Prequel to Dark Side of the Moon. Eh, this isn't my best work. I guess I just wanted someone else to write why there were so many empty bottles that morning. No one did, so here's my version. I'd love to read someone else's though!

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They had left Bobby's earlier that morning. They wanted to be there for Bobby after losing his wife again, but Bobby just wanted to be alone. Adhering to his wishes, they reluctantly left. It was now 7pm and Sam and Dean were in another town, in another diner.

"She was nice." Dean said quietly as he ate his pie.

Sam looked up; he had been lost in his own thoughts about the last few days. "Yeah, she was. Bobby really loved her, you can tell."

Dean sighed, he didn't really want to talk about this but he couldn't help himself. It was Bobby, you know? "Do you think he's gonna be okay?"

"I really don't know. He needs time. I know what it's like to lose someone you love, but to lose them twice… I can't even imagine." Sam picked up his mug of now-cold coffee and sipped.

"He just… he seemed so… broken, I guess." Dean took a deep breath and pushed his half-eaten pie away. "I need a drink, how about you?"

Sam smiled a sad smile and nodded his head. "There's a liquor store in the strip mall across from the motel, right?"

"Sounds like a plan Sammy, let's go." Dean pulled a few bills from his wallet and threw them on the table before leaving.

When they walked into the liquor store, Sam went left and Dean went right. They met in the front by the cashier. Dean held a bottle of whiskey and a bag of chips while Sam had a case of beer under his arm.

"Hmph" Dean smirked. "Guess we're drinkin' tonight!"

"Guess so", sighed Sam.

Two hours later…
"Dude, use a glass! I don't need your germs." Sam slurred as Dean took a large swig straight from the bottle of whiskey.

"Sorry Sammy, I'm past that. Besides, I don't have germs. Even if I did they'd be handsome germs!"

Sam spit his beer all over the ugly, brown bedspread. "Handsome germs? Dude you are so wasted!"

"Yeah, so. So are you." Dean laughed.

Sam nodded his head sloppily. "Uh, yeah. I guess I am." Sam jumped to his feet with the intention of heading to the bathroom. Instead, he face-planted right onto the floor in front of Dean's bed.

Dean clumsily crawled to the foot of his bed and looked down at his drunk brother. "You 'k, Sammy? Took a bit of a tumble there." Dean leaned forward a bit more to see if Sam was even awake, and promptly fell forward over Sam and onto the floor by the dresser. "Whoa!"

"Dean? Whataya doin' on the floor? Wait…, what'm I doin' on the floor?" Sam laughed, not sure why at this moment, there was nothing funnier than their current situation.

Dean started laughing along with Sam. He sloppily patted Sam on the head and tried to right himself before attempting to get up off the dirty motel carpet. "Help me here bro."

"Help you? Who's gonna help me? I'm ontha floor too ya know." Sam got to his hands and knees and grasped the foot of Dean's bed attempting to pull himself up. Swaying, he finally got to his feet. Sam held out his hand to Dean who was still lying on his back, laughing up at the ceiling.

"Dude you are sooooo tall! Sasquatch, I tell ya!" Dean laughed.

Sam hiccupped, "fine. You stay there. I'm gonna go to tha bathr'm."

"Don't fall in!" Dean still hadn't moved from his position on the floor.

After finishing his business, Sam held onto the wall as he headed out of the bathroom. He nearly tripped over Dean. "C'mere. Lemme help you up." Sam said, stumbling.

Dean grabbed Sam's hand and tried to pick his heavy body off the floor. "Room's spinnin' Sam, just help me up!"

They managed to get Dean onto Sam's bed, so Sam took Dean's. They fell asleep, forgetting their usual protection rituals. They were so hung-over that they didn't hear the two masked hunters enter the room the following morning…