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

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

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