Dean watched as Sam walked unsteadily out of the kitchen, eyes wide and glassy. "Dad – " "He had to know some time." "How is this gonna do anything but mess his head up?" "He had to know," John said again, listening as Sam reached the shelter of the boys' bedroom and shut the door. "He's only twelve. He's a kid!" "I've got my reasons," John said wearily. "Telling him how his mom died – where she died - maybe he'll take hunting this demon more seriously."
The two heard the sound of muffled sobs.
Face set, Dean went to his brother.