[Dean honestly isn't sure what he cares about anymore: it hisses and sparks and blurs apart when he tries to pin it down, burns everyone on its way out, becomes too bright to stare at and see the truth of it. The only truth he can prove is that it still exists - at least until everything goes dark.
He still cares about people, cares about Stiles, and yes, Lydia, and Kira, and Scott, through Stiles but also for themselves. For where they come from and how they've suffered and where they're headed and who they are, in a way he can't explain and wouldn't try. There's no easy way to explain caring and not caring at all simultaneously. There's no way at all to explain about how, why that hurts as much as, more than, it allows him to keep getting up every morning if anything does.
Dean shakes his head, just once.] Don't need another hunter. Don't need...
Need people. Like you. Other kinds, that know how to do something else. Something besides kill. Something besides die.
Don't need another hunter. [No one should trust his calls; soon, he'll prove that beyond shadow of a reasonable doubt. It's part of why he's in the shape he's in now, undecided and tired of fighting through it, surprised to see her again, not sure yet whether it's pleasantly or not.
He tilts his head until he can see her hand on his shoulder, looking at it as though he could memorize what this is, how it feels. The hunter breathes out.]
[ Spam ]
He still cares about people, cares about Stiles, and yes, Lydia, and Kira, and Scott, through Stiles but also for themselves. For where they come from and how they've suffered and where they're headed and who they are, in a way he can't explain and wouldn't try. There's no easy way to explain caring and not caring at all simultaneously. There's no way at all to explain about how, why that hurts as much as, more than, it allows him to keep getting up every morning if anything does.
Dean shakes his head, just once.] Don't need another hunter. Don't need...
Need people. Like you. Other kinds, that know how to do something else. Something besides kill. Something besides die.
Don't need another hunter. [No one should trust his calls; soon, he'll prove that beyond shadow of a reasonable doubt. It's part of why he's in the shape he's in now, undecided and tired of fighting through it, surprised to see her again, not sure yet whether it's pleasantly or not.
He tilts his head until he can see her hand on his shoulder, looking at it as though he could memorize what this is, how it feels. The hunter breathes out.]
She was amazing.