Notes: Written for the LJ comm spngenlove's h/c comment fic meme: So when Castiel gives Dean the Colt, Sam has a plan. Shoot Lucifer, and then shoot himself. Tweaked a little to be set after season 5, after they've defeated Lucifer. Title taken from "Deadwood." Heavy on the hurt, missing the comfort. My bad.
Warnings: Suicidal Sam
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
It was over. Lucifer was gone.
Dean started to laugh. "We did it, Sammy!"
Sam forced a smile back. Kind of Dean to include him when it wasn't really like "we" had done much.
But now...now that it was done...
Sam felt a real smile come on. Yes.
Sam knew they wouldn't understand. He wished there was a way to explain it, to make them see it as he could, so clearly.
They were too bound up in loyalty, in affection. He mused that that should probably count for more to him, maybe a reason to stay. But if they hadn't been so caught up in that before, none of this would have happened.
He tried to imagine if Dad had just showed up at Stanford and shot him or if Dean had kept the promise he'd made Dad or if he'd had the guts to take care of it himself when he realized Dean couldn't. Why had they fought Gordon? Gordon had understood what they'd all forgotten: monsters have to be destroyed, and siblings aren't immune from turning into monsters.
Sentimentality. It'd do you in every time.
He only put one bullet in the Colt. He didn't need more; he had the knife, too. He wasn't coming back from this.
He wished he could explain to Bobby and Dean what he was doing, that he could find the magic words to make them get it. They'd be caught up in the timing, he knew. Why would he do it now?
He'd thought about it earlier, of course, but there were two important points. Without the Colt, he wouldn't really be ending himself, and he'd had to at least try to help Dean destroy Lucifer. Put it this way: he'd let Lucifer out; it wasn't like he could make things worse.
And now, it was all finished, everything. Everything their family had been haunted by was laid to rest. Time to celebrate, time to move on.
Sam would never be able to move on.
So now that he'd done all that was possible to do to atone, he was taking the coward's way out. He was done with living, and the afterlife would just be more of the same.
So the only thing to do was to utterly cease to exist.
He knew he didn't deserve the peace this would give him. What he deserved was a long life, confronted every day with what he'd done, and then an eternity to for every spirit of every person who'd died to let him know exactly what he'd done.
Sam Winchester had a way to circumvent that, and he was taking it.
He considered it, and put another bullet into the Colt. Couldn't hurt.
He looked around the hotel room. He wasn't taking anything but the weapons and his ID. Well, he'd take his cell and ditch it somewhere. Dean would assume he went out for a walk or for some coffee. Sam could hotwire a car and be across the state line by morning, ensuring that Dean and Bobby wouldn't be the ones to stumble onto his body.
He double-checked the auto deliver on the email. Yes, Dean wouldn't get it until 10 a.m. the next day, so no accidentally finding it early and ruining Sam's plan.
Sam looked down one more time and filled the remaining chambers. Best be sure.
He stuck the gun in his pocket and walked out the door.
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