All hunters know that the only way out of "the life" is through death. Dean and Maddison, on the other hand, appear to have managed to simply step away and retire. Will a life behind a white picket fence be enough to keep them occupied, or will some...
On the side of the road, Dean was rearranging the weapons in the trunk of the Impala.
"Yeah, well, I didn't realize I had this much stuff back here," Dean said, trying to make room for Sam's weapons.
"Well, I need some space. Kind of picked up some stuff along the way," Sam said.
Dean closed the false bottom, and Sam placed his duffel bag on top and then noticed something in the trunk.
He held up a mask to us. "What the hell is that?"
"Oh. Maddi helped Ben make his Halloween costume," Dean said.
"Wendigo?" Sam asked me.
I nodded. "Yeah."
Sam nodded approvingly. "Accurate." Then he placed the mask back inside.
Dean closed the trunk and then leaned against the Impala. "Hey, so, uh... are you okay?"
"Me?" Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I'm great."
"Really?" Dean asked. "'Cause there's been a few times that you got me wondering."
"Come again?" Sam asked.
"Well, like, where were you when Cass was, uh, giving the Holy Taser treatment to that kid?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. "I was right there."
"Really?" Dean asked. "'Cause honestly, I felt like me and Maddi were the only ones raising a card."
Sam nodded. "Right. Uh, I mean, I was with you, but... I don't know. We— We needed the intel."
"Yeah, I know, but we tortured that kid to get it," Dean said.
Sam sighed.
Dean shook his head. "I just didn't get the feeling that you— that you even cared."
Sam stared at Dean. "You— You're wrong."
Dean shrugged. "Hey man, I'm just trying to figure this out because... something's different with you. You know that."
Sam nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."
"Really?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded. "Yeah. I mean... I've been hunting non-stop for the past year, kind of— kind of on the wild, ya know? So, yeah, I suppose I'm a little rough around the edges."
"Yeah, I get that." Dean sighed. "I just don't think I'm getting the whole scoop. You went to Hell, Sam. And believe me, I know what that does to a guy."
"To you," Sam said.
Dean furrowed his brow. "What?"
"You know what it does to you. It— It tortured you. Ya know? I think it still does. But, Dean... I'm okay," Sam said.
"So you're saying, what, that— that you're stronger than me?" Dean asked.
Sam chuckled. "No. Just saying we're different." He slapped the roof of the Impala and got in.
Dean and I exchanged a look and then followed after.
