“So, I’m thinking,” Dean says, “if this Mother chick is really creating these new monsters, we’re better off sticking to the hunt, y’know?” He stretches, pops his joints. “Sitting here with these books any longer is going to give us allergies, not answers.”
“Dean, you either have allergies or you don’t,” Sam says, frowning over a dusty tome. He’s kneading his left hand furiously, the muscles around his eyes twitching. “We’ve found so much; what’s to say there isn’t more?”
Castiel knows they don’t have to bother; he knows there are no more answers in Bobby’s vast library just as surely he knows the truth of every moment of history that’s recorded in the books. But he doesn’t dare tell them: the closer they get to the secrets behind Purgatory and the Mother, the less he can-the less he can keep them safe, the less they can... aid him in his war.
The less he can draw upon the sweet power of Sam’s soul.
So unique-stripped of all the trappings that should’ve weighed it down, that should’ve tainted it with more than a century of the
( ... )
Whoa, that is INSANE, and kind of creepy. Niiiice fill:)
Also, this part made me randomly happy:P “So, I’m thinking,” Dean says, “if this Mother chick is really creating these new monsters, we’re better off sticking to the hunt, y’know?” He stretches, pops his joints. “Sitting here with these books any longer is going to give us allergies, not answers.”
“Dean, you either have allergies or you don’t,” Sam says, frowning over a dusty tome. He’s kneading his left hand furiously, the muscles around his eyes twitching. “We’ve found so much; what’s to say there isn’t more?”
“Dean, you either have allergies or you don’t,” Sam says, frowning over a dusty tome. He’s kneading his left hand furiously, the muscles around his eyes twitching. “We’ve found so much; what’s to say there isn’t more?”
Castiel knows they don’t have to bother; he knows there are no more answers in Bobby’s vast library just as surely he knows the truth of every moment of history that’s recorded in the books. But he doesn’t dare tell them: the closer they get to the secrets behind Purgatory and the Mother, the less he can-the less he can keep them safe, the less they can... aid him in his war.
The less he can draw upon the sweet power of Sam’s soul.
So unique-stripped of all the trappings that should’ve weighed it down, that should’ve tainted it with more than a century of the ( ... )
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Also, this part made me randomly happy:P
“So, I’m thinking,” Dean says, “if this Mother chick is really creating these new monsters, we’re better off sticking to the hunt, y’know?” He stretches, pops his joints. “Sitting here with these books any longer is going to give us allergies, not answers.”
“Dean, you either have allergies or you don’t,” Sam says, frowning over a dusty tome. He’s kneading his left hand furiously, the muscles around his eyes twitching. “We’ve found so much; what’s to say there isn’t more?”
♥ ♥ ♥
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Hee! I figured it was a very SamnDean kind of interaction.
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