Rivers Deep | Sam Winchester

6. Burgeon

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Verb. To rapidly grow, flourish.

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Scrubbing Delta's fur, Noah sighed as he ran his fingers through her coat. As it moved towards the end of June, he knew he'd need to find the clippers and trim her coat down soon since it was getting especially hot in the southern states. Winter was completely gone up north as well, and he was thankful they were in South Dakota for the time being, because he had yet to find the time to shave her down.

Picking up the pitcher he used to rinse her, he filled it with water before watching as the water pulled the dirty soap from her fur and fell to the bottom to the tub. He briefly missed the detachable nozzle at Brian's house. The process repeated until no bubbles were exuded by running his hands through. He reached down to rinse off her paws before he got her out, taking note that her nails would need trimming soon as well.

"Okay, girly," he huffed, standing up. He grabbed the towel from the side, opening it up, "Come on."

Delta hopped out obediently, panting up at her owner. He cracked a small smile as he starting rubbing her fur down so she wouldn't drip water all over Bobby's home. He grabbed the brush at his side, running it through to make sure no tangles were left to form matts.

She leaned into his hands as he ran the towel down her back, pulling most of the water out. It was when he stepped back that she shook off for the fifth time since he got her wet and he jumped, before looking to her, "Really?"

Her only reply was another panting smile.

Noah shook his head with a quiet laugh, drying her tail and her underside quickly before he finally stepped back out of the door. He looked to the two hunters seated at the table, taking the colt to pieces, "Thanks for letting me bathe her here, Bobby, she's been needing one for a week now and I haven't had time to make it down to Brian's and get her cleaned up."

"No problem, son," Bobby waved a hand at Noah, before turning back to the piece of weaponry in his hand.

"Hey," Dean stated as he noticed Sam out of the corner of his eye. "Hey," Sam called back from the other room, "Might have found some omens in Ohio, dry lightening, barometric pressure drop," He turned around to face the other three men.

Noah shed his now soaked hoodie, leaving him in a muscle tee. He sighed as he crossed the room to deposit it into his bag.

Sam found that his eyes were drawn to the toned muscle lining the man's arms. He noticed how they weren't the veiny, bulging, muscular physique that he himself had. No, Noah was much more lanky, but you could easily tell that he held a lot of power, a lot of strength, in his build.

And Sam shook his head, blinking the thoughts away just as quickly as they had come, not fully understanding why they were present in the first place.

"Well, that's thrilling," Dean stated. "Plus some guy blows his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop before the cops take him out," Sam added, stepping into the room, "Might be demonic omens."

"Could just be a suicide and a psycho scrapbooker," Noah pointed out, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "But it's our best lead since Lincoln," Sam stated.

"Where in Ohio?" Dean questioned. "Elizabethsville," Sam answered, "It's a half-dead factory town in the rust belt."

"Why is it always the small towns that have the demons?" Noah rhetorically questioned as he reached to grab his keys off of the table. Dean pointed to him, building on his statement, "Come on dude," he gave Sam a look, "There has got to be a demon or two in South Beach or something."