Tears cling to Sams cheeks, a bitter taste climbing up Sams throat. He can't take it, he asked Dean for the truth, not fucking lies. "Dean, y—you're lyin-", "No, Sam, m'not, you just can't handle the truth". Deans eyes flicker from his baby brothers face to his feet. "D'ya want me to repeat myself?" Dean mumbles, gulping down the lump in his throat and he's sure Sam's nodding. "I don't love you…" Dean says again and Sam finally lets out a defeated sob, his body going limp against the motel wall.
When Sam leaves, Dean devours himself in cheap whiskey at some crappy bar down the road from the motel they were staying at. After the nineth shot, Dean's beyond caring and then before he knows it, he's being dragged into the bathroom by some girl that has way to much make up and a voice that sound's like a cat on heluim. .
Mixtures of 'Harder' and 'faster' echo through the empty bathroom and then Dean's coming, gripping hard at the girls waist and the girl shudders around him, biting down on her plump lips. When the girl finally decides to tug her skirt down and leave, she gets out the cubicle and runs a hand through her hair, leaving Dean to zips himself up.
Dean doesn't bother looking at his phone, doesn't bother checking the ten missed calls he has from Sam. He staggers out the bathroom, clutching at the wall until he's outside before he collapses, grunting in pain. "son of bitch!" He grunts before hearing a low voice say his name and then everything turns black.