A/N Beta'd by penmin, Thanks a ton hun!
Sam wiped his eyes which were swollen from crying, grabbed the tissue box and realized he was out of tissues 'shit' now what was he going to do? His brother had just died and it was his entire fault. He would never be able to forgive himself for what he had done.
He took another swig of tequila which he'd mixed with whiskey, to swallow the pain he felt burning in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut to block the tears that were threatening to fall down his ragged face.
He wanted to scream, wanted someone to punish him for what had happened, but he couldn't scream...and no one was there...no one could come for him, he was all alone and he would always be.
All of a sudden for some strange reason, he felt hungry...no starving, like he hadn't eaten anything in days. He needed food to fill his churning stomach. But, he didn't deserve to eat...no, not after what he'd done.
"Fuck it," he said out loud, he knew no one heard him, so they couldn't do shit about it. He stood up and winced when he heard his bones pop. Damn was it just him or was he getting old? Who cares anyway, maybe he'll just live in this room and grow old and die here and no one would care. They wouldn't care anyway if they had known what he'd done.
He grabbed his wallet and slid his jacket on, he thought twice about bringing the mixed drink with him, but for right now…he didn't feel like having a confrontation with the police. He thought about it again then decided to go to the nearest bar to drink his pain away. He slammed the door not caring who it bothered or who it pissed off. Cause of right now…he didn't give a shit about anything.
The dark figure watched as the younger man walked to the Impala. He smiled, hoping his plan would work. He had been planning it for a long time, and he could wait.
Somebody hates you Sammy…
Sam pulled up in the dirty gravel which substituted cement for the bar, granted it was a crappy rundown little bar that looked like it was made out of an abandoned shack, he didn't care…as long as he had some beer and alcohol to numb the emotional pain he felt.
When he walked in, he could feel the eyes of everyone on him, like they could see right through him…like they knew what he had done.
He sat down on a barstool as the waitress came up, she was pretty, with dark brown hair, piercing blue eyes and a full mouth, but that wasn't what he was here for…he didn't deserve her anyway, even if he did, he would be condemned to hell.
"What can I get for ya sugar?" Her voice sounded like pure honey and sugar mixed together, it was beautiful.
"B-beeer and whisky pleaaase," he slurred his words.
"Oh uh okay, comin right up darling."
He assumed it was obvious that he was already drunk, but what did it matter? He felt a hell of a lot better when he was drunk than when he was sober.
It seemed like forever for his drink to come, he considered leaving but hey, he did not pay ten bucks to sit on a stool.
The waitress gave him his drink and smiled and then went to go help another customer. Sam nursed his drink and again felt the tears come, 'If Dean were here, he would go and try to hook up with that chick…' But Dean wasn't here…he would never be able to hook up with another chick again. That was it…no more Sammy's…no more bitch…no more of Dean making fun of him being a geek. He would miss it…a lot.
About an hour later the bar started to clear, he decided it was time for him to go too. He left a five dollar tip and then walked out the door almost stumbling over his own feet.
When he reached the Impala he fumbled in his pocket searching for his keys, but then he stopped, something on the windshield caught his eye. It was a written message…and it was in blood.
"Somebody really hates you Sammy"
And then his world went black.