This fanfic was inspired by the song "Blind" by Placebo, and the lyrics are dispersed throughout. I wrote this all at midnight, so please point out any mistakes I made. I hope you enjoy this, because it was a very emotional thing to write.

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If I could tear you from the ceiling,
And guarantee a source divine,
Rid you off possessions fleeting,
Remain your funny valentine.

Don't go and leave me,
And please don't drive me blind,
Don't go and leave me,
And please don't drive me blind.

Sam looked down at his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time, only to see that the minute hand had barely circled. It had been five minutes since he had begun unpacking his things in the hotel room, but it felt like had been at it for hours. It was a routine chore, and he tried to drag it out as long as possible, tried to keep his mind carefully controlled so as not to let free any unsafe thoughts. The only way to stay sane was to forget. Forget that he wasn't in his apartment. Forget that it was Dean beside him instead of Jess. Forget that he had just came back from his burning apartment. Forget that he had just come from answering questions to the police. Forget that he wasn't going to see Jessica again. Forget that it was his fault.

"Sam?" Dean's voice brought Sam back to his reality, and he jumped, surprised.

Dean held his hands head height, noting Sam's reaction. "Sorry." He gave Sam one of those looks that said he knew what Sam was thinking, and cleared his throat. "Look, I need to pick up some things. You good here?"

Why wouldn't I be? Because my girlfriend just died? Because I could have stopped it? "Fine." Sam gave Dean a brief look, knowing that it didn't matter whether he wore his patented "puppy-dog" look or not, because there was no lying to Dean or himself as to how he was really doing. "Go ahead."

Dean seemed to hesitate, as if Sam was made of glass and the wrong word or move would make him shatter. And I just might, Sam admitted to himself, whether you push me or not.

"Look man… if your not" –

"I said I'm fine." Sam's voice went a little louder than he intended, and he looked away, sighing. "Look, I… I'm sorry." Sam knew he was pleading, that he was close to snapping. "Just go. Please."

Another sad look was whipped across Sam's face like a sandstorm, and he could practically feel all the unwanted pity washing across him, making him feel even worse. Dean eventually seemed to come to the conclusion that Sam needed his alone time, and he nodded. "I have my cell," he said softly before walking past Sam to leave, shooting concerned glances every which-way as he went. "Call me if you need me."

Sam thought he nodded in reply, although he wasn't sure. He just stood there, back to the door, arms hanging limply at his sides, waiting. It wasn't hard to tell what he was waiting for, what with his cheeks still damp with tears and his coat still covered in soot. He was waiting for the breakdown. The real one. The one that would leave him gasping for air and ready to jump off of any available surface, the one that would take years to heal and would leave a permanent hole in his heart forever.


If I could tear you from the ceiling,
I know the best have tried,
I'd fill your every breath with meaning,
And find a place we both could hide.

Don't go and leave me,
And please don't drive me blind,
Don't go and leave me,
And please don't drive me blind.

Sam felt his hands shaking, and he looked away from the old wallpaper in the hotel room, from the stupid rickety beds and the four walls that were threatening to suffocate him. He had to get out. Had to get home. It was like a magnet in his being, drawing him away from this place. It wasn't fair. He had worked himself to the bone to get this life, to get Jess. And now she was gone. The most beautiful, intelligent, loving, funny, selfless, innocent woman he had ever known was dead because of him. He had never deserved her. Never. But she picked him for some stupid reason, bringing on her own death. He was going to give up everything to be with her, but he slipped up. He should have told her the truth. Shouldn't have gone on the hunt with Dean. Should have believed the dreams. Shouldn't have let her be around him. Should have known what he was. A deathtrap. Sam Winchester the Deathtrap. In a sick way it had a nice ring to it, as if he was meant to bring on all this destruction and death. Jess. Jess was dead. There was no getting her back, ever. No matter what he did, ever, it would never erase what he caused.


You don't believe me, but you do this every time,
Please don't drive me blind.
Please don't drive me blind…

Sam's hand inched towards his pocket, feeling for his phone. He was beginning to shake so badly that they weren't working right, but he eventually made his fingers go to his voicemail, clicking the DOWN button until the one he wanted came on. Greedily, he held it to his ear.

