Hi ! Here is a translation of one of my french OS. My first translation actually. Please, don't be too harsh on me. x)

Thank you to NoilyPrat for her help !

Direct sequel to the finale conversation between Sam and Dean.

Disclaimer : The characters belong to the CW.

He grit his teeth as he looked at his brother moving away. He grit so much his jaw hurts. Sam was right, as always. And his last words still echoed in his head. They hit, bumped, smashed his brain. He was exhausted. Very quiet in appearance. But the anger was growing inside him.

Lost, he took some steps, walked in place. He didn't know what to do with his body any more. His crucial need to fix the Impala was now gone, losing its appeal. He just stood by, looking at his dearest car. His eyes drifted and landed on a steel bar. He came to it, like a automaton. His rage was rising. It swelled in his throat; he could feel it, taking his breath away. Slowly, he reached his hand to grab the cold object of metal. He no longer thought about anything. His fury was rumbled and needed nothing more than a little push to shed. His nerves were on edge : he was shaking from head to toe. Noticing the wrecked car standing before him, he raised his arm then stroked. The lock had just blew up. The barrage was now open.

The window exploded. This first move made him feel better. But not enough. Not really. The pain in his throat was still here and it strangled him. He turned his head and looked at the Impala. Right now, she was nothing more than John's legacy. And he couldn't help but hate her. The window reflected his dark and unresponsive face. A huge disgust rise into him. He felt nothing but repugnance and repulsion for its reflection, this loser looking back at him, this bastard for whom his father sacrificed himself. His breathing started to speed up. He didn't have enough air. So, he let it go and let the violence have the answer.

He struck. Again. And again. He struck and yelled. He struck with all his strength. He struck until his shoulders hurt. He struck until he was breathless. He struck. And he distorted the trunk.

This explosion left him dead beat. He was too feeble to keep the metal bar in his hand and dropped it. He took a look at the scrapyard, exhausted, hoping to see a familiar figure. Maybe Sammy, or Bobby saw him. Maybe one of them witnessed his confession. Maybe one of them saw his silent avowal and will come to appease him.

But the place stayed remote. The only witnesses of his weakness were the many car bodies filling the dump . He painfully swallowed. He still had a lump in his throat. And suddenly, he felt so ashamed. His part was to be the strong one right ? He shouldn't break down. He was the guardian of this family. He could't afford to be weak, he had no right to. The man in the mirror looked accusingly at him. Sammy and Bobby weren't here to play the nanny for him. What ? Did he want to be dragged by them ?

He looked down, humiliated. And failed. One tear. Just one. It flowed slowly along his cheek and died at the corner of his mouth.

It was the final stage. The last one. Anger, rage, sorrow. Everything was gone. Everything came out.

He was drained now.

I am sure some mistakes remain despite I tried very hard to translate this OS properly. If you find them, please let me know. It's the best way to improve myself. :)