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[he'd been thinking of home.
and what he means by that is that he'd been thinking of the house his mother had died in. there have been so many things on his mind as he and his brother go through the motions of preparing for what he's about to do – for them, he keeps telling himself – and he can't help that that is one of them. he can't help but to think of the mother he'd never known, when seeing her ghost had been the only real time he'd ever been able to lock in an image of her face.
funny, the things you think about when you think you're about to die.
when he'd found himself in the mansion, it had taken him a moment to realize the change in his surroundings. that dean wasn't rambling in the background about nothing at all while he cleaned his pistol, that bobby wasn't sitting quietly off in a corner watching them both like he so very often did – even castiel's presence is absent, and it has something very unsettling curling in the pit of his stomach.
sam swallows around the sudden dryness in his throat, it's too .. quiet. and though he doesn't feel like he's in any immediate danger, growing up with a hunter as a father has taught him to always be aware. always be on-guard. never let 'em get the upper hand, sammy, he'd always say.
there's something about thinking of how comforting it would be to have him here right now that has something else curling up in his stomach, something unpleasant and cold, and when he starts walking around the mansion, it's simply to take his mind off of the things that he can't change.
make the best of the situation, right? scope things out, figure out your options .. that's what he needs to do. and that's what he's going to do. he lifts his head, peering around the giant room he's in, breathing a soft sigh and marveling at how much such a small sound echoes all around him.]
Hello? Anybody .. anybody here?
and what he means by that is that he'd been thinking of the house his mother had died in. there have been so many things on his mind as he and his brother go through the motions of preparing for what he's about to do – for them, he keeps telling himself – and he can't help that that is one of them. he can't help but to think of the mother he'd never known, when seeing her ghost had been the only real time he'd ever been able to lock in an image of her face.
funny, the things you think about when you think you're about to die.
when he'd found himself in the mansion, it had taken him a moment to realize the change in his surroundings. that dean wasn't rambling in the background about nothing at all while he cleaned his pistol, that bobby wasn't sitting quietly off in a corner watching them both like he so very often did – even castiel's presence is absent, and it has something very unsettling curling in the pit of his stomach.
sam swallows around the sudden dryness in his throat, it's too .. quiet. and though he doesn't feel like he's in any immediate danger, growing up with a hunter as a father has taught him to always be aware. always be on-guard. never let 'em get the upper hand, sammy, he'd always say.
there's something about thinking of how comforting it would be to have him here right now that has something else curling up in his stomach, something unpleasant and cold, and when he starts walking around the mansion, it's simply to take his mind off of the things that he can't change.
make the best of the situation, right? scope things out, figure out your options .. that's what he needs to do. and that's what he's going to do. he lifts his head, peering around the giant room he's in, breathing a soft sigh and marveling at how much such a small sound echoes all around him.]
Hello? Anybody .. anybody here?
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