Sticks and Stones
"If I didn't know you, I'd want to hunt you."
It hurt. It hurt beyond words. It struck him at his very core and broke his heart but he did his best to will back the tears that were welling in his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look Dean in the eye, not when Dean was looking at him like that. Dean's glare was persecuting, and Sam didn't want to see the hatred in his eyes, hatred he knew was directed at him.
Dean, his own brother, his big brother who he looked up to, who had protected him his whole life and always put him above anything else had just told him that he would hunt him, kill him. Coming from Dean of all people it meant that he thought Sam fit right in the category of the evil supernatural things that they had hunted down and eradicated their whole lives. And Dean hated them with as much passion as he had. Coming from Dean of all people, it hurt more than anything.
Sam hated the way Dean was looking at him. He didn't know what hurt worse, Dean's words and the gravity of his tone, or Dean's eyes. They weren't so much angry, accusing or disappointed. They looked as though he were regarding him as a freak, a monster. It was as if he didn't even seeing Sam as his brother.
He had always wanted to make his big brother proud. He had failed, and he didn't know if there was any mending it.
Especially if Dean would never look at him the same.
