Crying . . . there was crying. The young boy looked down at the small bundle in his arms and stared in awe. Then he jumped, startled. He looked up at the large man in front of him that barked orders at him and the next thing he knew, he was running out of the house, being careful not to drop the tiny thing in his arms.
Flashing red lights, loud ringing sirens, a fire flaming through the windows of his parents' bedroom.
What was going on? He wondered. He stared down at the bundle in his arms and held it tighter to his chest for comfort. Where was Daddy? What happened to Mommy? He asked himself.
Large men in heavy yellow suits were everywhere, some ran into his house and some came to him, scaring him a little bit. A few seconds later to his relief, he saw his father running breathlessly out of the house towards him.
"Dean? Dean, are you okay? How's Sammy?" his father asked. His eyes shone bright in the flaming night. He nodded to his dad but glanced back at the house.
"Where's Mommy?" he asked, his tiny, innocent sounding voice broke the heart of the man that had stood before him, holding the baby he'd taken into his arms. His father closed his eyes and Dean noticed a small tear run down his dad's cheek. "Hm?"
Taking a shuddering breath and staring down at his young boy, he bent down to Dean's small height and looked him in the eye. "Mommy's not coming back, Dean," he said softly. He kept his gaze on his boy and almost broke it because the innocence and curiosity his boy had been nearly enough to break his wall of strength.
John felt movement against his big chest and looked down to see his tiny, withering newborn, Samuel. He covered his eyes with his free hand. "What am I going to do?" he whispered to himself. He heard low sniffles and looked forward to see Dean almost ready to cry. The little four-year-old boy ran into his father's arms, careful not to hurt his little brother, and squeezed tight into his father's comforting and protective embrace.
"M-Mommy!" Dean cried. John rubbed Dean's back and shushed him softly as he watched his boy sob into his chest, damping his night shirt.
"Shh, it's alright, Dean," he said. He stared ahead at nothing with determined eyes. He was going to do something about this. He will find the one that took away his Mary. He will do anything and everything to find out the truth. He looked down at Dean. He looked down at Samuel. He shook his head slightly.
Sammy has to be kept safe. He looked at Dean again. He pulled Dean away from him slightly and lifted his chin so his son's teary eyes looked at him.
"Dean, are you gonna be alright staying with me?" he asked him. Dean wiped his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"We have to keep Sammy safe from danger, isn't that right?" he asked. Dean nodded. "It's our job to protect this family, we're the big boys, right?" Dean nodded again. "So what are we gonna do to protect our family and keep each other safe?"
"Become strong so we can protect Mommy and Sammy!" Dean looked at the house that was now washed away from flames. "No more danger, Daddy," he said, his tiny hands forming into tiny, cute fists of determination. John nodded and smiled.
"That's my boy."
"Dean, got the salt?" John asked. He looked towards his eldest son, his back towards him. Dean nodded, not turning around when he tossed the cylinder behind him knowing his father caught it. "Loaded the guns?" the sound of several guns being reloaded was heard. John nodded his approval even if his son didn't see it. "Keys?" Dean slapped the side of his pants pocket, hearing the sound of jingling silver and bronze. John looked around the motel room for anything else they needed to pack up. "Clothes? Toothbrushes? Toothpaste? Deodorant?" John named off the items from his mental list of supplies.
"I got everything packed," Dean said. He carried the large duffel outside to the trunk of the Impala and set it down carefully. He set the guns neatly under the trunk space where their other weapons were stored.
John walked out of the motel carrying everything else and locking the door behind him. He walked up next to Dean and set the other baggage and supplies in the trunk. He looked at his son and noticed the light stubble growing around his son's jaw area and up his cheekbones a little, the outline of his soon-to-be manly beard.
"Two things that we need," he said, his deep voice rumbling in Dean's ears. Dean stepped back a little.
John looked at him. "Coffee and a shaver," he said, motioning to his own face as a sign for Dean to notice his own beard.
Dean touched his face and felt the stubble. A small smirk appeared across his lips.
"Coming closer to bein' a man?" he said, grinning with his sparkling white teeth blinding John's eyes. John scoffed.
"Heh, trying to be like me?" Dean instantly shook his head as he took his seat in the passenger side of the car.
