It was past the closing time, but I was still sitting on the bar stool, not giving a damn about the bitching and bickering of the man behind the counter who was trying to make me go home. "I have not home!" I almost shouted. And yeah, it was fucking true; I had no home, not anymore. While he lived, HE was my home and…and now he was fucking dead. So, yeah basically my home died along with him.
I finally got drunk enough, or not for I certainly wanted to collapse in a gutter once I was out of the bar, but I was walking strait. The motel was close and the cool night air made wonders. Fuck! I was almost sober once I unlocked the door to my…yeah Sammy that's it…my motel room.
"Where the hell have you been?" no! NO! NO! I wanted to shout, yell my lungs out, punch the shit out of the bastard who was playing tricks on me. "I asked 'where have you been'?" His voice was pissed.
"You…"the hell was I supposed to say? I wanted to grab him and pull him close into my arms and let him claim me, but this wasn't right, this wasn't my brother. I gave it another try.
"You're not HIM" I said. I tried hard, but I couldn't stop the river of tears that was flowing freely from my eyes now. He came to me and took me into a tight hug. The smell, the feel of him, the warmth of his skin…oh this was my drug, purer then heroin...this…the feel of Dean's arms around me.
"I don't know how or why, but I've got another night here Sam. And I plan to make the most out of it."