Dean waited a few minutes to give Sam some alone time before he went out after him, thankfully he wasn't too far off, at the same place they had been teaching Dean how to throw knives.

He was sharpening stakes and tensed up when he heard Dean approach but didn't turn towards him or stop what he was doing.

"So when do you put me in the dungeon and throw away the key?" Sam finally asked, tossing the stake onto the table.

"Never, cause that's not gonna happen." Dean told him, just staring at his brother for a moment. "How you feeling?"

"Drained." Sam said briefly, moving to place his hands on the table and lean against it, head bowed. "Dean...I'm not ready to go through that." he gave a scoff, fingers digging into the wood. "I honestly thought that I was going to die."

"Well...that's cause you were doing it alone." Dean said. "But Sammy...you're not alone. You got me. You got our parents. You won't be doing this alone."

"Yeah well, it's also not fair to put all of this on you." Sam said, shaking his head and pushing away from the table. "You guys got enough with all this supernatural stuff, you don't need me adding to that with my demon blood."

"You act like we're some sort of strangers." Dean said, following him. "We're your family Sam. And we're going to help you whether you want it or not."

Sam sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Dean-" he started to say.

"No, Sam, listen to me." Dean interrupted, walking around so that he could look up at his brother who seemed determined not to make eye contact with him. "You did this same exact thing seven years ago. You had those visions and you ran away, not even giving us a chance to know about it, let alone help you. And now you're trying to do it again."

"It's not the same thing-"

"Yes it is!" Dean injected once more. "Yes it is! Why are you so damn against us helping you?"

"I don't want you guys to be tangled up in my drama." Sam half snapped at him. "This is something that I got myself into and therefore doesn't involve you."

"The hell it doesn't!" Dean snapped back at him. "You're my little brother, you're still my pain-in-the-ass brother and I don't give a damn what you want but I'm going to help you."

Sam finally brought his head up to glare at him before stalking back to the table. "Leave me alone." he muttered under his breath.

"No." Dean told him. "Not now, not ever."

He could hear Sam breathe out at that, cracking his neck from side to side. "You should realize a lost cause when you see it."

For a moment, Dean couldn't speak. "Is that what you think of yourself?" he asked in a horrified voice. "That you're a lost cause? Why? Because of the demon blood? You're a lot of things Sam, I've already mentioned the pain in the ass, but you are the farthest thing from a lost cause." he stared at his brother before his voice softened. "Why would you think that?"

Sam took a deep breath, shaking his head once more. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Boys."

The both of them turned around to see John standing there with a tired smile and hands in his pockets.

"Figured I might as well learn how to throw knives." he said nodding at the knives on the table. "Dean, mind leaving us for a bit?"

Dean bit down hard on the inside of his cheek as he turned back to his brother. "We're not done with this." he told him before turning and going back into the house.

The both of them watched him leave before Sam spoke, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough." was all John said before going to the table. "So which knives are for throwing?"

Sam breathed out but joined him, gathering a few knives and handing them to him. "You can use these against the tree. There's a target already put on it."

John nodded, shifting the knives into one hand as he moved a distance away from the tree. His wrist flicked and the knife was in the dead center of the target.

"So," John said, taking the next knife and aiming for a moment before he threw it. It landed right next to the first knife. "I'm guessing you don't want to talk about what you said."

"No."

"Didn't think so." John said, taking a third knife and throwing it. "But I'm going to ask anyway. Why do you think you're a lost cause?"

"There's a lot you don't know about me dad." Sam told him. "I'm not that kid anymore."

"Yeah, but you're still my kid." John said. "And I know you, you wouldn't just say that you're a lost cause due to demon blood or seeing things or moving things with your mind. There's more to that than you're telling us."

Sam just stared at him and then looked away. "I really don't want to talk about this dad." he said, going back to the table. He stopped when a knife whizzed past him and embedded itself in the wood. "You know that dangerous?"

"Only dangerous if I don't know what I'm doing." John told him, twirling the handle of the last knife between his fingers. "Luckily I do."

Sam just shot him a look and reached out to yank the knife free. "Dad,"

"Look, I'm not here to judge you, I don't know much about the hunting life but I can tell it's a hell of a stressful one." John told him. "And if you want to talk, I'll listen, but let me tell you something Sammy. Nothing you could ever have done or will do or anything in between, will ever make us think that you're a lost cause."

John nodded at him and without looking he threw the last knife at the target on the tree, hitting dead center once more. He walked past Sam and reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

"Just remember that." he said before going back inside.

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