This is my first ever one shot/fanfic/whatever else you want to call it. I hope you like it! I know it’s not the greatest of stories, but the idea came into my head so I wrote it down. Please give me feedback, tell me what you thought of it :) Even constructive criticism would be gladly appreciated.
(The song, “I’ll follow you into the dark” is meant to be played with this, and I tried putting all of this as a caption underneath the audio part of Tumblr, but for some reason on my theme it wouldn’t show up, so just imagine that the song is playing.)
1 week, 2 days, and 4 hours.
That’s how long it had been since Sam had died. Dean replayed the memory over and over again in his head. The wolf, the attack. The irony of it all. Who would of thought, Sam Winchester, hero, hunter, would of been killed by something as simple as a wild wolf in the middle of Wisconsin. It had just come out of nowhere. Dean had tried with every ounce of strength he had in him to save his little brother, but by the time he had shot the wolf, Sam was already dead. He tried to bargain with every demon and angel he could find. But none would bring Sam back.
Dean stared down at the breaking wooden cross marking where he had buried Sam. He felt his legs collapse beneath him as he sunk onto his knees. Instantly, the tears started running down his dirty face.
“Sammy.. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry I can’t protect myself now. I just can’t do it Sammy. Not without you. I just feel… numb, hollow. Empty.” He could hear the blood roaring in his ears, his heart thumping. His stomach ached from crying. He let the weight of the world crash down on his shoulders. He let the reality of what had happened hit him square in the chest.
An hour later and he’d arrived back at the shabby old motel Sam and Dean had been staying in while they were in the area. He lifted the rusty keys out of his pocket and inserted them into the doors lock. He heard a click and slowly opened the door. He stepped inside, turned the light on, and grief overwhelmed him. The first thing he saw was Sams laptop. Sitting there, unused. Untouched by anyone for over a week. Dean hadn’t allowed himself to use it. “It was Sams.” He thought. “He wouldn’t want me messing around with it.” But now, as he made his way slowly to Sams bed, he rested his hand on it. His eyes stung with the promise of more tears. His hand slid off the laptop and onto Sams ugly plaid shirt, lying on the bed. He clutched onto it and brought it to his chest. The musky smell of cologne wafted up to his nose. He dropped the shirt and walked briskly to the bathroom. He opened up the medicine cabinent and pulled down a small bottel filled with sleeping pills he’d found in Bobbys house months ago. He chuckled to himself. “Never thought I’d need them.” He thought aloud. He flipped the cap off, and with shaking hands, emptied the pills into his hands. He shut the cabinent and stared at himself in the mirror. He rotated his head to the side, getting a good look at his entire face. He didn’t look like himself. He was pale, washed out. His eyes had dark cirlces underneath them and his cheeks were hollowed in. He looked sick. He hesitantly lifted the pills up to his mouth. “No chickening out now, Dean.” He told himself. With one swift movement, the pills were in his mouth. He leant his head down to the sink, turned on the tap and drank the water. His stomach made an unsettling gurgling noise which Dean ignored. He made his way over to his bed and layed down. Memories raced by in Deans mind. Memories of when Sam and him were younger, play-fighting in the backseat of their dads car. Memories of the almost-apocolypse. Road trips with the music blasting in the Impala. Sams warm hugs. The way he looked when he cried. His puppy dog eyes. The way he looked up to Dean. A tear slid down Deans face.
“I love you Sammy.” He said, before he shut his eyes and darkness rolled over him, falling into an eternal sleep.