He's been hunting for a long time, longer than most, and has seen more than his fair share of apocalypses. Dean's exhausted, and now that he's writing his own story, he finds himself wanting that apple pie life more and more. He wants his own house, outside of the bunker. Maybe a job, one that doesn't involve killing things. Dean wants a life, he's waited forty-five years for it and it scares him more than anything. Dean wants a life and he knows exactly who he wants to share it with. Which brings him here, sitting in some seedy bar in Kansas with shitty beer.