Two days.
Sam had been gone for two days and it was already messing with his head.
He had been hunting with his Dad for a long time now, and never once had he made a mistake like this one.
Dean didn't make mistakes. Not on the hunt.
Ever.
"Dean relax, we can go back tomorrow and finish it." John was sympathetic.
"Your head isn't in the game, I know you have your brother on your mind."
"Yea, well Sammy's gone Dad, for good. And… this is how it's gonna be, so… I need to snap out of it."
Dean's heart was pounding, his grief inconsolable. He had watched over Sam for the last eighteen years and was lost without his baby brother at his side.
"I'm going out. I need to take a walk. Clear my head. Or something."
John knew better than to interfere, for he knew the pain of losing someone.
Sam wasn't dead, but John knew that pain Dean had inside was fierce and unrelenting.
Dean slammed the motel room door on his way out and sighed.
He hoped Sam wasn't gone for good, but in his gut he knew it was true.
He'd lost the one thing that was constant in his life and it hurt. Damn did it hurt.
All Dean wanted was to make the pain go away, and there was only one way he could do that.