I went looking for Sam. He was in the room, packing up his backpack. He'd changed his clothes. He might be going to hell, but apparently he was going in clean clothes.
"D'you put on clean underwear?" I asked. A lame attempt at humor, but Sam smirked.
"When it comes to the critical moment, I think it'll be a moot point."
"Don't I know it." I said.
I sat on the other bed and watched him. My little brother, my partner in crime, my child, my friend. And I was about to watch him - let him - march on hell alone.
"Don't tell me…" Sam said and then he turned around, still smirking. "…we're about to have a talk."
I'd said pretty much the same thing to Sam just a few days ago. He was totally stealing that line from me. And he was smirking.
"Geesh, was I this smug on my way to hell?" I asked.
"Yes." Sam answered brightly.
I had been planning to say something to Sam, something profound and encouraging and healing and funny and - everlasting. But now that the moment was upon me, all I wanted to do was watch Sam, memorize him even more than I ever had. I wanted to relive all twenty seven years I'd had with him, even the horrible stuff, just to not lose one memory of him.
"No, no talk." I told him. "Just - came to see if you needed anything." That was lame too, but it was all I could manage right now.
"Actually - actually yeah. There is something I need." Sam turned fully toward me. He was serious now instead of smug.
"Anything." I told him. He could ask me to go back to hell for him and I would without a second thought.
"Y'know, Dad's gone, and Pastor Jim's gone, and God is - God knows where. And even if they weren't, I'd ask you anyway."
"Ask me what?"
He was acting nervous now, which I could maybe understand, but he shouldn't have been nervous asking me for anything.
"You raised me." He said and put his hand up to stop me stopping him, even before I tried to. "You did. You were a kid too and you raised me. Dad - I mean, I've really realized that he did the absolute best that he could, and that he did love me, but you - you were always there. You - anything good I have inside of me I got from you." His eyes were filling with tears and dammit so were mine. "Dean - I love you. I want you to know that. And I want you - I need you - to do something for me."
"Sammy - anything."
He sat down so fast, I thought his legs had given out. But then he bowed his head and asked the impossible of me:
"Would you give me your blessing?"
"What?" I almost couldn't ask it I was so shocked. He wanted my blessing? My permission? No freaking way.
"Dean - please." He lifted his face to me, and his tear-streaked, agonized expression broke my heart into even smaller pieces. "Whatever you want to say, however you want to say it - please. Let me take that with me."
My heart just up and exploded into dust then. I stood up and scrubbed at my face then put my tear-soaked hand on Sam's head. He closed his eyes and I just about dissolved into a messy puddle on the floor.
"Sammy - ." God, my voice was shaking so bad. I tried to remember how Pastor Jim ever gave a blessing but nothing official was coming. All I could do was do my best. "Sammy - you know there's never been anything I had that wasn't yours too. Anything you needed from me, it was yours. It just was. No questions. No regrets. So, if you need this from me now, Sammy -." I swallowed and coughed and knew I couldn't do anything but finish. " - Sammy, I love you too and I promise you, that is stronger than hell ever was and will last longer than hell ever could."
That was all I could think to say and I hoped it was enough. Sam nodded under my hand and then he was leaning toward me, his shoulders shaking with his crying, and I pulled him in close and held on while he hung onto me and sobbed.
The End.