Do you know what it's like to desire normality? To want to live and love and laugh and smile? Do you know? I do. I spent twenty-three years of my life trying to understand why I couldn't be normal. Why couldn't I go to school? Why couldn't I have a real job? A real identity? A real home? Why did I have to run around and save those people who in turn, constantly denied me of the things that I wanted in life?
I was raised as a hero. Through and through. Trained in combat. Intelligence. Survival. Weapons tactics. All of the things that a hunter needed in order to combat the forces of evil.
Of course, Dad always knew. He always knew that I was evil. The looks that he constantly gave me, always ditching me and Dean when we were kids on some hellbent revenge on the monster who took his wife and, little did I know, his youngest son. I was dirty. Polluted. I was the black sheep and the only person who gave a damn about me was my brother. But he saw the light. They all did. And now they're dead.
I won't lie. I killed them. I slashed Dad's throat. Dragged him around, left little pieces for Dean to find. He didn't like that very much. Got angry. Pitched a fit, took on a few allies that I had. And, boy, he gave them one hell of a ride. I knew he had it in him. Was always the tough one, after all. But the big brother didn't have the guts to kill me off. He hesitated, I attacked. Next thing you know he's rolling around, trying to pat out the flames while me and mine were making popcorn and enjoying the show.
I think that was the hardest thing. Killing Dean. But I didn't have a choice. It was either him or me, and do you think that a greedy little shit like myself would go through with the sacrifice? Come on. Come. On. Not interested, sorry. Dean had to go. Bye-bye, sayanora, see you later, big bro. Things kind of picked up from there. Killing people got easy. Children, infants, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters -- I didn't give a damn, they were all just walking piles of meat taking up space. No one needed them. We don't need them. What we need is the dark. It's comforting. Silent. Peaceful.
It's the end of the beginning. And the beginning of the end.
Now if there's a Dean here who's, you know, alive, I'm not gonna lie. Half of this post was written to provoke you. Lure you in. I want to kill you, big brother. I want to torture you, make you beg for death, and then just when you think that I'm going to end it? I'm going to start all over again. It'll be fun, I promise.