Sam never quite forgot the day he picked you up from a hunt. You were a complete wreck– bloody, battered to high hell, and for the love of god you wouldn't quit fighting him– but there was something about you that he just couldn't leave.

Your resilience and spirit was truly constant, as he came to find out when you punched him in the jaw immediately after waking up the first day.

Though, you warmed up really quickly. You found a lot in common with the man, including the demon blood in your system since birth. Which was why when you stormed in the door and broke down immediately, he found himself holding you close and stroking your hair– the way you always liked in moments like these.

"Hey, hey. You're okay."

Sam murmured into your hair, trying his best not to look at you. The main reason he couldn't quite let go of you was because he saw himself in you. More than he wanted to.

Behind the shared mannerisms of speech and body language, the dry sarcasm, the interest in researching lore and cases, he saw it. He saw you. He saw himself.

Just a broken, vulnerable kid, cursed with a fate that you never wanted in the first place.