When you lose something you can't replace

“Dean, that’s the truth,” Sam said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.
Dean made a sound that gave the impression he was stubbornly agreeing. He changed the subject swiftly before Sam could question his trust for him.
“So what’s the deal with this case? How many vics?”
As he asked this, he climbed out of bed, pulled on some jeans and a shirt as quickly as he could to distract Sam visually as well as verbally. Sam sighed, then sat down on the bed opposite Dean, who was now hastily shoving on his shoes.
“Well,” Sam began, “no victims. As of yet, anyways.”
Dean...

Missouri: Sam, oh honey. I'm sorry about your girlfriend. And your father...he's missing.
Sam: How'd you know all that?
Missouri: Well, you were just thinking it, just now.
Dean: Where is he? Is he okay?
Missouri: I don't know.
Dean: Don't know? Your supposed to be a psychic, right?
Missouri: Boy, you see me sawing some bony tramp in half?! You think I'm a magician?! I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room but I can't pull facts out of thin air.
Missouri: Don't worry about a thing, your wife's crazy about you.Whoo, poor bastard. His woman is cold-banging the gardener.
Dean: Why...

AH! SOMEONE NEEDS TO SMACK ME OVER THE BLOODY HEAD! No my loves, I haven't forgotten you... but my life has been hectic. I think it has slipped my mind because Supernatural isn't in my mailbox anymore :(

Now that I am just now back... EVERYTHING is a bloody fan fiction. I thought I was special :( Aw. Oh well, as long as people use grammar and spelling- I'm happy :D

This, my dear, beloved, patient readers... is going to be long... and epic.

As you found out in the last few lines of the last chapter, the main character, Sage, is one of the yellow-eyed demon's kids/followers... whatever they are...

“So what do you think?” Dean looked from Sam to the open files spread on their motel desk and back again, safe to hear his brother’s theory now they were in the privacy of their room.
“Honestly?” Sam said, skimming a piece of paper, flicking it back to another one, then back to the first again. “I think it’s some kinds of vengeful spirit. Maybe these women did something to cause or contribute to their sons’ deaths... I mean, both victims’ throats were slit, cleanly and quickly. Maybe their ghosts are back to remind them of it...”
“...and kill them for it. Okay, interesting...