A/N this is not what i intended to write at all but it happened and i kind of like it so. kind of an experimental writing style for me and i hoped i pulled it off. we never did get a good explanation to why Sam never looked for Dean, supposedly. so, he's my take. hope you guys enjoy it!
Title inspired by the song, That Lonesome Road, by James Taylor
After Dean and Castiel disappeared in the explosion at SucroCorp… everything just sort of stopped.
Sam hit the ground hard after Crowley disappeared, leaving him in the ruined building alone. He remembered that he'd started shaking uncontrollably, that he felt lightheaded and weak and that his clothes became damp with sweat. He couldn't breathe and despite the heat surrounding him, he'd felt horribly cold and the horrors of the cage flickered in his peripheral vision, haunting him in a way that they hadn't since the mental hospital. But those nightmares (memories, Sam, memories) were nothing compared to this sudden, horrifying loss.
"No… no, no, no, no, no…." He realized he was speaking at the same time that he realized his face was damp with tears that were spilling without restraint from his eyes and he didn't care at all.
What the hell happened to Dean?
He didn't remember getting out of the building, only realizing that he was suddenly outside staring at the Impala (alone where is Dean he's supposed to drive the car where is Dean). The wailing of sirens in the distant pierced through the haze his mind had become, and he pulled his set of keys out of his jacket pocket and stumbled into the car.
Then he was on the road, SucroCorp fading in the rear view mirror as he sped past the speed limits to get the hell out of there.
Everything was a blur and the next thing that he knew, he was sitting on the edge of a motel room bed, sobbing and gasping for air (where is Dean where the hell is he what happened to my brother) and it hurt to breathe – to exist – and he wished he'd disappeared too.
When he calmed down enough to think, he found all their booze and drank it. All of it. His hands shook violently and it was hard to get the tops off but he needed the oblivion the alcohol offered and it was just like when Dean went to hell and he couldn't bring himself to care.
He woke up a day later and drank and cried some more.
The next thing he knew, he was puking in the toilet bowl and the stench on his clothes was unbearable. He stripped and sat down on the bottom of the tub and let hot water hit his skin even though he never felt a thing.
(Leviathans… monsters… purgatory… Dean… Dean… Dean…)
Jumbled thoughts and disjointed ideas ran through his head and none of them made any sense to him at all.
He paid for three additional days at the motel, never remembering checking in in the first place, and he alternated between crying, sleeping, and waiting.
He woke up on the third day and didn't remember what happened at all. All of it was gone and he found himself outside, dressed, with everything packed, and sitting in the passenger seat of the car, waiting for Dean to get in the drivers seat so they could leave and find their next case.
He waited for four hours before reality came crashing back. No one opened the drivers side door.
(he's not coming back… where did he go… he's dead… he's not coming back)
He slept in the car and the next day, he drove out of the state. He stopped at the store and bought stuff to fix the damage that Meg had done when she'd driven the car through the SucroCorp sign (Dean would be pissed). He drove out to the middle of nowhere and started fixing the car on autopilot. It took him two weeks to be sure he fixed it the right way and then he didn't know what to do.
Then he was at Rufus's cabin, unsure how he got there and too tired to care. He drank some more booze and wished there was someone left to call (everyone is gone) and beg for help from.
He tried Crowley's cell phone and it went to voice mail. He tried summoning a demon and no one bothered to show. (what if he's in hell I can't leave him in hell but there was no deal and Dean doesn't belong in hell… he's a righteous man he wouldn't go to hell)
He prayed to Cas but Cas was gone too. Balthezar was dead and there wasn't an angel in heaven who wouldn't like to smite him dead on sight, he thought.
He prayed to all of them, hoping that they would.
No one answered.
Two days later, he'd managed to hack back into the security footage of SucroCorp and watched the explosion take place over fifty times and couldn't figure out what happened to his brother.
(demons and angels don't go anywhere, monsters go to purgatory, and people go to heaven or hell)
He went to a bar and got drunk trying to figure out what to do.
