> "What? You think he's telling the truth? I mean, he wasn't actually there, was he?"
Dean shrugged, frowned a little, “I don’t know if he was there, Sam.” It probably sounded a little more frustrated and snappish than he meant it to sound, and he felt pretty bad about it immediately, “I just... I don’t remember. I don’t see why he’d lie, though... doesn’t seem like his kind of joke.” Unless he just liked watching them run around in circles like idiots... which he probably did. It just seemed like something he should be more serious about, wouldn’t lie to them about, but then again, Dean didn’t have a clue what was going on in that freak’s head.
>"Okay. I'll try a more sane approach this time."
The smile he offered in return was genuine - it was mostly relief, really. He was glad Sam was going to listen to him - or at least he was saying he would, which was the first step. He didn’t want to have to deal with another revenge quest like the one after Yellow Eyes - but he would, if he had to. If Sam went off on this, Dean would follow; he didn’t know what else he could do. But he was glad it didn’t look like that was going to be how things went.
>"Hey," - Sam leaned in, and Dean peeled himself off the back of the booth to do the same, elbows on the table, jostling things around slightly - ”Why don’t we go ahead and make the most out of tonight? You need some extra cash?"
See, that was why Sammy was his favorite. The kid knew just how to make his night (aside from when he seemed to have no idea, or knew and ignored that to make it worse, anyway, but whatever). “I could use a couple bucks,” was putting it lightly - he was pretty much broke right now. Whatever cash he’d had when he died, wherever he’d gotten that from, was all he had, and only the cards that had been in the car could be used - the ones in his wallet were probably being tracked by the cops, and he wasn’t keen on being arrested, or something stupid like that.
Thankfully, it wouldn’t be hard to get some cash in his pockets again. Even kinda-halfway to drunk he could kick these pathetic locals’ asses at pool...
And there was something he hadn’t thought about - if he’d been mostly hanging around here for a year or so, did that make him a local, now? Was this home again? Mom and Dad were here, Sam was here - it could be, couldn’t it? Except he didn’t know if he was ready to think of it that way, if he could get his mind to stop recalling all the bad that had happened here long enough to just be happy. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to try because trying meant it might not work, and the urge to just get in the car and drive until he hit the ocean surged up, sent his eyes skittering off towards the door, his fingers sliding into his pocket where the keys were, but he chased the impulse away with another drink, and then pushed to his feet, flashing an overly bright smile at his brother, “C’mon, Sasquatch, let’s kick some ass.”