I was thinking about back when we used to be hunters.
[ He almost regrets admitting it the moment the words leave his mouth, even if it's not meant as an irritable barb aimed at his brother. In the contrary, it's a bitter sentiment that's equally applicable to both of them, and one that is at least a significant part of why Sam's gotten so deep into the whiskey this evening. He doesn't want to drag Dean into depression right along with him.
It was one thing back when Dean had Lisa and Ben, and maybe even that wouldn't have lasted had it been given a real chance. Sam would like to think that it is, but in what life are they ever going to stay out of hunting for good? But here they have been. They haven't had a single reason to break out Dad's old journal except for nostalgia, and if it's proven anything to him it's that he really can't go back to the kind of life he wanted when he was a kid.
Sure, this place is fucked up, but in as many ways as it's chaos, there are more days when he's working nine to five, and it feels eerily like the short stint he had in tech support thanks to Zacariah. ]
I'm not gonna get sick.
[ Not today anyway. But he's aware that any hangover symptoms will be all his to deal with. ]
Sammy, we're still hunters. Maybe there's nothin' takin' bites outta people's necks around here, but the hunter, that don't just leave. Ever.
[ Which could be good or bad, depending on your view. Once, Dean hoped it never would. During another part of his life, he wished it would. Now? He doesn't know. Probably, he's accepted this as his life and works to find pleasure in it.
Not in this city. This city has to go down. ]
Oh, Dude, you're gonna be so sick, and you're all in charge of cleanin' it up so enjoy tonight. Mornin's a bitch.
[ The smell of butter and cooking cheese soon flows from the kitchen to contaminate the living room. ]
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no subject
[ He almost regrets admitting it the moment the words leave his mouth, even if it's not meant as an irritable barb aimed at his brother. In the contrary, it's a bitter sentiment that's equally applicable to both of them, and one that is at least a significant part of why Sam's gotten so deep into the whiskey this evening. He doesn't want to drag Dean into depression right along with him.
It was one thing back when Dean had Lisa and Ben, and maybe even that wouldn't have lasted had it been given a real chance. Sam would like to think that it is, but in what life are they ever going to stay out of hunting for good? But here they have been. They haven't had a single reason to break out Dad's old journal except for nostalgia, and if it's proven anything to him it's that he really can't go back to the kind of life he wanted when he was a kid.
Sure, this place is fucked up, but in as many ways as it's chaos, there are more days when he's working nine to five, and it feels eerily like the short stint he had in tech support thanks to Zacariah. ]
I'm not gonna get sick.
[ Not today anyway. But he's aware that any hangover symptoms will be all his to deal with. ]
no subject
[ Which could be good or bad, depending on your view. Once, Dean hoped it never would. During another part of his life, he wished it would. Now? He doesn't know. Probably, he's accepted this as his life and works to find pleasure in it.
Not in this city. This city has to go down. ]
Oh, Dude, you're gonna be so sick, and you're all in charge of cleanin' it up so enjoy tonight. Mornin's a bitch.
[ The smell of butter and cooking cheese soon flows from the kitchen to contaminate the living room. ]