The worst part of having someone gone, is forgetting they're gone.
You'll be doing something mundane, routine, and expect them to be somewhere in the room, and when you go to look for them, they're not there.
It's like getting stabbed. And I can make that comparison.
Like just yesterday, I was cleaning my weapons, gearing up for the next hunt, and I made a comment somewhere along the lines of 'you ready, Sammy?' As I looked around the motel room for my annoying little brother.
I don't think that much hurts worse than forgetting that someone's gone. Especially if they were your world. Sammy had always been his world, ever since he saw those eyes. He knew he was dependant on his brother, that his need to make sure Sammy was safe was unhealthy. But with the way the two had grown up, he wasn't surprised, not even angry at all.
He was just lost.
Protecting Sam had been his life since he was four. He was twenty two. Eighty one percent of his life had been spent taking care of his baby brother. And now that Sammy was gone, his reason to continue on with the life they lived was gone, he didn't know what to do. He had contemplated just leaving, fall off the grid for awhile, find himself, but he couldn't leave dad to fend on his own. He had also thought about following Sammy, but he couldn't weigh down his baby brother during what was supposed to be the best years of his life.
Instead, I did something dad would have my head for.
I left the motel and found a pay phone, dialling a number that was burned into my memory. It rung, and I almost lost my nerve, but before I could hang up, someone picked up.
"Hullo?" It was Sammy! I could've cried at his voice, sounding the least heavy it's been in a long time.
"Hey." And what else could I say?
"Dean? What are you doing? Do you know what time it is?" That's right, he has a normal sleep schedule now. I ignored the first question.
"I don't know what time it is where you are, I'm on the other side of the country. Guess it must be pretty early for you." I huffed out a laugh, trying to think of a way to not make things awkward.
"I suppose that makes sense. Why are you calling? We haven't talked since I called you the first week I got here to make sure I settled in alright." A pause. "That was four months ago."
I huffed a breath. "Look, I'm sorry for the night you left."
"Dean-"
"Let me finish Sammy. I'm sorry that dad was an ass, I'm sorry that I did nothing, and most of all, I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. And I get it if you hate me and dad, but I figured you should know I'm sorry." I waited with bated breath while Sam processed everything I had hit him with. Finally, he began to speak.
"Well, if it's worth anything, I don't hate you. Not dad either. Not happy with him, but I can't hate him."
I smiled then, the first genuine one in four months. "That's good to know. Look Sammy, I gotta go soon, but I'll call you the next time I'm in your neighbourhood. If you want, we can get lunch."
I could hear him laugh on the other side of the line. "Yeah, that sounds great. Believe it or not, I've actually learned how to cook."