SAM. You hit a dog and stopped. WHY?
You guys, season nine. !!! And, since season nine holy crap, it's suddenly my last chance to throw out there what I wanted to say since the end of season eight before we get buried in season. nine.
To wit:
Sam, Sam, Sam, you beautiful gigantic man, THAT IS YOUR TAKEAWAY. YOUR WHOLE ARC, RIGHT THERE. Meg straight-up nailed it for you, and the fact that your only response was WTF is wrong with you only shows how desperately you are in need of working through this.
I could go on. How Amelia, being your reflection (as Benny was Dean's), voiced your conscience and made it impossible for you to walk away. How if you want out of The Life, you need to sort out the whys and wherefores of that. How until you come to terms with that part of your soul, either you shut it out of you and consign yourself to a half-life without it, or it will ultimately drag you back in all on its own, regardless of whether Dean (or anyone else) is around. How you are on the right path, to get out by going through, and you know it. How far you still have to go. How much hope I have for you. How proud I am of you. How much I adore this story of yours. But I won't go on (and on and on), because really, I just want to sit here and bask.
And Dean? You unbelievable bastard. I love you. Keep going, you'll get there eventually. I promise.
In conclusion: SEASON NINE BITCHES
To wit:
Sam, Sam, Sam, you beautiful gigantic man, THAT IS YOUR TAKEAWAY. YOUR WHOLE ARC, RIGHT THERE. Meg straight-up nailed it for you, and the fact that your only response was WTF is wrong with you only shows how desperately you are in need of working through this.
I could go on. How Amelia, being your reflection (as Benny was Dean's), voiced your conscience and made it impossible for you to walk away. How if you want out of The Life, you need to sort out the whys and wherefores of that. How until you come to terms with that part of your soul, either you shut it out of you and consign yourself to a half-life without it, or it will ultimately drag you back in all on its own, regardless of whether Dean (or anyone else) is around. How you are on the right path, to get out by going through, and you know it. How far you still have to go. How much hope I have for you. How proud I am of you. How much I adore this story of yours. But I won't go on (and on and on), because really, I just want to sit here and bask.
And Dean? You unbelievable bastard. I love you. Keep going, you'll get there eventually. I promise.
In conclusion: SEASON NINE BITCHES