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❛ BOHEMIAN ━━ BOOK ONE ❜ 𑁍ࠬ¸𓍢 ━━ ❪ SUPERNATURAL ❫ ˖ ୧ 。 𓆸 ┊ ⠀CHAPTERTWELVE⠀┊ ❀ ◟ ✦ THAT'S A BULLSEYE!❞ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄
*tw: mocking of sexual assault, victim blaming*
RUNNING A HAND THROUGH HIS LOOSE CURLS BOWIE kicked open the motel room door with a blue lollipop between his teeth, the bags under his eyes so dark that one would mistake it for eyeshadow as he blinked away exhaustion and nodded at his brothers in mute greeting.
Another day or scouring the web for a new case meant another day Bowie felt his immune system slowly shut down, but the man kept going with his ounces of energy drinks and shaky hands as he tried his hardest to keep afloat for the people who pushed his head underwater.
"I got lunch," He announced through his lollipop, his voice thick with exhaustion as he juggled two bags of food in his hands and a vanilla folder in the other. He hands Sam one bag before roughly flinging the other at Dean, smirking smugly when it knocked him in the jaw.
"Thanks, Bow," Sam responds idly, pushing the bag away from him as he glued his attention to his phone screen, "I think I've got something."
"Me first," Bowie cuts in, slumping in the chair between his brothers and pushing the lollipop into his cheek. His tone sounded slightly urgent but his face was sunken, eyes reluctantly staring down at the folder in his hand. "I just got this back from the police department, told them I was a private detective working a case for some rich family up in Newport."
Without another word, he places the folder on the table, reaching up to rub his thumb against his bottom lip anxiously as he narrows his eyes at the folder.
He didn't have to use words to convey that whatever was in this envelope gave him the shivers.
And when Dean opened it, he knew why.
"What? What is it?" Sam asked eagerly, pushing his phone away.
It was a photo, blurred almost unrecognizable and taken from a gas station camera. With squinting eyes, you can see it was a man, dark brown hair and a tall built, his eyes expression sunken and stern.
John Winchester.
"My APB flagged him at a gas station near Lawrence," Bowie explained, his leg bouncing under the table.
"I can't believe you found him," Dean says breathlessly.
"I didn't." Bowie corrects instantly, "He could be long gone, could've moved in any direction, all I know is that he was there yesterday, filling his tank."
