14, 10
"I've got to see Sam. I've got to make sure Sammy's alright." Dean has both arms wrapped around his ribs and is rocking gently back and forth in his seatbelt in the passenger seat. His first hunt, aged fourteen, hasn't gone brilliantly, but the ghost that had thrown him against the wall was salted and burned. John had just wished the body they had dug up in the graveyard had been old enough to be bones, not the withered corpse of a little girl – about Sammy's age – clutching a teddy bear in her coffin and stinking of death.
