Honestly, Sam should have expected that comment, and there's a short derisive snort of laughter in response. Not quite Robin Hood. Unless one were to count the monsters he took down as "the rich" and everyone at Home "the poor." Then, yeah, pretty much.
"Maybe."
Better than being the leader of Hell's army or whatever it was exactly that the Yellow-Eyed Demon had wanted from him. Who even knows if he was telling the truth. Demons weren't exactly well known for that, or for revealing their plans. At least not the ones Sam's met so far.
Dean's agitation at not having answers is quite clear, and it annoys Sam a little because, seriously? He can't wait forty seconds? Maybe it's more defensiveness than annoyance. He still feels guilty he doesn't actually have all the answers. He has the one to that question, though. He answers, forging ahead as Dean starts taking the stairs like he's a big second grader or something, two at a time. Sam wants to tell him to slow down and be careful, but he grabs for different words.
"A few weeks. I said that already. Did you wake up in one of the rooms? Because that's how it happened when I arrived. Not even a wound on me or a sore back."
He's getting ahead of himself. But it's just as well, they're on the right floor now thanks to Dean's rush to get here.
"Check that room," he says, pointing. The majority of them should be empty, so odds are it will be and they can go in.
It's not that Sam actively mistrusts anyone here. It's more that the place is filled with teenagers he feels he needs to keep any harmful or potentially traumatic information from. Telling them they died probably falls into that category. Although whether that's true or not isn't a certainty yet. Still probably better for them to have as stress-free of a time as they can here. Sam's sort of made that his mission, partly just to have something to focus on so his thoughts don't run wild or his nightmares turn into day ones.
no subject
"Maybe."
Better than being the leader of Hell's army or whatever it was exactly that the Yellow-Eyed Demon had wanted from him. Who even knows if he was telling the truth. Demons weren't exactly well known for that, or for revealing their plans. At least not the ones Sam's met so far.
Dean's agitation at not having answers is quite clear, and it annoys Sam a little because, seriously? He can't wait forty seconds? Maybe it's more defensiveness than annoyance. He still feels guilty he doesn't actually have all the answers. He has the one to that question, though. He answers, forging ahead as Dean starts taking the stairs like he's a big second grader or something, two at a time. Sam wants to tell him to slow down and be careful, but he grabs for different words.
"A few weeks. I said that already. Did you wake up in one of the rooms? Because that's how it happened when I arrived. Not even a wound on me or a sore back."
He's getting ahead of himself. But it's just as well, they're on the right floor now thanks to Dean's rush to get here.
"Check that room," he says, pointing. The majority of them should be empty, so odds are it will be and they can go in.
It's not that Sam actively mistrusts anyone here. It's more that the place is filled with teenagers he feels he needs to keep any harmful or potentially traumatic information from. Telling them they died probably falls into that category. Although whether that's true or not isn't a certainty yet. Still probably better for them to have as stress-free of a time as they can here. Sam's sort of made that his mission, partly just to have something to focus on so his thoughts don't run wild or his nightmares turn into day ones.