Sam pulled the Impala to stop in front of St. Joseph's Catholic Church. It was midnight. He thought it was midnight, or close to it. It was dark anyway, and the middle of the night. He hadn't been drinking but he sure felt like he had a hangover. Crying did that to him. He used to think that it was the drinking that made his brain feel like lead in his skull, but he hadn't had a drink in months. So that left crying. He cried a lot. He was crying now. Sometimes it felt like he never stopped.
He was alone in the car. He was always alone. Even when somebody was sitting next to him, he was alone because they weren't Dean. He was alone and he didn't want to be.
"Please bring Dean back." He said, prayed, looking up at the dark, silent church. "I know you can. If you wanted to. Please bring him back." He didn't expect Dean to just appear there, suddenly, smiling, asking "Dude, are you talking to yourself again?" But he wanted some sign that somebody was listening. He got nothing.
"I suppose you're not even talking to me anymore. I wouldn't blame you. Nobody talks to me anymore. I don't talk to anybody either I guess. Just - please bring Dean back. You have to. Please you have to. Pastor Jim said you don't hold people to decisions they make under duress and you know when Dean made that deal – you know what he was going through. You know he – you know how he is. Please bring him back. Please, he doesn't deserve to be in hell."
A lazy breeze blew across the street, through the open windows of the car and on toward the church. Then nothing. Still nothing.
"Please bring Dean back. I'll do anything you want. You know I will." Sam scrubbed at the tears that were scalding his face and running down his neck under his shirt. "Dean never – all his life all he ever did was help people. Try to help anybody who was in trouble. He never – you know he never thought of himself. I mean – yeah, okay, sometimes he did – I mean – you know how he is. Was. But not when it was about saving people. Remember – remember he risked his life to save Lenore? He risked his life to save - I forget her name – Max's stepmother? There's not one innocent person out there he wouldn't risk his life to save and isn't that what you want? Isn't that the kind of person you want on earth? Please – please – bring Dean back."
He wiped his hand across his face then scrubbed his sleeve under his nose and down his neck and wiped his face again.
"You're supposed to be a loving God, but if you don't love me it's all right. People who love me die. They always die. I guess you could be the one person – or whatever – who could love me and not die, hunh?" He laughed but it hurt. "Dean loved me. He never said it. Not like that. Not straight out, but he never had to. I mean, I needed to be told Dean loved me like I needed to be told the sun was coming up in the morning. You know? I mean – yeah, I guess you do know, hunh?"
There was a bottle of water in the backpack on the seat next to him and he pulled it out to take a swallow. Whiskey would've been better because it would numb the pain, for a little while anyway. But drinking himself to death wouldn't save Dean.
"I know I keep asking you to bring him back, but that's what I'm supposed to do, right? Keep asking? Pastor Jim said to keep asking. I mean, I think he said, 'the squeaky wheel gets the grease' but it means the same thing right? And really – if you bring Dean back I'll stop bugging you about it. Wouldn't you prefer that?" He wanted to laugh but a cracked sob broke from him.
"You're the only one I can talk to. And I don't even know if you hear me or if you even care. I don't know why you should care. I know the bible says you take care of lepers and blind people and people who can't walk but it never said anything about freaks, did it? I'm a freak, I've been a freak since – since forever it feels like. The life we lived, the way I grew up. How tall I got. You know, I'd see myself in a reflection next to Dean and it always surprised me how much bigger than him I am. Was. It was like I was a giant, a – a – freak. Only Dean never made me feel that way, you know?" He took another drink of water and scrubbed at his face and neck again. Tears kept falling.
"I mean – yeah – you know – he'd call me a freak when I did something that made it seem like I was way smarter than him or something that made him worry about me. But never about my height." Sam actually managed a laugh that didn't hurt. "I'm not sure Dean even ever realized that I'm – was – taller than him." He tried to smile at the memory but he sobbed again.
"I miss him so much. Please – can't you bring him back? Please? You can do anything you want to me. I don't care. It doesn't matter. I mean – I'm the freak with the demon blood in me, right? You don't want me, do you? You couldn't possibly want me. So why let me live when you could have Dean here? Just – just – please – let me see him just once before you send me wherever I deserve to go. That's all. Please. Just let me – please – let me know he's okay and I'll do whatever you want. Please."
For a minute he had to press his arm over his mouth to try and stop his sobbing. He could feel Dean so close he expected a knock on the window and Dean's voice, 'Dude, get outta my seat,' And he'd take a look at Sam's face and ask 'What's wrong?" in that way that sounded like there wasn't anything he wouldn't take on to take care of Sam, and he meant right now.
"Please." Sam prayed again when he could speak. "Please bring Dean back. He's all I have. He's the only person – he always seemed like the only person big enough to protect me. I mean why – why let him die when I'm gonna go darkside without him? I mean – maybe you don't care about me and I don't blame you, but don't you care about the people I could hurt? Do anything you want to me but please – bring Dean back. Nobody else will make a deal with me. I mean – well, you already know what I've tried to do, don't you? Kinda hard to hide anything from you, hunh? No point in denying what I've tried. But – I know you don't make deals. Pastor Jim said you don't make deals but he said no prayer goes unheard, no prayer goes unanswered."
Another scrub at his eyes, his nose, his neck. Another lonely breeze blew through the car.
"What am I supposed to do? You don't want me, maybe even hell doesn't want me. Dean's the only person who wanted me just because I was me. No powers, no nothing. It didn't matter. Just me. Please bring him back and let me be his little brother again. I'll do whatever you want, you know I will. Please. Please. I can't – this is just so hard. Please bring him back. Please. I don't know what else to say, I don't know what else to offer, I don't know what else I can do. I know I've never lived the best life, and now – what I've been doing since Dean –." He had to take a breath to go on. " – died – I think I must be just so much gutter junk to you now. But if you don't want me, just bring Dean back and I'll do whatever he says. If you don't want to have anything to do with me, just bring Dean back and let him take care of it. Let him protect me, watch out for me. Bring him back and have him tell me what you want me to do. Please."
Just then the bells in the church tower started to chime. Must be midnight now, hunh? Time to get back to the motel probably, since he probably wasn't getting anywhere with God right now anyway. He took a final gulp of water and dried his face one last time before he started the car and drove down the street.
He pased a bank at the corner of the street but he didn't look at the lighted sign blinking its message out into the darkness,
68 degrees. 12:01am. September 19th, 2008.