Chapter 4 – the Roadhouse

Ellen looked up as the door slammed shut. Dean walked in, looking the complete opposite of everything around him. Everyone there was laughing and smiling, some were even singing and dancing. The room was filled with lights and decorations while Christmas music blared. But the sight of Dean made Ellen's jaw drop, and caused Jo to pause mid-stride. His clothes were torn and covered in mud, and his palms and knees were a bloody mess, but it was his face that stood out the most. Ellen had never seen a more sorrowful face. Dirty and tear streaked, he looked as though someone had ripped his heart out. His eyes were dull and hopeless, and he was pale and drawn, as though he himself had become one of the spirits he hunted. He walked slowly to the bar, not even looking up when he bumped into anyone, not that they were sober enough to notice. He slumped heavily on a stool, and Jo rushed over. Ellen was the first to speak.

"Jesus Dean, what happened?"

Dean shook his head, blinking rapidly, then took a shuddering breath.

"It's Sam... he... he, uh..." Dean had to stop. He just couldn't say it out loud.

"What about Sam? Did he get hurt?"

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"It's really that bad?" Jo asked.

Dean just looked at them, then nodded again. Jo dropped her tray, the glasses shattering on the floor. Ellen paused in the middle of reaching for a bottle. They both knew that look. It was the same look Ellen had given Jo as she tried to explain that her father was dead.

"Oh my god." Jo put her hand to her face and fell onto a stool beside Dean. "Oh my god. Dean, I'm so sorry." Jo laid a hand on his shoulder and she, too, started to cry.

Ellen leaned on the counter. This shouldn't happen. Life was hard enough for hunters without shit like this happening, and so soon after losing his father too. It seemed some people were destined to sacrifice everything. She placed a glass in front of Dean. He hadn't seen what she put in it, but chances were it was some sort of alcohol. He looked at it blankly and began slowly spinning the glass with one hand.

"I'll go get you a room," Ellen said quietly. Jo shakily began cleaning up the shattered glass at her feet, and Dean continued spinning the glass.

Hours later, Dean stumbled into his room, to tired and drunk to do anything more than kick off his shoes before collapsing into bed and passing out.