Vinyl
Creeno
Yey, more for you gaiz.
Shine – Vienna Teng
Things get better.
When all you have is the bottom, you have to go to the top.
Yeah, some days, Dean doesn't speak, doesn't eat, just lies listlessly in bed, tears running down his face.
Some days, Sam will wake up and Dean will be sitting in a freezing cold shower, unresponsive until Sam hauls him up.
And some days, Sam will get little presents of bundled flowers and drawings of their family or what Dean remembers of it.
Those days are the best days.
It reminds him why he goes through the other days, why Dean was worth saving.
American Dream – Switchfoot
He doesn't want this.
No manicured lawns, no expensive cars, no 2.5 kids.
He wanted the road, wanted his family, wanted to hunt.
Why couldn't Sam see that that was where he belonged?
Ný batterí (new batteries) - Sigur Rós
"It's like walking through gallons and gallons of half-congealed blood."
"Blood?"
"Mm-hmm. Like you-you just open your mouth, suck in air and jump in. Only, it's slow and you can't really move forward. Ears stop up and all you can do is hear yourself breathe."
Sam leans back as his brother continues, describing how he climbed his way up and out, fingers moving erratically, stuttering now and then.
"How'd you do it?"
"What?" Sam is dragged back to the present as Dean stares at him intently.
"How'd you do it, swim through all that?"
Sam's tongue is suddenly stuck to the roof of his mouth. How can he tell Dean that he struggled through his own head, that Sam had to unwind thread and barbed wire from his body, lift him away from meathooks piercing his shoulder? How the hell does he begin to tell Dean that what he knows is just Sam's way of helping him without betraying what little trust he has?
Sam lies:
"I don't remember."
And Dean accepts it.
Must Get Out – Maroon 5
"It's nothing," Sam's smile lifts but doesn't reach his eyes. He takes the 'notes' and stuffs them in his folder, pecks her on the cheek and leaves.
Jess sinks into her bed, grasping her head in her hands.
What did she see?
A werewolf--
--silver bullets--
--bite—
Sam says it's a joke. A hobby.
But Jessica has seen the salt on the windows, the doors. He thinks that she didn't see him mix salt with the paint, didn't see him look up the symbols meticulously before suggesting these look pretty, let's put them here, above your bed.
She wishes Sam could just tell the truth.
Pneumonia – Björk
"Sam, Sam, Sam," he tuts as he runs the meatsuit's fingers over the man's bloody forehead. He's sure, with that one hit, his father and brother should be critical, if not dead.
It was necessary, though. The boy just wouldn't embrace what came naturally.
"I'll be seeing you soon," he smiles, eyes glowing bright yellow before he turns and starts to run to the police car, feigning distress.