Disclaimer: I don't own or make a profit from Supernatural.

Just One More Drinkā€¦

Just one more drink---

He took another swig from the whiskey bottle, the dirty glass long since shattered against the far wall of the cabin. He had been sitting silently in the hardback, wood chair for hours; long after his ass had gone numb, long after the whiskey had dulled everything, but the sharp pain in his chest.

His eyes were dry and gritty. He blinked and it felt like trying to close his lids over dry sand. It was painful, but he didn't care, all he needed was just one more drink.

He slammed the nearly empty bottle onto the table, wondering if he could get Bobby to go get him another one when he returned. Pretty soon he was going to be sucking air instead of hooch and that thought made him shudder with near sobriety. All he needed was just one more drink or four.

His fingers tightened around the bottle's neck, his knuckles white to the bone. He stopped feeling the rest of his body hours ago, only necessity kept him lifting his arm so he could take another swallow of whiskey. And his eyes, they worked too. They slid to the left on their own accord, peering through the shadows of the cabin and into the tiny room beyond the arch.

Sammy lay sprawled out onto a torn, filthy mattress that had been home to generations of rodents. The moon spilled through the window behind him, drenching him in a silvery light. For a moment he could almost believe his baby brother was sleeping. Just sleeping. Not having any horrible dreams yet, but resting. Soon he was going to crack his eyes, glare up at him and demand to know what he had missed.

He lifted his arm and his elbow creaked. He took another swig, relishing the burn as the whiskey slid down his throat and splashed into his empty stomach.

Just one more drink---

Bobby said that the world was going to end. His grizzled face drawn first with sadness then disappointment when he told him that he didn't care. He didn't care. The world could burn for all he cared. Burn and turn, and twist in the wind. The world hadn't given a damn about him or his family and he didn't give a damn about it. He was done with being the hero. Done with saving people only to watch them go on to destroy themselves or their loved ones. He was done paying the price. He was all out of the coin of the realm.

He had one job, and he screwed it up. All he had to do was watch Sammy's back. Protect him when he was down, hold him when he fell. All he had to do was make sure that Sam had the life that he deserved. That house with the picket fence, his two point five kids and a beautiful wife who loved him. It was his job to fight the monsters in the dark, so his baby brother could live in the light. It had been his job. Had been his job and he blew it.

Just one more drink---

Now he was alone--empty--dead inside. Everything had been taken from him. No one was left. There wasn't anything left for him to give. He was alive and Sam was dead, the only person in the world that he had to live for.

How was he supposed to live with that? How was he supposed to go on knowing that he didn't deserve to be the one still standing? He was a fuck up. All he ever did was let down the people that he loved. Let them down and watch them die.

What was he supposed to do? How was supposed to right his wrongs? What was he supposed to do?

He lifted the bottle to his mouth, still watching Sammy from the corner of his eye. His baby brother didn't move, didn't wake up and flash him his goofy grin. Soon his flesh was going to start to rot and fall away, leaving nothing left but white bone and tuffs of hair. No longer Sammy, no longer human. Salt and burn baby, salt and burn.

The liquid swished as the bottle slammed onto the table. Just about a swallow left then that would be gone too.

He only had one thing left. One small thing to make it right. It was tarnished, dirty and worn, but it was all that he possessed, all that he had left.

Just one more drink, then it was time to make a deal.