Another sterling example of Dean's faith. Sam tries his best not to let the doubt seep into the places where his brother's now passed through, like cobwebs disturbed in a long-abandoned hall. It breezes through Sam's head like the wind in his (luxurious) hair and he feels an ache in the hollow places of him that are never filled.
"It's actually Soylent Red," he quips gently, the corner of his lips tugging into an understated smile. Dean's right (for now, he hears himself say) and despite the way that Sam's attention seems to be lingering on Dean's forearm, he doesn't make any more of a big deal about his reservations. It's never Dean's problem – his stout resolve is unshakable – but Sam knows better than to linger too deeply on the thought else he disrupt the flow of their ease here and now.
"You're right; we're us no matter what," he agrees, perhaps with the usual quiet disappointment he always feels when he thinks about who (and what) he is (and who or what he might have become).
He lifts his hands, palms up. "So, now what? How do I help?" Details will come. For now Sam feels tragically behind and the race to catch up nips hard at his heels.
no subject
"It's actually Soylent Red," he quips gently, the corner of his lips tugging into an understated smile. Dean's right (for now, he hears himself say) and despite the way that Sam's attention seems to be lingering on Dean's forearm, he doesn't make any more of a big deal about his reservations. It's never Dean's problem – his stout resolve is unshakable – but Sam knows better than to linger too deeply on the thought else he disrupt the flow of their ease here and now.
"You're right; we're us no matter what," he agrees, perhaps with the usual quiet disappointment he always feels when he thinks about who (and what) he is (and who or what he might have become).
He lifts his hands, palms up. "So, now what? How do I help?" Details will come. For now Sam feels tragically behind and the race to catch up nips hard at his heels.