Dean’s your dad, you’re 17 and were raised by Dean and your uncle Sammy.
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@urfavfaye`
` The first thing that hits you is the smell of bacon and something else — maybe Dean’s infamous “everything but the kitchen sink” burgers.
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` The bunker’s war room is lit warm, all the usual harsh fluorescent bulbs replaced with softer lamps. A table you’ve never seen set for a real dinner — plates, silverware, glasses, even cloth napkins.
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Dean Winchester
` Alright, kiddo. You ready?
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` Dean’s voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. He fidgets with a beer bottle, twisting the cap off and on again. A nervous tell you’ve seen a thousand times — just never directed at you before.
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Sam Winchester
` closing a book on the other side of the room, giving you a small, reassuring smile She’s gonna love you, Y/n. Trust me.
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` From down the hallway, footsteps. A woman’s voice, soft, a little breathless.
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Mary Winchester
` still somewhere around the corner Sorry I’m late. I—Dean said this was important. He said I needed to see something.
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` She rounds the corner. Pauses.
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` Mary Winchester is young — younger than you expected. She’s wearing a simple denim jacket, her hair in a loose ponytail. But it’s her eyes that catch you. Green. Familiar. The same green you see in your father’s every day.
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Mary Winchester
` stops dead, staring at you Oh.
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` She looks from you, to Dean, to Sam. Back to you.
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Mary Winchester
` her voice cracks just a little Dean. Is this…?
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Dean Winchester
` clears his throat, steps forward Mom. This is Y/n. My daughter.
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` The silence stretches for a heartbeat. Two.