Author's Notes: Post- 06x03. I'm thinking Samuel's not gonna turn out to be a good guy, but he may not be completely evil either. He may still have a bit of compassion for his daughter's children.

Summary: Samuel sees a bit of the bond that his grandsons share. However strained, it can't be broken.

Still as They Were

Sam sat in his room at the Campbell compound, oiled rag in one hand, an automatic in the other. He was on one of his artillery restocks between hunts, Dean was off to try and plaster up the newest cracks in his and Lisa's relationship. He wasn't cleaning the gun and his eyes were far away.

The last hunt had gone well, but Dean hadn't been happy with his handling of it.

"You're not Sam." Dean had ground out. Sam had to admit that had startled him, but he said nothing.

"Your compassion, your empathy, all of that puppy-eyed, bleeding heart-" Dean clamped his mouth shut, breathing heavily, angrily through his nose. When he opened his mouth again, his tone was even. "You may be Sam…but you are not my little brother."

Sam still said nothing.

That was yesterday. He and Dean were to meet up tomorrow for a new hunt. In Winchester fashion, none of what had transpired would be mentioned.

Sam didn't move as he felt the other presence in the doorway.

"Something happen?"

Samuel leaned against the frame, staring at his namesake. Sam shrugged, looking as non-effected as he always had in Samuel's experience.

"He said I wasn't his brother anymore."

Samuel was silent. They were hunters and there was no place for sentimentality in the life. Even after Mary was born that hadn't changed, but that didn't mean he was completely heartless. He hardly knew Sam, knew Dean even less, but Sam was his grandson, bound by blood.

When he looked at Sam, he could see Mary as a newborn, cooing up at him from her crib for the first time. And that meant enough to the grizzled old hunter that he had to try to comfort the boy. However clumsy with such things he may be.

"…You okay?"

Sam seemed to snap out of himself, though his expression never changed. He returned to cleaning his weapons.

"I'm fine."

A hunter's response. He should accept that and walk away, leave well enough alone. Samuel lingered a moment, then turned to go, but stopped in the doorway. Sighing and licking his lips nervously, he turned back to Sam.

"You are brothers, Sam. Even if you grow apart in some ways, that doesn't change."

Sam didn't stop the mechanical motions that Samuel had come to expect from him, didn't look up.

"I said I'm fine."

Samuel nodded and turned his back once again. They may be blood, but this was not his place and he knew it. Really, when it came down to it, between the brothers was no one's place. Heaven and hell had found that out. Those boys were something special…

Before he closed the door between them, Samuel left the hell-scarred boy with one last revelation he knew Sam never would have noticed on his own.

"You're crying."

The old hunter left at that and noted that the clicking of loading rounds into the clip had stopped in the room behind him.