I stormed around the room, throwing clothes and knives into my duffel bag. He just sat there on the motel room's couch, watching me.
"Where will you go?" He said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Away from here." I aggressively folded my jeans and shoved them into the bag.
"What a great plan." He scoffed.
"Shut up." I muttered.
I was tired of Sam being soulless. He was cold and cruel, he didn't care about anything. He brought numerous women back to your rooms when you were on hunts, he yelled at you when your emotions got the best of you. He wasn't yours anymore.
"So you're just going to wander the streets, good idea." He called to me as I walked into the bathroom to gather my hairbrush, toothbrush, and toothpaste.
"You don't care about me wandering the streets." I sighed, adding the items to my bag. You had been heartbroken when Sam returned from Hell, soulless. You understood why it had to be this way due to the battling between Lucifer and Michael in the cage but it was ruining you. You had died the day we was jumped into the pit.
"Before all this I did. It made me sloppy and stupid. Now, I'm a better hunter in all ways." His voice was cold and almost robotic
"Yeah, yeah. You're a better hunter." I said, my teeth barred. "I just can't do this anymore."
"What?" He was looking at you now.
"I can't do this anymore, any of it. You are killing me."
"You're one for the dramatics." He sighed, and stepped close to you.
"Stop it." I whispered, watching my feet.
"You're weak." He snapped.
"Stop it." My eyes clouded over.
"All because you love me." He laughed, "Poor, poor you. It's really killing you isn't it, that I don't love you anymore. Doesn't it?"
"SHUT UP!" I screamed getting as close to his face as I could.
He just laughed, finding my pain amusing. My breathing was rapid and my cheeks were damp.
"You know what! Here!" I said loudly, pulling my gun out of the back of my jeans and thrusting it into his hands. "Kill me." I was straight-faced, and as cold as he was.
"Are you serious?" He looked the gun over.
"Do it. You're doing it anyway. Just get it over with. I'm already dead!" I growled. He just looked me over, "Fuck sakes! KILL ME!" I yelled at him pulling his arms up to press the barrel to my forehead. He just looked at me, barrel against my skull, my eyes were determined, ice in my veins. "Forget it." I sighed, pushing the gun down and pulling it out of his fingers. He wasn't going to do it, he was to proud to give me what I wanted. I flipped the safety back on and tucked it into the back of my pants again.
I went back to my bed and zipped up my duffel bag. I slung it over my shoulder, "Goodbye Sam." I said turning to face him as I grabbed the doorknob.
"Wait." He called to you. He had been just watching you from the middle of the room, still as a statue. I turned around with an annoyed face, glaring knives into him. "We're you serious?"
"Why do you care?" I wanted to scream.
"Just because I don't feel anything anymore, doesn't mean I don't know you like I used to. It doesn't hurt me and I don't care if you die but I respect you." He stepped forward.
"Goodbye Sam." I turned back to the door.
"You used to call me Sammy." He said, it was almost child-like.
"Well, you aren't him anymore." I say just loud enough for him to hear and then I wrench the door open and walk out into the night leaving him behind me.