DISCLAIMER: Supernatural does not belong to me.

A/N: The story sort of just materialized out of nowhere. I had wanted to write something about Heart, but for a long time, I had no story to tell. And all of a sudden…this.

BLESS ME, FATHER

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…

Sam Winchester walked out into the sunlight, eyes squinting at the sudden glare, bright red spots dotting his vision. He paused at the top of the steps and took a deep breath, the church looming behind him.

I killed her. I looked into her eyes and I killed her. She looked straight at me, and I saw…I saw the moment she died.

His brownish-hazel eyes scanned the crowd of church-goers milling about. There were people from all walks of life pouring up and down the stone steps. There were balding, middle-aged businessmen, mothers with crying toddlers, young girls giggling, teenage boys with backward caps and sagging jeans, and stooped, old folks, all shuffling towards the church.

She stopped crying the moment I pulled that trigger. But she never closed her eyes. She looked at me until all the light went out. She looked at me like she trusted me…even after I had killed her. Father…Father…forgive me…

Sam raised a hand to hood over his eyes, blocking the sun. He towered over most people, and soon he spotted a familiar dark blond head.

Hush, my child…hush…

Sam walked slowly down the steps towards the figure. Dean had his back to the church, his eyes out on the busy street. He had his hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. Sam smiled sadly. Dean always got slightly defensive around churches.

Bless me, Father, for I knew not what I had done.

"Dean."

I didn't understand...

His brother turned around slowly, a smirk settled firmly on his face. "So," he drawled, his eyes roving up and down Sam's form as if expecting some sort of physical transformation. "Are you feeling blessed and holy and light?"

Understand what, my son?

Sam smiled tightly at his brother. Despite Dean's light-hearted quip, he could hear the undercurrent of strain in his brother's tone. He could see the tight control his brother had on the smirk, the way he hooded his eyes so that Sam couldn't see how they didn't quite sparkle with laughter. He figured his brother had his hands clenched into fists inside his jacket pockets.

I may have killed him, too.

"I'm ready," he said to his brother. Dean just nodded then turned away. They started walking, side-by-side, towards the Impala parked two blocks down the street. Sam felt a few of the glances—some curious, some suspicious—that Dean kept throwing at him. It was like his brother was looking for some sign, some sort of confirmation that something good had happened to him inside that Church.

I may have killed my brother, too.

Dean had lost his faith a long time ago. It wasn't that he didn't believe in God. Sam suspected that his brother was a true believer. He was the kind who didn't question that there was a god, just as there were Demons and evil in the world. It was just that Dean had lost his faith in goodness, and the idea that God still had something good in store for him.

Sam couldn't blame him.

I asked him to do the same thing she asked me. I asked him to kill me.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he finally blurted, just as his brother reached the driver's side of the car. Dean's brow shot up in question. "For what?"

I asked him to pull the trigger. To look me in the eye and watch me die. Is that a sin? It feels like a sin…it hurts like a sin. It weighs like a sin and tastes like one…

"Just…" he shook his head and reached for the door handle. "Just…for everything." Then, without another word, he pulled the car door open and slid into the passenger's seat. He enveloped himself in numbing silence, eyes staring forward, unseeing in his grief.

Please forgive me…please…please…

The scenery passed by him. The city was gray, the trees were green. The sun started to set and turned everything golden and yellow. It was almost like hope. "Hey, Dean, stop the car," he said, hours later.

My child…why have you come to me?

"Here?" asked Dean, throwing him a look of annoyance. They were in the middle of nowhere.

I just need…I just need to be forgiven…

"I…I gotta go," he sighed, still gesturing for his older brother to pull alongside the road.

...and I think I need to be punished…

"Dude, just hold it," huffed Dean, continuing to drive onward. "Can't be that bad that you have to go all au natural."

You seek Penance?

"DEAN!"

I… I don't know…

Dean rolled his eyes at him, but slowed down the Impala. "I swear, you have the bladder of a six-year-old." He grumbled as he pulled the car alongside the road. It was dusk.

I need… I just need… Oh God, I'm so sorry…

Sam sat in his seat for a long while after the car had stopped. Dean leaned his head back against the head rest. "Well? What're you waiting for, Sir Piss-a-lot?"

He smiled tightly at Dean before opening the car door and stepping outside. He walked around to the back of the car and knocked on the trunk. "Pop the trunk," he called out to his brother.

Shh…My son…I pray that the grace of the Lord touch your soul and ease your burden…

"What the hell for?" asked Dean, sticking his head out of the open window, a grimace on his face.

"Gotta get a weapon," he said. He indicated to the growing darkness. "Just in case."

Bless me, Father…

The lock of the trunk clicked open, and Sam lifted the cover. He carefully palmed a handgun and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Then with a heave, he shut the trunk closed with a thud. The car shook lightly at the force. "Thanks."

…for I have sinned…

He started walking into the woods. It was one big shadow underneath the trees. It was cooler and damper. He walked deeper and darker. Oregon's forests were thick and lush.

...it has been far too long since my last confession…

He leaned against the trunk of a giant oak tree. He felt heavy, tired, and terrified. His knees gave out and he sank to the ground. Then he started to cry.

Here are my sins…

His sobs wracked his large frame, the tears burned hot as they slipped down his angular face. They scalded the sensitive skin of his neck as they trailed downwards. He buried his head in his hands, and felt the wetness trickle between his fingers. His cries sounded like a wounded animal.

I killed them all. My mother….Jessica…my father…Max, Ava, and all the kids like me that I couldn't save. Madison… Father…Father, her eyes still haunt me…they all still haunt me. Every time I close my eyes, I see them. I see them…always, and I'm so sorry…so sorry. They all died because of me…

He reached into his pocket and closed a hand around the small weapon inside. He pulled it out, and felt the weight of it in the palm of his hand. His fingers slipped around the handle, forefinger resting lightly against the trigger.

And now…Dean…I might kill him, too.

The cold steel rested against his temple.

Bless me, Father…for I will sin.

THE END.