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Summary
Because he was a year older than Cas, it was his job to be brave, to take care of Cas. He took that job seriously. Bobby told him he needed to take care of Cas. It was practically the last thing he’d said, before he got drunk. Before he died.
Dean had lost track of how long they’d been on this island. At least a year, he thought, probably closer to two now. If he’d been twelve when the ship caught fire, that would make him fourteen now, Cas thirteen. Still a kid, but a kid that needed to be a man. He had a man’s responsibilities. They were thriving, and Dean intended to keep it that way.