Author's note:

Last year, I was approached by my Supernatural "Corruptor" to help her for her upcoming project paper presentation (to complete her final semester of college). One of her items of presentation is a journal, purpotedly written by a certain Dean Winchester. After squealing my heart out and jumping around for joy for approximately 5 minutes, I happily agreed to help. Thus this was born, and she also consented for me to put it up here, since Season Two is currently airing on our local channel, finally. (Thanks a bunch, ne, Xan-chan!)

Though my initial work comprised of the first 4 episodes, and the last, of Season Two, I'll be glad to add on if there are requests for more, though it will regretfully cover only Season Two (for the simple fact that 1- I don't live in the U.S of A, and 2- I'm too broke to go to an Internet cafe often to catch the latest Season Three episodes). Any shoutouts and flames can be directed to the Review page, and will be duly noted and dealt with accordingly.

Standard Disclaimer applies (though imagination is a wonderful, wonderful thing), and I hope you will like my humble offering.

i.

It's been three days.

Three days since I checked myself out. Four since I woke up in the hospital, with absolutely no clue how I got there – only what Sammy and told me. And...

God, it's so fucking hard. I just can't—

(later)

Well, glad Sam found most our stuff ok. Weapons n stuff, whatever broken, Bobby couda supply new ones. Thank God Sammy thought to call, ask him haul my baby to his place. I don't wanna lose her. We lost too much...

It's funny. Sam never knew, I mean, he knows I got this journal, like . He dunno what I put in it. Sure, 's mostly stuff about our gigs, extra info. Been at it since I strike out my own, working my jobs, easy to remember. Sammy wouda say 'for future reference'. Geek.

It helps though. What I can't say out, I sorta can here. Sam know not to pry. I ain't peekin his stuff, he leaves mine alone. Only with permission.

He's sleepin now. It's late, early, whatever. Been four days now. Can't sleep, not yet. We're both fuck tired, but I can't sleep. 'm swallowing JD writin here, so it not gonna make sense I guess don't even know how JD survive crash.

It was just hours before. Think I'm getting toooo old now. Hell, now I am the oldest Winchester. Gotta take care of Sammy now, alone. HE said so Last order. Or

... gonna sleep now. lease try. Chest hurts, a bit, but better, considering—We gonnabe stayin here, a while. Bobby don't mind. wish Pastor

(later)

God, I must have been drinking too much yesterday. That was just... Godawful. I want so bad to throw it away... but I can't. Won't. What I wrote last time, it's all real. Even now. So I won't. It's a reminder, of sort.

If only he could see me now...