Sentir
He watched his world fall apart.
The roof collapsed first. Hitting the ground, it showered sparks into the neighboring grass and bushes. Like fireflies, the light they provided dimmed immediately, overshadowed by the flames that leapt into the sky, fueled by more material belongings.
The walls, the thing that boxed him in from the world, the thing that kept him safe, couldn't be seen. He didn't know if they had fallen or just were obscured by the water shooting out of the hoses of the firemen, blanketing the house, washing away everything else he had worked for that hadn't already been destroyed by the fire.
He was thankful for Dean, who sat next to him on the hood of the car, lending his quiet support with a heavy hand on his shoulder. It kept him in control when they brought her body out on her stretcher. She was unrecognizable, skin and clothing blending to form the sickest thing he had ever seen. The air smelled of her burnt flesh as they wrapped her in the pristine white sheets and set her in the back of the ambulance.
"What are you feeling?"
Sam tore his eyes away from the house to look at his brother in surprise. No one in their family ever talked about their feelings. It was an unspoken rule that it was wrong to feel anything. Emotions got in the way of the hunt.
He sighed and tried to figure out what he felt. He could feel the heat in his throat, probably from the bile rising up, and a pain in his stomach like someone had hit him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. His feet were asleep and the wind tickled the bare patches of skin on his arm where the fire had singed the hairs.
But all of those were physical feelings and he shrugged. " What should I be feeling, Dean?"
"Don't know… sad, mad. I don't know. I'm not you."
It meant that Dean had finally lost his humanity and stopped feeling emotions. Their father had won the battle he had set out so long ago to win. The perfect weapon was finally forged.
"I don't feel much of anything," Sam admitted.
"It's just shock," Dean's response was immediate.
Sam gave his brother a grim smile. " Thanks."
Dean gave him a confused look. He didn't realize the implications of what he said but Sam did. Dean didn't want him to be like himself.
That was the moment that Sam decided to go with his brother. The only thing that had been stopping him was his fear of becoming like his father, who had lost his soul the minute their mother died. He was almost as demonic as the things he hunted, living only for one sole purpose: revenge.
But with Dean's words, he felt relieved. Because no matter how far they would go on their search for Dad or how entrenched they got into hunting – it was inevitable now with Jess's death – Sam would not become like them. Dean would guarantee that despite it only it being a promise cemented in force of will.