"If I didn't know you...I would want to hunt you..."
He couldn't get the look of pure resentment, of sheer disappointment and utter failure, that his older brother had held in his green eyes for Sam, out of his mind. Everytime Sam closed his hazel orbs, there it was right back in his face, taunting him, tormenting him, reminding him of the abomination he really was. He kept all the agony at his brother's words locked inside, however. Even though it was all over, he didn't want Dean to see just how much those words stung or how they continued to cling onto him, jabbing their proverbial needles just a little further into his heart. Oh sure, he'd completely snapped at Dean the very next day after Sam had insisted they speak to Jack Montgomery first before just bursting into his home like a couple of mad men and striking him down with their homemade flamethrowers. A lot of good that did.
"You heard Travis. He's gonna turn, they always turn," Dean had stated gruffly with a finality heard in his tone, shaking his light brown head and turning back towards the windshield to watch the road ahead of them. His hands remained planted firmly on the steering wheel.
"Well, maybe he won't! Maybe he can fight it off," Sam had shot right back insistently, his thin brow furrowing with conjecture.
Dean blinked his eyes in a way that suggested to Sam that his older brother was getting irritated with him. He was one off from an evident eye-roll. "And maybe he CAN'T, that's all I'm saying."
Sam closed his mood ring-hued eyes not wanting to listen to what his brother had to say. He wanted so badly to believe that just because there might be another person out in the world with something tainted or evil in their blood that they could control it. If this were the case, then maybe just maybe there was hope for himself yet. More than anything Sam didn't want to become evil, but he felt dirty and contaminated, like he was some kind of walking disease that was completely incurable. So, maybe if this guy was given a chance at being human and he overcame it, then maybe the same thing could happen for Sam, but Dean would never understand that. He'd never understand what it felt like having this intruder lodged inside of him that could never be removed.
"Alright then, we'll just have to see, okay?" Sam responded in a voice that still opposed his older brother's opinion on the rugaru.
Dean's bright green eyes slid over toward his younger brother disdainfully. "See, this is what I mean, Sam. You sure your emotions aren't getting in the way here?" the older hunter questioned.
Sam tilted his dark head slightly, his brow furrowing and eyes narrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about?" He inquired, barely shaking his head.
"You know, nice dude, but he's got something evil inside of him. Something in his blood, maybe you can relate," Dean responded condescendingly, emphasis heard on the last word of his sentence.
Sam could feel his blood boiling inside of him and it took everything he had not to reach over and deck his older brother right across his smarmy face. Sam's breathing became slightly erratic, coming in slight, yet heavy gasping. "Stop the car," he ordered softly, his eyes not meeting his brother's, but instead darting around the inside of the Impala wildly, looking anywhere but Dean.
"What?" Dean asked him, obviously not sure why on earth Sam would want him to just stop the car in the middle of the road.
"Stop the car or I will!" the younger Winchester threatened, raising his voice. The tone in his voice resounding so that Dean knew his little brother was serious and meant business.
Dean pulled the Impala up to a open area of dirt and sand surrounded by trees and a river off the side of the highway. Sam had opened up the passenger side door and leapt out of the car before the vehicle had even came to a complete stop. This was it. He couldn't take it anymore. He was tired of the way Dean had been treating him since he'd discovered the truth about Sam and the demon blood that flowed through the young man's veins unwelcomingly. He couldn't hold back anymore. The young man sucked in a shaking breath, his body trembling all over from the impending rage.
"You want to know WHY I've been lying to you, Dean? Sam began, not giving his older brother a chance to ask why. He just continued, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. "Because of crap like this!"
"Like what?" Dean asked in a voice as if he'd done absolutely nothing wrong.
Sam could feel the anger and the hurt billowing up inside of him at his older brother's words. Dean knew damn well what his little brother was referring to, but he didn't care. He answered the older hunter thoroughly, honestly. "The way you talk to me, the way you look at me like I'm a freak!" Sam shot out, not able to control himself anymore. The anger was definitely there, but the hurt couldn't be mistaken in his voice. He began walking away from Dean, his back toward him.
