Dean toed off his boots and looked up at his brother, frowning a little bit. He knew this side of things but he never had a good answer for it. Because they were the best hunters out there? Because he wasn't able to stop hunting? Because they were the Winchesters? He had asked this same question when he'd been in the Djinn dream, and none of it really gave him any answers.
"Sammy, I know this isn't... you know, college, or a house in Texas with a dog and a girl, but what we do saves people. If we don't do it, some other hunter might, but while we're there, we can't ignore this stuff. You know that." He patted the couch for Sam to move closer to him. "Look, how about this? When we do this thing, when we've got the other half of the tablet, and we close the Gates of Hell, if you wanna hang it up, then hang it up." He always thought Sam would end up like Bobby, if they lived that long, and he'd be like Rufus, but he supposed Sam was too different, too set on being normal.
"Until then, no more bullshit, no more sweeping it under the rug. We'll figure crap out as it's thrown at us, huh?" Maybe then they'd figure themselves out better.