Drowning the Sorrows

Disclaimer : As before, don't own the boys, Supernatural or anything like that, that all goes to Eric Kripe…lucky man =P

Dean woke with a start and had the sudden feeling that something was missing. He turned to face the bed by the window and found the source of his confusion. Or rather didn't find it. Dear God, Sammy, where are you now? He heard noises from the bathroom and grimaced in sympathy as he heard his said little brother praying to the porcelain god. He frowned as he racked his brain for a reason why his little brother would let himself get so drunk, his eyes starting to give in to sleep.

1 HOUR EARLIER

"Another beer, please." The man asked the barmaid, glancing about to check Dean wasn't in the nearby vicinity and pulled out some money.

"Don't you think you've had enough, sweetie?" she asked gently, looking down at the four bottles scattered around the young man.

He sighed in annoyance, "Can I just have another beer, please?"

The barmaid nodded and went behind the bar to grab another beer and approached her customer who was staring at the table as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. Poor kid. Looks broken. She sighed as she placed the beer beside him and pulled the cap off for him. He grunted his thanks as a piece of paper caught her eye. She looked closer and saw the boy wrapping his arms around a beautiful blonde girl and they were both grinning at the camera in front of an apartment. She sighed again and stood up when she realised she was being watched by another man, maybe a little older than the other one. He was wearing a leather jacket and had freckles scattered on his face. She walked over and introduced herself, "Hey, I'm Cath. You know that kid?"

"Yeah, he's my little brother. How many has he had?" The older man demanded.

"That's his fifth now. He's just sitting there, staring at that photo-"

"Photo? Was it of a blonde girl with curly hair?" he interrupted.

"Yeah," she frowned as the man swore and cautiously made his way over to the younger man and gently placed his hand on his shoulder. "Sammy?"

The younger man looked up at his brother and murmured, "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me, Sammy. Come on, kiddo; let's get you back to the motel…Sam?"

Sam looked back down at the table, "Today was supposed to be a good day," he muttered angrily. "An important day."

"Sammy? What's wrong?" Dean asked quietly. "You hardly ever drink-"

"I'm not drunk." Sam stated. "I just wanted to forget, it's better that way."

"Forget what?"

"I was gonna propose to Jess today. I was gonna do it exactly a week after the exams, but then I had the ring and everything.." Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, smiling sadly at it. He shoved it at Dean whispered, "I don't want it anymore, she can't exactly wear it, can she? I meant to give it to her – if there'd been a body, I'd have – I would have put it on her-" he stopped as a tear fell down his face.

Dean glanced around the not very crowded bar and Cath pretended she was reading the alcohol list. She felt guilty for eavesdropping and was shocked at the boy with the dark brown locks revelation. His girlfriend died a week ago. No wonder he looks so broken. Poor thing.

Dean moved in closer to Sam and muttered in a barely audible voice, "I'm so sorry, Sammy. I never knew…come on Sasquatch, let's get you outta here." And he hoisted the younger man out of the bar, smiling faintly at Cath.

PRESENT

Sam crept out the bathroom and managed not to alert Dean's attention – well, that was untilhe tripped over Dean's duffel bag and landed on the floor.

Dean sat up, "Whassamatta?" he rubbed his eyes and looked down to see his younger brother sprawled and fighting sleep on the floor. "Sammy? What the friggin' hell are you doin' down there?"

Sam shrugged and looked up, "I don't feel so good…"

Dean sighed, "Come on, let's get you back to bed," He dragged Sam off the floor, put him on the bed and tucked him in. Sam had fallen asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. Dean smiled. He's gonna have one helluva hangover in the mornin'. He got into his own bed and called out, "G'night, Sammy."

His only reply was a soft snore.

THE END.