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“Alright,” Sam said, holstering his machete. “Let’s go find those kids, get ’em outta here.”
“Sounds good,” Dean agreed, putting his away as well.
The slight creak of the barn door was all the warning they had before a gunshot echoed through the barn. Sam whipped around. A young man, who couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen, was standing there, a .45 held steady in his hand, with a grimly satisfied expression on his face. An icy sensation swept through Sam’s body as he heard a thud.
“Dean,” he breathed, and turned back to his brother.
Dean was lying on the straw strewn floor, arms and legs at odd angles, eyes wide, with a bullet hole perfectly in the center of his forehead. Sam sank to his knees. A distant part of his brain was telling him that he should be concerned with the man holding the gun, but there was a high pitched ringing in his ears, drowning that out. How? Sam had always known that hunting could get one or both of them killed, but the idea had never seemed more distant since they defeated Chuck. Sam clutched Dean’s shoulders. He’d already lost both Castiel and Jack. How was he supposed to do this without Dean too?
Sam looked back at the young man, tears blurring his vision as the icy numbness inside him turned into hot fury.
“Who are you?!” he shouted, rising to his feet and pulling out his gun. The young man had holstered his own weapon, and stood there defenseless. Nonetheless, he met Sam’s eyes without fear.
“Jacob,” he said calmly. “Jacob Pond.”
“Jacob...Pond,” Sam whispered, and it felt like a black hole opened inside him, sucking away all his fury, all his grief, leaving him utterly empty.
“I suppose you know who I am,” Jacob said, with a bitter smile.
Sam nodded numbly.
“This is Jacob. My son.”
Jacob eyed him. “My mom said you were going to let us go.”
“I was. I swear, I was.” Despite the fact that he was the one who was armed, he felt a sudden, desperate desire to justify himself to this young man.
Jacob cocked his head. “Did you know?”
“Before?” Sam shook his head. “I found out eventually.” He glanced back at Dean’s body. “I left him for a while over it.”
“But you forgave him.”
“He’s...my brother,” Sam said helplessly. It didn’t sound like a good enough reason anymore. It sounded like an excuse.
Jacob gazed at Dean’s body. “I forgave my mother too,” he said softly. He looked back at Sam. “I understand why Dean did what he did. But she was my mother, and I had to watch him kill her.”
Sam felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Jacob frowned.
“You didn’t know.”
Sam shook his head, not capable of speech. How had Dean never told him that? Well, perhaps it wasn’t that surprising. Sam was barely willing to go back to him as it was. If he knew that Dean had killed Amy in front of her son, he wasn’t certain he’d ever forgive him.
“In his defense, he didn’t know I was there.” Jacob sounded tired, far too tired for his age. “I've been so angry ever since. But now...now it’s not there anymore.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.” Sam looked at Dean’s body again. “You don’t want to spend your whole life angry.”
“Are you going to kill me?” Jacob didn’t sound afraid, simply curious. Sam turned back to him.
“You know,” Sam said, with a small, ironic laugh, “Dean killed the demon that killed our mother.” He shook his head, feeling as tired as Jacob had sounded. “I’m not going to kill you.”
Jacob nodded. “I’m sorry my revenge hurt you. But you’re free now.”
“Free?” Sam echoed.
“I read the Supernatural books, when I was trying to learn about you two. You know he’s abusive, right?”
Sam swallowed. Of course he knew. His love for Dean didn’t make him stupid. He knew what abuse looked like. He’d had a harder time excusing it when it had been Jack Dean was abusing, but he’d always known that Dean abused both him and Castiel. He’d tried to hide from that fact as best he could, but he’d always known.
Jacob seemed aware of what Sam was thinking.
“Try to choose a better life companion,” he said, voice surprisingly compassionate. He turned to go. "You can stay here. I’ll find those kids and get them to safety.”
Sam watched him leave, the emptiness still a knawing pit inside him. He sank down next to Dean’s body again. For what felt like the millionth time, he wished Castiel was there. No one had ever brought him peace the way Castiel had.
There was a slight fluttering sound, and the emptiness was replaced with a desperate, disbelieving hope.
“Cas?”
Sam looked up. Castiel was standing beside him, expression impossibly tender.
“I’m here, Sam.” Castiel crouched down, and ran his fingers gently through Sam’s hair. Sam leaned into the touch, and all the tears that he’d never let himself cry for Castiel, combined with the immense, complicated grief that he felt for Dean, spilled from him as he pulled Castiel into a crushing hug. Well, if Castiel had been human, it would have crushed him. Sam could almost feel Castiel’s wings encircling him as Cas held him.
“It’s okay, Sam,” Castiel said reassuringly. “I can bring him back.” He reached out a hand towards Dean’s body, but, unthinkingly, Sam grabbed it before it could make contact.
“Is—” Sam took a deep breath. “Is he in Heaven?”
Castiel frowned. “Of course.”
“Then—then don’t.” Sam gazed at the place Jacob had been. “That kid...he deserved his revenge. I’m not going to take it from him just so I can pull Dean out of Heaven.” Jacob’s words reverberated in his head. “You’re free now.” Sam shoved the thought away violently.
He met Castiel’s eyes, feeling terribly vulnerable. “What are you going to do now?”
Castiel cupped Sam’s face in his hands. “I told you, Sam. I love you. I’m going to stay with you until the second you don’t want me to. I was already planning on coming back. I was only away because I was helping Jack rebuild Heaven.”
Sam pressed his face into Castiel’s chest, tears still falling, but now some of them stemmed from joy. Sam had a feeling that he was going to spend a long time coping with everything that had happened in the last thirty minutes. But he knew that as long as he had Castiel at his side, he could handle anything.