"So what do these guys have in common other than the…" Dean gestured with his hand taking it off the wheel momentarily, "you know, uncontrollable word vomit?"

"Nothing as far as I can tell. Jenkins was a waiter at a local bar, and Hinders was an intern at an up and coming publishing company. She was born and raised in Indiana, and his family moved all over when he was growing up. According to the news article I read, he was a military kid. Hinders' family went to church on Sundays and like I said earlier, he never did. They weren't in any of the same circles socially."

"Well that's helpful," Dean mumbled.

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam sighed. "I still think we should talk to Mark's sister. His parents are dead, so she's his only immediate family in town."

"You mean the sister who is, I would assume, now single because her brother slept with her boyfriend? I doubt she'll be helpful, man. She's probably pissed at him."

"Sure, she'd be pissed, but her brother died. I'm sure she's more upset about that than some dumb, meaningless hookup."

"We don't know that. They could have been screwing around for a while before he was whammied."

"And that's why we should go talk to her. A report wouldn't be that specific, but she was the one he confessed to, and I'm willing to bet these forced confessions aren't sparing in detail."

"Dude, I don't wanna hear that kinda detail," for reasons Dean would take to his grave, thank you very much.

"We won't ask for that kind of detail, Dean, and I doubt she'd want to share it even if we did," Sam said incredulously.

"Still." Dean stubbornly kept his eyes on the road and squirmed slightly in his seat while Sam stared him down from the passenger's seat.

"Are you seriously that much of a homophobe?"

Now there was some irony.

Dean scoffed and looked over to his brother. "What? No, I'm not a homophobe," he mocked. "That's not what I -"

"Whatever, man. Let's just drop it." Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam kept going. "We're going to talk to the sister, we'll get in and out as fast as possible, and then move on to his coworkers. I'll do most of the talking, so all you gotta do is put on as sympathetic a face as you can manage and try not to be a dick."

"Sam, I -"

"I said drop it, Dean," Sam said forcefully, concentrating a little too hard on the papers in his lap. He was pissed.

That needed to be fixed. "No, Sam, I'm not gonna drop it. I'm sorry, okay? You're right, I was being a dick, and I don't know why -" that's a lie "- but I get uncomfortable with that kinda thing."

"What, the gay thing?" Sam asked, rolling his eyes as he looked over at Dean finally.

"Yes, Sam." Dean stared back at him intently, holding his gaze for a second before looking back to the road. He let that hang in the air for a minute while he chewed on the inside of his cheek trying to decide how to say it. Sam was still looking at him expectantly. "I - I think it might be 'cause of dad."

"What?"

"Before you get your hopes up, I'm not gonna sit here and tell you how horrible dad was. He did the best he could under the circumstances, and I think his best is a whole lot better than mine is, so I'm not complainin' about it."

"No, of course not. Dean, I don't think he was a terrible dad, I was just a moody teenager who didn't get -"

"Yeah, I know, I'm just - I needed to say it before I get into the other stuff." Dean clenched his jaw, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

"Okay," Sam said, gently.

"When we were younger and dad would go out with his huntin' buddies, he'd leave us at a motel or whatever for the night, just like he would if he was on a hunt. When I was probably 10 or 11, he started bringing me along when we were around Bobby's or Pastor Jim's and he could drop you off there for a couple hours. These guys were great, kinda like my idols all gathered into one room. Huntin' legends.

They talked about all sortsa shit, and I couldn't tell you everything because I don't remember a lot of it. Most of it was about huntin' anyway. But I remember sometimes they would talk about political shit too. I obviously didn't really know what they were talking about when it came to presidencies and politicians, but I knew what race was, and I knew what homosexuality was, and clearly I knew what a gun was." Sam chuckled at that.

"But when they talked about this stuff, I paid full attention because I could actually keep up with 'em. I guess you could say I felt like I was just 'one of the guys' in those moments. Stupid, but true."

"It's not stupid," Sam chimed in, but Dean ignored him and kept going.

"They would talk about homosexuality like it disgusted them." He paused and cleared his throat, moving his head to look out his side window before returning it to face the road. "I heard one random guy say somethin' like, 'I hunt a lotta shit, but nothing out there scares me more than gays.'" Dean turned to look at Sam. "That's the kinda stuff I heard growing up." He looked back at the road shaking his head slightly. "I don't think they were trying to be dicks or anything. I just think they didn't understand somethin' and dealt with it how hunters deal with anything they don't understand; like idiots. That doesn't justify it, and I'm not trying to talk bad about them either."

"No, I know you're not. It makes sense, Dean. Thanks for telling me," Sam said, genuinely.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Dean huffed. "Anyway, I wasn't lying when I said I'm not homophobic, but I'm not gonna sit here and say I don't get uncomfortable with the subject sometimes. And I already explained why."

"Yeah, I got that." Sam huffed a short kind-of-laugh. "Seriously, though. Thanks, man."

Dean glanced in Sam's direction briefly and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Now shut up and give me directions."