"I do not," Dean denied, trying to retort, but Sam didn't give him a chance. He just kept going, turning sharply on his heel, he walked back toward his older brother, pointing his finger directly at him.
"You know or even worse, like I'm an idiot! Like I don't know the difference between right and wrong!" Sam held his hand to his chest and then his arms flailed wildly outward as if hoping they would in some way make Dean understand what this felt like. He dropped them to his sides, panting heavily, the pain, anger and hurt evident in his eyes. Sam turned his back once more on Dean, still breathing somewhat erratically and looked out toward the river, his hands now resting loosely on his hips. He turned back toward his brother, catching his eyes and Dean had just dropped his head, a look of disbelief crossing his older brother's features. "What?" Sam snapped, wanting to know why Dean had that expression on his face.
"Do you know the difference, Sam? I mean you've been kinda strollin' a dark road lately," the older brother shot back somewhat abrasively.
"You have no idea what I'm going through," the younger hunter responded, shaking his head. "None."
"THEN ENLIGHTEN ME!" Dean yelled, throwing his hands outward.
"I'VE GOT DEMON BLOOD IN ME, DEAN!" Sam shouted back, his breath shaky and the rage coursing through his body was slowly beginning to disappear to turn into revulsion with himself. "This disease pumping through my veins, and I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean! I'm a whole new level of freak!" Sam struggled to keep the rage inside of him, but a new emotion was working it's way into his chest and wrapping it's iron fist around it, gripping it tight, creating a fresh wound inside of his heart. The younger Winchester felt his bottom lip threatening to tremble, but he fought it back. "And I'm just trying to take this...," he paused for a moment, and scoffed. "...this curse and make something good out of it!"
The younger Winchester stuffed his hands as far down into his jacket pockets as they would go, almost as if he didn't want anybody seeing what these hands had done. He was doing his best to try and push the thoughts from earlier out of the combines of his mind, but they were just as stubborn as a Winchester was. Sam ignored the rain that had begun to mist from the sky as he walked down the street in the small town he and his brother had stopped at to rest for the night. Why did it matter anyway? There was no hope for him, so who gave a rat's ass if he got sick from walking in the rain? Certainly not Sam. The asphault was slowly dampening as the young hunter continued his descent down the road. The light from the street lamps shone downward, lighting up the black, slick pavement, causing it to shine from the falling rain.
Sam did his best to tuck his face down as far as he could into the collar of his jacket, but not to shield himself from the rain. Just so nobody would have to see him, would have to look at this diseased abomination that walked the earth on two legs and dared call himself human. The rain was beginning to come down heavier now, but the young man paid it no mind. He just continued walking, his thoughts swirling like a rabid hurricane surging across the Atlantic Ocean. There really was no hope for him.
They hadn't been able to save Jack earlier either. The man had succumbed to the urges of diving teeth first into human flesh and finished off their friend, Travis who'd insisted on busting in and killing both him and his wife. The human part that was left of Jack had allowed his wife, Michele, to escape in evident fear, but he didn't stay that way for long. He devoured Travis like a lion on an antelope. Unfortunately for him, it was too late now. Sam had tried hard to try and talk to the man, try and make him see reason, make him see that if he just fought against his urges then he could live as a normal human being. Jack was beyond seeing reason and had attacked the brothers, knocking them out. He'd locked Sam inside a closet.
The rugaru had almost sunk his teeth into Dean, but luckily Sam had been able to break his way out of the closet, set the creature on fire and save his brother from becoming the creature's next meal. Right then and there, as the younger Winchester stood with the flamethrower in his hands and burned the rugaru alive, the hope that Sam had held inside of him prior to all of this, the hope for the sheer possibility of maybe being able to be saved from turning into something he never wanted to become, crumbled at his feet and drifted away like a dry, dead leaf being pulled away by the wind.
Look at him. He was trusting a demon to teach him how to use these powers, allowing himself to surrender to the power Azazel had left behind in his blood after everything that yellow-eyed bastard had done to Sam, he was still using those abilities, but using his mind to pull demons from innocent people? Sam never thought that was such a bad thing. It was much better than using Ruby's knife to slash their throats. It only killed them. He was actually saving these victims, not putting them to death just so he could get rid a demon. Wasn't that a good thing? Apparently not in his brother's eyes. Why wasn't it though? This was something he'd never be able to get rid of, wasn't it? This was something that would be inside Sam forever, right? So why not find a way to use it for the good of the people?
