Winchester Stupid is unfortunately contagious like that. Brought down an entire god damn angel of the lord. Tragically not restricted to just people who share the same gene pool. Poor Jack never really had a chance.
"2020," he echoes, a soft an absent mumble under his breath. Gentle disbelief, but mostly distracted while he quickly runs through a few mental calculations. Jack's four years old. It was 2014 for him, or at least it was in those years that shoved themselves into his brain a few months back. A quick split of the difference leaves him with- "Two, maybe three years?"
Depending on the month.
That's how long he's got between what he remembers last, and when he first meets this kid.
Jesus Christ, that's practically no time at all. Two or three years is a blink. Two years down the road and suddenly he's raising a kid? Which turned out, just, so well with Ben the first time, right? Bridging that gap between who he is now and how little he could've possibly gotten his life together in that span of time — he's in no place to be raising anybody, he's a freakin' mess, he's-
Holy crap, wait a second.
"I'm still alive in 2020," the revelation hits and - yes, just being alive is surprising in and of itself, but that's not what's getting him. He rolls his sleeve up quickly, baring his forearm to Jack. Brandishing the Mark, putting it on display while he demands, "Do I have this? You know what this is? Do I still have it when we meet?"
There's no way, right? Cas, Sam, they wouldn't let him within a mile of this kid if he's still losing his shit to the Mark. Which means he's either gotten rid of it, or he's learned to get it under control.
no subject
"2020," he echoes, a soft an absent mumble under his breath. Gentle disbelief, but mostly distracted while he quickly runs through a few mental calculations. Jack's four years old. It was 2014 for him, or at least it was in those years that shoved themselves into his brain a few months back. A quick split of the difference leaves him with- "Two, maybe three years?"
Depending on the month.
That's how long he's got between what he remembers last, and when he first meets this kid.
Jesus Christ, that's practically no time at all. Two or three years is a blink. Two years down the road and suddenly he's raising a kid? Which turned out, just, so well with Ben the first time, right? Bridging that gap between who he is now and how little he could've possibly gotten his life together in that span of time — he's in no place to be raising anybody, he's a freakin' mess, he's-
Holy crap, wait a second.
"I'm still alive in 2020," the revelation hits and - yes, just being alive is surprising in and of itself, but that's not what's getting him. He rolls his sleeve up quickly, baring his forearm to Jack. Brandishing the Mark, putting it on display while he demands, "Do I have this? You know what this is? Do I still have it when we meet?"
There's no way, right? Cas, Sam, they wouldn't let him within a mile of this kid if he's still losing his shit to the Mark. Which means he's either gotten rid of it, or he's learned to get it under control.