jo watches him, and after a long pause,
                   it’s so apparent to her that his shoulders
                   have always sagged with the weight of
                   his words, and of his life-long guilt, and
                   she thinks, how could i not have noticed
                   before? how could i have been so blind?

                     her head leans carefully against
                     his shoulder, her forearm pressed
                     against the length of his forearm,
                     and her eyes begging to close, but
                     they stare into the dark, plagued by
                     mental pictures too terrifying to let
                     her mind linger on for too long.

                      but somehow, some way, she feels
                      like she owes that much. to dean,
                      and to his mother, and to their family,
                      to think about what happened and
                      not to push it out of her mind because
                       it seems too painful to comprehend.

                            ❛i’m sorry. i don’t                         
                             you can’t hold that over yourself,
                             dean. not if you don’t have to. ❜