Death had always followed Sam around, no matter where he went. His mother died all because of Azazel wanting to force feed him demon blood. Sam couldn't help but think that if he wasn't ever born, then none of this stuff would've happened. Dean, his mom and his dad would all still be alive and living a normal, happy, apple pie life together in a big, beautiful house with a white picket fence and a dog. If Sam had never been born, he never would've tainted their lives the way he did, but alas he was born. It's not as though he could've gone back in time and changed that.
First it was Mom, then Jess, then Dad, then Madison, not to mention all the people they couldn't save and who's lives were brutally taken, and finally Dean. Dean was by far the worst, and it was all Sam's fault. If only his older brother would've just left well enough alone back in Cold Oak then maybe none of what was happening now would've ever ever happened. He should've let Sam stay dead. It would've eradicated this entire mess, right? Truthfully, all of these deaths were Sam's fault. He truly and strongly believed that, and it didn't matter what anybody said to him, he knew it was the truth. It didn't matter if anybody tried to tell him differently, the younger Winchester knew deep down inside that the fault would always rest with him, that this burden would always lay on his shoulders, and that the overwhelming remorse he suffered 24/7 had every right to consume him.
"Do you even know how far off the reservation you've gone? How far from normal? From human?"
Dean's right...I'm not human. Not fully anyway. The words just wouldn't go away, no matter how much Sam tried to force them out, they clung to his memory like bloodthirsty leeches assaulting his mind. As much as he didn't want to believe it, Sam knew that Dean now looked at him is if he were some sort of beast, some sort of mutant fiend, and the more his older brother's words just came rushing back into his mind, the more it hurt. It was almost as bad as wanting to rid himself of the demon blood. That same iron fist made it's way around Sam's heart once more, clenching tight as the words echoed in his mind. Sam wrapped his large arms around his body, hugging himself tightly as he began to shiver. He couldn't tell if he were shivering from the rain or from something else. He raised his soaked head to take a look at where he'd ended up.
Long, dark, wet strands of hair fell into his eyes, with water dripping off the tips, obscured his vision slightly, but the young man brushed them back blinking the rainwater out of his green-blue eyes. Having not paid to attention to where he was going, the young hunter surprisingly found himself standing in front of a small, old, makeshift church. Sam sucked in a deep breath as he shoved his hands back into his pockets, gazing upward to the top of the steeple on the little white building. There was a simple yet elegant cross perched on top. The youngest Winchester huffed out a soft sigh, figuring that he probably should get out of the rain. Dean would most likely use Sam being soaked to the bone as another excuse to bitch at him once he found his way back to the motel.
The younger Winchester slowly and even somewhat reluctantly began making his ascent up the small set of concrete steps leading up to the building. He placed his hand on the sopping wet banister to steady himself as he began making his way towards the tall, brown, wooden, celestial-engraved double doors. Sam stopped in front of them as the rain began coming down heavier and hesitated. Would an abomination like him even be welcome inside of a church? Sam supposed there was only one way to find out. Taking in a tremulous breath he placed a hand on the door and gave it a gentle push. The door opened with ease, and Sam stepped inside of the old building. It definitely had that old church scent to it, but it wasn't a bad scent. It was almost comforting.
Sam actually felt the iron fist that had been grasping at his heart loosen up a bit as he drank in the essence of the old church. It was warm inside and dimly lit. Sam was grateful to feel the heat wash over him as he hadn't noticed until now how cold the rainwater had actually been. Now that he was inside, Sam realized that he was shivering all over. The rain had soaked through his clothes and felt as if it were penetrating his bones. Sam gasped softly as his eyes took in the sight around him. The outside of the structure didn't do the inside of it any justice. Simple as it was he found it incredibly beautiful as well. Not too extravagant, but just perfect. It wasn't massive or overly done by any means.
