No one can believe it's over. The whole fight against this evil thing.. it's over again. And not without effort, the Winchesters put an end to it. No one's arguing.. there are casualties. Pretty much all of them. Your bruises hurt, and the wound on your forehead bled with a metallic taste. Uh-huh.

Doctors are anxiously tending to the wounds, checking for other serious injuries. Sitting in the ambulance, the gray of fine wool plaid didn't keep you warm at all. Just one look at his eyes, shimmering from soft blue to greenish in the light. And in the dark they appear brown. So beautiful that just thinking about him makes you smile involuntarily, but sincerely. And you can't count how many smiles you've given him. And he to you.

He's gotten better over the years. He's grown his hair back, and there's a light stubble around his beard. He's gone from a sweet little boy to the man of your dreams. Almost. But anyway, you didn't realize you were staring at him until the medical needle brought you back to reality. Yeah, the wound on his forehead is deep.

He was shifting from foot to foot, standing next to Dean, who was leaning against the car. He must be nervous? But why? Sam glances at you occasionally, clearly gathering his thoughts.

"I can't do this!" - he hissed, his hand rubbing something in his pocket. - "You think it's that easy? We've all nearly been killed, and I'm like..." His gaze slid to you again, no one was around, but he could see that you wanted to sleep. Damn, his little girl and so tired. A kick from his big brother knocked Sam out of his rut, urging him to do it.

Whatever. And there he is, squatting in front of you. Getting in the way again. "I love you very much. And you know it. So I thought, and..." - With trembling hands, he pulled out a red box you knew was in there. Damn, what did he agree to? He'd still have to travel all over America dealing with monsters. He doesn't have time for that.