disclaimer: i don't own anything.

This is another short chapter. Sorry.

Chapter 3

BRRRRRRRRR!

Mumbling, Sam Winchester reaches sleepily for his cell phone on his bureau.

"Mmh?"

"Sammy?"

This voice makes Sam sit up properly. It's someone whom he hasn't heard from in a year and a half. Not that he doesn't think about them every other second of every day.

"Dad? What's the matter?Are you okay? Is it Dean?"

"How-"

Sam cuts him off, checking the clock on the wall. "3am calls are never good." He gets up out of bed and pads to the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light in his apartment. "So, what's wrong?"

Sam sits on a chair, still for a second before springing up again nervously.

"Sammy. Son-"

Sam recognises the tone. Sympathy. All of his half-formed thoughts and fears, why is his dad ringing him now considering how they left things, where is Dean?, come in a rush overwhelming him.

"Dad, don't say it," he begs, eyes brimming. His heart is pounding.

"I'm sorry Sammy. Dean...Dean...Dean's dead."

Two words, that's all it is. That's all it takes to bring Sam Winchesters world crashing down around his ears. He crys openly, shaking in fear.

"He was alone," John is continuing mournfully, "He died alone."

Sam feels hollow. He knows he should feel something. Grief. Guilt, anger or pain. He should feel something. But he doesn't.

"When?"

"An hour ago Sammy. He died an hour ago, alone and afraid."

"Dean wouldn't have been afraid," Sam insists stubbornly, "Dean isn't scared of anything."

"Sam! Stop it!"

"What? I'm just saying-"

"Well don't just say! I don't have time for this Sam-"

"Oh I am sorry," Sams rising to Johns baiting but he doesn't care. "But I am part of this family!"

Sam hears John growl, "Don't even start me-"

There's silence for a minute. Sams rushing about, jumping into a clean pair of jeans and grabbing his wallet and keys.

"Where is he?" Sam asks finally. He's made a decision. He wants to be with Dean. His big brother. One last time.

He's grabbing a jacket and running out of the door. He's on the landing of his second floor apartment. The lights are dimmed. He's running quickly across the hall with his arms full. The scene blurs as his eyes brim.

It takes only one second. Sam's running. His keys slips and Sam reaches down to pick them. At the top of the stairs, he overbalances. Topples over the edge, scrabbles uselessly for the rail, misses and falls through

the air. He lands with a dull thud and is still. He doesn't hear the soft chuckle of John Winchester over the phone.