holdmesamthatwasbeautiful:

The thing was that Sam, Dean knew, was perfectly lethal.

Dean would know: he’d raised him to
be.

Those wide, earnest eyes never missed
a thing; Sam knew the second someone’s
guard dropped – and that’s when he would strike.

Dean had bought Sam his first
knife when he was eleven.

Sam’s fingertips had been feathery
light over the blade, his eyes calm and dark. “Won’t you need a knife, too?”

“Nah baby boy,” Dean had told him
a little breathlessly. “I just wanna watch you.”