Sam stood in the doorway, not saying anything at first. The tension in the room thickened with every second of silence. His eyes weren’t angry — just hurt. Confused. Like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he didn’t even know was missing pieces.

“You and Dean?” he finally asked, voice low and tight. “Were you ever gonna tell me, or was I just supposed to find out like this?” He wasn’t yelling. He didn’t need to. The way he looked at you — like you were suddenly someone he didn’t quite recognize — said enough.