"Hell no! With that gorilla of a beard, I'm okay!" he laughed as he saw his dad's reaction. "I'm kidding! I'll shave later. So when's the next hunt? What are we hunting?" Dean asked. John turned on the radio and a song from Nickelback was playing. He wasn't used to this kind of music, so he shut it back off. He started the car and started back on the road.
"We're going to Bobby's. There are no hunts right now, so we can take some time to relax and see your brother," John said. He saw how Dean visibly tensed and turned away slightly.
"I can look for a hunt, I'm still pumped up from that last one, with the wolf," Dean said quickly, flexing his biceps to show his dad that he was all good. John shook his head.
"We're taking a break. You've been working out too much and you've been overdoing it on hunts. If you do any more extra stuff, you'll damage yourself," John said. Dean snickered and looked out on the road.
"I'm just trying to do my best so I don't screw up."
"You never do."
"'Course I don't. I'm your soldier," he said quietly. John glanced at him. He resisted running his hand through Dean's hair to show his affection and acknowledgment but that part of him, his soft side, had died down over the years.
"What's so bad about going to Bobby's place?" John asked. He made a right turn on the road and stared ahead, concentration on the moving road and passing signs of direction.
"Nothing . . ."
"Is it about Sam?"
"What about him?"
"You barely speak his name like how you used to a couple of years ago, you were always saying 'Sammy should see this' or 'I wish Sammy was here.' What happened?" John usually didn't bother talking about sentimental things like this but he just couldn't help but ask. He had front seats in seeing the distance between the two brothers. He knew because of his 'job' that he was separating Sam and Dean, but even so, he made time to go see Sam who was in the care of his good old friend, Bobby Singer. What he just didn't understand was why Dean would avoid his younger brother?
"I'm too old to think things like that," Dean said. He brought his hand up to his mouth to stop it from shaking. "I'd just rather do things involving the family business, and like you said, 'keep Sam safe', I'm basically doing what you asked me," he said, giving his father a short look of assurance.
John sighed. "Avoiding him isn't keeping him safe. How will you know if he's okay or not?"
"He can talk. There are three grown men around when we go there, me, you, and Bobby. He can let his tiny voice box work," Dean said, his voice sounding deeper than usual. He cleared his throat.
"Yeah, and? He has no one to talk to. He doesn't want to talk to older guys like me and Bobby. I'm sure that he'd feel much more comfortable if he was talking to his older brother."
"No way. He's been living with Bobby for all his life now, the guy's like a second father to him. Me? I'm like a distant uncle."
"Dean, you gotta stop being distant from Sam."
"I'm not hurting him in any way, Dad."
"Dean."
Dean sighed from his dad's tone of voice. "Pain in the ass," he muttered. John was getting tired of hearing his eldest speak.
"Take a nap or something," he said. Dean gave a huff and slumped down in his seat pulling shades over his green eyes.
"Gladly," he mumbled before closing his eyes and snored softly for the ride to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
The roar of an engine being cut off sounded through Bobby's ears. He stood up from the couch and set his book down and started for the door to the porch. "Seems like they're here," he said to himself. He walked up to the Impala and watched the two men step out from the car.
"Hey, John," Bobby said, giving the guy a quick hug and a hand shake. "How was the hunt?"
"Barely did anything. Dean did all the work," John said. Dean rounded the car, duffel hanging from his shoulder.
"He said I was being greedy." Bobby nodded and chuckled. He gave the teenager a hug and a somewhat hard backslap.
"I take it the hunt went well," he said. The two older Winchesters nodded.
As they made their way back to the large house, John spotted a figure hiding behind the door.
"Sammy?" he called. The fourteen-year-old came out of hiding, shocking John a bit. Dean just hurried his pace and passed the kid on his way in, not saying a word. "My God! Have you gotten taller?" Sam nodded.
"This kid just won't stop growing, I swear, someday he's gonna break the doorway with his head," Bobby said loudly. Sam chuckled. He came up to John and hugged him. John shook his hand through Sam's curly brown hair.
"You need a haircut." Sam shook his head, his hair slapping his eyes.
"No, Dad, I like my hair this way," he said. His dad chuckled.
"I see you're going through puberty," John laughed. Sam blushed brightly.
"What's so funny?" he blushed even more when his voice cracked. Crap!
Bobby cleared his throat, gathering their attention. "I bought some burgers and sodas, so let's hurry up and eat . . . unless Dean has already gotten to the food." Everyone made a dash for the front door.
