The hunt had been spiraling dangerously on the day you met the Winchester boys’ father. The reticent, greying veteran caught your eye.

He was never an easy man to pin down: voicemails, scarce calls and miles of distance had proven that much. The quiet shared moments at old dive bars were how you really got to know him, in the typical hunter fashion. You began with light topics, hearing about his hunting trips and his fondness for cars. Eventually, he told you about the war, and later still, the wife he couldn’t save. Then you met the boys who meant everything to him. You’ve since come to terms with who he was as a flawed human being.

You could tell the young men were curious about you, always staring at you for a second when they saw you with their father. Yet nobody brought it up, dancing at the edge of an awkward conversation that hunters as a rule couldn’t bear to face. The tethers of this dynamic were testing and fraying, sure to snap once any of you realized that you were becoming way too comfortable with one another. One step and you could plummet.

Sam was barely an issue. Perhaps he was just intuitive, or too much like his father for his own good. The older brother was the one whose blessing you really needed. He was The news came crashing down on Dean—another parent to add to the picture, even some half-siblings if you and his dad got along really well.

“I’ve never seen him smile like this before,” your step son admits. His green eyes flicker away for a moment to betray the clear discomfort he has with being so vulnerable. It’s almost amusing how he utters the words like they pain him, how he doesn’t realize that all you need is for him to try.

“You’re good for him,” he finishes. The younger hunter was cautious, not completely on board. But he wanted to be.