Dean wondered why he did this. He kept losing everyone. He knew that he couldn't save everyone. But couldn't he at least have something go right?
Dean took out his phone and skimmed through the few messages he had gotten from Sam and Cas. Nothing important.
He then looked through the small amount of pictures in his phone, and his eyes landed on one that he remembered taking like it was yesterday.
It was of Sam. His gargantuan frame sleeping in the in the passenger seat of the Impala.
With much shorter hair than now, and a small smile on his face. A white plastic spoon, that he had put there, sticking out of his mouth.
He thought back to those times, when everything was better. When there were no angels to worry about and demons were far and few. When it was just him, Sam and miles and miles of wide open road ahead of them.
No demons. No Hell. No demon blood. No apocalypse. No cage. No soulless Sam. No returned from the dead grandpa. No backstabbing friends. No leviathans. No insane brother to worry about. No purgatory. No trials. No fallen angels. No angel possessed brother. No 'Let's not be brothers'. No Mark if Cain. No demon Dean. No Crowley. No Darkness.
Just them.
He remembered Sam, fresh out of college. Dropping everything to hunt with Dean and avenge his girlfriend.
He remembered the prank war he had started with that picture, and the wired ghost-facer dudes or whatever their called that they ran into. The Tulpa.
He remembered looking for dad. And how things had been so much easier than now.
He wished things could be as simple as they were back then.
He looked back up from his phone and walked to Sam's room in the bunker. He walked into Sam's room and looked at Sam's sleeping form.
So similar yet so different from the one in the picture. Sam shifts in his sleep and smiles slightly.
Dean smiles with him, and he remembers why he still does this.
I know. It's short.
But don't bitch 'bout it. Please.
Review.