Boy, was Sam starving! His growth spurts and puberty and now his increase in his appetite! He knew that it put a strain on Bobby but he knew the old man didn't mind.
The three males made it to the kitchen and surprisingly, the other Winchester wasn't anywhere in the room. John and Bobby started taking the food out of the paper bags and Sam licked his lips hungrily. He hadn't eaten anything all day; he was so into this book about the lore of dragons! It was awesome!
"Sam," at the mention of his name, he looked up at his father. "Can you get your brother down here? Tell him we have food and he needs to get his ass here or else it'll be gone before he makes it down."
"Save me three!" Sam said before dashing upstairs, almost tripping on the last stair because his foot was caught under the wood. He cursed his long legs for being slow to his quick movements. He quickly made his way down the hall to his bedroom which he shared with Dean. Once he opened the door, he was shocked to find his older brother down on the ground shirtless, doing pushups. He saw the sheet of sweat covering his brother's muscular back and commented to himself how amazing his brother's body was. The young teenager gave a small groan in his throat to get the attention of his athlete of a brother.
Dean didn't stop doing his pushups. Up and down he kept going with ease as he gave a "Hm?" to acknowledge the presence of another Winchester in the room.
"Um . . . there's food downstairs," Sam said quietly. He watched his brother do a few more pushups before he finally responded.
"Save me some, I'll be down in a while," Dean said, his voice sounding heavy and deep from the exercise. Sam nodded.
"Okay . . ." Sam hadn't left yet, watching his brother. He wondered if it'd be stupid to ask how his brother can do that many pushups without dying. He decided the question would be stupid so he left quickly and nearly grew wings to fly down the stairs.
"Where's Dean?" asked Bobby, taking a bite that was half of the cheeseburger in his hands. Sam sat down at the table next to Bobby.
"He's upstairs doing pushups," Sam said, grabbing for his three burgers that he had claimed before he left the kitchen. He took a bite and moaned at the taste of such a perfectly cooked burger. Since his appetite changed, he even had a liking to garbage like this, but he wasn't going to say that aloud. "He said to save him some burgers," he said through bites of his burger.
John watched his youngest eat like a beast. He gave Bobby a look of "what the hell?" and the other man just shrugged. He took a bite of his burger and drunk a sip of his soda. "The hell is wrong with him?" he stood from the table and went upstairs, nearly stomping the staircase as if he was auditioning for the part of Big Foot.
Busting the bedroom door open, John barked out, "DEAN!" Even at the loud intrusion, that did not stop Dean from pushing in a few more pushups till he sensed his dad almost make a grab for his neck. "I told you to stop and relax! Why are you still exercising?"
"What? Am I not allowed to get stronger?" Dean asked. He stood up from the floor and flexed out his back and arms. "Ah . . ." he flinched slightly as he felt pain in the middle of his back. "Shit."
"See? You did injure yourself. The damned wolf threw you on the hood of a car," John said angrily as he came up behind Dean to get a closer look. In the darkness of the room you can barely see it, but there was a large red and skinned scar going down the middle of Dean's back. John touched it and Dean flinched away.
"Don't fuckin' touch it, Dad!" Dean hissed. John pointed an angry finger at him.
"After you're done eating, I'm checking your back out." Dean nodded, annoyed, and left the room and headed down the stairs with John following behind him. In the light of the hallway, John saw freshly how bright red the scar was, good thing it was still new so it was treatable.
Dean walked into the kitchen shirtless and sweaty. He walked in and fetched three burgers and slapped them in front of him. He took Sam's still full soda and put it in front of him. Geez, this kid's a waste. He didn't eat all morning. If Sam was gonna waste his food or drinks, at least let someone else have it that'll finish it.
"God, Dean, what is this? At least clean yourself up," Bobby commented on Dean's appearance. Dean took the rag that was hooked in his belt loop and wiped the sweat from his face and neck.
Sam watched his brother wipe his face and neck and he hid the blush with his long hair. He looks like a model! He cleared his throat and continued eating his last burger. He occasionally glanced at Dean while the other Winchester just ignored his presence completely.
John saw this and nudged Dean's elbow. "So, what do you plan on doing with your brother, Dean?" he asked aloud, getting everyone's attention. Dean swallowed his food and looked at his dad.
