Supernatural: Endgame
Chapter 26
The Impala sat in the garage next to the cars that had been in the bunker when the Winchesters had found it three years ago. She fit right alongside the others, vehicles that men would fawn over and call "classics", "mint condition". They hadn't left their home in over 40 years. They shone brightly in the overhead fluorescent lights. The dust they had accumulated during their long hibernation had been kept away in the last few years by the loving hand of Dean. Sure, they weren't Baby. But they had been someone's Baby, he had reasoned. Sam turned away from the shining black car that had been home to him so many times over the last decade of his life.
He blinked back nostalgia, turned off the light, and made his way back to the library where his duffel sat waiting for him. He paused as he passed the room that had belonged to his brother. He stared straight ahead, fighting the urge to open the door, knowing what he'd find wouldn't do anything for him in the long run. The family photos, the flannels thrown haphazardly about, yet the bed meticulously made. None of that mattered anymore. He had made as much peace with his brother's death as he was going to make during the previous night and into the morning, watching the pyre settle down to coals, and eventually smoking ash. He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and kept walking until he reached the library.
His eyes landed on his dad's journal, sitting on the table amidst a jumble of old lore books and Men of Letters documents. He ran his fingers over the well-worn leather, casting one last look around the room. Memories flew at him, but he closed his eyes and fought them off. If he let them in, the grief would overtake him, and he'd wind up useless on the floor, unable to drag himself back up to do what he needed to.
His bag sat on the floor by his feet. On top of it lay the Codex. He picked it up, and gently set it on the table next to the other lore books, resting his hand on the cover for a moment.
A few minutes later he was standing in the bright sunshine outside, the door locked behind him. He slipped the key into his pocket, hefted his bag onto his shoulder, and headed off down a slightly worn trail through the woods. It was a short fifteen minute walk to the lake. It was blissfully calm here. No wind rustled through the trees, and the water sat still and quiet. But Sam didn't waste time gazing at the scenery. He simply pulled the key from his jacket, tossed it once in his hand. He clenched his jaw, reared back, and threw it as far as he could into the water. It made a pathetically small splashing noise, and all too quickly the lake was glass-calm again. No sign it had even been disturbed.
Halfway through his trek back through the woods, his phone buzzed. He reached into his pocket to retrieve it, and was greeted by an image of Cas, grinning from ear to ear. Sam gave a soft half smile at the memory of the former angel and his excitement over the fact that he could set pictures of his friends to show up whenever they called him, and vice versa. It had been hours since Abigail had said her goodbyes and left for Heaven, and Cas and Cora had set off for Michigan, where a friend of the latter had offered them a place to stay for a while. Sam had shut the trunk of the small blue compact, and amidst the hugs and smiles had said politely "I'll give you a call as soon as I'm on the road". He steeled himself one last time, and dropped the phone to the leaf-strewn ground as he left the woods.
On the 45 minute walk to the bus station, Sam let his mind wander anywhere but to Dean. He allowed the warming afternoon air clear his head as he contemplated his future, what he would do, where he would go. In truth, the answer was whatever and wherever he wanted. He had spent the past ten years of his life with monsters and evil dictating his fate, but now he was free to make whatever choice he wished. And he was damned proud of that. Proud of what he and his brother had accomplished, with the help of a few friends. Hell was closed up tight, the monsters gone. He never had to hunt again.
Which brought his train of thought back to the beginning: what was he going to do?
He didn't know the answer to that question, but he knew where to start as he walked up to the bus station counter and asked for a one way ticket to California.