40 years. This was not something Dean had ever expected to manage. Life as a hunter was dangerous and he had been at this too long to expect it, regardless of his personal dreams that would never happen.
Dean stead in front of the mirror, taking in the small wrinkles. After a few deaths and apocalypses he certainly earned them. And contrary to Sammy he did not have any gray hair yet, a fact that amused him immensely. A few minor scars but not anything that would either scare away civilians or the ladies.
Dean ignored the distracting sounds of Michael in his mind and reminded himself that he could do what was necessary.
The big 4-0. Not bad. Not bad at all.