He'd already checked over the library and the texts, he also had checked Sam's laptop files and a bunch of the other scrolls that she had found when they first discovered the bunker.
Where else could he check? What else was there? There was that damned, pun intended, book of the damned that Rowena kept trying to get her hands on. There were countless other spellbooks in the bunker that he couldn't even dream of deciphering. He'd need a witch, a strong and smart witch, to be able to read it.
The fact that he was minutes away from calling Rowena and giving her access to all those spellbooks in the hope that she'd find a way to bring Sam back was just another excuse to show how much he was at the end of his rope.
He heard the kid timidly come into the room he was in, stopping a few feet from him. Dean ignored him and instead moved one of the texts on the table.
"Dean, I want to talk to you." the kid said, it was obvious he was trying to be brave and confident but his slightly wavering voice gave him away.
"No." Dean said curtly, not bothering to look up.
It took a moment but the kid spoke again. "I really want to talk to you." he tried again. "I would really appreciate it."
Dean snorted and still didn't look at him. "I said no, leave."
He could almost hear the kid swallowing in nervousness. "...mom would want-"
"You killed her, you don't get to talk about her, think about her, or even consider her." Dean snarled, whirling to face him. "You killed her-"
"I didn't want to!" the kid suddenly shouted, despair clear in his voice. "I tried to hold onto her! I tried to keep her with me! I couldn't and suddenly she was gone!"
Dean fell silent, just staring at the kid who was breathing heavily, tears in his eyes. "I don't care." he said simply, and it was the stone cold truth. "You killed my sister. I don't give a damn what you wanted or what you tried. Your birth killed her."
The kids eyes blinked faster, he rubbed at them, trying to fight back the tears as best as he could but despite his efforts, a few tears escaped. "She was my mother." he whispered.
"No. She was my sister." Dean told him. "She was forced to bear you. She was forced to give birth to you. She wasn't your mother."
The kid rubbed at his eyes once more, taking a deep breath and straightening up. "I heard her." he whispered. "When she was carrying me. She spoke to me, said that you'd take...that she would trust you with me and that you'd-"
"That I'd what?" Dean snapped at him. "That's I'd take care of you? That I'd watch over you? Cut the crusts off your sandwiches and tuck you into bed? No. If you were anyone else, my nephew? I'd be more than happy to. I'd love to raise you with Sam and watch you grow and be your uncle." his hands were shaking and he curled them into fists to try to get them to stop.
"But you're not my nephew. You are Lucifer's kids, not Sam's. You are the son of the devil and that's all you'll ever be." Dean told him. "You were born to be evil, you were born to be the son of the devil, you were born to kill my sister. And you've already accomplished all of that."
"She told me that no matter how my coming into being happened, I am not him, I am not Lucifer." the kid said, his voice wavering. "I...I'm me. I can choose who I want to be."
"And who do you want to be?" Dean asked, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "Who?"
"I want to be Sam's son." the kid told him. "I want to be your nephew. I want...I want my...a family." he took a deep breath and wiped his hand over his face to wipe away the rest of the tears. "I know that...my birth did...a lot of bad things. But I didn't want those bad things to happen."
"It doesn't matter what you want." Dean told him. "It's what happens that counts, its what has and will happen." he took a step forward towards the kid and felt a slight feeling of guilt when the kid automatically took a step back away from him. "It doesn't mean jack squat what you want, what matters is actions."
Dean pulled back away from him, watching the kid shake. "I look at you…and all I can see is him. All I know is that he raped her, he forced her to carry you, and finally...it killed her to birth you."
He turned away, shaking his head. "Something I've always looked forward to is if Sam would have kids. I always promised that I'd be the best uncle to them. I'd be there for them, I'd help them, and I just be everything they needed me to be."
"But you're your father's son. You can't erase that and you can't change that, and that's all you'll ever be." Dean said, turning to leave the room.
"You're wrong." he heard the kid whisper. "You're wrong. I'm not him. I'm not."
Dean snorted, without turning around, he said, "Prove it.". He didn't bother to wait for an answer, there was none that the kid could give him. He left the room, not even sure where he was going to go in the bunker.
The kid slumped against the closest wall, his legs giving out and he slid down to the ground, laying there crumpled. Tears were falling down his face freely now and he didn't bother to wipe them away.
After what felt like an eternity he raised his head, eyes closed, and let it lightly hit the wall behind him, breathing in deeply before letting it out. He repeated the motion a few times, trying to stop the tears. He took one more deep breath and held it in for a moment before he let it out.
He opened his eyes and felt a golden glow surrounded his vision, feeling something throbbing inside of him like a heartbeat.
"Mom." he whispered, the word feeling slightly reverent on his tongue.