Quiet as the grave. Silent as a tomb.
They were stupid sayings, really. All the graves that Dean had ever known were damn far from quiet. Graves, tombs, mausoleums – by the time they were involved they were loud with anger and pain and hatred. Even if the spirit wasn't there at the moment, Dean knew that there was something lurking in the dark corners, waiting to spring out at him. Oh no, there was nothing quiet about any of graves he'd even been around.
He never understood why anyone wanted to be buried anyhow. The ground itself wasn't quiet. There were worms and bugs and all sorts of creepy crawlies waiting to feast on whatever was buried in it. Graves were nothing more than a smorgasbord for insects. It made Dean's skin crawl just thinking about it. What the hell were civilians thinking anyway? Even if they didn't know about the monsters, didn't they care about the bugs?