( Until you're there, you can't ever really know. That one earns a breath, small, short — a laugh, if a bit on the bitter side. )
Oh, I know. I know exactly how far I would go. I mean, I sold my soul to hell to bring my brother back to life. I stopped-
( -Sam from closing the gates of Hell in order to keep him. Damning the world to more years of demon crap. Innocent lives lost because he wasn't willing to sacrifice Sam in exchange.
He's not proud of that. He's got enough shame about it to clamp down, to withhold it from Geralt, because Dean actually respects his opinion. He's already screwed his reputation up plenty good on his own here in these last few months without throwing any more fuel on top. )
To tell you the truth, I think... when you live the kind of life we do, every other week the world's ending. People are always dying. Everything's going to shit, all the time. The next monster, the next battle, it's always bigger, and harder, and heavier. If you don't find something to hold onto... I mean, really hold onto, with everything you've got... it's real easy to lose sight of why you're still going on.
( He stares at nothing as he talks, his gaze distant, unfocused. Contemplative. )
When the only thing that gets you out of bed in the morning is other people, it's easy to get carried away. To let the lines get blurry. It's not healthy, or good, it just... is.
no subject
Oh, I know. I know exactly how far I would go. I mean, I sold my soul to hell to bring my brother back to life. I stopped-
( -Sam from closing the gates of Hell in order to keep him. Damning the world to more years of demon crap. Innocent lives lost because he wasn't willing to sacrifice Sam in exchange.
He's not proud of that. He's got enough shame about it to clamp down, to withhold it from Geralt, because Dean actually respects his opinion. He's already screwed his reputation up plenty good on his own here in these last few months without throwing any more fuel on top. )
To tell you the truth, I think... when you live the kind of life we do, every other week the world's ending. People are always dying. Everything's going to shit, all the time. The next monster, the next battle, it's always bigger, and harder, and heavier. If you don't find something to hold onto... I mean, really hold onto, with everything you've got... it's real easy to lose sight of why you're still going on.
( He stares at nothing as he talks, his gaze distant, unfocused. Contemplative. )
When the only thing that gets you out of bed in the morning is other people, it's easy to get carried away. To let the lines get blurry. It's not healthy, or good, it just... is.