I wasn’t the best parent.
After my wife died I wanted to kill the demon straight on,
but I also needed help.
I trained my sons hard,
I wanted Sam to have a normal life as long as he could,
but Dean had saw,
and remembered what happened that night,
he knew what was out there.
At points I knew that being this harsh to Dean,
or this harsh to Sam was wrong.
Parents have the right to yell at their children,
but not the way I yelled.
I am the reason Sam ran away,
I am the reason Dean wears my clothes,
listens to my music,
drives my car,
I pushed him to far,
and now he’s like a soldier,
following my every order.
In the end when my son was dying I gave my life,
he deserved it more than I did anyway.
I hoped this would make up for the years,
and years of me.
At times I look into my children’s lives,
and they just keep getting darker,
Sam drinking demon blood,
the mark of Cain,
even the darkness herself.
When I was around all I had to deal with was the occasional poltergeist,
or demon deal,
but they are in some deep dark trouble,
and I don’t know if they can come back from this.
They might win,
they might survive,
but that doesn’t mean they’ll be the same.