I don't own Supernatual, and unless I experience a hardcore miracle, I never will.

Note: This is my first venture into Supernatural fanfiction-dom. I got this idea from watching the episode with the baby shapeshifter (Two and A Half Men. Yeah, I'm fourteen, and I do my homework), and right around the time Dean was feeding the baby whiskey, my little sister was playing this song. So this was born. Ha. Read on.

You brought that bottle home in a paper sack

Drew the blinds and locked the doors

You're only fourteen, but you search through your father's bags, looking for one of those many bottles you see him drinking from when he's just come in from a hunt. Within minutes, you find one. A half empty, glass bottle of whiskey.

And there's nothing but empty there inside that glass

So you pour a little more

You stare at the glass for a few moments, almost nervous. It burns going down the first time, as well as the second. But it's a good kind of pain. It soothes the hurt that you're feeling in your head. The hurt from keeping everything from Sam. The hurt from seeing your dad come home after two weeks of absence, bloody, so broken. You would tell him it would be okay, drag him to the couch of another nameless hotel, and warm some soup on the stove. You were young, you shouldn't have so many respnsibilities weighing you down.

And there's no one there to judge you

At least that's what you tell yourself

But don't you know, nobody drinks alone?

You're beginning to feel dizzy, and everything is starting to look fuzzy. You never notice the sound of little Sam's soft foot steps down the hall.

Every demon every ghost, from your past

Every memory you've held back follows you home...

Nobody drinks alone

Before you can even blink, you hear your dad, shuffling through the door. You toss the bottle back into his bag, and rush to his side, starting the cycle over again.

You remember whiskey on your daddy's breath

So you always stick to wine

By the time you turned seventeen, whiskey had become your favorite. Over the years of raiding your dad and Bobby's alchohol stahes, you had tried nearly every intoxicating beverage out there, but nothing worked like whiskey did. It burned, but not so much that you couldn't handle it. It left you in a daze, numb to the world. You liked that.

And you scared your little brother half to death

But you just kept it all inside

Twenty seven now, Sam is off at Stanford. You never let anyone know how much it pained you when he left. You raised him, protected him as long as you could, and the first chance he got, he was out the door. One night, after your regular date with the intoxicating brown liquid (the only steady relationship you ever had), you dialed his number semi-conciously. After two rings, you heard a huffled "Hello?" Then you hung up, suddenly regaining somewhat of yourself.

You can hear your mamma cryin'

Only now, she cried for you

"Angels are watching over you, baby." At thirty two, the whiskey was beginning to lose it's effect. Or, so you thought. Now, instead of that familair, blissful numbness, you hear your mother's voice, crying out to you. You see her in your dreams, burning away on the nursery ceiling every night.

Though you're feeling lonely

Don't let that feeling fool you

You hear him before you see him. He sits beside you on the bed, and reaches for a glass, pouring himself a sip or two of that damn whiskey. As he brings it tp his lips, you stop him. Grasping his forearm, and you shake your head, ever so slightly.

Don't you know, nobody drinks alone?

a/n: Yeah, so I failed epically at this. It must have gone through a thousand rre-writes, and it still sucks horribly. Anywho, I'm dedicating this epic fail to muh frand Cody (follow him on twitter, CodyCroaff) :) Besides being the sweetest thing ever, he's also pretty awesome :) And wanted me to write this (for some crazy reason, he seems to actually enjoy these things. Hehe). So, yeah. :D Call me Queen Of Typos.

Review and tell how much you hated it.

Hugs and kisses, love and best wishes,

Caitlin :*