(WRITTEN OUT FROM THIS IDEA ON TUMBLR, DON'T CREDIT ME, GO FOLLOW!: post/60074386358/itsajensenthing-pineappledean)
Mr. and Mrs. Brown sat on their old, worn-out, leather sofa, flicking through well-loved photoalbums. Occasionally they would stop at a particularly funny or interesting picture, sharing stories. They would laugh at how young they were at the time, or how much their boys still looked like their old-selves, back when they were still just kids.
From time to time they would talk about the friends they made, and how many of them they still had contact to.
And when a picture of two young boys showed up on the slightly yellow pages, they stopped flicking.
-Oh! Dear, wasn't that those Winchester kids? Mrs. Brown would ask. Then Mr. Brown would slide his glasses further down his nose, squinting his eyes at the picture.
-Yes, I remember those boys. Very polite, especially the youngest one! Mr. Brown answered, trying to recall memories of the two boys, one with floppy long hair, and the other, and the oldest if he remembered correctly, with freckles all over his face.
-What were they called? Dimitri and Zach? Or was it Adam and Chris? He continued.
There was a good thirty seconds of quietness with the two of them trying to think of the boys' names, until Mrs. Brown broke the silence.
-Now I remember! Samuel and Dean Winchester! Wasn't their dad called John? A stunning man, if I recall correctly.
Mr. Brown frowned a bit at that, slightly offended. Mrs. Brown seemed to pick up on that though.
-Of course not as stunning as you, Henry! You were dazzling, especially in that suite of yours, Mrs. Brown giggled.
The frown dissapeared quickly from the old mans face, replaced by a fond smile, reserved only for his wife. -I did look quite good in that ol' suite, didn't I? He asked, more to the room than his wife, and she giggled again.
-Do you remember how Dean would always protect Samuel? I remember when they were over at our place for dinner, Dean would always ask for a bag for the food, Mr. Brown chuckled.
Mrs. Brown would then nod, and look amused.
-Oh yes, I do remember that. He always said it was if 'Sammy got hungry later'. He was a good boy. Not like his father, always just leaving the kids to themselves, said he had work to tend to. Not a rolemodel for a father, If I say so myself. Mrs. Brown wrinkled her nose as if disgusted.
Mr. Brown nodded in agreement.
-What could possibly be more important than your own children? What if they got scared, or needed someone to tell them that there's no monster under their beds? Kids are afraid of monsters! And what if they got robbed, or worse? They wouldn't know how to protect themselves, assuming they didn't know how to shoot a person yet.
They both laughed at the last part. It would be sick to teach your little boys how to use a gun. Noone would do that.
After another minute of thought-filled silence, the old woman pondered out loud.
-What actually happened to them? I don't remember them being in town the summer after this picture was taken. And they certainly didn't come to say goodbye, I would remember, Mrs. Brown said. Her husband shrugged. -Who knows. Probably moved to a town with more educational possibilities. Though younger than our boys, they always seemed … Older. Yes, they always seemed older.