"What do you mean?" he asked. He took a sip of the soda and stared at the older Winchester. John nodded toward Sam.
"Quality brother time or whatever you call it."
"I think he's too old for that," Dean answered instantly. His dad huffed at him and shook his head.
Bobby saw Sam shake his head slightly, disagreeing with what his brother said.
"You say that every time," said John, his tone of voice sounding slightly irritated.
"Um," Sam spoke up. All eyes except for Dean's were focused on him. "I have a project for school," he said quietly. "We were assigned groups but I was the only one left out," he said shyly. He scratched his hair, slightly nervous.
Dean scoffed silently. Pathetic. Group projects suck ass, thank God I didn't stay in school for too long. Well, there isn't really 'God'—okay, thank the Leprechaun from Lucky Charms, yeah, that's it!
"Great, Sammy!" John slapped Dean's back, not noticing the flinch he gave and the muttered "fuck" he uttered out. "Dean, you're gonna help Sam with his project." Dean nearly hissed at his father.
"Hell no am I wasting my time doing some middle school project. Just burn it and say fuck it," Dean said through gritted teeth as he stood up from the table, grabbing his soda and making his way out of the kitchen.
Sam gasped as he caught sight of his brother's back. "D-Dean, are you alright?" Sam stood from his seat and went after Dean. Dean left into the bathroom for privacy only to be barged in on by his little brother.
"Goddammit, kid!" Dean yelled. Sam stepped back a bit away from Dean.
"A-Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.
"What?" Dean was pissed. Can't even piss in peace. "Just get out!" he shoved the kid out of the bathroom and locked the door, ready to do his business.
Sam stood stunned outside the bathroom stared at the door and just stood there listening to the noises coming from inside. When Dean came back out, he sighed and rolled his eyes and walked past Sam back into the kitchen. Sam followed Dean, his eyes locked on his brother's dangerously injured back.
Dean caught Sam's staring but ignored it. He bent slightly, reaching into the fridge he opened to take out a bottle of Jack Daniels.
"Dean?" Dean turned around and looked at his father. He shrugged at him.
"What do you want?"
John was starting to lose his patience with Dean's attitude. "Apologize to your brother."
"For what?"
"You think that yelling at him because he's worried about you is alright?" John asked. Dean took a swig from the bottle. He gritted his teeth, vexed.
"I don't see why I need to apologize. Dad, can you just fix up my back like you said you would?" Dean asked impatiently. He was getting tired of this whole thing. This is the shit regular people argue about and Dean's not gonna stand here and do that. His dad huffed at him.
"Not until you apologize to Sammy."
Sam noticed the tight grip his brother had on the bottle of Jack.
"I-It's alright. I was pestering him . . ." Sam chimed in quietly. John shook his head.
"No, it's not alright. This family will not tolerate any kind of disrespect like that." John glared at his eldest. "Well?" Dean took another drink and stood up in a more defensive way. Sam noticed how his muscles looked more visible in the light of Dean's new standing position.
"So you're not gonna fix my back?" Dean asked. John stood up so aggressively that the chair he was sitting on scraped roughly against Bobby's tiled floors.
"Get the fuck out Dean!" John yelled. Sam flinched as his father's outburst ran throughout the house. Dean's jaw clenched tightly as he took his rag and slapped it over his shoulder. He picked out another bottle from the fridge before quickly dodging out of the house, getting away from the intense atmosphere.
Sam looked from his father to his brother leaving the house. Bobby stood across the room, stunned. He didn't know how to respond either.
John rubbed his face tiredly as he silently apologized to the both of them and headed upstairs to the guest room to rest for the evening.
Sam looked at Bobby. "What . . . What should I do?" he asked him. Bobby cleared his throat.
"Why don't you start up on the project of yours, or maybe read that dragon book? I'll go fetch Dean and clean up his back," Bobby said. Sam nodded and went into the living room and sat on the couch, grabbing his book from the coffee table and began reading.
After fifteen minutes of looking for Dean, Bobby found him in the junk yard sitting on an old car and groaning in pain. Bobby shook his head, devastated. "You and your father are just a bunch of idjits."
Dean looked up at the sound of Bobby's voice. "Yeah, Bobby?"
