It's the last words that Sam throws out that suddenly stop Dean in his tracks, as if he's been deflated upon the spot. The frantic worry that's so streaked across his features, the only kind that Dean ever really has: marred with frustration and annoyance at the same time, finally quiets and Dean heaves a breath, looking around the room and avoiding the topic for a whole few seconds. All he does is stare around himself, brow furrowed in disinterest but observation, taking in the things he's always been trained to take in, as if he has been captured against his will and placed in holding.
Which he has been, all things considered.
Dean still isn't happy with this, but Sam is cottoning on to his strain and that's a problem. Sam isn't supposed to be picking up on what Dean isn't doing a good enough job at hiding and he lets go of a slow breath as he stares around the stupid room and takes in the fact that it just doesn't feel as much like a cage as he's trying to make it out to be. Even though it is, it just happens to be fanciful at the exact same time. It's weird and wrong and Dean doesn't like it, doesn't like the fact that it seems gentle and kind while simultaneously being nothing that they want.
He doesn't want to be here, but what is his other option- Hell? Does he really want that that much more? Because he doesn't, he simply doesn't want more on his plate that he can't begin to understand and it's a strain on his ability to tolerate what he can't grasp. He already doesn't know how he's been pulled from Hell but to end up in an entirely different, what- world? Dimension? Universe? It had to have taken some mighty ass mojo to work that kind of magic and Dean just wants answers. That's all.
But he also doesn't want to tell Sam the truth.
Giving up, Dean stops his agitated pacing and moves his way over to plop down onto the bed next to Sam, stretching his boots out in front of him. He remains stubbornly silent for a good few more second before he finally glances over and shakes his head, trying desperately to keep up the act that nothing is as wrong as Sam is making it out to be.
"The only thing i'm trying to protect you from is whatever the hell's going on here. I mean, c'mon Sammy, you just came back from the dead. I couldn't, I- I mean." He scrubs a hand down his face for a moment, trying his damndest to keep working up the lie he'd started this off with. "You don't think this place isn't working some big ass mojo? How'd it do it? I couldn't do it and Sammy, you don't think I didn't try? I tried everything, anything I could think of to bring you back and this is what we get for it? This... whatever this is?"
no subject
Which he has been, all things considered.
Dean still isn't happy with this, but Sam is cottoning on to his strain and that's a problem. Sam isn't supposed to be picking up on what Dean isn't doing a good enough job at hiding and he lets go of a slow breath as he stares around the stupid room and takes in the fact that it just doesn't feel as much like a cage as he's trying to make it out to be. Even though it is, it just happens to be fanciful at the exact same time. It's weird and wrong and Dean doesn't like it, doesn't like the fact that it seems gentle and kind while simultaneously being nothing that they want.
He doesn't want to be here, but what is his other option- Hell? Does he really want that that much more? Because he doesn't, he simply doesn't want more on his plate that he can't begin to understand and it's a strain on his ability to tolerate what he can't grasp. He already doesn't know how he's been pulled from Hell but to end up in an entirely different, what- world? Dimension? Universe? It had to have taken some mighty ass mojo to work that kind of magic and Dean just wants answers. That's all.
But he also doesn't want to tell Sam the truth.
Giving up, Dean stops his agitated pacing and moves his way over to plop down onto the bed next to Sam, stretching his boots out in front of him. He remains stubbornly silent for a good few more second before he finally glances over and shakes his head, trying desperately to keep up the act that nothing is as wrong as Sam is making it out to be.
"The only thing i'm trying to protect you from is whatever the hell's going on here. I mean, c'mon Sammy, you just came back from the dead. I couldn't, I- I mean." He scrubs a hand down his face for a moment, trying his damndest to keep working up the lie he'd started this off with. "You don't think this place isn't working some big ass mojo? How'd it do it? I couldn't do it and Sammy, you don't think I didn't try? I tried everything, anything I could think of to bring you back and this is what we get for it? This... whatever this is?"