Sam walked forward and found himself standing at the very end of a long row of freshly polished, wooden pews. They were lined up in two rows on either side of a long aisle that laid out in front of him that led to a homely and yet beautiful alter draped with a golden, detailed cloth. In the center sat a model of a cross. On either side rested two, tall, white candles fitted comfortably into what looked like handmade, wooden candle holders. In front of the candles sat two brass offering trays that Sam assumed were passed around in each row of pews every Sunday morning.
On the left side was a grand piano, complete with a bench and a book of gospel music. On the right side was a table fitted with another cloth and on top were tableware which was obviously for the communion given on Sundays as well. Two silver trays with tiny glasses for the communion wine and two silver bowls for the communion bread sat atop the table. The carpet that lined the floor of the church was a beautiful, soft red. Tall, elegant, stained-glass windows with beautiful angels and celestial designs adorned the walls along the rows of the pews. On the back of each pew were small hymn and Bible holders. A copy of each holy book sat restfully in each of the holders.
The young hunter ascended up the aisle a few steps, moving toward the right and seating himself comfortably in the second to last pew. He gazed ahead. Just beyond the alter sat the preacher's podium which held a giant-sized Holy Bible itself. Sam sighed, his eyes scanning the area which fell on a massive painting of the Heavenly Father himself, surrounded by angels. The painting gave an almost shining warmth and vibrancy to the room. He titled his head gently, eyeing the painting. Sam brought his arms up on the pew that sat in front of him, folded them across the top and leaned forward. Well, he wasn't being tossed out of the church or threatened, so that was a good thing. Maybe he could finally go somewhere where he'd be accepted, where he could find some solace and comfort.
Gazing around the room, Sam realized that he was all alone inside of the church. Nobody was there, and so maybe he could take this time and express what he was feeling. He usually prayed everyday, but not over something like this. Sam huffed out another soft sigh as he looked upward at the slanted ceiling of the main hall of the church.
"I'm not sure if I even deserve to be inside of here right now, or even if I deserve to be talking to You," the young Winchester began nervously. "But I honestly wasn't sure where else to go." Sam sighed, dropping his head and ran a hand through his damp locks. "I've done some things in my life that I'm not happy with, that I'm not proud of. I'm just...I'm so sorry for everything that's happened because of me. I keep trying so hard to redeem myself. I just wanted to do something good for people. I never wanted to stop helping people, ever. I still want to keep fighting and saving people's lives, but it's so hard to think of myself as somebody good when I have this...disease inside of me. I mean, it's even made Dean change how he feels about me. I know now that he knows the truth about me, he's never going to look at me the same again."
Sam could feel an ache beginning to build up in his chest and the iron fist was starting to squeeze again, only this time a new fissure began opening up in his heart. Sam brought his hand up to his face, holding the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He laughed bitterly. "I suppose who could blame him really. I mean I kept the truth from him. I lied to him. It was my brother's dying wish that I didn't use my-my...abilities, and I went against that. I betrayed him, and that's one of the worst things a little brother could do to his older brother. Especially when he was suffering in Hell for me. I let Ruby trick me into learning to use my abilities against my brother's wishes, even though I knew it'd upset him, I still did it because I was so desperate to save him. I was selfish, and it was wrong of me. He's seen what I can do, and now he thinks I'm a freak. He's right though. I am a freak. I'm not human, and I do deserve to be hunted. I'm not human," the young hunter reiterated.
Sam's voice broke, and he could feel his throat tightening, the sting of traitorous tears creeping under his eyelids. The young Winchester swallowed hard and closed his hazel eyes, doing his best to force them back with not much luck. A sob built up in his chest, and he rested his forehead against his folded arms, hiding his face from sight. "Just please, please forgive me for everything," Sam whispered.
"If you ask for forgiveness then you'll be forgiven," an unfamiliar, male voice spoke up from behind Sam startling the young man from his audible reverie. Gasping, Sam brought his head up from his arms, whirling around to face a man standing beside him dressed in black, a white collar gracing his neck.
"Father, forgive me. I had no idea you were even there. I thought I was alone," Sam apologized, clearly alarmed by the preacher's sudden appearance.
