"Wow, you had an archangel following you around? The guys Upstairs must like you a lot more than me," Dean said, irony thick in his tone. "Heaven probably likes juvenile delinquents more than me. But that's beside the point."
Dean had to admit, that line of thinking made a lot of sense. "Pie made with plastic fruit," he repeated slowly. "Yeah, that sounds about right. When did you get so smart, Jo?" he asked fondly.
"If there's one thing I've learned in all my years, it's that 'coping' isn't really 'living'," he said, his face serious. "Do you do anything besides go to that diner and hunt? Sitting around just existing isn't healthy for anyone. And as someone who's an expert on unhealthy things, I would know." He smiled thinly. "I don't want to see you make the same mistakes I did, Jo."