Dean watched for a few moments before he went after Sam again. This time he took Sam's shoulder and didn't let go, his grip making Sam's jacket scrunch up under his fist. Dean basically threw Sam around, getting in his face as he stated, "Sam, we need to leave. There is nothing for us to stay for, no reason for us to be here."
Sam tried to get out of Dean's grip one more time but to no avail. Instead he snapped back at him, "You might have nothing Dean but it's my fault that he's dead alright? It's my fault and I am not leaving until I have fixed it."
"What are you going to do Sam? Bring him back to life because I don't think even you can do that." Dean let Sam go, scoffing at him while he spoke.
Sam was pissed now, Dean just wasn't listening, "I am the reason he is dead Dean, do you not get that? I can't just leave knowing that someone DIED because of me."
Dean just stared at Sam, not knowing what to say to him. He understood, God knew he understood but they couldn't just stay, there was nothing for them to do. "So what are you going to do Sam? Hm? What's your brilliant plan here?"
"I have to stop him before someone dies again," Sam calmed down a bit, hoping that Dean would begin to listen for once in his life.
"Stop who Sam?" Now Dean was interested, Sam had something worth listening to after all.
"Black Peter. He's real Dean and he's the reason that girl was beaten and the thing that killed that man. I, I made him say it, I killed him…" Sam's voice trailed off, the guilt taking over one more time.
It was when Dean laughed that Sam snapped, his face becoming stone as he glared at his brother. Dean's head was tilted back, his throat bared as he gave out a hearty laugh. He put his hand on Sam's shoulder, trying to regain himself as he wiped a hand over his face.
Sam shoved the hand off his shoulder, his mood far beyond grim. Dean stopped laughing instantly, his expression matching Sam's. "What the Hell Sam?"
Sam just glared at his brother, staring daggers at him, "If you don't want to help me fine. Just don't mock me or get in my way. You can go back to the bed and breakfast and sit on your ass. I am going."
Dean took a step towards his brother, one finger pointed at him, "Now listen here you arrogant son-of-a-bitch, don't you dare assume that you know anything about me. I could tell you stories about myself that would make your tiny, sheltered, fucking head spin around so many times that it would fall off faster than you could fuck your girlfriend. So don't tell me what to do, don't you dare. Now, you want my help? Tell me what you know. But don't fuck around with me. Do you understand?"
Sam glared back at Dean, hissing out, "Yeah. I do."
Dean backed off a step, crossing his arms, "Good. Now spill."
Sam huffed, turning away from Dean for a moment before facing him, re-telling the story that he had read not minutes before, "This man called Black Peter, other wise known as Zwarte Piet, he would follow around a European version of Santa Claus," he shot Dean a look before he could say anything, seeing the edge of a smile on his face, "He is the version of getting coal in your stocking, except he is worse, far worse. If you're bad, you get beaten, if you are terrible he takes and kills you, making your remains into cookies for people to eat the next year, passing them out to each house."
Dean just looked at him, trying to figure out if he was pulling his leg or not. After examining Sam for a about ten seconds Dean made a face, "That's disgusting."
Sam raised his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Dean became serious, his face becoming dark, "You don't expect me to believe this do you? I mean really Sam? Fairytales and bedtime stories? Grow up Sam, those things don't exist and they never will."
"Fine if you don't believe me then leave me alone. I'll take care of it, I don't need your help." Sam was sick of Dean by now, he was more pig headed than he had first believed.
"Stop assuming Sam, I never said that. It's just completely unbelievable! Why don't you go and find something that actually could have happened and stop chasing the Easter bunny around the church yard." Dean couldn't believe his brother. There was always a reasonable explanation; always someone with a vengeance or just plain messed up. There were no such things as fairytales, no such things as dreams, no such things as heroes. There was no one who comes sweeping in to save the day, no one to beat the bad guys. "Let's just find the person that is behind this and get it over with."
Sam finally snapped, turning on Dean, "Why do you hate me so much Dean?"
That caught Dean by surprise, making him open and close his mouth several times before he could form a coherent sentence, "I don't hate you Sam…"
Sam scoffed at him, running a hand through his hair, "Yes you do Dean. I know you do. Want to know why? Because I hate you too."