wasn't fair. And I'm sorry, okay? It's like...this whole month was a slap in the face. I see you now and I just feel guilty all the time, especially because. . . because of that night."

Bowie hugged his knees.

"I was there," He whispered, his eyes burning at the memories, "And I'm not talking about when dad and I went to pick you up...I was there before that."

His eyes snap toward him, "What?" His voice was raw, strained from not being used for days.

Dean's shoulders sagged, grabbing his face, "Sam wanted you back, he kept complaining about it and you were only in the town over. It was an hour work, maybe less. . .so I went back. Dad was sleeping, I might as well because I felt so bad about leaving you behind and━"

He cut himself off with a sob as Bowie slowly moved forward, his eyes wide in shock as he waited for him to continue.

"And I saw what was going on through the window," He admits it, "I saw what they were doing to you and I got scared so I ran back. I was fifteen and I didn't know what do...I-I thought if I went back to Dad he'd, come and handle it but he was gone by the time I came back. . ."

Bowie reeled away, almost like being in Dean's presence burned him.

"That was my big secret, okay? And I've regretted it my whole life. Everything about it was my fault. I left you behind twice." He swallowed thickly, "You were my little brother too, and I should've protected you. I just had all this pressure on me and I couldn't even apologize unless I got drunk, which makes this even worse because now I have a headache━"

"They thought I was you. . ." Bowie whispered.

Dean froze, "What?"

"They were hunters, like us. . .they had something against John and they wanted to get back at him," Bowie explained softly, his eyes watering, "They thought I was you. . ."

"Bowie━"

"And I kept thinking," He continued, his gaze distant, like he was right back in that motel, "I kept thinking that I'd rather it be me than you. As much as I hated you back then, I'd do it all over again if it meant you didn't have to. Or that Sam didn't have to. ."

"All you ever did was protect us," Dean realized, sobering slightly, "Even when you shouldn't."

"You're my brothers," Bowie shrugged.

"Do you hate me? For.  . .what what I did?"

"You were fifteen, a kid, just like I was." Bowie says, "You couldn't take on two grown men by yourself, I'm glad you got out of there when you could. The Letter on the other hand. . ."

"I'll make it up to you," Dean says instantly.

"You can make it up to me by helping me find that son of a bitch who killed our mom once and for all," He nods firmly, "We work together, we end this together."

"And then you'll leave. . ." Dean reminded, thinking of Bowie's words, "You'll uh, hide from me until the day you die and all that jazz?"

Bowie gave a genuine chuckle, "Yeah, I'll have to reconsider. . .if you promise to let me pick the music every once and a while."

Dean winced, "Mmm, no." Bowie gives him a look, "One song a month," He debated. Bowie leaned back, "Okay, okay. Two songs? Two songs and a shuffle━"

Bowie laughed loudly, "Fine. Deal. Come on, Sam and KD should be back with food any minute, we have to sober you up."

"You're really forgiving me like this?" Dean asked cautiously.

He smirked, "Watching you cry and beg for forgiveness like a little bitch was good enough for me."

Dean reddens, "If you tell anyone I drunkenly cried to you, I'll snap your neck." He threatens.

Instead, Bowie reached his hand out for Dean to grab, "I got you," He muttered.

Dean stared at it for a moment, his eyes watering before slapping his hand into his and allowing Bowie to pull him up.

1994 ━━ November 10th

         THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD BOWIE WINCHESTER SAT ON THE CURB with his knees pulled up into his chest, nursing the cigarette burns and pocket-knife cuts on his back with a melted ice pack.

He choked down a sob, rocking back and forth to soothe himself.

Moe and Len had left hours ago, leaving Bowie with ripped clothes and bruising marks, making Bowie promise never to tell a soul who they were.

The Impala slowly pulls into the parking lot but Bowie didn't react, he couldn't move without feeling sore and disgusted with himself.

"You should be lucky I'm coming back for you!" John huffed, stepping out of the car, "I'm days behind on this hunt and. . . " He pauses, looking Bowie over with a clenched jaw, "What happened to you?"

Dean leans against the car, hiding his shaky hands behind his back, avoiding everyone's eyes.

"I was raped," Bowie says strongly, not moving from the curb.

John shook his head, stepping back, "Don't lie to me."

"I was raped," He repeated firmly, "In that motel room. You left me behind."

"I didn't leave you," He seethed, "You should've been in that car when I told you! I told you I was leaving in ten━"

Bowie shook his head angrily, "I would've been in the car if I'd known! You left me behind on purpose!"

"I didn't," John snapped, "Now, shut up and get in the car. All you do is talk shit and I'm tired of it, cut the lies and let's go!"

"I was raped!" Bowie screamed at him. Dean flinched, "Why won't you believe me?!"

"Keep your voice down!" John spun back, looking around the parking lot before swallowing thickly, "If you can stand you're fine. So stop being a baby and get up!"

With that, John slide into the front and slammed the door extra hard. Bowie breathed in through his nose, trying his hardest to compose himself.

Softly, Dean pushed off the car and slowly walked up to Bowie, stopping in front of him. Bowie looked up at him, ready for his older brother to say something horrible too.

Instead, Dean reached his hand out for Bowie to grab, "I got you," He mumbled.

The boy stared at it for a moment, his eyes watering before slapping his hand into his and allowing Dean to pull him up.

[ this was a heavy chapter
but yes, now we know.]
happy new year, kids.

JAN / 01 / 2022