But I don’t want to liveblog this because it’s too late. I finished that one. And I’m reading the last year at harvelle’s.

And I’m on audio with Laken but I have it muted because I’m crying and I don’t want her to here me and why did I fucking read this shit.

I hate you.

All Sam said, so quiet that Dean had to strain to hear it, was, “I just…” His voice sounded thick and choked off. His lower lip shook.  “I just wasn’t ready.”

Like…are you fucking kidding me right now?

I really fucking hate you.