A/N: Inspired by some amazing fan art. Don't own Supernatural. Dean POV

Remember when it was just us?

The nights were long and usually cold even when they should be warm. The coffee was terrible and cold and full of grounds, and the greasy food sat heavy in our guts. Same songs on the radio as always, but I'd still sing along. Sometimes you'd even hum a particularly good guitar riff or bass line. We'd talk about nothing and enjoy it. We'd talk about important things and pretend we weren't. Staking out whitebread neighborhoods full of oblivious people in middle America, we were just two badass brothers who didn't really need anyone else. We just needed each other.

Remember when it was what we did?

The trunk was full of weapons that we knew how to use, their purposes were clear, their effectiveness proven. We had Dad's book, and it had all the answers we needed. We didn't ask the questions that had no answers, or twelve answers, or answers we had to look within ourselves to find. We found monsters; we ganked monsters. That's it. Hunted them, killed them. Got our asses kicked. Bled all over the Impala's seats. Recovered then did it again. Next town, next monster, next civilian to be saved. Because it was our job. We kept them all safe while they slept.

Remember when it was fun?

Wine, women, and song? Or, to be more accurate, whiskey, sex, and classic rock? I'd get drunk and laid, you'd… well, you did your geeky thing. Practical jokes, smartass remarks, talking about crazy shit from the past. Sometimes it was just so much damn fun just to go after the monster of the week. I mean, werewolves? How cool is that? Zombies? Everybody wants to see a zombie. Freaking everybody. Homemade flamethrower? How is that not fun? We got to drive a muscle car and see the country. We went where the road took us and made the most of wherever we ended up.

Remember when it was about people?

Before demons, before angels, before heaven and hell, there was people. Just making sure their lives lasted another day. Just making sure they were there for their kids the next morning. Just making sure it was the monsters who died hard, not the people they were hunting. No vessels crap, no dying over and over and over, no damn other realms, no trials or prophets or Marks. The people were important, the ones we knew and the ones we didn't.

Remember when we cared?

Remember when it mattered, Sammy?

Remember when it was just us?