Home
War hadn't been kind to Dean Winchester. Reason he'd gone in the first place was to do somethin' stupid like make his dad and little brother Sammy proud, but all it got him was a letter from Sam one day sayin' that dad finally high-tailed it outta there and took all the money with his ass. Nothin' Dean could do about it for awhile, but eventually he was granted leave until further notice, to take care of his shit back home. He'd immediately packed his bags, said bye to whatever comrades he'd made that actually survived, and got shipped right on home.
Dean had checked in with his little brother first things first, and now he was sittin' in his uniform at the local soda bar, 'cause there was a discount for people involved with the armed forced. Every once in awhile he'd look over and try observin' the regular teenagers that frequented the place, thought about how different his life would'a turned out if he had any one of their lives. Boys with their hair slicked on back, girls in stupid fluffy poodle skirts, whatever they were called.
Mostly, he'd come to just enjoy sittin' by himself there, sittin' on his five-cent root beer float, waitin' for somethin' to cross his way. If not, Dean would just go home like every other night, make sure Sammy didn't get into trouble, and then crash. Nothin' to it. Nothin' exciting about it, but at least he wasn't gettin' shot at every which-way he turned.
demonsbloodandangelgrace