The angst that ate my brain is finished. And betaed. And adjusted. And I know that Saturday afternoon is a stupid time to post new fic because no one's at their computer and it'll just get lost in the general flotsam and jetsam of the lj world but I have to post this frelling thing before it drives me mad. Mad, I tell you
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Comments 14
Sammy sounded matter-of-fact rather than upset so Dean bit back his first response and asked, "What did you do?"
"Well, we're poor and we're white, right?"
"Yeah."
"So I only punched him once."
"He get back up again?"
"No. He was crying too hard."
"You get in trouble?"
"Little bit."
"That's my boy."
If I ever have kids? That story will be a parable in my household.
...safe. Nothing could touch him here. Nothing could hurt him.
Oh Dean. As if that's *not* what's happening.
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:D
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As others have said, this is "a" John, but it is "the" Dean.
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And thank you.
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Last year, he'd even called from a hunt to tell Dean where his present was hidden.
...KILLED ME!
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