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An old Polaroid photograph of two men hangs on the wall of a deserted bar. It’s been there since god knows when. The men in the picture are each holding beers and smiling at the camera. In all of the many teenagers who have thrown parties or gotten drunk with their friends in the old bar, not a single one knows who they are. No one does.

No one knows their story, just their names, Sam and Dean, that are written on the back. No one knows what they did. No one knows that they constantly sacrificed themselves for others. No one knows that they fought and beat the devil, himself. No one knows that they saved the world. No one knows that they died for the sake of humanity.

No one will ever know, because they never asked to be thanked. They never asked for any credit. To them, it was all worth it, knowing that they saved the world, time and time again. It was all worth it, knowing that their parents and friends would be proud of them. It was all worth it, knowing that they were heroes, even if no one else realized it.

An old Polaroid photograph of two men hangs on the wall of the deserted Roadhouse. It will stay there until the bar is burned down by a couple of reckless teenagers, years later, destroying the last known item related to Sam and Dean Winchester.

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Asher

March 2013

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