"I haven't been here for very long," the father laughed. "But I was here long enough to hear the end of your prayer, and I have to ask you," he began concernedly as he placed a hand gently on Sam's broad shoulder. "Do you really feel that you're a freak? That you're not human?"
Sam's green-blue eyes widened. He certainly didn't expect somebody to ask him this. "I-I well...yyou see, i-it," the younger Winchester stammered, not quite sure how to respond. "I-it's just, w-well..." he hesitated with a sigh, not able to bring his eyes upward to look at the man standing next to him.
The father laughed again as he gently squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Why don't you and I take a little walk? We're having a midnight service tonight. I still have yet to light the candles and prepare things. How about you talk with me while I get things ready?" he suggested, giving the young man's shoulder a gentle tug. "You can call me Father Patrick, by the way," the priest smiled warmly at Sam, and the young hunter honestly couldn't remember the last time anybody had smiled at him like that. Father Patrick extended his hand and the young man took it hesitantly, shaking it. Sam gave him a return smile, trying to make sure it wasn't a grimace, that didn't reach his eyes.
"I'm Sam," he replied quietly, his hazel eyes meeting the priest's deep blue ones. Sam bowed his head once more as he stood up next to the preacher who's smile was unwavering. "Umm, what did you want to talk to me about?" Sam inquired sheepishly as he began following the man in black up to the front of the church. The priest began lighting the candles on the altar.
"Well for one, and please forgive me if I am being too forward, but I can see the pain you're in, son. It's not hard to pick that up at all. I thought that maybe you could use somebody to talk to that won't judge you," the father offered perceptibly. "You can't hold all of that anguish inside of yourself, Sam. It's going to break you." Father Patrick sighed as he made his way to the row of candles that sat on the stage. "I must ask you again, Sam. Why do you feel as though you're inhuman?"
Sam tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow at the man who stood before him. "Father, forgive me for answering your question with another question, but exactly how much did you hear?" Sam's heart began hammering heavily in his chest. Oh no...what if he heard me talking about Ruby? Or heard me talking about using abilities? What is he going to think? Oh man...now a priest of all people is going to think I'm a freak too. Sam tried to control the panic beginning to build, but when he saw Father Patrick's warm eyes and kind smile rest on him, he began to calm down.
"I heard you say that you betrayed your brother, but that the only reason you did it was because you were desperate to save him. Then I heard you call yourself a freak and that you're not human. I also heard you ask for forgiveness and that's it. So tell me about this brother of yours, Sam. What did you mean when you said you were betraying him while he was suffering, but the only reason you did it was to save him?"
Sam's heart caught in his throat at the priest's words. He cleared his throat, trying to think of how to best word his explanation without giving away the obvious, because if Sam did that then he would definitely be dubbed a freak, possibly even psychotic, and most likely be kicked out of the church. "Well...there's just some things I know how to do that...he can't do," the young hunter began softly, finding that he couldn't look Father Patrick in the eye. "It's not that he's jealous or anything. It's just that I think it might scare him. About 5 months ago, he had to go away for awhile, and he was doing it for me even though I didn't want him to, but he was insistant on it. You see, Father, Dean and I are really close. I mean we pretty much live together and we...work in the same business together. We're almost inseparable, so when he left, it was really hard. I promised him before he left that I was going to find a way to bring him back, because where he had to go was some place really bad. We'll just call it his own personal hell," the young hunter did his best to explain without giving away extreme details.
"Anyway, I tried everything that I knew of in my power to bring him back, but no matter what I did, nothing worked. I even offered myself just to get him out of there. I wanted to trade places with him. I knew that there was one more thing I could try that could be successful, but he made me promise him before he di-...left that I wouldn't do it," Sam took a trembling breath and Father Patrick listened intently, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder once more and guiding the young man to sit down on the front pew. Father Patrick sat down next to him and watched as Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands between his knees, staring at the floor. "A-and...that's where I betrayed him."
"I see," Father Patrick replied gently. "You used that particular talent that your brother promised you not to use so you could find a way to bring him back to you, even though you knew it would upset him, right?"
