The “No,” he gets in response is sharper than he expected, and has him mumbling apologies under his breath, not really sure why no one will even talk about the idea that maybe he’s not what he seems to be, maybe Gordon was right. He gets why Dean didn’t accept the idea - he’s too close to Sam, he can’t see that he might be wrong, that something might be wrong with him - but Jo should be more open-minded about it, right?
>“Sorry, crap, you're not really still thinking he might be right are you? I mean, yeah that...whatever it was... that was...sort of piss-your-pants terrifying and I have no idea what the fuck it was or what's going on but I don't think you're...anything like what he said.”
“I...” he trails off and shrugs, doesn’t know how to put into words what he’s thinking. It’s not so much that he believes what Gordon was saying as it is he knows something isn’t right, he feels off - and it’s not just the cold or the lack of blood or the fear that’s tying his insides in knots. It’s something else, something that wasn’t there until the words Gordon said turned his blood into fire and his brain into a television set that wouldn’t stay on one channel, skipping and jumping from one horror to another. “It’s not that. I just... I don’t know." He shrugs, then smiles a little, "Thanks, though. For, you know - for everything.”
>“I still think you've gotta tell the others though, about what happened, I mean you really think they'll blame you? And maybe they'll know more, maybe they could help.”
“It’s not that, I mean, I know they wouldn’t... think it was me, I know that. It’s not that, I just,” he takes a second to breathe, sighs and rubs a hand across his face, “I’m not ready to try to explain it, you know? Especially not to Dad - he’ll just start asking a million questions, and I don’t think I can...” He waves his hand absently, not really sure what he’s gesturing to - maybe he’s trying to encompass the entire experience they’ve just had, trying to express the magnitude of it all. It’s changed everything.