#goodbye sam

1. Miracle and Dean being precious right in the beginning

2. Dean's eyes lighting up at the sight of pie

3. Sam and Dean using Kripke and Singer as their aliases

4. Dean having Cas' trenchcoat in his car 💔

5. Dean saying "I love you so much" to Sam

6. Confirmation that Cas, infact, is no longer in the Empty and is with Jack

7. The fact that Jack fixed heaven and made it amazing (heavenly, if I may)

8. Sammy keeping Baby all these years

9. All the family pictures and pictures of Dean that Sam kept in his house

10. The fact that Dean's heaven is basically him driving in Baby.

Things I hated about 15x20

1. Dean not being emotional AT ALL when Sam brings up Cas and Jack

2. Dean Winchester being killed by a friggin nail in the wall (seriously, that was the best they could come up with??)

3. Dean not showing the slightest bit of excitement when Bobby told him Cas was alive

4. Dean not even trying to look for Cas

5. Eileen not even being mentioned

6. No confirmation about who Sam married and had a son with

7. No Cas

8. No Cas

9. Bobby only coming on screen for 2 minutes

She was so damn angry at me and I could see the desperation in her eyes. I could feel the fear coursing through her veins, it was like touching a live wire.

“Why won’t you tell me!” She screams, frustrated beyond measure, she pushes me to the wall. Tears build up in the corners of my eyes. I don’t blot them, I let them run their course down my ruddy face.

“You never let me help you!” She’s mad, more mad than I’ve ever seen but I can sense it’s not all anger. She’s terrified.

We’ve known each other for years, since we were born. We’ve shared heartaches and woes over the years. We watched our grandparents pass away, so close together, it was as if one single entity died. Our grandparents were our glue, they held our dysfunctional family together. Without them... We all crumbled away.

I’d secluded myself away after the first bout. The pain was immense and I couldn’t share it. Not with her. Not when she was so fragile.

She wipes her face, scrubbing at her eyes, when she notices a bill on the table. Shit, I think, I should have taken more care to put it out of sight. She grabs it, her eyes refilling with liquid agony.

“I... I don’t understand...” She is quiet, hopeful that I will fill in the blanks.

“You’re... you...” she stares at me in disbelief. Hell, I couldn’t believe it either.

“You’re dying.. and you refused to tell anyone? Why?” She drops the letter. It’s true. I’d been seeing an oncologist for the past several months, trying to rid myself of this.. I can’t even say the word. I was in remission for less than 2 months, having thought we caught it early with the surgery and chemo.

But alas, life, that heartless bitch, decided she wasn’t done with me. What hell she could reek on my family. “Three months,” the letter advised. I was down to one when she found out.

She stared at me, the act in itself was desparate, pleading for an answer. Forcing me to answer what even I was afraid to say.

“I have terminal cancer, Sam. I have exhausted everything. My body aches, a bone deep pain I cannot satisfy with drugs or alcohol or both. I’ve tried, believe me. They offered me palliative care, to give me comfort to the end.” I say, finally, feeling a wave of relief and anxiety wash away. She’s crumbled to the ground, in a small pile, sobbing, deep, and painful. I feel a lump swell in my throat.

“I refused. I refused to tell anyone Sam because... I feel like I have done nothing with my life. I have helped no one, I have done no great things. What is the world to lose, but me, a sad player who frets and struts his life upon the stage and is then heard by no one?” She stares up at me in disbelief,

“But you are a grand piece of MY life. In MY world.” it’s but a whimper.