Sam plunked down on the bed head first, too tired to even move.
Exhaustion screamed at him from every limb, muscle, and joint in his body.
He closed his eyes and sighed, too weary to even take his shoes off.
If only sleep would come.
He hadn't told Dean that he was running on six, maybe seven hours total, in the last three days.
Looking over at Dean, sleeping like a baby on the other bed, Sam wondered where he had gone wrong.
Sam silently prayed for sleep, and really meant it, yet no one was listening to him it seemed.
He was supposed to be the good boy, the one who always prayed…who believed.
"God works in mysterious ways," Sam had told Dean after his first visit from the angel.
"It was a test of faith," in his opinion.
God was putting Dean to the test.
He deserved it as much as anyone, he told Dean.
Yet as he lay here, in the dark, Sam wondered why God had chosen Dean over him.
Little did he know that his true test of faith was yet to come…