My Throat is an Open Grave

Dean didn't get paid nearly enough for the job he did. Seriously. Using the money he had set aside for his missing brother to purchase Lucifer's Prom Dress from a monster auction, and then traveling halfway across the country with Heaven and Hell's most coveted weapon riding shotgun had to be worth more than credit card fraud could provide. And if that wasn't bad enough, the Boy with the Demon Blood just had to be named Sam, didn't he?

Sam didn't get paid enough, either, but he was significantly less picky than Dean. He just wanted a family, a place to call home, a chance to find out what hug was like, and maybe a break from the constant nightmares. If that was too much to ask, he would understand, seeing as he was a stupid, disobedient, demon-blooded monster who disappointed every owner he had. Just one thing, then? Maybe? Just an older brother to get in between him and the monsters and pain and nightmares; one who would sometimes, if Sam was a very good boy, call him Sammy and give him hugs.

Yeah, that would be nice. That would be more than enough for Sam.