"Let's go. It's chilly out here, you're half naked, you have an injured back, you're gonna get sick, and I'm gonna fix your back. Now get your dramatic ass back in the house!" Bobby yelled. Dean stared wide-eyed at Bobby. Dean chuckled before hopping off of the car. Bobby pulled on a soft smile, knowing that Dean was going to listen to him at least just this once. They both quickly walked back to the house in no time.
Disinfectant, cotton balls, bandages, and stitches and a bottle of Jack—all the things Bobby will need to fix up Dean. Bobby had Sam sit on the other couch across from them so that Dean could lie on his stomach.
Sam felt bad for his older brother. He watched him hiss and groan in pain as Bobby wiped disinfectant over the injury. Then he began to stitch up the gash and he couldn't help but flinch as Dean would slightly twitch in pain. A few times Dean cursed and so did Bobby because Dean would move so much that he would mess up. Even Sam cursed at watching the whole thing. Once Bobby was done, Dean groaned out loud, "Fuuuck!"
Bobby slapped on some Jack Daniels and the two older men took sips of the liquor.
Dean stood up slowly and was careful not to stretch too much as his now patched up back was as stiff as a board. He glanced at Bobby. "Thanks Bobby." Bobby smiled.
"No problem, boy." He looked at Sam. "Before y'all go to bed," he pointed a finger at Dean, "apologize. I know how you feel towards Sam, but still, getting overworked like that wasn't right. He's your younger brother Dean, he's always gonna be worried about you. An injury like that is serious and you shouldn't brush it off as nothin'. You understand me?" Bobby asked, his eyes serious. Dean looked back at the older man and nodded.
"I understand, Bobby," Dean said, trying to lay back on the soldier talk. Bobby smiled and tapped Dean's shoulder. "G'night you idjits," he said as he made his way up the stairs and to his room to go to bed for the night.
"'Night Bobby," both Winchester boys said. Dean moved up towards Sam and looked down at him.
Sam stood awkwardly in front of his brother. He's never actually stood before him before because he was always being avoided of contact. There've been only faraway glances. But up close and personal with Dean . . . Sam felt like he was seeing a new person!
Dean bent down slightly so that he was face to face with his younger brother. He cleared his throat to get Sam's attention and to clear up his uneasiness.
"Listen, Sam . . . I'm . . . I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm just not comfortable with you getting worked up because of me, alright?" Dean said as gently as he could. He sighed inwardly when Sam nodded.
"Um . . . Dean?"
"What is it?"
"Why don't you . . . Why don't you, um . . . not like me?" Sam asked. Dean resisted rolling his eyes and muttering "ugh."
"Sam, it's not that I don't like you . . . it's just that . . ." Damn, how the fuck can I put this into words? "I'd rather keep to myself. I feel that I don't really need to be in contact with you," he said.
Sam looked up at him. "Dad said that you're distant because you want to protect me. Is that true?" Dean looked at the fourteen-year-old, who for some reason looked younger.
"Yes."
"But why?"
"Why what?"
"Why don't you talk to me? Or do stuff that brothers do? Like hanging out and talk about cars and stuff?" Sam asked.
"Let's just get to bed. It's no use in answering useless questions like that," Dean answered. He made his way for the stairs but Sam stopped him, grabbing his wrist.
"Dean, you're my big brother. . . . You know that don't you?" Sam asked hesitantly. Dean, feeling slightly uncomfortable from the contact, forcibly pulled Sam's hand off of him.
"Listen, Sammy. I am Dean 'fucking' Winchester. I am fully aware that I am your older brother, so what of it? Just 'cuz I'm your bro you expect me to do things with you?" Dean asked. Now he was getting irritated. The kid just kept berating him with questions.
"Yes!" Sam's voice cracked. He looked down to the floor. "I . . . I go out of my way to try and interact with you but all you do is push me away!" Dean grinded his teeth together. I'm just about to do it now.
"I'm going to bed." Dean walked up the stairs in his stride and made his way for his shared bedroom and flopped down on his bed.
Downstairs, slight tears were forming in Sam's hazel eyes. He rubbed the tears away and slowly made his way upstairs. Does Dean hate me? Did I do something wrong? Just what happened? I remember us being so close . . . but then he just broke our bonds . . . Why would he do that?
