I sit in a dimly lit hotel room with the television on in the background. I pay it no attention. Life really sucks right now. My brother Dean is dead. I had watched the hell hounds rip his body to shreds. It had been an awful sight to behold. My brother Sam is off doing God knows what with a demon named Ruby. That had been the end of the line for me. When Sam had decided to hook up with Ruby, both literally and figuratively, that had been my breaking point. Sam made me promise not to tell anyone. So far I had not told a single soul. But I had thought many times about telling Bobby Singer, but he and I are not exactly on speaking terms at the moment.
I am all alone.
Growing up I had always wanted to be alone. I had dreamed of being alone. And now that I was quite all alone, I do not want it anymore. I want my brothers. I want someone. I need it. I need it to help me deal with the shitty life I have been dealt. I do not want the hunter's life anymore. But I do not really seem to have a choice. Once you are in. You are in.
God this sucks.
I take a drag from my cigarette and exhale the smoke. I had never really been a smoker until after Dean died. It seemed like it was my way of coping with his death. And drinking. God, if they knew about the drinking I'm sure an intervention would be staged. I look around my room to see all the discarded bottles. Beer. Wine. Whiskey. Vodka. Gin. You name it, there is probably a bottle of it in my motel room. Hunter's helper it is called. Not that it really does any help.
But I need more.
I grab a cold one from the mini fridge and quickly knock it back. I stare around the messy room. This is what my life has become. A mess. Someone needs to save me from myself because I sure as hell cannot do it. But the chances of that every happening are zero. There is no one who cares. The only person who might possibly care is dead. Sometimes I wonder if I might as well join him to end my misery. But Dean would kill me if I did that.
The thought makes me chuckle darkly.
My phone begins to buzz on my bedside table. I slowly stumble over there, trying not to trip on the bottles. I finally make it over there and I grab my phone. I do not recognize the phone number. So, I pick it up.
"Hello?"
"Abbey? Abbey is that you?"
I stand there in shock. It sounds like Dean's voice. God I have missed his voice. But Dean is dead. He has been for months. I quickly hang up the phone.
I am going to need another drink. Fast.
