"Honestly?" He asks, leveling Sam with a long, assessing look. Rhetorical question, obviously, and he doesn't wait for an answer. "I don't give a crap. Seriously. I mean it. Couldn't care less. I'm me, you're you, and unless you plan on dropping the bomb that you're from planet Gleep Glorp where everybody eats Soylent Green for people meat, as far as I'm concerned? Close enough."
Which is to say, he's missed his brother way too god damn much to get hung up on it. Beyond that, there's not a single version of Sam that he wouldn't treat like Sam. Their lives are weird, and he doesn't have the slightest clue how to go about determining whether different points in time equal different universes, who's on first, what's on second, which of them is from Earth 616 and which is from Earth 616 and a half.
no subject
Which is to say, he's missed his brother way too god damn much to get hung up on it. Beyond that, there's not a single version of Sam that he wouldn't treat like Sam. Their lives are weird, and he doesn't have the slightest clue how to go about determining whether different points in time equal different universes, who's on first, what's on second, which of them is from Earth 616 and which is from Earth 616 and a half.
Screw it. Who needs the headache?