Gas Station

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The next morning came and Sam hasn't suspected a thing. He hasn't spoken to Dean much though since the other day. Only glances of hatred. He'll come to understand soon.

Sam sighs, having to talk to Dean. "Can I borrow the car?"

"Where are you going?" Dean asks, not intending to let Sam out of his sight.

"Gonna pick us up some breakfast." says Sam.

"I'll just drive us." Dean insists.

"I'm twenty-four years old, Dean. You don't need to babysit me."

"I'm driving."

"Fine, whatever. Let's just go, I'm starving!" Sam whines.

Sam and Dean find their way to a nearby gas station so Sam and run in and grab some donuts and breakfast sandwiches while Dean fills up the tank. Dean stood glancing around, almost paranoid. He looked inside the station to see someone talking with Sam. He looks just like Wesly! You gotta be friggin kidding me, Dean thinks to himself. He closes the tank and walks inside. Dean makes himself known to this male who was flirting with his little brother. No little shit is gonna be toying with Sammy's feelings. Not on Dean's watch.

Dean made his presence known to the two of them and sneakily nudged the man's side and he slyly smirked at Dean, automatically gaining new interest. Dean walked into the bathroom knowing that the man would pursue. Of course a couple minutes later he entered. Dean pulled him into the accessible stall and followed through with his plan. Only Dean would exit that stall and then proceed to wash his hands, hide the weapon in his shoe and underneath his jeans. He threw money at the cashier for the gas and food and pulled Sam with him out of the gas station, into the car, and they drove away flawlessly.

A smirk played at Dean's mouth knowing that he had saved Sammy once again and he will continue to do so even if it takes the whole rest of their lives. He's here now and regrets ever leaving Sam with such a monster. No one's gonna ever hurt him again.

Dean stuck by that killing at least once a day, sometimes two. If he's tall, attractive, and blue-eyed with dark hair, consider him dead.

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