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Dean hates facts.
They’re certain and stubborn and they’re always right.
With facts, it either is or isn’t. There’s no in between, only absolute. All black and white, no shades of grey.
The Winchesters live in shades of grey; there is nothing else for them. Or at least, that’s how it used to be. Lately, things have become more absolute.
Killing monsters is white, letting them go is black. Right and wrong.
Then why does Dean feel so guilty for killing Amy? For abandoning Cas? For every time he slid a silver blade between someone’s ribs?
Castiel loves facts.
They are solid and comforting and they’re always right.
Facts are the way the world is supposed to work, no matter what they are always the same. God is a fact, and Cas used to find solace in that.
Now, though, it mocks him. His father left him, let him make the wrong choices again and again. And because of those choices, he lost the only people he ever truly trusted. Sitting on the pier where he’d met Dean once, in a dream, he still doesn’t have the courage to face them.
Castiel wishes the world was only facts, that there was no grey. Truth is, black and white were very, very tiny in this magnificent world. Even Lucifer, the devil, was not wholly evil. Sometimes Cas even wondered if God was wholly good.
Sam doesn’t believe in facts.
Anything and everything can be disproved, black and white don’t even exist. Things change and shift, even those things that have always been. He doesn’t see why Dean hates something that doesn’t exist, but then, Dean’s always been a little off.
The whole world’s a little off, according to Sam. Even he is, the freak. That word doesn’t hurt so much, not as much as it used to. Amy helped him with that, even if Dean killed her; even though she killed people.
Sam sees grey everywhere, and he knows it’s always been that way, and he cracks a tiny smile. Because according to Sam Winchester, the only real fact is that facts don’t really exist.