Sam reached around and shut the door immediately without a word, not waiting to check if Peter had stepped through the doorway entirely or not. Bumping his roommate with the door was better than letting him get swarmed by zombies. Though it seemed Peter was thinking otherwise.
This was kinda what Sam had been afraid of. He couldn't deny that Peter's heart was in the right place, but—
He knew how revenants were killed and it sure as hell wasn't as simple as a shot to the head. He didn't want Peter jumping in without realizing that it took a silver stake and the corpse's original gravesite to take one down, but Peter's brother—it was his brother, Sam was almost sure of it now with their resemblance and the way they interacted—intervened before he could. He let them have their privacy. He figured someone closer to Peter might have a better shot at convincing him that it wasn't the safest plan to go heading out there right now.
Then again, it was exactly that that'd saved his and Dean's life and Sam knew that if it hadn't been for Dean's current state, he'd be out there, too. That need to do something, he knew it all too well. But at the same time, it wasn't Peter's job.
He sat Dean down on a small table by the door, a small pile of junk mail still sitting atop it. There was nothing around to barricade the door, nothing hefty enough, anyway, so he just kept an eye on it and hoped desperately nothing broke through as he peered at the cut on Dean's leg. He'd have to take care of that once they were more secure. Which needed to happen soon since hanging out right by a broken-down front door with windows all around? Not exactly the definition of safe.
He bit his lip, glanced over his shoulder. "I don't mean to interrupt, but we don't have a lot of time. Peter, if you go out there, you'll get yourself killed. You're not armed, and you can't arm yourself against revenants in the first place, not on the fly."
no subject
This was kinda what Sam had been afraid of. He couldn't deny that Peter's heart was in the right place, but—
He knew how revenants were killed and it sure as hell wasn't as simple as a shot to the head. He didn't want Peter jumping in without realizing that it took a silver stake and the corpse's original gravesite to take one down, but Peter's brother—it was his brother, Sam was almost sure of it now with their resemblance and the way they interacted—intervened before he could. He let them have their privacy. He figured someone closer to Peter might have a better shot at convincing him that it wasn't the safest plan to go heading out there right now.
Then again, it was exactly that that'd saved his and Dean's life and Sam knew that if it hadn't been for Dean's current state, he'd be out there, too. That need to do something, he knew it all too well. But at the same time, it wasn't Peter's job.
He sat Dean down on a small table by the door, a small pile of junk mail still sitting atop it. There was nothing around to barricade the door, nothing hefty enough, anyway, so he just kept an eye on it and hoped desperately nothing broke through as he peered at the cut on Dean's leg. He'd have to take care of that once they were more secure. Which needed to happen soon since hanging out right by a broken-down front door with windows all around? Not exactly the definition of safe.
He bit his lip, glanced over his shoulder. "I don't mean to interrupt, but we don't have a lot of time. Peter, if you go out there, you'll get yourself killed. You're not armed, and you can't arm yourself against revenants in the first place, not on the fly."