Red-rimmed eyes staring vacantly ahead, one bottle of rotgut whiskey already inside him, Sam drove until a flashing motel vacancy sign caught his attention.
Once in his room, he pulled another bottle of whiskey out of his duffel and fell onto the bed, the only thing clear in his mind the imperative need to forget the last minutes of Dean's life.
Sam would live. He'd sworn that much to his brother and he'd keep that promise.
But tonight? That promise and the craving for whiskey's blessed oblivion was the only thing keeping him breathing.
Sam upended the bottle and drank.