He stayed at Rufus's cabin for a while and a few weeks passed by without him even noticing. He became a regular at the local bar until a group of hunters stopped there and recognized him on sight, pointing fingers and surrounding his booth that was tucked into the corner of the bar.
"Sam Winchester – heard your brother kicked the bucket. It's a damn shame fate took the wrong Winchester." One of the spoke, a nasty look in his eye (it's true) and Sam was abruptly reminded that without Dean, it was open season. Most hunters had backed off from trying to kill him – but others, friends of Gordon Walker and those still angry about the apocalypse and who knew about the demon blood – had no qualms about trying to take him out.
He didn't remember the fight that happened but he stumbled out of the bar bloody, bruised, livid, and scared. No one came after him but he left his cell phones at Rufus's cabin and decided to drop off the grid.
He drove.
And drove… and drove.
He found a case by accident in some backwater town in Maine – a demon possession – and he leapt at the opportunity. Catching it was easy but it was stubbornly silent when he questioned it and so he got to work, having learned the art of torture from Lucifer himself, demanding and then pleading to know what happened to his brother.
It laughed and laughed and laughed.
"Gone." Was all it said and nothing he did could make it say anything else.
It a fit of rage, he stabbed it in the heart with Ruby's knife and then sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
He drove out of Maine and headed God knew where, drank, and thought about putting a bullet in his mouth and yet he couldn't do it that way.
He stopped only for gas and didn't feel hunger for days. When he could think past the haze, he tried to decide how to end it because if Dean wasn't here, he sure as hell didn't want to be here either.
(can't leave the car for anyone else to have – it's our car, she's family, if I go I gotta destroy her too)
He figured out what was holding him back - it came to him as he was driving through Texas and he decided to drive off the next cliff he found, so no one else could have his brother's car – and he drove and drove, hoping one would appear, all through the day and well into the night.
He found himself slamming on the breaks when something ran in front of the car but he hit it anyways and found himself picking up the whimpering dog and putting it in the back seat of the Impala before he consciously decided to do anything at all.
No dogs in the car, Sam!
He jumped at the sudden noise, heart leaping in his chest, and looked around hopefully for his brother.
There was no one there.
I said no dogs in the car, Sam!
His lips twitched and he responded to Dean without thinking, tears in his eyes.
"Then come back and kick my ass for it." He whispered, feeling a slight surge of defiance.
His brother didn't respond or speak again but he felt more awake then he had in weeks and so he googled the nearest animal shelter and drove, intending to drop it off and staying when the angry vet lady whose nametag read Amelia said the mutt was his now.
How the hell was he supposed to kill himself with a dog in the backseat? That wasn't right and it threw him for a loop but he thought having a dog might piss his brother off if he was there and he almost smiled at the thought.
He chewed his nail and waited for the thing to get out of surgery.
He got a motel and found himself needing cash to buy the animal food since he hadn't been hustling and offered to do odd jobs for management. Somehow that vet who kept getting angry at him was there too and they talked and talked for a while and somehow ended up agreeing to meet up again for lunch in a few days.
He brought the dog and sat outside the café and when Amelia came they talked some more. She mentioned her husband had died and he mentioned Dean and they both cried a little from the pain of their losses. After a few awkward moments, Amelia started asking him questions about his brother and he told her as much as he could until it hurt too much and he decided to leave.
He stood up, paid the bill, and Amelia gave him a hug which he allowed and returned.
She was cute, he noted absently and he found himself oddly attracted to her spitfire personality... mostly because he was reminded of his brother. With that thought, he asked if he could see her again and she agreed.
They walked away, each heading for their own car but he lifted his head when he heard his name being called and turned to look at Amelia.
Her expression was surprisingly hesitant. "Your brother... he sounds like he was a really good man."
His eyes watered again and offered her a faint smile. "Yeah… he was a riot."
The dog barked at that and wagged its tail and when Sam walked away, he found himself feeling a little bit lighter.
A/N kind of an open ending but we all know how the season went. i never liked Amelia but i always liked the idea that Riot's name was inspired by a conversation Sam had with her about Dean.
please leave a review - i'd love to know your thoughts!
DragonflyonBreak
