Dean was at the bar, again. This time he didn't even think of an excuse… As a matter of fact, he had been there three times this week, and it was Thursday. Yep, he had been there three out of four days, but he had spent each night at a bar of some kind… He felt like crap, but he also felt like he had the right to spend his evenings at some local bar. Yes, he 'had the right to remain as drunk as it took, to forget every evil sons of bitches there was'. He raised his glass to toast his former colleagues the ones who wasn't with him any more…

To John,
the father who raised me to be who I am.
the father who showed me how I should survive.
the father who told me how to take orders.

To Bobby,
the man I look up to as a father.
the man who took us in, no matter how bad it was.
the one who truly cared about us.

To Joe,
the girl who I should have taken more seriously, in every way possible.
the girl who sure knew how to throw it.
the girl who sure was cut out for it!

To Jake,
the man.
the man I could have sworn was to be my best man someday.
the man who looked as me as an equal, even when he found out.

To Sam,
the brother I'll never forget
the best geeky, sasquatch little brother anybody could have
the brother I wished I could die for

As for the pains his body made from the now many years as a hunter, they wasn't as bad as losing any of his friends. So what if he some days had to use crutches even to get to the bathroom… It wasn't all that bad, at least not when he compared. So what if his left knee ached as a son of a bitch, it was only physical… No matter how he tried, no matter how he looked at it, losing the people he loved was always the hardest part.

Dean raised his glass once more,

To all the sons of bitches I've killed
&
to all those sons of bitches I'll kill!

He took a good jug of the whiskey and felt it's burning sensation running down his throat.

Losing friends and family would be the worst, No matter what!