Dean stared down at the blank page before him, his eyes hoping it would burst into flames before he even put the tip of his pen upon it. The ex-hunter hissed and tossed his pen aside, Dean reaching for the half empty bottle of Jack instead.

This is a bad idea, Dean thought as he took a long swig, his eyes squeezing shut. Why did Lisa even think this would work?

Lisa had bought Dean a journal. Yep, one hundred pages, college-ruled and all. All right, in all fairness, Dean knew he was messed up—okay, really, really, really, messed up. However, Dean had found his muse with alcohol—like normal. But...this wasn't his quote-on-quote 'normal,' binge drinking, and he knew that.

Dean drank until he passed out, then he'd wake back up (usually with the help of Lisa, and—God—sometimes Ben) and then do it all over again. He'd pick fights with random people on the street, usually hammered at the time, and leave Lisa and Ben worried he would never return—if not totally, partially.

Lisa had finally had enough. Yes, Sam was gone. No, she had no idea what had happened but she knew that it was cosmic…Sam had to be dead. He couldn't be alive because Dean wouldn't be here with her now if he was. Sam was dead—dead for a couple of weeks now—and Dean somehow felt responsible.

Lisa sympathized with Dean, babied him even. But, for the sake of her son, she could not take the insecurities and fear anymore. So, she gave Dean a choice: write down his woes, or leave.

Dean had nowhere else to go. So, when Lisa handed him the materials needed, he reluctantly accepted the plastic bag filled with pens, pencils, generic paperback journals, and one good-sized leather journal even his father would have been proud of.

"Dean," Lisa had said as the broken man took her offering, her brown eyes sympathetic. Dean looked up at her from where he sat, his green eyes hollow. Lisa sighed wearily, the beauty taking Dean's haggard face in her primped hands. "Things will get better," she promised him as she pressed her lips to his forehead.

Better, Dean had thought stiffly—lifelessly. How can things possibly get better when the sole reason for your existence is ripped away from you? The press of two of Lisa's fingers against his forehead shocked Dean away from his morbid thoughts, the hunter thinking immediately of Castiel.

There was another story…Where was he? Where did Cas go?

"Stop thinking," Lisa told Dean, dipping into her 'mother tone,' "Start writing." She smiled at him gently as Dean huffed in reluctance, the ex-hunter shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"I'm taking Ben to the park, so that should give you a few hours to yourself…If you need me, call me. 'Kay?"

Dean then watched as Lisa grabbed her purse from its place upon the couch, the woman dragging her hand through her long tresses. She pulled out her car keys as she walked to the door, Ben trailing behind her reluctantly—he didn't want to go to some crummy park!

"Do you have that with you?" Dean asked with some late spark back in his voice. Lisa stilled, the woman looking back at her grieving boyfriend.

That referring to the hand-gun Dean had given her.

Ben looked up at his mom confused, then at Dean's blank face.

Lisa nodded at Dean, her lips thin-lined, before ushering out her son and closing the door behind them.

Dean put down his alcohol and let out a long sigh, carding his fingers through his hair like Sam would.

Great, everything reminds him of Sammy. Literally everything.

"Gah, let's get this over with!" Dean grunted and grabbed another pen, the man almost breaking it in half with the unnecessarily tight grip. He pressed the pen to the paper and just let go:

Dear Sammy,

Yeah, before I write anything else, let me just say this: This is all Lisa's idea and I miss you. God, Sam, I miss you so much. Not three sentences in and Dean already had to stop, the shaking of his hand making it hard to write. His eyes stung and he blinked away the tears, letting out a tired sound from the back of his throat.

"C'mon, Dammit," Dean grunted and forced his hands to stop their shaking. He promised Lisa he would try and dammit he will! He'd already caused them enough grief as it is; no need to add 'funeral arrangements' to the list! This time he really did snap the pen and had to get another one. Good thing Lisa had bought a twelve pack!

...I know that I have no right to do this, Sammy. This is all my fault. I should have never let you do it. It's my fault that you're now in Hell. I will burn for this, forever. I hope I do, it's what I deserve... Dean begins to write about Lucifer, the cage, and the Apocalypse, but thinks better of it. Lisa or Ben could read it…He tears it out and starts all over again.

Sam, I'm so lost. What do I do? I can't live a civilian life…It's just not my style. I'm trying, I really am, but…it's just not right. I need you, Sammy. I need you here. Sam. Sammy—Dean just writes his brother's name a few more times.

I'm working on getting you out, I swear, Dean wrote rather harshly as if bullying the paper to believe his words as well. Cas has yet to speak to me yet, and I pray all the time, but he will. He will, and he'll come get you. If he can't, I will. I swear it. I don't know how—hell, I don't even know if that's even possible, but I will get you out one way or another!

Sam, I know how it is Down There. I lasted…a while. God, Sam. Sammy I need you to fight, you got that? You beat that son of a bitch before, you can do it again. I'll save you, I promise.

Hold on,

Dean

A/N: Set before season 6 obviously, ahaha. I had a dream about this last night and I wrote this all down in one sitting…Sheesh. Idk if it's very original but it was fun, and terribly depressing…

Continue? Yay, nay? Comment please? :)

Best wishes as always,

Lthien