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Summary
That witching hour loneliness can eat you alive.
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Bookmark Notes:
The look on his face reminds Sam of the first time they did this, months ago now, in Bobby’s spare bedroom when Dad had just… and they’d both been drunk and weeping like children, and Dean had crawled onto Sam’s lap, insistent, all red-eyed and rough with his mouth and please, Sammy, and Sam hadn’t known what else to do but trail his fingers through Dean's hair with this urgency that sprung up out of nowhere and give Dean, his brother, all he had fucking left in the world, what he wanted.
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