Sam had been watching Faith fall asleep, planning to spend the night with her at Wolfram. But as he lay there, his thoughts turned to his brother.
No one had seen Dean since the cemetery.
Carefully, he got out of bed, got dressed, and headed out. He knew the impala was in the garage as everyone had been driven to the funeral and wake, so he drove that out. Reluctantly, he decided to go to the last place he'd seen Dean, in the hopes to track him down from there. But when he got to the cemetery, he swore he saw a figure sitting by Airlia's gravesite...
Deciding to leave the impala out of harm's way - the cemetery being renouned for spirit activity after all - he parked it at the gates and climbed the fence to get in. Keeping an eye out for anything coming his way, he made his way to the grave, and there he saw his brother.
"Dean?" he ducked his head as he got closer, suddenly wishing he'd brought a jacket with him.
Dean's suit was obviously warm enough, because he wasn't shaking with the cold.
Sam stood beside him, looking over at the sand-filled grave.
"Dean, there's nothing you could have done," Sam said softly.
"I killed her," Dean said steadily.
"What?" Sam frowned.
"Not Airlia," Dean cleared his throat, "Chloe."
"Who?"
"The bitch that killed Airlia. Spike and I found her, and I kill her. Murdered her, Sam."
Sam took a moment to think it over.
"She was human," Dean's eyebrows rose, "and I wasted her like any other evil son of a bitch. I didn't even think twice."
"She was a murderer Dean."
"And that makes it okay?" Dean scorned.
"You said it yourself Dean, some people are just crazy," Sam reasoned, "remember the Benders?"
"We didn't kill them," Dean shook his head.
"No, but maybe we should have."
"Are you kidding me?" Dean stood up, staring him in the eye, "since when does our job involve hunting humans?! Since when is it okay to take a human life, Sam?!"
Sam hesitated, then nodded.
"It's not, I know," he agreed, looking down for a moment.
"It's the same crap that happened... that happened with Dad," Dean rubbed his face, "I killed that guy without even blinking."
"And you probably saved my life by doing it," Sam tried to reason, "you know how it is with demons, the guy probably would have died anyway."
"So that makes it okay," Dean smirked.
"I know it doesn't, but it's not something you can keep beating yourself up over," Sam insisted, "it comes with the job."
"Well this?" Dean pointed to the grave, "was not the job. This was personal. And I killed someone - a girl - out of personal spite and revenge."
"A girl that deserved to die and probably would have gotten the death penalty had they caught up with her," Sam said softly.
"You weren't there," Dean shook his head, "nothing like that went through my head. It was cold. I didn't feel anything, just... hate."
"Dean..."
Dean stopped and took a deep breath, then rubbed his eyes.
"Have you got the car?"
"Of course."
Dean nodded, then beckoned for the keys.
"I'll drop you off at Wolfrem and get back to the motel."
Sam hesitated.
"Are you sure?"
"Give me the keys," Dean insisted.
Sam relented and passed them over, before they both walked back to the impala in silence.