Note: Set after IMToD and ELAC.
Chapter 1
It wasn't much past 7.00 a.m. when I walked back into the church. People seldom came to church at that time, at least not the folks from this part of Sioux Falls. The church opened at 7.00 a.m. and I had stepped away only briefly after opening the gates and doors, so I was surprised to see company inside the church already.
It was a man. He was sitting on one of the pews in the middle and his head was bent down. When I came near, I could see that his shoulders were shaking as if he was crying.
I was uncertain for a moment. I wasn't sure whether I should approach the person and by doing so I might interrupt whatever he was doing. I looked over to the bye-altar and didn't find any candles lit so I decided that it was safe to assume that the man was not praying.
I approached him with caution, wondering what ailed him and why he was at the church at this hour. He was rather a tall man who was hunched at the shoulders, with an unruly mop of brown hair that was hiding most of his face. His hands were clasped as if in prayer. But the hands were covering his nose and mouth and upon reaching the man, I could hear the stifled sobs. The man was so lost in his grief, he didn't feel my presence.
I reached and touched him on the shoulder. He flinched violently and I snatched my hand away immediately. My heart was jack hammering from the strong reaction of the stranger and I froze when he turned to look at me.
The person was actually a boy who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. His Hazel eyes were red rimmed, filled with tears and glazed over as if he wasn't really seeing me. The grief and pain in the eyes were so strong that I took a step back, overwhelmed by the raw emotion.
The boy's face was a mess. There were cuts and bruises scattered all over. He looked haggard and there were dark circle under his eyes, clearly showing how exhausted he was. His tear strained cheeks were pale and he was shivering. It was clear that he was in shock and I knew that I should try to reach and help him as soon as possible.
"Son?" My voice broke. The sheer amount of raw pain and vulnerability that were rolling off the boy was effecting me greatly.
"Pastor Jim...?" he asked back, voice stuttering and unsure. He sounded so lost and I was sure that he was not really seeing me. My heart clenched as the simple question held a hint of uncertain hope, as if he wanted me to be this Jim.
"I'm sorry, son. My name is Thomas," I said, trying to steady my voice but it wasn't easy. The younger man flinched again. His eyes finally cleared and widened. I knew that he had noticed me for the first time. Fresh tears trickled down his face and an anguished sob broke from him.
"Son?" I asked, concerned, trying to reach him. But he stood up so fast that he stumbled. So I took a few steps back to give him space.
"I'm...sorry…" he whispered and stumbled past me towards the door. His footsteps were unstable as he hurried away, leaving me in a stunned silence.
It took me few minutes to recover from the shock and I hurried back towards the church gates, hoping to see which direction he took, but the boy was long gone by the time I got there.
….
The next time I saw the young man, almost a week had passed. It was near closing time when I entered the church to lock the doors. He was sitting in the back and looking straight ahead.
I wondered whether he was a new resident. I couldn't recall any news of such because if there were any new residents, Mrs. Smith would inform me. The brief encounter with him had me shaken to my core and lately I had been thinking about him. He had triggered a protective instinct in me.
I stopped in the middle of the passage. But recalling what had happened last time, I wasn't sure whether I should approach him. While I was debating with myself, the boy spoke up.
"I'm sorry…. I know it's quite late. I just needed to be somewhere else for a few minutes." He turned towards me. "I'd appreciated it much if I could stay for a little bit."
I nodded. I was quite surprised that the boy was aware of my presence. His senses were sharper than I'd anticipated. A small but genuine smile, full of relief, greeted me.
I took a tentative step towards him.
"Are you all right, son?" I asked, assessing him.
He looked somewhat better than the last time we'd met. His cuts and bruises were healing but he still looked too pale for my liking.
"Not really," the young man admitted, looking down.
"Do you want to talk? I can offer you a helpful ear if you want." I was hoping that I could offer some comfort to the boy.
"I'm not sure you would understand, Pastor―?"
"Thomas," I completed, and it seemed that he didn't remember much about our last encounter.
The younger man rubbed his forehead. "Yeah… you did tell me your name last time, didn't you? I just…I'm sorry if I startled you that day. I wasn't really myself…"
His voice trailed off. "I'm not sure whether I am myself now either." He almost whispered the last part and I wouldn't have heard if I hadn't been giving him my full attention.
