“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No. I can’t.”

“Yes. You can.”

Dean shoots you a glare.

It’s a cold ass night in 2005 on the Stanford campus. You are here as moral support for the older Winchester.

He stands outside of his younger brother Sam’s dorm room. Sam had left his father and brother ‘for good’ not long ago. He had been accepted to Stanford to pursue law school. Their father, John Winchester, told him that if he leaves—to not bother showing his face to him again.

Sam left.

It was the worst night of Dean’s life, probably Sam’s best night. One man’s Heaven is another man’s Hell.

Now Dean is rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket trying to man up and just go inside.

All he has to say is; Dad went on a hunting trip, and hasn’t been home in a few days.

Knocking on the damn door seems like more of a challenge than any monster, beast, or ghoul Dean has faced before. The lockpick in his pocket is starting to look awful appealing.