Cole made himself stay silent until Sam was finished, but the uncomfortable familiarity of the tale bothered him. Still, he decided he could figure out what this reminded him of later. Much, much later. Maybe even never - what did it matter, anyway?
His anger vanished, replaced with a sort of horrified pity. "Oh, Sam... I remember. I don't remember her, specifically, but I remember you talking about a girl that you couldn't get up the courage to talk to. I just never knew that you... how you felt about her." Or about your obsession with reversing death, for that matter.
"But now you know that's not true. It wasn't fine, Sam, and you can't ever do it again. It's not right. Like... oh, god." Suddenly, it hit him. "Like Frankenstein. He ended up alone, Sam, because he created life without considering the consequences. You... you made a mistake. But you have to learn from it. Because if you don't, I'll destroy the machine myself." A pause. "And I meant it, about burying Jude. We have to do it."