Sam ran both of his hands over his face and sighed heavily. "I did. It was wrong of me, selfish and I never should've done it. I betrayed my brother's wishes. I hurt him when I promised him that I wouldn't. I swore to him that I wouldn't and the whole time my brother was tor-suffering in this...bad place, here I was perfecting this...talent or whatever of mine. When he...when he came back to me, it was a big surprise, and it wasn't my doing. I was so happy that he was home. I was so relieved that he was back and out of there. He was safe again. I couldn't have been more grateful, but I spent 4 months without him, and...this...thing that I do, my talent, helps people. I've been able to save a lot of people from getting hurt because of the strength I've gained from practicing, but I didn't tell my brother I'd been using it. I was afraid to, and so I lied to him and still kept using it without his knowledge. He was so angry with me when he found out. He said some things...that I just can't get out of my mind and they hurt a lot, but the thing is is that he was right about them. It's just...he's my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him. I just...I don't want him to end up hating me."
Sam could feel the emotion rolling inside of his chest and ascending up to his throat and closing it up. His lower lip trembled, and his eyes burned unceremoniously once again with relentless tears, and he fought to hold them back. Sam didn't feel that he deserved to cry. He didn't feel that he should be allowed to feel or express anything that he was feeling. If anything, all he deserved was punishment for his actions. The younger Winchester bit his bottom lip, took in a deep, shaky breath and slowly released it.
"Son," the priest began gently, his hand squeezing Sam's shoulder a little harder in evident comfort. "While your brother may have feared what you were doing, he's never going to hate you. And while in some way it may have been selfish, it was also something that you were trying to do, not only for your brother but for those people who needed your help. If you ask me, that too can be seen as a selfless act. You were saving people from getting themselves hurt by using this talent of yours as well as practicing to get better with your talent so you could save your brother," the priest told him in gentle earnest.
He rubbed Sam's shoulder comfortingly as the young man sniffled, his head averted away from the father. "While you may have been doing it so you yourself could have your brother back, you were also working at this to get your brother away from his personal hell. You were trying to save him so he wouldn't have to suffer. Sam, that is very very human. There is nothing inhuman about you doing something to save people whether your brother likes this talent of yours or not," Father Patrick insisted calmly.
"Sam, in no way does that doesn't make you a freak or inhuman. That makes you very human. A human who's full of love for his brother and compassion for those people who needed your help. You saving people like that and working hard to save your brother, even if your talent might be a bad thing, I believe strongly, deep down in my heart that God would overlook something like that. He would overlook that because you selflessly stepped in and protected people you didn't even know and saved them. That's saying something, young man. It truly is."
Sam inclined his head toward the priest, tear tracks lining his cheeks. His mood ring eyes still glistening suspiciously, slid upward at Father Patrick who was staring at him with an expression filled with understanding, caring and was that sympathy he saw? Sam couldn't tell, but the priest smiled warmly at the young Winchester and rubbed a soft circle on his back as he rose to his feet.
"Just remember, Sam. If you honestly do feel that what you did was wrong or bad, pray. Pray to God. Talk to him and ask him for forgiveness. Praying is a sign of faith, and that's obviously something you were blessed with, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Just pray, Sam. God's always there listening."
Sam dropped his head into his hands, pressing his wet eyes into his palms, trying to rid of himself of any leftover tears. He sniffled and lifted his head back up to thank the priest, but he was gone as quick as he had appeared. The young Winchester's eyes widened at how swiftly the man had disappeared, and he scratched his head in confusion.
Sighing and shrugging it off, Sam leaned forward once again, his elbows resting on his knees as he allowed the preacher's words to sink in. The young hunter was so lost in his thoughts he didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind him. He didn't know anybody else had been in there until he felt a body flop down onto the pew's bench right next to him. Sam didn't want to look up and see who it was, but he just knew judging by the knee that barely rested up against his. His eyes traveled downward the laced up, tattered brown boots that had planted themselves firmly on the floor. The scent of leather and fresh shampoo engulfed his senses, and Sam knew who it was but he couldn't bring himself to face him.
