Spoilers? Season Three finale. That's pretty much it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural; that's all on Kripke, bby. And the WB/CW.
The only thing I own is my dignity, and look at how I treat that. :/
Word Count: 100.
A/N: Decided to write a small drabble about how Sam felt after Dean died. This is what happened.
DAMNIT, I love drabbling so much; it's like crack, guys. WHAT THE HELL.
Summary: Describe losing yourself in one hundred words or less. Go. --Post Season Three--
Aftermath
For one straight month, you can't breathe. Air just catches in your throat, and it comes back out in sporadic bursts of wasted oxygen.
You find yourself wearing his shirts, to try to feel whole again. It never quite seems to work, and you know that if he saw you this way he'd probably make a stalker/chick-flick/girl joke and look at you with one eyebrow raised.
And the fact that he's not here to do so makes bile rise in your throat. Or maybe that's the alcohol.
But either way it doesn't matter. Dean is gone, and so are you.