"Stick around long enough and you'll start blending in." He tapped a finger against the side of his bottle and frowned. "Not so sure if that's a good thing." The more she fit in, the more exposure she'd have to the screwy world she'd gotten dragged into. Every time someone new showed up here, Sam couldn't help but feel guilty that they'd been hauled out of their own lives. If it wasn't for the blind rage that had fueled his need to kill Lilith at that church, that Seal never would have cracked open. Lucifer would still be in his cage and the end of days would be nothing more than a conversation for debate between skeptics and fanatics alike. None of these people would have to put up with this. They'd be safe. Better off.
Sam had expected Bo to delve into the details of the war. Questions about survival, their odds, what plans they had to defend themselves against the Devil when he came knocking at their door - general stuff. It was what people usually aimed for when all this talk came up and, honestly, Sam couldn't blame them for it. Who wouldn't want to know if they were going to survive the apocalypse? It was natural to worry ; it was even more natural to want some sort of assurance that they stood a fighting chance. But Bo? She skipped over all of that. Instead, she took aim and struck at a target that Sam hadn't intended on getting into at all.
More to the point, she was worried about whether or not he was protected. Sam couldn't help but stare at her a little uncertainly, looking almost as though he was convinced that he hadn't heard her correctly.
Somewhat awkwardly, Sam shifted in his seat, large frame looking somewhat ridiculous in comparison to the relatively normal sized table that they'd claimed as their own. He looked down at his beer quietly before he responded, taking a small moment to consider exactly as to how he was supposed to explain that he was practically the antichrist. "He's here. He's got a temporary vessel. It won't be enough for him to take on -" Sam paused. She didn't know about Michael. "There's this other archangel. Goes by the name of Michael. According to a prophecy, Lucifer and his brother are supposed to go head-to-head before the grand apocalyptic finale. Without me, Lucifer probably won't hold up too well. Way I hear it? The temporary body he's running now is already deteriorating. If Michael tries to finish him off before he gets his hands on me, it's not gonna end well on his part." Problem was, Michael had his own vessel. The big fight was between brothers, right down to the very bodies that it had to be in. Dean belonged to Michael. Sam belonged to Lucifer. And no matter who won out on the big fight, the world would still be ripped to pieces.
"But we don't want Michael in on this either," Sam added, "he's not much better than Lucifer." That said, Sam leaned forward and propped his elbows onto the edge of their table. "Far as taking me out goes..." Sam released a hollow laugh. "It won't matter much. Lucifer won't let me stay dead."