User Profile

I used to be a father. A husband. A friend. A neighbor. Liked to restore cars. A veteran who was ready for a little peace, you know? My wife made these amazing apple pies, and my favorite thing was to sit in the kitchen, my boy on my knee, and watch her bake. She had this...grace, this serenity, and she made everything...good.

But then she was taken from me. And I changed. We all changed. I changed us.

Dean and Sammy, my boys, they're all I had. Everything I had left. And I did what I thought I had to - to keep them safe, to find some peace. All I wanted, really, was peace.

Gave up everything for them. Died for them. And that was all right, because I knew it was close. That peace. Could taste it on my lips, could feel it against my fingers. Knew I was close.

Then I clawed my way out of hell - because it was what had to be done - and I helped my boys, my sons, put the son of a bitch who'd killed our Mary into the darkest part of it. I'd been there. There were cages in hell that could hold even Azazel, even him. For a while.

And then...peace.

Until now.

Now I'm back. I didn't ask for it. I was done. I was tired and broken and done. But I woke up the other day in a city I don't recognize with a gun by my side and a note that simply said 'GO'.

I was a soldier, once. And then again in a very different kind of war. So I went.

Peace can wait.

[This is an RP journal.]

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