And you're wearing your favourite shirt. The first one you've ever bought from the money you saved from doing your chores. And you're trying to tie your tie but your hands keep shaking. You're nervous. Because you never wear a tie. You've never had occasion. You're eyes flick to the picture taped to the wardrobe beside your bed. Now you do. Because there's a girl. A girl with sun-kissed skin and cherry-red lips. The lips you've memorised. The days you've spent lying in the grass kissing them, touching them over and over again so that when you move away you can still feel their pressure. The lips that whisper sweet nothings like ''Dean you're perfect.'' ''Dean…stay.'' Things you know you can't be. Things you know you can't have. But you're gonna try. Because it's for her. This girl who saved you. Listened to you. Helped to feel a little normal. To forget the evil things you hunt and the dark things you've seen. And you stand there in the mirror, watching your reflection. You fix your tie and straighten your shirt and you absently beg for your father not to come back tonight. Because he said he would but you plead with God or whoever the fuck else is listening and your silent prayers spill over into whispers ''Please not tonight.'' ''Just let me have one more night.'' So you smile at your reflection and lace up your boots and as your hunched over your smile drops because you hear it.

Something you haven't heard in two months but you would recognise the roar of that engine anywhere. You close your eyes because that's not fair. There's a lump in your throat because you know what's coming. And you take back all your prayers and all your ministrations because how the fuck could you deserve this perfect life. You question how you could deserve this life; how you could deserve a girlfriend you might have fallen in love with, a home that keeps you warm, a family that protects you. And you ignore that small part of you that says ''Dean you deserve this…stay.'' So you stand. You're angry. There's a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes. You hear the familiar rev of the beautiful car. And you wish with all your heart that you could have this perfect life. You walk to the window and you're about to shout out of it to tell your dad to ''fuck off!'' because how could he do this to you. You pull back the curtain.

And you see it.

The tears spill over and you hear a broken sob that couldn't possibly be your own but there's no-one else in the room. And you see him, wearing your plaid shirt and playing with the toy you stole for him. Only twelve years old.

And everything just fades.

Everything. Your dad, this place, your warm bed, even your girlfriend. Because in that moment you know. You now that you will leave. You know you have to leave because you are nothing without him. You will give it up. Give it all up. Your happiness, your chances and you don't know it yet but your life too. Because you remember rule number one. And you smile. Through your tears and your drowning heart you smile. Because what else can you do? You're not destined for this. You are destined for him. You are destined for him to stand by your side as you fight and you survive.

Why?

Because rule number one was always:

''Take care of Sammy.''

I mean, that's the whole reason you're here in the first place right?