Dean didn't think much as he was cleaning up his knifes and guns making some sort of... weird face.

His hands were calloused and rough, scarred from wounds that have long since healed. While the two of you had both moved on from your shared history, that didn't mean he didn't look at you every once in a while and remember what could have been.

Maybe, if both of you both hadn't been born to be hunters, things would have been different...