[It's bittersweet o'clock, isn't it? Sam just smiles, but there's a wince to it. It's weird — years ago, Dad being mentioned would cause a terrible silence, or an awkward lull. They'd never really had a chance to get over it. To have his death turn into wistful recollections of life. Dad died... and then a year later, Dean died. Sam never knew how to cope with any of it.
Now, in the hushed silence of Deerington's momentary reprieve, before shit hit the walls again? It's something that feels weirdly easy to talk about. Five years apart, thinking too much, finding distance between them and their father's last day on earth... maybe it made something about it... more palatable.]
... Yeah. I do, too.
[Dean took John's admonishments with an overwhelming sense of self-burden, but Sam didn't exactly get away from them easy, either, despite how hard he'd tried to make it seem like they bounced off him in his teenaged years; those words were barbed, hurt him more than he'd been too stubborn to show. It's taken... a lot of time to remember the smaller, easier moments in-between the fighting, in-between a dad who had forgotten that they were his sons first, and not his subordinates.
Sam clings to those few and far moments a lot, these days.
Wonders if things would have been different, if John had survived long enough to do what he'd passed on to Dean.
... It was unfair of him. Unfair of him to put that on his son's shoulders.
But nothing in life is that fair, in retrospect.
... But... Sensing Dean's discomfort, Sam fights to fling all that off his shoulders, tries to ignore the icy burn in his stomach or the emotion swirling in his head at the thought of John Winchester and of how much he's let him down as he is now.]
... He was a real dick sometimes. Total stick up the ass. Terrible choice in cars.
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Now, in the hushed silence of Deerington's momentary reprieve, before shit hit the walls again? It's something that feels weirdly easy to talk about. Five years apart, thinking too much, finding distance between them and their father's last day on earth... maybe it made something about it... more palatable.]
... Yeah. I do, too.
[Dean took John's admonishments with an overwhelming sense of self-burden, but Sam didn't exactly get away from them easy, either, despite how hard he'd tried to make it seem like they bounced off him in his teenaged years; those words were barbed, hurt him more than he'd been too stubborn to show. It's taken... a lot of time to remember the smaller, easier moments in-between the fighting, in-between a dad who had forgotten that they were his sons first, and not his subordinates.
Sam clings to those few and far moments a lot, these days.
Wonders if things would have been different, if John had survived long enough to do what he'd passed on to Dean.
... It was unfair of him. Unfair of him to put that on his son's shoulders.
But nothing in life is that fair, in retrospect.
... But... Sensing Dean's discomfort, Sam fights to fling all that off his shoulders, tries to ignore the icy burn in his stomach or the emotion swirling in his head at the thought of John Winchester and of how much he's let him down as he is now.]
... He was a real dick sometimes. Total stick up the ass. Terrible choice in cars.
[Sam smiles slightly.]