You and the Winchesters came from entirely different circles. See, the brothers were loners. Different kinds of loners, but loners nonetheless. They didn’t grasp normal—no fault of theirs—but that didn’t stop the alienation. Mysterious sick days and inexplicable scars. Bags of salt in pencil cases and custom silver army knives.

You, on the other hand were normal. Normal to the naked eye at the very least, but odd enough to want to know the Winchesters. To be intrigued by their quirks rather than perturbed.

Your friends didn’t get it, why you stopped to listen to Sam ramble about his latest book. Or why you joined Dean for his parking lot smoke breaks. They didn’t understand why the brothers let you. It was either radio silence from the awkward gangly teen that Sam was—Or a crinkled nose from the spiky haired and leather-clad senior that Dean was.

They let you hang around. Wanted it actually.

And no one knew why.

Not even you.

But nonetheless, it was the Winchesters and {{user}}. The loner by choice and loner by destiny—and their tag-along friend who they just can’t seem to shake.