My Father's House

Bobby's house wasn't haunted. At least, it wasn't, until he met the Winchester boys, who have a way of stirring things up and raising ghosts that he'd spent a lifetime burying. (Spoilers for Bobby's backstory, especially 3x10, Dream a Little Dream of Me, and 7x10, Death's Door.)

A/N: This was written for 2019's SPN Reverse Bang, and written for twisted_slinky's lovely, melancholy prompt. The image of Bobby and the boys just spoke to me, and I was so happy to we able to write for it! Check out their art post, here.

Bobby Singer stood in the Sioux Falls cemetery and breathed in the deep green air. “Those boys,” he said. “I wish you could see ‘em, Karen. Hell, every time I see them, they’re outgrowing their pants and got holes in their sneakers. Scrawny little cusses, both of them, they come in, eat my food and run around the junkyard like they think they’re at Disneyland or something.” He paused, glancing away from the headstone in front of him, towards the cemetery gate. A car passed by on the quiet city street, then he was left alone with the sighing wind again. “I think you’d like them. And they sure could use you around. I’m not much good to them, just an old junkman myself—”

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