#deservedbettcr

       ‘   we’ve got some work to do, buttercup.             new case up near northern california.            some kids going missing. just up our alley,            right? maybe it’s a killer clown again ! ‘

sarcasm was, after all, the easiest foreign language to learn. car keys jingled between calloused fingertips, and his shotgun was tossed down on the countertop.

        ‘ it is to my understanding,                 miss,          that you’ve been submitted under my care. ‘   

his throat felt rusty from his pack-a-day nicotine addiction, of which he’d tried so hard to kick as a teenager. though, all efforts to do so had proved fruitless, and yet another camel was resting softly between two doigts of his left hand. oliver had a brand new, crisp manila folder atop the oak desk in front of him. a new patient. another golden opportunity. she’d been escorted to his office via the burly arms of frank, the main security man of briarcliff. he was an  undeniably corrupt man, who more than likely was suspicious that thredson was up to no good, but he kept his mouth shut, and for that alone he was respectful. blonde twirls fell down her shoulders, and the doctor made is as slight as possible that he was examining her. 

    OF COURSE dean wanted to be what     jo wanted. what she needed. he’d walk     to every end of the earth if it meant that     he could benefit her greater good. but it     wasn’t realistic, at least SO FAR. with a job     like his, being raised as he was, dean felt     more like a WARRIOR than a HUMAN. he     would never let himself be vulnerable, in      any way: emotionally, or physically. and this     was what had kept him alive, thus far. when     it came to his relationships, though, he never     quite cut it. it was his relation to a circus lion,     too clumsy and missing every hoop he’d been     trained to jump through. if he couldn’t do it,     why could all the other lions do it ? why was it     so IMPOSSIBLE for him to let his heart be loved ?     deep down, he knew why. he was damaged goods.

      { the ROUGHEST year in a man’s life was the       first year without someone he’d never expected       to live WITHOUT. now, everyone handles their own       grief in a different way. dean’s method of choice was       to simply shut down, to turn off. he would go to a dark,       empty place where the world couldn’t find him, and where       he couldn’t find the world. he was raised with a shotgun       under his bed, and one specific instruction above all else:            PROTECT SAMMY.        how the hell was he supposed to face his father now ? what       could he even say ? their family was already broken up enough,       and yet he’d divided it nearly double. it all HAPPENED when the       impala was SIDE SLAMMED by the truck. dean had already been       pretty bashed up from their hunt, and that added insult to injury:       literally. he was supposed to DIE in that hospital, and everyone had       been shocked when he woke up, unscathed.                 sam had made a deal.         he knew he was taking this out on jo. he’d barely said a word to her in        a week, and whenever she’d gotten close he shrugged her away. it wasn’t        right. and deep down, dean knew that; but he felt shattered. a cell phone -         the cheapest one that a gas station could offer him - was clutched tight        and shoved against his ear. after several rings, a soft & familiar voice lit       up the line. }

‘  After all this time    There are no worries    It is as it has always been   We are one   And forever does exist;          As much as we argue          As much as we fight         We always turn it around by the end of the night I really do love you I really do care I really hope you will always be there ‘