a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he's still left with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away but then he's still left with his hands.
And so a mind instantaneously shows a mild recognition at the form that lays before sight. There is a remembrance of Sam; recollection shall never leave a tragedy stained mind. Jessica had been making her way back to the grunge’d motel room that served as a temporary roof for she and Dean.Now, however, her back remains pressed against a bricked surface, out of sight. Hunter instincts rise within, bringing a forced grip to a firearm. Her chest is heavy, a cemented sensation tainting lungs. Slowly, gun raised and pointed at the ghost, she maneuvers herself to he, hesitation still plaguing every footfall. The voice catches the tongue, and she places herself a few paces; luckily twilight has fallen, leaving them practically alone.
’ Alright, five seconds to explain what the Hell you are and not a single one to turn around.‘
he’s wandering, trying to figure out where the hell gabriel had sent him this time, when he catches sight of her. his heart falters in his chest and he pauses, frozen in place. this is low, even for the trickster. then again, he did make him relive dean’s death over and over and over again, so maybe sam is just overestimating his capacity for empathy and compassion.
❝ j-jess? ❞
sam is tentative, uncertain. she’s holding a gun [ when the hell did his jess learn how to hold a weapon ] and she looks strong. she looks like a hunter. but that’s not right. that’s so wrong that it physically pains him, like a blow to the chest, and he nearly jolts with the shock of it.