I took it as a welcoming gesture and sat down on the pew behind him.
"You never gave me your name, son."
The younger man turned towards me and looked at me thoughtfully. "I'm Sam. It's nice to meet you… properly," he added with a bit of embarrassment and extended his hand.
I smiled and shook his hand. "I might be able to help lift off your load a little bit. If you'd like to talk about what's bothering you, it might give you some comfort."
Sam snorted and shook his head. "I should bring my brother here."
I frowned a bit. "Your brother likes to talk?"
Sam let out a bitter laugh. "It's more like he doesn't want to talk … to me or anyone else for that matter and I worry about him. I don't want to lose him too."
"Sam… If I am to help you, you need to give me more details. I'm a bit confused here," I said in an encouraging voice, nudging him into talking. Sam bit his lip and for several minutes he was silent. For a moment I thought that he would not talk, but then Sam sighed deeply.
"I don't think you'd understand my situation, Pastor Thomas."
"I have heard that many times, Sam. People come to the church for many things. For confession, redemption, to pray, to heal or to find faith during a difficult situation. All those times I have heard people say that I would not understand their situation. I may not understand their situation or your situation, son. But I always try to do my best to offer some comfort or advice to them. How about you give me a chance too?"
Sam offered me a sad smile. "You are a lot like Pastor Jim…"
I recalled that the last time we met, Sam had mentioned a Pastor Jim and had thought that I was him. Before I could ask about it further, Sam started to talk.
"When I was a baby, my mom was killed in my nursery. Then our whole house was set on fire. My Dad handed me over to my big brother Dean and he carried me to safety.
"My Dad was a marine, he fought in the Vietnam War. So when Mom died, he sort of went into military mode again. He raised us as soldiers…"
Sam paused and looked thoughtful, and it seemed that he was pondering the best way to tell his story.
"There was a serial killer element in my mom's murder, and my Dad became a private investigator. He raised us in the life of hunting down serial killers, or any criminal, really. We were involved in that lifestyle since we were kids. I didn't approve of his methods but Dean was all for it. He would follow my Dad with blind faith and never questioned him.
"I was different. I know we helped people by catching those killers but I wanted a life which was safe for my family. I wanted a normal apple-pie life, as Dean would like to call it. But what I mostly wanted was my family to be safe."
"Me and my Dad, we always found something to argue about. Most of the time we didn't even know what we were fighting over. Dean was normally the mediator during the fights."
Sam ran a shaky hand across his hair.
"I got accepted to college and I wanted to go. My Dad and I had a huge fight, no surprise. He told me if I left, I should never come back and that's what I did. I left him and Dean and walked away. I really hoped that Dean would follow me to…" Sam snorted, "...safety." He emphasized the last part as if it was a cruel joke.
"Or that's what I thought it was. But he didn't. I didn't talk to Dean for two years and Dad for four years. But one day Dean came to my apartment and he wanted help to find Dad because he had gone missing. So I went with him. We couldn't find Dad, but he had left us coordinates at one of the places he'd stayed. Dean wanted to go to him, but I wanted to get back to college…"
The younger man's voice broke. He paused for a minute and his eyes were full of tears. "When we came back to my apartment, my girlfriend, Jess, was murdered."
I felt my heart sink. Sam was silent for few minutes trying to compose himself.
"It was the same… person. It was the same serial killer who had killed my mother when I was a baby. I almost didn't survive Jess's death if not for Dean. He saved me again. There was a fire and he pulled me out of the fire and took care of me and I wouldn't be here without him."
I could see the adoration and the gratitude in Sam's face when he mentioned Dean. At that moment, I knew that the bond of these siblings was quite strong or else I wouldn't see so much emotion from him
"And for the first time, I understood what Dad and Dean were going through. I understood Dad's need for revenge. I wanted revenge too, and I still want it. I stopped running from our world and rejoined it."
Sam looked down, his hands clasped together.
"We were able to track down this serial killer. We call him Yellow Eyes."
Sam finished in almost a whisper, his hands still clasped and his grip was tightening. A tear slipped out of Sam's eye.
"There were certain patterns that he'd left behind and my Dad was able to track him. We almost had him, but he got the drop on us first. Someone who'd worked for him killed two of our family friends… Pastor Jim and Caleb.
