"Yeah, but theyr'e...different." Sam admitted, picking at his cuticles. "Glad you're okay, though." He kicked Dean under the table- his not so subtle way of saying 'SEE! I WAS RIGHT ABOUT DAD'S DATE!'
"You're gonna come to our place, right? When we're done here? We've gotten real good at barbequeing stuff, and Roxy's just had a bath. You should come." Sam felt like he was five again, and proud of a macaroni art project he'd made and needing his Dad to say how wonderful it was. He wanted to show him the life he and Dean had here, now.