I've gone back to very few scenes and put text on them, but that little speech to Brady? Fuck yeah. I love it. I love how Dean calls Sam, at about the biggest Jared has ever been, calls don't-call-me-Sammy--calls him Sammy, and he responds without hesitation--that yes, they are the threat. And whatever Brady is spouting off just before the end, if you were worried Sam wouldn't clear the salt lines because of something he'd done himself--he's fine. That's Sam WInchester, Dean's brother Sam, Mary and John's son. That's Sam, and no matter how many demons clustered around him as he grew up (and we don't find out about all the rest for a while), he grew up good. He grew up to beat the devil and save the world and to cast off his destiny as a soldier, general, or vessel.
And Dean has his back. And even though he gets suicidal--somehow Sam's plan doesn't feel like that, but Dean has a way of seeming like he's killing himself every now and again, especially if it's underscoring how much more other people deserve to live than he does.
Unrelated to all that, I'm tormenting myself with a fic series (the one where Cas becomes obsessed with holiday sweaters and celebrating St Patrick's days and every little thing...where the writer hooked Sam up with *a* Sarah that wasn't the Sarah, but she's clearly gone back and fixed that. She just wrote a story where they take Sam to his first baseball game, and this big thing, and I just think of the end of Swan Song, where they talk about the concerts and the Jayhawks games they went to in-between hunts, and I just feel this author is hinging on their whole lives having been miserable and so unrewarding before she came along, and she's pairing them up and fixing the whole thing up. Yes, parts were horrible, but Sam got his soccer trophy! They saw some games--no, they didn't list pro baseball, but the implication is they did stuff. They pulled moments out of their journeys, and had some fun, and some good memories too. Maybe not heavenly, but yellow-crayonish.
It's not all on you, ficwriter, to fix twenty odd years of their lives with your fuzzy attitude to canon. Hmmph.
