On the mun's designs for character development

[decadency]

Even that ninth grade history text book you stole from your Catholic high school told you that the crusades ended badly.

I'm not doing it. Dean is unable.

So, uh. I rebel.

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[decadency]

[ You've always been disappointed in him, Sam. He was never an angel the way you wanted angels to be. It's not so different now. It doesn't matter now.

No one can be as disappointed with him as he is with himself. ]

You, uh. You haven't asked about Dean.

[ The Dean he knows. The Dean he stayed with for five years. ]

[ginormotron]

[Sam swallows and looks away for a moment, breathing through his nose, before he refocusses on Cas.]

End of the world? Lucifer walking around in my meatsuit? I... think I can imagine how Dean's doing.

[Neither of them has ever dealt well with losing the other one.]

He's fighting, right? Gonna find Lucifer and kill him?

[decadency]

[ Not doing well is. . .kind of an understatement at this point. He huffs a brief laugh.

But honestly this isn't funny. ]

There's no, uh, way. Sam. To kill Lucifer. Once he acquires his true vessel. [ He meets your eyes, listless. Sad. ] Dean's gone to get the Colt. Dean, uh. [ He swallows and looks away, brows creasing. ] Dean wants to go out fighting.

[ It's a suicide run. They've been planning it for a year and a half now. Cas understands. This is Dean's choice, and he'll follow Dean right to the end and into oblivion. It's the best thing for Dean at this point. ]

[ginormotron]

There has to be a way. Some way.

[He's not surprised, though. Hadn't he done the same thing, or close enough, after Dean went to Hell? And that was nothing like the whole world ending and Lucifer walking the earth.]

Even if it kills Dean doing it. [Which he feels kind of horrible, talking about like that, but he gets that too. That if it's hopeless, Dean'd rather have a proper hunter's end.] It can't just-- the Devil can't just win.

[decadency]

[ Yeah. The devil just can't win. But he does. But he has. ]

The world is, uh, dying. There are no more children. For the first time since creation, the birds no longer sing. Dean's soul—it looks gangrenous now. When I pulled him from Hell, I used my Grace to repair the wounds in his soul. As best that I could. Patched its tattered edges.

But there is no more Grace in the world. Except for the angel that wears your face.

[ That's the world, Sam. That's Dean. Everything sucks. He shrugs, and then lights the joint. ]

We all find comfort where we can.

[ginormotron]

That's. Really fucked.

[He can't really think of anything better to say, and he doesn't really succeed in hiding how uncomfortable it makes him, hearing about the world gone so utterly to shit, Dean's soul gone gangrenous, whatever the fuck that means. He thinks maybe it's something like what would have happened to him, if he'd kept on with the demon blood. Somehow hearing about it makes him twitchy in a way just living it wouldn't; if he was living it, at least he could do something. Probably go out and get himself killed fighting demons like Dean plans on doing, but at least it'd be something.]

I'm sorry. I know sorry doesn't mean anything, but that's. Does Dean have the Colt yet?