ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

He finds what is to be expected, clothes, guns, cigarettes and lots of condoms and magazines, but there, at the bottom of the bag is a small, black digital camera.

It turns on with a quick click, and the small screen lights up. He scrolls through the pixilated photos. Fields, roadside stops, lots of angles of the Impala, but then...

Sam.

Not just one or two innocent photos of the kid, but an endless stream of blurry pictures from all angles, with Sam wearing progressively less and less clothes until John reached a photo of his youngest son, nude and on his knees with a cock pressed against his cheek, staring up at the camera with those big doe eyes.

And in those eyes, John found an answer to what he'd been thinking.

Yes, dad. I want this.

Despite his better judgement, John scrolled to the next photo. It was a video, but the screen was completely black. The small speaker vibrated next to his finger.

"Fuck, Dean- please-"

"Shut up, Sammy, you'll wake up dad. Be quiet for me, okay?"

"D-de, please i'm close-"

John shut off the camera.

He placed it back where he found it, and went to bed praying he'd wake up to find it was just a dream.