Rough day equals quick and melancholy drabble. It's the only thing he can think to do.

I own nothing.

The destruction of anything and everything that is evil.

This is his mission.

This is his purpose.

He eats just enough to keep his body moving.

He drives until he reaches the point when he can't see straight, when his blurred vision impairs his judgement and ability to keep the Impala on his side of the road.

He stops then, in the parking lot of some dive and sleeps in the front seat, just long enough to be able to focus on the road once more.

He sees them all as he drives. Mom. Dad. Jess. Jo. Ellen. Rufus. Bobby. So many faces that he has long forgotten the names of. Countless is the tally of the dead that travels with him down the pavement. So many.

He stops long enough to fill the car up, take a leak and grab a six pack.

He never used to drink and drive but he doesn't care anymore, alcohol has long since replaced the blood in his veins and besides, it's only him now. He left Sam while he slept, unwilling to drag his brother with him on his destructive path of vengeance.

He roams from town to town, in an alcohol and sleep deprived haze. He hunts and kills and disappears the moment the job is done. No small talk, no getting to know the people who he may have saved. Who cares. They aren't important, 'regular' people no longer hold any significance for him. He is focused on only one thing. Back to the basics. Back to why he started this in the first place, to kill as many evil sons of bitches as he possibly can.

Evil is all around and evil never stops, and neither will he. He has felt the sting of their taint and he will not stop until he kills them all, or dies trying.

He will track them, he will hunt them from town to town and from mile to mile. He will take them out one by one because it's the only thing he can think to do. It's the only thing that keeps him going, that allows him to wake up from the perpetual nightmare he is caught in.

He opens up willingly and lets his obsession take control and guide him, to give him a sense of purpose that postpones the constant urge he has to drive his baby and himself off a cliff and into sweet nothingness.

Obsessions as a rule are unhealthy and compulsive, and his is no exception.

But, for Dean Winchester, his is also the only thing that keeps him alive.