Dean noted the gun and lowered his gaze. Sam didn't do that back when he'd just left Stanford, he'd picked that up at a later time, Dean wasn't able to pinpoint when. It was probably after he went to Hell. He didn't want to think about it for very long.
"Yeah, we also started the Apocalypse. Sammy, all I'm saying is, we don't bring good along, we bring death. I mean, man, we're getting family killed off without even knowing them a week now. This is like a record for us." He wished he could be as optimistic as Sam was, but he wasn't like that.
"Maybe one day," he agreed, shifting to settle back comfortably on the bed, yawning as he stared at the ceiling. "You can use the bathroom first, I'm gonna lay here for a while."