"In our line of work, we have very few friends. Dean and I, we used to spend our time at Pastor Jim's church when we were kids. He was the one who taught us Latin, prayers, and he was the one who helped me to get to college." Sam bit his lip.
"And they died protecting us." Sam looked up, his face set in a frown.
"Then Yellow Eyes wanted my father to bring something to him. So Dad went and they caught him. When we tried to save him, Yellow Eyes used our Dad as leverage."
Sam turned towards me; the younger man's eyes were hard with anger.
"My Dad asked me to shoot him. It was either I shoot to kill my Dad and Yellow Eyes, or let both of them live. I couldn't kill him. Dean was begging me not to. Even if Dean didn't beg, I would not have been able to do that. I will never be able to kill my own father to avenge anyone. We had lost so much."
All the anger left at the admission, and Sam looked tired and resigned.
"There are times, I wonder…. what would have happened if I'd killed him? Yellow Eyes and Dad… would things change?"
It felt like he wasn't really talking to me. It was as if Sam was trying to console himself.
"No, it wouldn't have worked. I would never forgive myself. Dean would never forgive me…. I can't do it." He shook his head in despair. His eyes glazed over for few minutes but he recovered quickly and continued to tell the rest of his story.
"Dean was tortured and he was in a bad way. Yellow Eyes escaped… I was driving Dad and Dean to the hospital when a semi crashed onto us on the way."
I was stunned. His story was progressively becoming worse.
"All of us were admitted to the hospital but Dean was the worst. He was in a coma and his doc was telling me that he wouldn't wake up. I looked everywhere to find him some help. I couldn't find anything. All of the times Dean helped me, took care of me … and I couldn't do anything for him. I almost lost him, and Dad was nowhere to be found when I needed him. I was so angry at him. Dean needed him… I needed him and he wasn't there for us."
I placed my hand gently on Sam's shoulder, hoping to offer some comfort. For a moment I was sure that Dean had died but then Sam did mentioned him earlier, and he'd said that he'd almost lost Dean. I knew that he had lost someone, remembering the grief-stricken boy of our first encounter.
"Then something unexpected happened. Dean woke up. Dad came back to the hospital, and I asked where he went. I was ready to fight and tell him that he should have stayed with us… he should have stayed with Dean. But then Dad asked me not to start a fight and that we always fought without a proper reason… I knew something was wrong. He never says things like that."
Tears continued to stream down his cheeks and Sam didn't make a move to wipe them. "He asked me to bring him coffee. I was away for some time and when I came back to his room… he was on the ground."
Sam's voice became a stutter.
"He was dead. I screamed for help and when the doc and nurses came, they made me stay outside… I ran back to Dean's room and came back with him. The doc tried but he couldn't save Dad."
Sam brushed away the tears and tried to compose himself. I was again at a lost on what to say or do. I had a feeling that Sam had more to tell me so I gave the young man some time to get his thoughts and emotions in check.
"I know Yellow Eyes came back for him. Something happened during the time he was missing and it drives me crazy not knowing what happened. I have a theory that Yellow Eyes and Dad… "
Sam's voice trailed and he took a deep breath.
"It doesn't matter anymore… I want Yellow Eyes dead. I want to avenge Dad… that's the only coping mechanism I know…. Dean isn't doing well. He is healed physically but emotionally he is a mess. He had shut himself down. He wouldn't talk to me… he wouldn't even look at me. He just shoves me away from him. Dean admired Dad and pretty much hero-worshipped him. It's a huge blow to him…. I just don't know how to help."
I was surprised. I was expecting Sam to talk about how he's dealing but he was more focused on helping Dean.
"Son, how are you feeling?"
Sam snorted. "I… I want to help Dean… I know how I feel and I'm trying to make amends."
I raised an eye brow at the word 'amends'. I looked at the younger man with curiosity. What was he trying to make amends for?
"Why don't you enlighten me, Sam?"
"On how I feel? I feel angry. I want to hunt that thing down and kill it for taking away Mom, Jess, Pastor Jim, Caleb… and Dad. I feel damn…"
Sam had the decency to look ashamed.
