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kajensen07 asked:

So I think that There’s No Place Like Home is actually talking about Bowman’s home. He needs some rescuing in the Bowman Lost stories (sob), and it makes me feel better to think that he will be rescued soon. And I will continue to think that until proven otherwise. Please..!!!

Well, as the title states, someone’s home will be in it… and it certainly won’t be Sam and Dean’s, since the closest they have to a home is the Impala…

Who else is suffering through Bowman Lost with me and @kajensen07? I’m reading this all for the first time as it’s posted! –nightmares06 

November 15th excerpt:

Dean reached the little home in the walls near John’s armchair and let out a sigh, taking in the silence.

For the first time since moving into 221B Baker Street, he was all alone in their home.

April 15th excerpt:

There was no mistaking this car for some camping trip family car, despite its size. It was gleaming in the dark even before Jacob’s flashlight beam swept over it, black-and-chrome finish reflecting the moon and stars from above. Jacob let out an appreciative breath at the sight of the huge car. It wasn’t more than a foot or two longer than his own, but somehow it conveyed a lot more size and ferocity regardless. It looked like it could practically rear up and fight as much as Dean did.

Bowman had his own appreciation for the car, but his eyes were wide for entirely different reasons. He also looked behind them at the other vehicles, the arrangement of tents, everything about the human campsite that he could see. “This is what a car looks like?” he muttered, barely refraining from swooping off Dean’s shoulder to circle the big, shiny black beast. “And you’re sure it’s safe?”


Sam wakes as the Impala comes to a stop outside of a new motel. He mumbles to himself, sitting up on the weird surface he was resting on. Wait… It isn’t just any surface he’s sitting on, it’s a shoulder. A human’s shoulder. 

He freezes for a few seconds of fear before he remembers everything that happened… losing his family… agreeing – no, asking – to go with Dean to get the bastard that had killed them.

He is sleeping on his brother’s shoulder. 

With this realization, Sam glances above his head. He can see the profile of Dean’s face staring out of the car as he turns the Impala off. From where he is sitting, Sam can only make out the corner of his brother’s eye, and the underside of his jaw. Sam sighs briefly at the reminder of his situation.

For years, he’s been used to living this way, smaller than a mouse, with a family that cared for him. Living like that, he’s only been occasionally reminded of what he’s lost. His daily supply runs into the motel they lived in had been the only reminders back then. But here he is, forced to confront everything he’d lost. His own brother serving as a constant reminder of his curse.

Sam is shaken from his thoughts when Dean suddenly opens up the car door and stands to his full height without warning. Sam clutches the collar of Dean’s shirt to avoid falling. He really isn’t going to get used to his brother’s immense height. It was like trying to sit on Godzilla’s shoulder. “Dean, wait!” he shouts up, surprised. 

At least this Godzilla would listen to him.

Dean tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Sam. “Sorry ‘bout that, Sammy. Forgot you were there.”

Sam’s breath hitches with fear at the accidental reminder of his insignificance. A huge hand reaches up, stopping right next to the shoulder. Sam stares at it for a few moments before Dean tries to get another look at him. “You’re not planning on sitting there while I check into the motel, are you?” Dean asks jokingly. His deep voice rumbles kindly around Sam, reminding him that he’s safe.

“No, no of course not!” Sam manages. That would mean other humans seeing him. Tremulously, he steps onto the huge palm, feeling the muscles twitch under his weight. It is going to be hard to adjust to sitting in a hand bigger than his entire body. As he sits there, he brushes a hand over Dean’s silver ring, wondering at the size. He can remember rings fitting in the palm of his  hand, but this one is huge and thick, reflecting his image back at him. He imagines it must be wide enough for him to use as a belt now. And it fits around Dean’s finger.

The fingers shift around Sam as Dean brings the hand in front of his face. Sam freezes as soon as the big green eyes fall on him, not prepared for such an intense stare. “You mind hanging out in the pocket while I check in?” Dean asks.

“Uuhh…” Sam says nervously. “Sure, I guess.” His eyes snap down to the pocket, resting innocently against Dean’s chest. It was unreal to actually consider going in there. Humans were dangerous to people like him, yet here Sam was, perfectly safe… 

Even welcomed.

The hand lowers down, coming to a rest right next to the pocket. Sam gives a slight jump when Dean’s other hand rises up, but all it does is pinch open the pocket so he can jump right in. Which he does without delay, coming to a stop at the bottom. 

His head jerks up the second he lands. The pocket is almost the same height as him. If he stands he’d just barely be able to peek out.

While he gets settled, the light from above disappears. Sam glances up to see the flap of the pocket as it drops down, blocking the outside world from sight. Something huge brushes against him from the outside, making Sam jolt away in surprise until he realizes it’s just Dean’s hand. You’re safe…. it’s just Dean. He’s not gonna hurt you… he’d never hurt you…

“You alright in there, Sammy?” comes Dean’s deep voice, even more intense from how close Sam was sitting to his vocal cords.

Sam takes a second to calm himself before answering Dean. “Y-yeah, I’m good!” he calls up. He presses his hand against the outside of the pocket and touches Dean’s hand to reassure himself. And to reassure Dean.

“Well then, sit tight, kiddo. Try not to move around too much. I don’t want anyone picking up on you in here. We need to keep you off the radar.”

“Got it.” Sam pulls his legs against his chest to make himself as small as possible. Without warning, Dean’s ambling stride starts up. The swaying steps swing the pocket gently, rocking the small Winchester like a hammock. Sam isn’t bothered when it bumps into the broad chest behind him. It’s reassuring to be with Dean now. Reassuring to be with his family.

Sam slowly relaxes. He’s safe and that’s all that matters. This is where he’s meant to be.

This is home.

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