Dean didn't even realize his aim was beginning to stray in Dan's direction. He quickly corrects it because as weird as this guy is, Dean doesn't actually want to shoot him. Right now.

Seeing Sam like that almost knocks Dean clean off of the horse and onto his ass.

Even a year later, Dean still wakes up smelling smoke. He looks around in a panic to see Dad sleeping on top of the covers on the other bed, sprawled out in a way that means he fell asleep drinking again.

The room is silent except for Dad's light snores, Sammy gurgling in his sleep, and Dean's own deafening heartbeat.

His blankets feel heavy as he pushes them away. He does his best not to wake Dad, but he can't stay in bed. If he stays in bad, something bad will happen to baby Sammy, just like what happened to Mom.

Dean crawls over to where the crib they got from the motel is sitting at the foot of his bed. It looks like Sammy's dreaming about something from the way from limbs jerk around.

Dean feels better now that he can see Sammy, but he still has that terrible panic rising inside of him. He knows that Sammy is going to get hurt, or burn, just like Mom if Dean doesn't take care of him. So Dean climbs over the railing and curls up around his baby brother.

"Angels are watching over you," Dean silently promises, just like Mom told him.

Maybe this time if the monsters come, they'll take Dean instead.


It takes him a moment to regain any semblance of composure.

"I hate this," he says, voice thick with emotion. "I really fucking hate this."