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Frost

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Frost covered the lettering carved deep in the cemetery’s headstones. Minnesota in spring was unforgiving. It was cold, and Dean felt lucky they even got the corpse to burn with accelerant. Dean folded his arms against his chest. Damn, it was cold. He looked at Sam. The cold didn’t seem to faze him. Nothing seemed to these days. The ghost had come straight for Dean, and Sam didn’t even blink. It scared Dean to think what would happen if he ever got on Sam’s bad side now.

Sam had never been a really fun person, but now it was even worse. Sam took everything seriously. He didn’t enjoy simple things like food and even the few classic rock songs he liked but would never admit. Dean purposely played them to hopefully get Sam in a more upbeat mood. It did nothing. If anything, it annoyed Sam. The man didn’t even like music anymore. Sam hadn’t been the same since he got out of the Cage. He was practically a stranger to Dean now.

Dean shivered. “Let’s go.”

Sam didn’t say a word. He grabbed their bag full of equipment and headed towards the Impala. Dean followed. He stared at the back of Sam’s head. He didn’t recognize his own brother anymore.

If he had stayed in the Cage, he wouldn’t be like this.

Dean immediately hated thinking it. There was nothing he had wanted more than his brother to return. But then again, this wasn’t really his brother anymore, was it?

Sammy, what the hell happened to you?