By: Karen B.

Summary: Short snip. Tag: No Rest For The Wicked. Sam's pov.

Disclaimer: Not the owner, not the owner, not the owner.

Rated: Bitter, sad angst. Nothing happy here, folks!

Note: Forgive. Think I had one too many cerveza's when I wrote this.

Thank you for your time and fearlessness in reading.



Time heals all wounds.


Time is liquid.

No wound superficial -- they all leave some sort of scar.

If you love something set it free.

Big, fat lie.

If you love something -- you never fucking let it go!

It was over.

I'd lost him.

I could hardly stand, was as if I'd fallen off a building -- crushed.

He was flat on his back.

Bloody -- cut into strips.

If it was the last thing I did -- I wanted to save him.

But -- in the hole that was the Winchester's universe -- that was never going to happen.

I knew.

I knew that very first night -- one year ago.

I knew every single hour, of every single minute, of every single second, of every single day. I knew when Ruby told me she could. I knew with every click of the keyboard. Every flip of the page. Every prayer. Every promise. Every wish I ever made.

He knew it, too. Pretended every step of the way.

And I let him.

I smiled, when I wanted to cry. Pretended everything was okay, when it wasn't. Thinking there was a chance -- a reason for hope. But, deep inside hidden in my tortured self, I always knew this day would come -- how pathetic was I?

Fooling myself -- maybe.

Fooling him -- never.

All to quickly the day had come. The pain of his ending was worse than my darkest nightmare. Tears, like hot coals streamed down my face, blinding me. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. My world, my entire world lay bloody at my feet. I knelt next to him. Gently slipped a palm under his head, raising him slightly off the floor. I stared into the eyes of the one person I truly loved. Te one person I had. He didn't make some wise chick-flick crack. Didn't whack me in the head for being stupid. Didn't call me a douche bag, or give me that 'I told you so' grin. True pain stabbed at me as I stared into his unseeing eyes, and for one moment I swore he called out my name.

What I wanted and what I knew, were always two different things.

I wanted him here.

I knew he wasn't.

Wanted him alive.

Knew he was dead.

I wanted to die.

To be the one in hell.

So, I could kill each and every demon with my bare hands.

One by one.

The last -- begging for its life just before I snapped its neck anyway.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to stop crying.

Wanted to believe in Santa.

That everything would be okay.

I wanted the bad smell of blood to disappear.

I wanted to throw up.

Wanted to forget his last sage words of advice.

'Remember what dad taught.'

'Remember what he taught.'

Play it smart.

Don't make mistakes.

Mistakes were all I'd ever made, and he, he was the only one who could ever fix them.

What I wanted, wasn't what I knew.

He was in hell.

I was here.

I dragged him up into my lap, wrapped my arms all around him and held on tight.

A million tears -- all mine -- dripped to his face, sliding down his cheeks and into his shirt collar.

I wanted him to argue with me.

Tell me I was being a girl.

Fight with me over who's shirt was who's.

Wanted him to tell me I was sleeping in the Impala if I didn't stop snoring.

Blame me for something I didn't do.

Crack on me about my hair.

Trick me into waxing his baby.

Shove a spoon in my mouth when I'm sleeping.

Crank the tunes up too loud.

I wanted to be the expendable one.

I knew, he would never allow that.

I took his limp hand in mine, squeezed, cringing when I realized his fingers were already chilled by death.

Hellhounds dragged him down -- without me --but that didn't stop my heart from being dragged into hell with him.

I wanted to unchain his soul.

I knew I couldn't.

I wanted to try.

And if I couldn't --

What I wanted, was fianlly what I knew I could do -- Somehing that could take a lifetime.

A lifetime of empty.

Of cold.

Of alone.

Alive, but dead -- missing my heart -- inside, and out.

"Dean," I whimpered, winding my body around his.

I knew where my heart was, and I'd find it.

I'd pave my own road -- a straight line to hell.

The end

** Sorry -- my bad -- drinks are cut. LOL -- NOT!