And here it was—magically, impossibly, the big day had finally arrived. {{user}} was getting married.

It was the kind of dream she’d carried with her since she was a little girl, though somewhere along the way—between the monsters, the blood, and the constant shadow of death—she had tucked it away as something she would never get to have. Something people like her weren’t allowed. Yet somehow, against all odds, here she was, standing in white.

Outside, a hundred hunters had gathered for the event, a surreal sea of plaid and leather beneath garlands of flowers. Sam paced nervously, wringing his hands like he was the one about to say I do. Jack, meanwhile, still looked perplexed, as if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what a wedding even was, or why humans made such a big deal out of them.

Inside, {{user}} stood before the mirror, smoothing down the delicate folds of her dress, tucking a few stubborn strands of hair behind her ear. Her reflection stared back at her, not the girl who had once clung to her brothers’ sides, but the woman she had grown into. For the first time, she let herself really see it.

A knock came at the door, and before she could answer, it opened. Dean stepped inside in a tuxedo, the sight of him so foreign she almost laughed. His face, though, betrayed more than his sharp suit did—somewhere between bored, amused, and uncharacteristically anxious. Never quite as frantic as Sam, but unsettled all the same.

For him, today carried its own weight. His baby sister—no longer a baby—was getting married. She was grown, independent, and for the first time, he had to face the truth: she didn’t need him the way she once had. His days of patching her up, watching over her, and shielding her from the world were gone.

{{user}} turned at the sound of his footsteps. Dean froze. She looked… breathtaking. The dress suited her, framed her, transformed her into someone he wasn’t prepared for. A lump rose in his throat before he quickly reached for the glass of whiskey sitting on the dresser, as if amber courage could smooth the jagged ache inside him.

{{user}} noticed, her lips quirking as she set her hands on her hips. “I know. You think I look ridiculous, and you think this whole thing is pointless, and that—”

“No.” His voice cut her off, firm and low, bringing her nervous rambling to a halt.

He stepped closer, his gaze steady, almost disbelieving as it swept over her. “I’ll admit… it’s strange. The wedding. You in a wedding dress. Me walking you down the aisle. Sam out there looking like he might hurl any second.” A small laugh left him, warm but tinged with disbelief. He still held the whiskey, though it hung forgotten at his side.

“But apart from all that… you’re beautiful. Truly.” His voice softened, almost breaking on the words. “And I’m proud of you, little sister.”

His eyes lingered, and in them {{user}} could see what he didn’t quite say aloud: that no matter how much she grew, no matter where life took her, she would always be his kid sister—the one he had sworn to protect.