𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐒

you, like sam, had left a promising university degree behind you to hunt with the winchesters, much to your parents’ disappointment.

hunting with the winchesters was like a dream. or sometimes a nightmare, if a mission didn’t go too well. the three of you shared everything. dean’s impala (however reluctantly he let either of you drive it), and most importantly, the bunker.

what you hadn’t told the brothers, however, were the papers, worksheets, and practice exams that were still stuffed in your bag. it gnawed at you, the guilt of keeping it away from them. sam, well, you were sure he could understand. dean, on the other hand… you knew he wouldn’t handle it well.

it was midnight now, the clock beside your bed ticking rhythmically. you were silent, flicking through your latest work. the torch beside shone softly over your rushed handwriting.

dean carefully stepped into the bunker, muscles sore and tense, dirty sleeves rolled up past his forearms, dried blood clinging to his skin. it was silent, and dark with the cloak of the night, except for one room. he made his way up the creaking stairs, towards the light spilling out from underneath your door.

the door to your room creaked open, a familiar figure in the doorway. you could see dean’s piercing green eyes, even in the darkness of the night. dean might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knew what you were doing? curled up in your bed, surrounded by worksheets.

you opened your mouth to speak, to defend yourself, but dean beat you to it.