Walking Away

Sam had to fight every instinct in his body not to turn around and run back to his big brother. He had at the very least expected a fight but Dean hadn't even given him that satisfaction. A fight would have made it easier….at least that's what he kept telling himself.

He settled into the seat of the truck and pressed his forehead against the window. Tears wanted to come but he wasn't going to let them. He had wanted this. He knew he was a danger to his brother and everyone else around him. He couldn't be trusted. Just the sight of all that blood had made everything come rushing back at him and instead of loathing himself for the things he had done, all he could think of was the power he had felt.

All his life he had been the little brother, John's baby boy. He had accepted that he would never be the favorite in John's eyes, accepted that he would always play second fiddle to his older brother. He had worshipped Dean, followed him everywhere until the day Dean went somewhere Sam couldn't follow…..Hell. Sam's life had been slowly unraveling ever since.

Sam had thought of swallowing a bullet more than once when Dean had went to Hell but he hadn't. Somehow he knew Dean wasn't gone for good and he would be pissed if he came back to find Sam dead. He'd stayed alive for his brother. When it looked as if his brother wasn't coming back, he'd vowed to get revenge. If he'd known then how bad things were going to get, he would have done them all a favor and killed himself the first chance he got. Maybe that's what he should do now. A bullet to the head would certainly put an end to his addiction.

He sighed heavily, saw the driver of the truck give him a cursory glance but he was too exhausted to care. He couldn't kill himself. No matter what happened, he couldn't do that to Dean. His brother may not have given him a fight but he still cared about him. The fact that Dean offered him the Impala spoke volumes for how much he cared.

It made Sam's heart ache to think of the pained look on Dean's face as he'd agreed they should go their separate ways. This wasn't just about them anymore. They had to look at the big picture and it wasn't very pretty. People were going to die and they had always put saving others first, before anything in their lives. Dean had to concentrate on stopping the apocalypse and he couldn't do that with his demon blood addict brother just waiting to fall off the wagon. Sam knew that Dean would look out for him but he shouldn't have to. Sam should be able to take care of himself. He wasn't a scrawny little kid anymore who needed his big brother to fix everything for him. And even if he had been, this was something Dean couldn't fix. Sam had to do this one himself.

The truck pulled over in front of a small motel. "This is the end of the road for me, pal," said the driver. "I live just off the main road."

Sam grabbed his pack and opened the door. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem." He gave a friendly wave as he pulled away.

Sam stared at the motel and decided he should probably just stay there for the night. He checked in and let himself into a small, dingy room. He had thought about asking for a room with one bed but he just couldn't do it. Maybe with two beds he could just pretend Dean was out, chasing some girl in a short skirt or sitting in a bar getting drunk.

He threw his duffel on the table and collapsed on the nearest bed. He was so tired, he felt as if he could sleep for a week. He turned away from the door and the sight of the empty bed broke every resolve he had not to cry. The tears came upon him so suddenly he couldn't stop them even if he wanted to. He buried his face into his pillow and let them come.

Dean, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

When the tears finally subsided Sam washed his face in the bathroom sink. Looking into the mirror, he no longer saw the boy who depended on his brother for everything. He saw the sorry excuse for a man he had become. He didn't want to be that man. He wasn't going to let his demon blood define who he was or what he could be.

Staring grimly at his reflection he said, "We've got work to do."