"Same. Fortunately the good guys seem to outweigh the bad here." Dean took a long pull from his beer, smacking his lips contentedly.
He sat up on the counter, grinning. "Yeah, I'm glad Sammy's up and around." He wondered briefly how much Bobby knew about his life. If he knew Bela, and how she'd shot Sam. But really, that life and the one he was living in London were so distant, so utterly not connected to each other, that he didn't care very much.