A/N: Not the first story I've written, but the first one I decide to publish anywhere. Feedback and reviews are very much appreciated.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. Kripke does.

Sipping the almost empty bottle of whisky, he slowly rested his head on his free hand, elbows on the wooden table. It was pouring outside and the sound of the raindrops hitting the windows of the dimly lit and messy motel room sounded like the room was being hit with hammers over and over and over again. At least it sounded like that to him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the rain didn't really sound like sludge hammers, but right now he couldn't care less.

All he could think about right now was drowning out the pain. Trying to fix the dents and cracks in his heart – if it hadn't already broken by now – by drowning out the pain, hoping it would all be fine tomorrow.
"Like tomorrow is going to be any better," he whispered to himself, words slurred together, as there was no one else there to listen to him. Loneliness took over his mind and he felt his eyes stinging with unshed tears. Tears he would never shed with anybody else around. But now there was no one there, no one to talk him through the pain, no one to take the bottle from his hand and tell him to stop drinking and go to bed. And then there was no one to wake up to the next morning, only a new hangover to keep his mind busy.

So he let the tears run freely over his burning cheeks.

So where were those two shiny eyes that used to look up at him with so much love and adoration, when he needed them? Why did they ever walk out of that door, furious and hurt, misunderstood and upset? Why didn't he try harder to stop them, to stop him? If he had, his little brother might still be there with him. If he'd only tried harder to keep him close he wouldn't feel like he did, they both wouldn't be feeling the feelings they were feeling now. Assuming that Sammy him too, the way he missed him.

But what if he didn't miss him at all? What if Sammy had completely forgotten about him, moved on, and was extremely happy living this new life of his? What if he was gone for good?

Drunk, he took the last sip of whisky left in the bottle and put it on the table. His vision was blurred and he couldn't even really think straight anymore, but unfortunately, the alcohol didn't manage to heal his wounds.