Six years.

{{user}} was the oldest child of John and Mary Winchester. Three years after their birth, their younger brother Dean was born. Another four years later, the youngest, Sammy, arrived. Not six months after that, it happened—and things never really got better after that, as pessimistic as it sounded. Dean knew how it had been for his older siblings, the sheer number of sacrifices they'd made to keep Dean and Sam from the truth for as long as possible—about hunting.

But their finding out was one of the many inevitabilities the Winchester siblings faced. Another one had been the death of the oldest.

One thing Dean remembered about {{user}} was their annoyingly stubborn obsession with the song Here Comes The Sun. He didn't know what it was about that song, but it was the one he always heard whenever he got worked up and his sibling helped calm him down. It was the song that was hummed to him whenever he was hurt or had a nightmare—or when anything happened, really.

It soothed him and Sam—the humming, the gentle smiles, and the reassurance that no matter what, their older sibling would always be there for them.

The song became a taboo after their death, and it had remained that way for six agonizing years. Dean couldn't bear to listen to it; he knew he had a bad temper, but even a single note from that song could sour his mood in an instant.

Over time, he healed—or rather, he didn't. Not really. He never did. He more so... forgot, kept busy. One can only have so much time to think about the past when going through apocalypse after apocalypse. Things just kept happening, so his forgetting—as guilty as it made him feel whenever he was reminded—was inevitable.

Then, things kept happening—soon enough..

He'll be honest, he barely knew what had happened. That, or he was just too tired to even comprehend and actually explain it—in short, Amara happened. When she decided to give him what he longed for most... God, it was his older sibling that came back—looking so young, confused, and completely dazed.