Thirty years. It's been thirty years since I've seen the intense green stare of the oldest hunter and the warm, welcoming smile of the youngest. Thirty years since I've smiled myself. Thirty years since I've felt joy or happiness.

   It's been thirty years since the Winchester's deaths. I can still remember that ghastly day that the boys I loved so dearly were taken off the earth. It had been a car crash, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring the boys back. They were gone before I reached them.

   At first, I had been clueless about what to do with myself. Without Dean or Sam to guide me, I was lost. Granted, having the two people that you love most in the world taken from you is not something easy to get over, but because of my status as an angel of The Lord, I should've been able to put them out of my mind and get back to my duties.

   Being apart of 'Team Free Will', though, does not come without a price. I couldn't go back to Heaven - not that I would want to - so I had to stay on earth. Having no idea what to do, I had wandered aimlessly for a year.

   Eventually, I ended up at the bunker that Dean and Sam had lived in for a while. The place was filled with things that reminded me of the two. Books that Sam had stayed up night after night to read, dirty t-shirts thrown carelessly over chairs and on the floor, empty alcohol bottles in the kitchen.

   It wasn't until I walked into Dean's bedroom that I knew what I should do with my existence. There was a picture on the small bedside table of Dean as a child and an attractive blonde woman - his mother. That's the moment when I knew how to be productive to the world.

   I would go out and, like Dean and Sam had, hunt the evil out there, kill the monsters, save some people.

   I fixed up the Impala that sat outside the bunker - luckily I had some grace left for that - and began to drive around the country, looking for strange occurences that seemed like they needed the assistance of a hunter.

   Dean and Sam had taught me many things, and the things I didn't know, I picked up as I went. Hunting made me feel good, like there was purpose to me.

   But regardless of how many vampires I killed or how many ghosts I got rid of, the aching feeling in my heart wouldn't go away. It still hasn't.

   Dean and Sam were my family. I loved them. Then, out of nowhere, they were pulled from my life. That's something I'll never understand, how you can feel so much for people and lose them in an instant.

   Now, thirty years after the day that changed so much for me, I'm trying to do what I think the brothers would do. I'm trying to make them proud.

   And still, every year on May 2nd, I light a candle in honor of Sam, because that's what I believe he would want me to do. He would want me to celebrate the life he had instead of mourning the life he lost.

   And every year on January 24th, I go to the nearest liquor store and drink it. Maybe because that's what Dean used to do. Maybe because that's all I can do. I'm not sure anymore. I just do it, no certain reason has ever stuck.

   The 1967 Chevy Impala that Dean had called 'Baby' is still in my possession and nearly-perfect condition. Aside from an old leather jacket, a couple of plaid shirts, and the picture from Dean's bedroom, the car is the only thing that I have left of my family.

   And yes, they were my family. They still are. Because, as a wise old drunk once said, family don't end in blood.