Dean Winters stopped reading. The remainder of the chapter turned his stomach and he stared hard at Sam Winchester. "You are one cold blooded son of a bitch, aren't you?"
Even though Lucifer had wielded the sword Sam's gaze lowered. He was heartsick that he'd been unable to stop his own hands as they plunged Lucifer's sword effortlessly into his brother's body just as he was now unable to look the boy in the eyes. He offered up lamely, "It wasn't my fault. I couldn't stop it."
A surge of anger passed through the teen and he spat out, "Nothing's ever your fault, not breaking the final seal, not even welcoming the devil in with open arms."
"I thought Michael and Dean would be able to defeat him...me," Sam reasoned never once having taken into consideration that Lucifer would not play by the rules. That the devil would live up to his name and reputation and cut down the Archangel as he prayed for his vessel's safety even after giving his word to Sam that he would let Dean live.
"Maybe in a fair fight...but "the Devil made me do it"," Dean chided in a pissy, sing song voice.
Sam's face twisted with rage and Dean Winters found himself backing away from the hunter but his pain and frustration brought him back to stoop before him again.
"Why couldn't you just do what he asked?" Dean asked point blank, "Why couldn't you and Lucifer just forgive them? All of this could have been over."
"Do you really think the Prince of Light believed that casting a disobedient angel into hell was wrong? That it was a transgression needing forgiveness?" Lucifer had Sam ask.
"I think he was the only son of a bitching angel who didn't lie and I think hell's too good for Satan," Dean said and stood up ready to return to where his brother still slept fitfully.
"I said I was sorry a thousand times but it never seemed to make a real difference," Sam said plaintively and the boy just glared down at him.
"Dean didn't want your lame assed apologies," he spit out, "All junkies make apologies they don't mean. All you had to do was forgive him, forgive your own brother and you didn't have the balls."
"But Dean didn't do anything wrong. I fucked everything up."
Dean Winters looked at Sam through squinted eyes and repeated a line he'd heard his mother only whisper. "And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks so shall it break."
Sam, dumbfounded, stared at the teen until tears filled his eyes and the salty droplets fell onto his brother's cradled ashen face.
Young Dean turned, kicked the manuscript out of the way and returned to sit down in the pew next to his brother's head. He reached down and gently touched the boy's flushed cheek and sighed wearily. It would have been so easy to stop the apocalypse but evidently neither man nor angel had the capacity to forgive.
With Michael and Dean Winchester dead and Sam Winchester most likely to follow soon, Dean Winters knew it was only a matter of time before Lucifer, wherever the fuck he was now, would trick some other dick into saying yes and the ass-reaming of humanity would continue unabated.
But the boy didn't care anymore. He'd done his best to get the book to Dean Winchester in time but his best just wasn't good enough. He didn't give a rat's ass about that either at that point. He had one responsibility now and one only, his brother, and he turned and spoke softly to the sleeping boy. "Sammy, I promise that if I ever get so caught up in my own bullshit that I forget for one second that you're my brother, I'll let you kick my ass...and I'll do it with a smile on my face," he vowed and the meager lights in the church began to pop and shatter.
"Its okay, Sammy," Dean said clutching his brother's shoulder when the younger boy awoke with a start and sat up with a cry, disorientated and fearful, "You sit tight here."
Lucifer's anger grew as he watched the teenager pick up a flashlight and walk back to stand in front of them again. So cocky, so self confident, Lucifer thought. Even with so much pain and guilt for one so young and with so much in the world to be afraid of. So much like Dean Winchester, the bane of his wretched existence for so many years. So much like Michael. Lucifer's anger flowed unchecked from Sam and the force of it knocked the crucified Christ figure from the wall above the altar and it broke into pieces when it hit the floor.
"He's still here, isn't he? Near the church? .In the church?" the teen asked cautiously shining the flashlight into Sam's face as he walked slowly back and forth around his periphery. Close but not too close.
Just a little closer, Lucifer thought, and Sam blocked the light shining in his eyes with a crippled hand and tried to force the entity inside of him back, to control it, "Yeah, he's still here."
Dean stopped circling and cocked his head and stared intently at the younger Winchester.
"He's wearing you like two week old underwear, isn't he?" the teen deduced rightly, "And it stinks."
The wounded man's smile slowly turned feral and Sam Winchester began to fade away as Lucifer's light starting to shine through the wounds on his skin.
Young Sam came over to stand beside his brother and pleaded sadly to the man he believed could still help them, save them, "Don't go, Mr. Winchester. We need you."
The horrible light dimmed a little but Sam could only cough, his lungs now choked with fluid, his breathing labored. "I'm still here," Sam assured his namesake. The boy sighed in relief but the hunter knew there wasn't much time left. "You know that black Chevy Impala parked outside the church?" Sam wheezed and squeezed his eyes shut momentarily as he tried to clear his vision.
Both boys nodded and he continued, "Good. There's a gun in the back…"
"The Colt!" young Sam said excitedly while his brother just shook his head.
He knew it was useless and he reminded both Sams, "It can't kill him."
"It might...with the right ammunition," Sam told them, his eyes momentarily flicking to the floor in front of him, to the remnants of the mighty battle that had been fought all those days before. The battle in which Dean and Michael had fought valiantly despite being gravely wounded. A battle that had broken the very swords forged in the fires of heaven and hell into glittering pieces.
Sam Winchester barley managed to get the words out before he was consumed with a bout of coughing but young Dean gave a barely perceptive nod.
He understood what he needed to do and hoped the stuff he needed was in the Impala. He squatted down in front of his little brother. "I'm gonna get the Colt from the car, Sammy," he said pressing the flashlight and a loaded 1911 into the young boy's hands, "Stay away from these suckers and if either of them starts to move at all, I want you to empty the clip into them."
"But he's dead," Sammy said pointing the muzzle of the gun at Dean Winchester.
"Just do it," was all the teen said as he stooped to pick up his backpack and another flashlight and headed out of the church.