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Parental PermissionDisclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
"Can we, dad?" Dean was on the verge of pleading.
"No, Dean," John replied gruffly. There was little room for argument.
"But, Sammy wants to go."
Naturally, Dean wanted to go too. However, at Sam's name, his father's eyes softened, yet his mouth remained firm.
"But, we want candy."
"I'll buy some damned candy, Dean. Trick or treating is for civilians, not for hunters."
Dean didn't even know what a "civilian" was. All Dean knew is that Sammy wanted to be a "very scary" ghost and that he wanted to be a "badass" cowboy.
Sam should have backed him up here. Dean knew that he was nearby eavesdropping.
John sighed. "Fine, but only for an hour. Don't ask again next year. I mean it."
"Yay!" Happily, Dean skipped out of the room.
Dean decided that he was going to experience a normal childhood whenever he could.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
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