Dean almost laughs, though the sound ends up wrecked and broken, as if Dean can't help thinking about the times when he hasn't been around to do it. The times when he's endured a lack of optimism and Dean has had to ride on his hard follow through alone, his dire need to keep pushing simply because it's the only thing he has. To slam bodily his way through life, pummel and claw and destroy and what the fuck is he destroying now other than himself? He can't stand it, this hatred, this deep seated need to push himself so far over the edge that there's nothing left to save, and he knows he clings to the things he has to keep him grounded.
To Cas, to Sam - they are his life rafts, all the time, they are his only bright spots and someone has to do it. Someone has to be there for him to hold onto and he thinks - remembers dreams - knows what it is to have nothing there to sink his fingers into, imagines a world without their voices tinged within it. ]
Hell yeah, course it would be. Not like I want him to stop. Wouldn't be Sammy if he wasn't bein-- [ Everything that Sammy always is. Stubborn and forthright and giving; genuine and his little brother and all the things he is not combined into a man that Dean tries so hard to let go of. ] Y'know. All that he is.
[ But right now, it all just wraps around and falls back onto Cas and Dean stares down at the table, looks at his tequila might it might reach up and strangle him and he downs it anyway because no matter where he is, no matter what he does, all Dean can feel is the loss. Their impending absence like the rumble of a stormcloud and he shoves as hard as he digs tooth and nail, trying to hold on to the sacrifices he's given to keep his family held together taught. He is terrified of their loss, of their nonexistence, and Dean tries to quirk a smile into place, though it's worried and carved into sorrow. His mistakes, he think, they just run too damn deep. ]
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they're too uh. UH. UHHH. SPEC..IA..L.. FOR THOSE?
Date: 2016-08-06 08:32 pm (UTC)Dean almost laughs, though the sound ends up wrecked and broken, as if Dean can't help thinking about the times when he hasn't been around to do it. The times when he's endured a lack of optimism and Dean has had to ride on his hard follow through alone, his dire need to keep pushing simply because it's the only thing he has. To slam bodily his way through life, pummel and claw and destroy and what the fuck is he destroying now other than himself? He can't stand it, this hatred, this deep seated need to push himself so far over the edge that there's nothing left to save, and he knows he clings to the things he has to keep him grounded.
To Cas, to Sam - they are his life rafts, all the time, they are his only bright spots and someone has to do it. Someone has to be there for him to hold onto and he thinks - remembers dreams - knows what it is to have nothing there to sink his fingers into, imagines a world without their voices tinged within it. ]
Hell yeah, course it would be. Not like I want him to stop. Wouldn't be Sammy if he wasn't bein-- [ Everything that Sammy always is. Stubborn and forthright and giving; genuine and his little brother and all the things he is not combined into a man that Dean tries so hard to let go of. ] Y'know. All that he is.
[ But right now, it all just wraps around and falls back onto Cas and Dean stares down at the table, looks at his tequila might it might reach up and strangle him and he downs it anyway because no matter where he is, no matter what he does, all Dean can feel is the loss. Their impending absence like the rumble of a stormcloud and he shoves as hard as he digs tooth and nail, trying to hold on to the sacrifices he's given to keep his family held together taught. He is terrified of their loss, of their nonexistence, and Dean tries to quirk a smile into place, though it's worried and carved into sorrow. His mistakes, he think, they just run too damn deep. ]
Wouldn't change the kid for the world.