"Hey it's me. It's about ten-twenty Friday night, and"–

Oh god.

The phone slipped from Sam's hand at the sound of her voice, and it hit the carpet with a dull thud. His hand hovered in the air for a moment, still by his ear, as the breakdown began to come. He could feel it, knowing that he couldn't handle what was coming but still perversely glad that he would have to suffer for this. It was his fault

"…And I know that you left in kind of a hurry, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay and all. I hope everything is going alright and that you find your dad…"

Sam could still hear her voice, softly muffled by the carpet and the distance between him and the phone. He felt his chest moving faster, moving him closer into breakdown mode, and he couldn't stop it. At the same time, he wanted to stomp on the phone and make it stop, to make the beautiful voice on the phone stop along with the ugly ones in his head and pretend that it wasn't tearing him up inside. But he also wanted to listen, to close his eyes and pretend that she was there beside him, talking into his neck as he pulled her into a big hug, her hair against his cheek smelling like vanilla and flowers. He wanted to hear her laugh again.

"I'll call you later. So… Come home soon, okay? I love you."

The line went dead, and Sam wasn't sure whether it was that realization or the words that had ended it that made his heart drop like a bullet. "I love you." Jess's voice echoed in his head, accompanied by the image of her there, helpless on the ceiling. Don't love me… Sam felt his throat tightening, his chest heaving with the first sob as he dropped to his knees, retrieving the phone with obsessive speed and pressing REPEAT. Don't love me… I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't mean it to happen. I should have told you the truth… I should have…


I know we're broken,
I know we're broken,
I know we're broken.

Sam lost count of how many times he repeated the message, as everything had become a blur since he pressed SPEAKERPHONE and had sunk down to the floor permanently. He was now vaguely aware that his back was to the wall, head resting against the knees drawn up to his chest. One hand was on his face, but whether to catch the tears or hide himself from the world he didn't care, and the other was on the ground, his thumb poised over the REPEAT button so that he could press it whenever the message ended.

"Come home soon, okay? I love you."

Chest heaving from the force of his sobs, Sam pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to drown out the noise of Jess's voice. He couldn't stand it, but for some reason he was addicted to the sound of her voice, to the illusion that she was still alive and real.

I'm sorry Jess… I'm home now. I came home. Don't do this to me. Don't go and leave me.

If I could tear you from the ceiling,
I'd freeze us both in time,
Find a brand new way of seeing.
Your eyes forever glued to mine.

Don't go and leave me,
And please don't drive me blind,
Don't go and leave me,
And please don't drive me blind.
Don't go and leave me,
And please don't drive me blind,
Don't go and leave me,
And please don't drive me blind.

"Sam?" Dean's concerned voice alerted Sam to his presence, and he pulled his head from his hands to look up at his big brother with defeat. He hadn't even heard Dean come in, he was so focused on the voicemail.

Sam didn't say anything. He just looked up at his brother with the sad look he knew he was giving, and he didn't care that tears were streaking down his face or that his hand was tightening around the phone defensively. He knew Dean would try to take it away, because it wasn't healthy. But he couldn't leave it.

"Sam…" Dean closed the door softly behind him, walking into the room and kneeling down to Sam's eye level. He looked down to the phone in Sam's hands, and then back up at Sam with genuine concern and pity in his eyes.

Because there was nothing to say, Sam just nodded. Dean would understand. Dean, who had been there his whole life since the day he dragged Sam from his nursery fire. And he was there today too, dragging Sam from his bed to save him from a fire yet again. Dean, who had lost his mother just as Sam had lost Jess. Suddenly, Sam needed his big brother. He needed Dean to make the pain go away, to tell Sam that it was going to be okay. Right now, Sam needed his big brother almost as much as he needed the love of his life that he had lost. And on queue, Dean seemed to read Sam's expression, pulling Sam against his chest and wrapping his arms around him in a big hug. Unable to fight it any more, the waterworks came again, and Dean never once showed that he cared that his favorite leather jacket was getting wet.


I know I broke it,
I know I broke it,
I know I broke it,
I know I broke it.

"I'm sorry Sam…" Dean's voice was soft and muffled by the sound of Sam crying, but it was heard nevertheless. "God, I am so sorry."