Sam's eyes went to the side of the road as a house appeared out of the trees. "Is that it?"
Dean pulled into the driveway. "Yeah, this is it." He glared at Sam. "I know something's going on and you will tell me what it is."
Confused, Sam stared back at his brother. "Dean, I'm not hiding – "
"Save it till later!" Dean snapped. "Let's just get this done." He jumped out of the Impala and went to the trunk, pulling out his shotgun and salt rounds.
Following, Sam caught the gun that Dean tossed at him.
"Move your ass!"
SUPNSUPNSUPN
Sam was hiding nothing. He'd told Dean everything; he had nothing left to hide. But he knew that Dean would never believe him. He couldn't. There were too many lies between them, too many betrayals.
The only thing left undone between them was how it would end.
Sam thought he understood now why Dean hadn't finished him yet. He still saw his little brother when he looked at Sam, not the blood-drinker who'd released Lucifer from hell.
Dean still loved that other Sam. If Dean had to kill him, he'd carry the pain of it forever. It would destroy him.
SUPNSUPNSUPN
Sam hissed a warning, nodding to the door. The crime scene tape had been broken; the door stood open.
Dean raised his shotgun, nodded.
Sam kicked the door open the rest of the way and rushed in, moving to the side, gun ready. Dean covered him from behind.
The house was dark, dusty and as silent as the proverbial grave. The brothers stuck together as they went through it, searching for whoever had broken in.
The downstairs was empty, but the upstairs showed signs of recent habitation. A few pieces of worn clothing, a pocket watch with a broken face . . .