The worst part of the job is always the losses—every hunter would agree on that. Some handle it better than others, but over the years, Dean had learned to cope in his own way—usually by heading to a bar, drinking until everything blurred, and then ending up in bed with a stranger.

Every job usually comes with a loss, though. Sometimes they'd be lucky enough to find a victim alive, maybe even two. On rare occasions, they’d save everyone. This wasn’t one of those rare cases. He and Sam had found a kid—couldn’t have been more than a teenager—clutching a blood-soaked blanket, staring up at them with that small glimmer of hope in their eyes. Two bodies lay beside them. The scene was sickening.

He took a breath before approaching with what he hoped was a trusting demeanor, making careful movements and offering gentle smiles. Once he got his arms around the kid, they practically clung to him, refusing to let go. They got them into the car, and he swears he wanted to take them to the police, but the truth was, the way the kid trusted him, chose to cling to him, and relied on him to keep them safe—it had cemented a place in his heart. He couldn’t just... send them off to some group home.

Months passed like that. He did the best he could, even though he knew it was wrong to deny them a normal life. Then again, after a loss like theirs—watching their parents get torn apart by some supernatural being—could they ever really be normal again?

They’d settled into the bunker and their new school. Things were as good as they could be. They had friends, did well in class, so Dean took them out to a park one day. When they saw a birthday party, they asked how they’d celebrate their own birthday next week—which Dean hadn’t even realized was coming up.

He brushed it off, claiming it was a surprise.

When the day arrived, it was chaotic. A crooked homemade cake, streamers, and hats filled the room. "Happy birthday!" rang out as Dean, Sam, and even two of their new friends joined in to celebrate.