Well -- uh. I guess it kinda started when I was a kid? I was four when a demon got into our house, fed my brother demon blood, and killed my mom.
[ He realises how it sounds, and takes a very long sip of his drink. ]
That..kickstarted the whole hunting lifestyle. My dad went from a normal guy to this deranged, obsessed bastard who devoted every waking moment to hunting the paranormal, the supernatural. Sammy and I, we grew up in sleazy motels while he left us to go on hunting trips. I pretty much raised him, cause no one else was gonna. I shielded him best I could from our old man - the drinkin', the being an asshole. Couldn't shield him from the military training but that's probably for the best, cause he was a scrawny kid growing up. He needed the self defense techniques.
[ He shrugs. ]
I was six when my dad first took me to the gun range. [ if that gives her any indication of his shitty, awful childhood that he's just now coming to realize was shitty and awful. Dean and Sam had very...very different experiences despite growing up in the same house. ]
Anyway. He and Dad always fought like bagged cats - they were too much alike. So Sammy turns eighteen, and fucks off to Stanford. I was--
Mad. Mad he left us, our family, but also deep down, kinda proud. He did what I sure couldn't ever do. Fast-forward a couple years, Dad disappears, so I went and pulled him outta Stanford to help me find him. Dropped him back off after a hunt that turned up pretty much nothin', and that's when Sammy's girlfriend died -- just like our mom. Same way. Was the demon, pushing Sam back into the hunting world.
[ God, he should've seen it then. ]
Spent a year on the road, found our old man who--
[ Dean swallows, sets his jaw. ]
Died. And that left us to keep on keepin' on, finish the task, kill the demon that started all this shit. Which I did. But on the way, Sammy, he...
He died. And I couldn't--I can't. I couldn't let him die. So I summoned a crossroads demon, made a deal. Sammy's life for my soul.
no subject
Well -- uh. I guess it kinda started when I was a kid? I was four when a demon got into our house, fed my brother demon blood, and killed my mom.
[ He realises how it sounds, and takes a very long sip of his drink. ]
That..kickstarted the whole hunting lifestyle. My dad went from a normal guy to this deranged, obsessed bastard who devoted every waking moment to hunting the paranormal, the supernatural. Sammy and I, we grew up in sleazy motels while he left us to go on hunting trips. I pretty much raised him, cause no one else was gonna. I shielded him best I could from our old man - the drinkin', the being an asshole. Couldn't shield him from the military training but that's probably for the best, cause he was a scrawny kid growing up. He needed the self defense techniques.
[ He shrugs. ]
I was six when my dad first took me to the gun range. [ if that gives her any indication of his shitty, awful childhood that he's just now coming to realize was shitty and awful. Dean and Sam had very...very different experiences despite growing up in the same house. ]
Anyway. He and Dad always fought like bagged cats - they were too much alike. So Sammy turns eighteen, and fucks off to Stanford. I was--
Mad. Mad he left us, our family, but also deep down, kinda proud. He did what I sure couldn't ever do. Fast-forward a couple years, Dad disappears, so I went and pulled him outta Stanford to help me find him. Dropped him back off after a hunt that turned up pretty much nothin', and that's when Sammy's girlfriend died -- just like our mom. Same way. Was the demon, pushing Sam back into the hunting world.
[ God, he should've seen it then. ]
Spent a year on the road, found our old man who--
[ Dean swallows, sets his jaw. ]
Died. And that left us to keep on keepin' on, finish the task, kill the demon that started all this shit. Which I did. But on the way, Sammy, he...
He died. And I couldn't--I can't. I couldn't let him die. So I summoned a crossroads demon, made a deal. Sammy's life for my soul.