"Sorry! I feel guilty. All those times I fought and argued with him, I wasted so much energy and time on unnecessary things. I ran away from hunting and when I think about it … so many wasted moments. Now after four years, I'm right where it all began. I let my pride come between Dad and myself. I never called him back because I was far too stubborn to give up on a fight. I tried to pick a fight with him on the last time I saw him. For all I know he died thinking that I hated him."
Sam took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "So I'm trying to make up for all that wasted time. I wanted to do what Dad would have wanted us to do. Dean told me it's too little too late. I'm not saying it's not. But I try… I have to try. I don't know what else to do…
"I tried talking to Dean but he wouldn't listen. He shut me off and I don't blame him. He's got enough to deal with on his own and I don't want to burden him. So I tried to get him talk to me so I could help him. Dean told me that I'm dumping all my issues on him. I'm not… I want to help him…I'm just… I'm just lost… I miss Dad… but most of all I miss my big brother."
"Eventually I told him how I felt and it backfired really badly. Dean was pissed. He beat up his car. He loves that car more than anything. It is his most precious thing in life and he beat it up because he was so angry at me." Sam's voice broke.
"I watched him beating the car up. I froze… I couldn't move until he stopped. Then I just walked away… I didn't know what else to do… I couldn't stay there. I was aimlessly walking around the town, trying to clear my head and then decided to come here. I came here the first time, right after Dad's funeral. I couldn't sleep after that. Dean had already shut me out. I couldn't bear to stay at Bobby's place. It has too much of memories of Dad"
I frowned. Bobby Singer would have been the last place I expected Sam to be from.
"Bobby Singer?" I asked.
"Yeah… you know him?" Sam asked earnestly.
I shook my head. "I don't know Mr. Singer that well. He doesn't come to the church. I only know him because he fixed my truck few times"
Sam nodded. "He's a great guy, but I don't think he leaves the salvage yard for anything other than business. He's like family to us. His house and Pastor Jim's church were pretty much our solid homes. Two places that never changed. Everything else changed…motel rooms, schools, friends, teachers, temporary houses and apartments. But Bobby and Pastor Jim always had a room for us.
"So this is it. This is my sob story. Like I said, I know what I'm going through… I just don't know how to help Dean. Since you said you might be able to help me… any ideas?" Sam turned towards me and I was lost for words.
As per what Sam said, I realized that Dean was someone who bottled up his feelings and Dean was not in a shape to help his little brother to deal with his grief. It seemed to be that Sam's anchor was Dean and without Dean to ground him, Sam was going around in circles not knowing what to do. I didn't know what was going on with Dean and without knowing that, I couldn't be much of a help. I could only offer generic advice.
"Everyone grieves differently, Sam. You and your brother don't have to grieve in the same way. You have to be patient with him… remind him that you are still around… he still has family that cares for him. Eventually he may open up. I don't know anything about you or Dean but from I what I can gather, you might have a hard time reaching Dean now. Its normal, Sam… people tend to bottle up and shut themselves off in order to protect themselves. You have to try and be patient with him."
I knew that what I offered to Sam was not what the younger man wanted. I knew that Sam already realized all of this. But in his own grief, he was struggling to reach out to his brother.
"It's all right; don't worry about it," Sam said, getting up from the pew.
"I've known Dean whole my life and I don't know what to do right now. I don't expect you to give me answers," Sam added, as if he was trying to reassure me. "I'm not even sure what I am doing here… talking to a stranger about my life. But thank you for listening."
"Did it help?" I dared to ask. I felt disappointed at myself for not being able to properly help Sam. I knew that neither Sam nor Dean would be interested in meeting a therapist or attending a support group at the church.
Sam was thoughtful. "I think it kind of did help. I've been walking on eggshells around Dean and Bobby for almost a week. I don't know how to reach out to them but talking to you did help a bit. I'm still angry and I'm still guilty. I want forgiveness and I can't find it here. There's no one I can ask forgiveness from," Sam said sadly, glancing back towards the altar.
"The Lord always offers forgiveness, Sam," I told the younger man.
Sam turned towards me and offered a sad smile. "It's not from God I'm looking for forgiveness. Good night, Pastor Thomas. I might see you around…" He didn't wait for me to reply and hurried away from the church.
"Goodbye, Sam. May God be with you 'til we meet again," I muttered to myself and went to the altar. I lit a candle at the bye-altar and started praying for Sam.
