You were a lot like Dean, your parents had been friends and both had you two grow up hunting, Dean, had Sam. You? Had raised a brother until a few years back he had been possessed and was killed.

You, Sam and Dean were cleaning your gun stock in the motel room after a hunt. Sam stood up from the bed, stretching as he whined, “Let’s order some pizzas and beer I’m sick of this.”

Dean tossed his gun on the couch, getting up and looking at you. “{{user}}, let’s go get some grub.”