Dean watched as the door to their bedroom opened and watched as Sam came in sniffling. He watched the kid go over to his bed and flop lifelessly on the mattress. Dean sighed. Can't even close the Goddamn door. He got up from his comfortable position and slammed the door shut. He looked back at Sam who curled in on himself. "Ugh . . ." Pathetic. What a crybaby. He continued to watch Sam's quivering form. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. Do I have to deal with this shit all night? He asked himself. Dean walked over to Sam's bed and looked down at him. "Dude, can you like, shut the fuck up?" he asked. In a second Sam stopped his shaking. He unfolded himself and stared at Dean with tear-streaked eyes.
"Fuck you!" Sam yelled. Dean's eyes went wide. The fuck—"I don't know what the hell I did to make you so angry! Why don't you like me anymore? You never talk, you never look at me, you don't even say my fucking name!" Sam yelled. "Whatever I did or whatever I didn't do, Dean . . . I'm sorry . . ." Sam cried. Dean looked at him. The kid whispered an apology again and that's when Dean snapped out of it.
"Wha—Sam?" Dean just stared at his little brother, stunned by his outburst. Instantly, by looking at Sam's teary, droopy eyes, Dean felt as if he was ten again, when he had to put six-year-old Sam to sleep. Sam was tired, but compared to him, Dean was exhausted, and his bed was just so far away all of a sudden. Dean cleared his throat.
"Sammy, you didn't do anything wrong," he said quietly. He sat down next to him on the bed. He rubbed the tears from his eyes. He was shocked when he felt Sam's skin, his cheeks all puffy and slightly wet . . . his skin was soft. Dean hadn't felt soft skin for so long . . . "I'm really sorry, baby brother," he said. He gently reached out to pat Sam's hair and when he felt Sam lean into his touch, he let him.
Sam hadn't felt his brother's presence and comforting embrace in so long, so he leaned in to feel that same sensation he had felt when he was younger. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around Dean's waist as he brought himself closer to his older brother. He wasn't going to let him go just yet.
Dean slowly rocked them from side to side and hummed softly, running his hand through Sam's hair which he knew was a trick to get Sam all sleepy and tingly inside. He soothingly whispered soft apologies to his little brother as he slowly leaned down on the bed so that they were both comfortable while lying down. Sam shifted from the embrace to place his head on Dean's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Dean rubbed small circles on the small of Sam's back which was another trick to get him sleepy. He felt Sam try to kick off his boots and kicked them off so that he could have his entire being on the bed which now seemed like a comfort heaven. He heard Sam sniffle once more before hearing him softly snore as he drifted off to sleep.
Dean whispered once more before dozing off. "Shh, it's alright Sammy. Dean's gonna be right here . . . I'm right here, bud," he said, yawning loudly, tiredly. Sam's grip on Dean's bare chest tightened slightly, for him fearing that his brother might leave him again. Dean yawned again and ran his hand through Sam's hair to reassure him.
"I'm not going to leave you," he said. He turned his body so that he didn't have to put any pressure on his back. "I'm staying right here." Sam nodded and finally relaxed.
He knew that tonight, there weren't going to be any monsters. No more nightmares. He had been suffering alone but now that Dean's here, to protect him, all of those demons, or ghosts, or monsters, whatever fucker that 's trying to get him, they should all know that Dean is his knight in shining armor.
I don't care if that sounds too girly . . . but I've always thought that since I was little. Heh, I still remember what Dean would always say: "Shoot first, ask questions later." Sam chuckled to himself in his sleep as his thoughts were running in his mind. He licked his lips wondering if he should say what he wanted to say.
"I . . . I love you, Dean," he said quietly, blushing a little in embarrassment. He knew Dean couldn't see his face but his voice gave him away. A smile pulled up on Dean's tired but good looking features.
"I love you, too, Sammy."
PLEASE REVIEW, FAVORITE, AND FOLLOW!
I hope you guys liked this one-shot (is this a one-shot? Idk). This is my not-first-fanfic of Supernatural but it is the first one that I posted! I really hope you guys liked this fic and I hope that it doesn't suck too badly. I think I was trying a little hard in the beginning but I think it turned out alright.
Let me know if you guys like the whole "distant Dean" and maybe I'll give it another shot?
And it's also February which means a lot of misery and loneliness for all the unloved and single personas out there!—I don't think anyone should be too happy about that. BUT! I hope anyone who reads this loves this fic and I hope you guys are lovey dovey about Supernatural!