Gone
Sam Winchester / OC
Everything was ringing. It was too bright. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Why weren't they noticing? Why weren't they crying, screaming, collapsing onto the floor? Like she was. The room was spinning. A text. That's all she got. A fucking text. One sentence. Two words.
He's gone.
She didn't need any time to think. She didn't even need to breathe before the sobs came. It had never been so challenging just to be before. She had never felt just how crushing a silence could be. It was heartbreaking to even hear herself. She knew the angels were watching. Silently judging or empathizing, she didn't know. None came to visit or send their condolences.
Sam fucking Winchester. He was Sam fucking Winchester. The Winchester's don't die. They can't die. Death was even on their side. She didn't blame Dean for not coming. She couldn't even fathom what he was feeling. Where he was going to swallow the grief. A name came to mind. Lisa. Yeah, that sounded right. Dean Winchester would live the apple pie life. He would adopt Ben, mow lawns, and become the first fucking PTA Dad of the Year. She sniffled from her spot on the ground. She couldn't say she didn't resent him a bit. He had someone to go to. He had someone who would lie with him as he fell to pieces on the kitchen floor.
She was never religious, but that didn't mean she didn't pray. She plead till her throat was raw and her heart was cold. No one cared. That's the conclusion she was left with. And it made sense. No one cared that the boy with the demon blood was dead. Why would they? They didn't know about his life. They didn't know about the list of fallen innocents tucked deep away in the side pocket of his shabby pack. They didn't know the way he'd finger his gun when he was nervous, a tick he swore didn't come from his father. They didn't know the laugh that smooshed against her face as she dragged him down to her lips. Or his eyes clouding with tears each night as he relived his girlfriend dying. And his father. And his brother. They didn't know anything at all!
She could honestly feel her heart tearing, ripping, shredding. It felt precise like a bullet, but bloody like a stab. All she could do was lie on this floor. Let the cool, dingy tiles calm her sweltering cheeks. And listen to her cries echo throughout the empty home.
Sam watched from the dark. Every light glared at him from across the street, warranting no shadows to sneak in without him noticing. It didn't matter. He was there. He was there, yet… why? When he looked at this woman, he couldn't feel a thing.