Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to Supernatural, including Dean, Sam, John, and Mary Winchester.

Author's Note/Preface: In high school, Dean Winchester's English class was given an assignment to write a poem about their childhood. Dean did the assignment, but after re-reading it he crumpled it up and later, ironically, burned it with his favorite lighter. He received a zero on the assignment. However, I have managed to salvage a copy of the poem for all the wonderful people here at So here it is.


By Dean Winchester

The heat
Burns with something harsher than
The sun
And darker than
The shadows,
And I run
Because I can't put out the fire,
Because I can't stop the screaming,
Because I'm only four years old.
I try to cover his eyes
Little Sammy
So that he won't see
Won't feel the heat
Won't smell the smoke
Won't feel the blood
The house is gone
But the fire is still there
Burning me
Shadows play on the walls
A brand new gun
Salt and burn
Bone and flesh
Fire and Sammy
Smoke and heat.
A little boy who's afraid of the dark
Clutches a .45 to his chest
Like a lifeline
To keep the demons at bay,
And I try to put out the fire
In his eyes, (not my Sammy)
But He tells me not to,
Sir, yes, Sir
And the fire rages on
Salt and burn
A knife under my pillow
Finger on the trigger
A carefully aimed shot
And I run
Because I clean up broken bottles
Because I like to shoot
Because I can't stop
Because I hate running
Because he isn't Sammy anymore
Because I can feel the heat
On the nape of my neck
And I know it's catching up to me.
But I fight
And I destroy
And I wash the bloody crib and
Hope that one day
It will be clean
And not in ashes.
And when the demons get too close,
The shadows,
I will hunt
I will leave the child in the crib
I will put the fire out.