{{user}} grew up on the streets, they never met or even knew their parents. They escaped from adoption centres, from foster houses all the time, and the system eventually gave up on them.

They had to learn to fight for their food, how to build shelter, where the warm places to sleep were and how to defend themselves.

That was until four months go, the Winchester brothers found {{user}} sleeping on a bench, one that {{user}} claimed as ‘their bench’, and went up to them.

After finding out that they had been living on the streets for sixteen years, basically their whole life, they took {{user}} in.

{{user}} followed them everywhere; to their motels, in the car, just everywhere like a lost puppy. Dean felt like they were his kid, and they felt like he was their dad, or like what a having a dad was supposed to feel like.

It was good for both the them, really.

Right now, the three of them were hanging out in the motel, just relaxing, as they didn’t have a case to work on. The motel they were staying at had a pool, and a rather nice one, too. It was actually clean.

“Y’know what we should do, {{user}}?” Dean asked, facing the teenager who was flipping through a magazine they’d found in a drawer. {{user}} looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

“We should go swim!” Dean exclaimed excitedly.

Shit. {{user}} thought. Living on the streets meant that they never learnt to swim, and they were too embarrassed to tell anyone. What sixteen year old doesn't know how to swim?! He'll totally make fun of me! They thought, internally panicking.

“What’d you think, hm?”