Sam looked back at Dean, almost daring him to challenge what he said about his hotel experience instead of just buying what he was selling. He wasn't sure exactly what he was saying earlier, he'd definitely have to look back at that later, but he was trying to spare Dean's feelings. Most of him got that the situation wasn't real, he knew that wasn't actually Dean, but the significance of it threatened to buckle his knees. He couldn't help the way he thought, and he knew Dean, regardless of how his brother felt about him now, and he knew there was no Dean, in any form, that would take that well. "I don't know what you wanna hear Dean, that you shot me in the back and wanted me dead? I told you what happened, man, it was just a thing between me and me. It's not really a big deal anymore."
"Well, you're almost grandpa age," Sam laughed. Nope, it would never get old, he didn't care if no one laughed but him. Coming here to find an older all beardy Dean had been one of the bright spots in his life and he wasn't letting go. "And we go through a lot of shit anyway Dean, we always have, always, but's kinda nice to think that in the future we get rewarded in some kind of way for it. A home, some probably cool cars. At least one cool bad guy. Mom. Adam. I mean, those kinds of things can't make this life all bad, all the time."
When had he become so fucking positive?
"You owe me... words in return. Maybe what was bothering you earlier that you decided I don't care about. Or something. Just because my empathy is a lot low doesn't mean I can't hear anymore."