"Knew I'd end up finding you here," Dean's gruff voice resounded softly in Sam's ear as he felt his big brother lean forward to match his pose.
"How long you been here?" Sam asked, his voice still rough from the tears.
"Long enough," the older Winchester replied. "I was hiding behind the wall at the entrance, but then once I heard the preacher come in and start talking to you, I peeked around and saw you guys walkin' up to the front, so I snuck to the very back of the pews, sat down in the last one and ducked down. I hid there the entire time and listened to you guys," Dean admitted, and Sam was almost sure he could hear a change in his older brother's tone.
"I see," Sam stated, staring down at his hands which hung limply at his knees. "So, why are you here?"
"Well duh," Dean began as if it were the most obvious thing in the entire world. "I was worried about you, Sammy. I tried calling your phone like 50 million freakin' times and you never answered! I drove all over town looking for you and when I couldn't find you, I found the church and figured I'd check in here. I know you always used to go to a church when you were feeling like crap back before everything happened."
"Sorry. I shut my phone off earlier and had forgotten I did, so I never turned it back on," the younger Winchester apologized, still not able to bring himself to look at his older brother.
"Sammy, look...you don't have anything to apologize for, okay?" Dean began, heaving a big sigh. "I didn't mean what I said earlier. I really am sorry, Sam. It's just, like I told you. Your psychic thing? It scares the holy hell out of me."
"Dean," Sam began, turning his head slightly toward his brother, his voice carrying a warning tone. "Watch what you say. We're in a church."
Dean scoffed. "Yeah yeah, sorry. Whatever. I'm just saying, Sam. While that stuff does scare the crap out of me, I get now why you used it, okay? I mean, I think I was pretty damned out of line for saying that you weren't human," the older hunter admitted sheepishly. Sam watched his older brother's scarred hands clasp together. "You are, Sam. That preacher was right. You probably have more compassion for complete strangers than any human being I've ever met in my entire life. Hell, you were trying to do everything you could to save me. Even if that meant doing something that I asked you not to do."
Sam sighed, shaking his dark head. "But that doesn't change anything, Dean. I still have this blood flowing through me like an incurable disease."
"So? Who cares. That doesn't change who you are, Sammy. You're still my little brother and even if that yellow-eyed bastard were still alive and he shoved more demon blood down your throat, you'd still be Sam Winchester, my little brother. Ain't a damn thing ever gonna change that."
Sam could feel the emotion beginning to bubble up in his throat again, threatening to close it off. His heart swelled in his chest; a warmth replaced the pain he had felt earlier. He chewed on his bottom lip, and swallowed hard to compose himself. When he was sure he'd be able to speak properly without any interruptions, Sam cleared his throat. "Dean, listen. I really am sorry I lied to you. I was just so scared that-," but he was interrupted by his older brother.
"Sam, listen. You apologized enough, alright? So no more. I just wanted to make it clear that I do think you're still human and I think you always will be. Not only that, but I don't think I could ever bring myself to hunt you. Ever. You're my little brother. Even if you are 3 inches taller than me," the older Winchester declared gruffly. "So, let's just put this all behind us and forget about it, alright?"
Dean raised a callused hand and slapped it on Sam's back, patting his brother in between the shoulder blades. Sam finally inclined his head toward his older brother who had a one of those cheesy Dean-grins on his face. Hazel met green, and the younger Winchester could tell that Dean was being honest. He truly meant everything he just said. He could also see the hint of apology in his brother's eyes and Sam returned his brother's smile, dimples indenting his cheeks and all.
"Alright then," Dean began as he stood up, pulling Sam with him and tossing his arm over his younger brother's shoulders. "Now that we're finished with the ultimate chick flick moment of all chick flick moments, whaddya say we get the hell out of here, head back to the motel and order us a pizza? I was checking something out in Pennsylvania, earlier. Looks like there might be a case! Not only that, but it's time for Oktoberfest! That means beer, bar wenches and big pretzels!"
Sam just laughed, a real happy and open laugh, at his older brother's incessant babbling about hot women and shook his dark head as the two Winchester brothers made their way out of the church and back to the waiting Impala.