Chapter 7 – brainwash, rinse, repeat

Twenty years later:

"Boys," Bobby said warmly. He pulled them both into a bear hug.

"...can't...breathe..." Sam gasped.

"Idjits." Bobby let go and stepped back.

It was good to be home.

Home looked different. Festive, even. A huge glittery wreath on the front door. Several stockings hung on the mantel with care.

Huh. Bobby was Martha Stewart now.

Dean and Sam stared banefully at the tiny figure sitting above the fireplace.

"Sonofabitch."

Red and white outfit. Beady black eyes.

Bobby didn't notice. He was bewitched.

Sam scrubbed his hand over his face. "Damn elf."

"Here we go again," Dean growled.

~Finis~