It’s not like he hasn’t had this conversation a thousand times before. It shouldn’t be any different this time around.
“The first monster you killed was just a poltergeist. You were 13.”
“What? I knew how to fight monsters when I was 13?” Dean asks, incredulous.
A rush of affection hits Sam hard. He knows, logically, that Dean losing his memory is a bad thing. But. “You taught me how to shoot a gun when I was 7. Dad was so pissed.”
“So our dad did this, too? We’ve all been fighting monsters all our lives?”
“Pretty much. Family business, you know?”
“OK, so who else in our family fights monsters? Is it just you and me, are we all each other’s got?”
Sam lowers his flashlight and slows down for a second. It’s a weighted question, and Dean doesn’t even know it. “Uh, no. Long story, but our mom is a hunter, too. She doesn’t live with us in the bunker though.”
“The bunker? Is that the place you were talking about a minute ago?”
“Yeah. You and I live there, and sometimes Cas does, too.”
Sam turns and very nearly shines his flashlight right in Dean’s face. “You don’t remember Cas?”