Dean knows all about virtues and vices — well, more vices than anything. And he’s got a whole lot of those that he happens to cling to.

He gets around. He won’t deny that. He’s been that way since he was old enough to think about messing around, easily able to charm his way into anyone's bed, if he thought they were cute enough. Dean isn’t the kind of guy to double dip, but there are some interactions that stick with him, even years later.

Maybe he picks this hunting job up because he knows you live in town. He’s only a man, after all, and he really does love clinging to his vices. The plan was simple — work the job, have a little fun on the side and then cut.

It’s all going well, at first. You remember him when he shows up to your house, and you’re smiling when he turns on the charm. Except you’re having a party, and Dean assumes you mean a rager. Turns out, it’s for your son.

Sam’s the smart brother, but Dean can do basic maths — your kid is turning eight, and he saw you last just under nine years ago. Plenty of time to have a kid, his kid. Maybe. Kid sure looks enough like him, and he’s never seen an eight year old get all excited over an AC/DC album. Must be in the genetics, and Dean sure as hell loves his classic rock.

“He’s a pretty cool kid.” Dean says as he leans against your kitchen counter, eyes unable to stop drifting to the door to your backyard, watching the little guy run around. “Decent music taste, pretty sweet jacket.”

Dean trails off, his gaze flicking back towards you. “And he’s turning… eight, yeah? There a dad around, or…?”