His hand was poised to knock. Perhaps, he took one second too long. Perhaps, he had one thought too many. Perhaps, he was just too angry.
Sam lowered his arm and walked down the hallway. But he didn't go to his room. He went to the closest place with alcohol. Back to the library.
He knew he wasn't there to work and drinking wasn't usually his problem solver. He was still so angry. No, he was pissed!
"Just because you're sorry. Just because you can't let go."
Sam was on his second shot before he knew it.
"You tell yourself you're doing the right thing. Spin it however you want, Dean, deep down you know it's all about you. I'm sorry Dad put all that on you. And I'm sorry you think you're still responsible for me. But you can't fix everything and I can make my own decisions. I'm just so sick and tired of the all the secrets and all the lies."
Sam took another drink.
"Because of your crap, Gadreel and the rest of the Angels are out there doing God knows what. Kevin is dead. And Crowley and Abaddon are wreaking havoc everywhere they go."
And another, maybe two.
"I could have closed the Gates of Hell. Who cares how messed up I got? I was ready to die for that. Closing the Gates was our job!"
Not only had Sam lost track of how many drinks he'd had, he'd also forgotten how alcohol makes your voice carry.
"You saved me, Dean. Now, what?"