[He rolls his eyes under a mess of hanging bangs, but leaves it be. Once Dean has his mind set on something, it's extremely difficult to get him to not do whatever he's plotting; that's just something Sam's learned in the last... 30 years of life, really. But with that, Sam shifts awkwardly. Suddenly he's on a park bench over five years ago, looking anywhere but at Dean's eyes as the other agrees to go their separate ways.
Sam swallows and nods, and looks down at the middle of the table.]
I know. Not fit for much, right now.
I'm, uh. I'm dangerous to have out there.
[He'd make things worse. Hell, he almost just stepped right off the edge of the sinkhole, last time he'd been near it. The thought of going back and feeling that pull, thinking about the damage he'd caused and how he'd just cause more - isn't great.
No, the house is safer. He shouldn't leave its space.]
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Sam swallows and nods, and looks down at the middle of the table.]
I know. Not fit for much, right now.
I'm, uh. I'm dangerous to have out there.
[He'd make things worse. Hell, he almost just stepped right off the edge of the sinkhole, last time he'd been near it. The thought of going back and feeling that pull, thinking about the damage he'd caused and how he'd just cause more - isn't great.
No, the house is safer. He shouldn't leave its space.]