Peering out the window, Sam could see the people from the large window he stood in front of. It was a decent apartment, he was surprised Dean could swing it. He turned around to Dean sleeping on the bed, picked up his jacket and left quietly.
Walking down the street, it was quiet, the sun creeping out through the horizon, men in plain brown jumpsuits hosed down the sidewalks. Yeah, he was really surprised that Dean could swing this.
He didn't know where he was going, why he walking down this street, which way would he go, right, left, stay the course, did it matter? Did he ever make the right decision? Follow the sun, it can't be wrong, left it is.
He looked back down the road he walked and wondered if he would ever go back. It was a not a straight street, it wasn't the right path, it never is. Is there ever a right path?
Follow the sun.
Keep your chin up.
He walked forward.
A deep breath was realised, the smoke forced out from his mouth curled into a loop, he hardly noticed.
This street wasn't as nice as the one he just left, was this the right path to take? Would this just lead him to more hard decisions, more pain, more heartache. He decided to turn back and realized he lost his way. He couldn't remember which way he came, he knew where he had been, he knew why he had taken the road he had taken.
No more turning back, that street no longer existed, that's why he had lost his way. Was he lost?
Was he down the wrong street?
How do we judge which streets to go down? Why do we believe that a street with nice cars, well dressed people, and men who wash down the sidewalks with hoses for minimum wage is a more desirable route to take.
He saw people walking down the street, they were dressed in rags, some were drug addicts, some were drug dealers. This was a seedy street. He frowned, how had he come down this street, he doesn't remember turning.
Follow the sun.
Keep your chin up.
He walked forward.
Eventually the street would take a turn, eventually, he would find his way back to Dean. Eventually.
Eventually, he would find a turn, he would go down back to the nice street, with the rich people who pretend to be so much better, who snort crack up their nose just like everyone else.
Eventually, he would find a path, where would it take him?
Eventually, he would find a white picketed fence, with children, running with the breeze in their hair.
Eventually, he would find home.
Eventually, he would find himself.
He didn't understand himself.
Was he good?
Was he evil?
Who…what was he?
The street was now a dirt road, he wondered what happened to the people, the street, the city.
He didn't know where he was going.
Follow the sun.
Keep your chin up.
He walked forward.
Was he evil?
How did he start up so right and end up so wrong? The path seemed clear, it wasn't crooked with yellow, sharp teeth with clown makeup on his face. And yet, he ended up on this road, that was paved for him, carving his story into stone.
Why is Sam evil?
What makes him evil?
Is it the blood? Is it the powers?
Sam sees a house, it's painted black, it is dishevelled, with burned, dead trees covering it's landscape.
Is it evil?
What makes it evil?
Follow the sun.
Keep your chin up.
He walked forward.
Sam walked towards the house, he knew he found his destination. He knew the answers where there, beneath it's burnt exterior, it's foreboding façade he knew this was his destination.
Sam walked through the front doorway, it was open, he knew it was open for him. He made his way to the living room where his mother was sitting.
"Hi Sam" She said in that sweet, warm way he thinks he remembers her voice sounding like.
He sits down in front of her.
"Why did you do it?" He said, not mincing words.
"I did it for your father" She looked him in the eyes, he tried not to fall for their lure, he was so tempted to forgive her betrayal.
"What about me? You sold me to the devil." He couldn't look at her, why was she so beautiful? Why was she so capable of invoking emotions of forgiveness he wasn't ready to grant her.
"Your not evil."
"What?"
"That's why you came here, to figure it all out. Stop lying to yourself, your dark, you will always be dark."
"No, I'm not!" He began to panic, his own mother was saying he was evil, he didn't understand why he came here, these were not the answers he wanted to hear.
"Yes, you are dark, but your not evil." He had a puzzled look on his face, he came here for answers, not riddles.
"Everyone has a dark part of them, it is what makes us human. We are all capable of doing terrible things, you just have a dark side that scares you, you run away from it when you should embrace it."
"Why would I want to embrace it? That's what they want."
"True. But you fear it, and they use it against you. Embrace it, understand it, and use it against them. Demons fear you, and your true powers. The powers you have, have always been yours, they never gave it to you, they just put it on steroids."
"I still don't understand."
"We have these preconceived notions of what is good and bad, the monsters I use to hunt, they were all evil, or so we were told they were. In reality Sam, they were just who they were. Just like a lion who eats it's pray. It's just evolution, survival of the fittest. Who are we to say these monsters are evil?"
"They eat us."
"And we hunt them." She put her hand on his face, slowly moved her hand down his face. "They are only evil because we say so. Your powers are only evil because the demons want to use them. Who are we to say who, or what is evil when we are just as evil as the things we hunt. Sometimes we're worse."
"Your not real."
"No, I'm not, but that doesn't make it any less true."
"So, I give in." Sam could feel the anger slowly creeping up.
"Become evil."
Sam let out a breath, he began to fidget slightly.
"Or just become who you really are."
Sam stood up, walked out the door and followed the sun once again.
Eventually he found the nice apartment that Dean some how was able to get. On second thought, he really didn't care how Dean got this place, it was really nice, he, they deserved a nice place.
Sam walked over to Dean who was pouring a cup of coffee.
"I'm not a monster." Dean nearly dropped the coffee pot, he had a shocked look on his face. He really wished they could both forget he ever said that.
"Neither are my powers. I'm going to use them…" He held up his hand to stop Dean from saying something.
"Using them will not make me evil, or a monster, or go dark side and star in two really bad movies."
"Technically three." Dean tried to smile, but he was too freaked out.
"Point being, it's part of me, and I can't keep running away from it." He stood up straight, fidgeting slightly, Dean could tell that wasn't the worst of what he was going to say. "You can't keep expecting me keep it in a box, and pretend it isn't there."
He turned around and took off his jacket. Dean wondered if Sam was possessed, again. But damn it, he was making, unfortunately, way too much sense to be anyone but Sam.
Man! He hated it when Sam made sense.
Dean went to the window and looked out at the sun that was now to the right of him, he noticed the sunray landed directly on Sam.
"Where did you go?" He asked Sam as he typed at the computer.
"For a walk."