Chapter 6

"Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim."

Vicki Harrison

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April 3rd, 2021

Dear Dean:

The last few letters seemed to tell that I was a little happier and things would only get better from now on. I chose to start a new life, since I had no other choice but to accept things would not be the way they used to anymore. The only mission I have left to do on this planet is to keep fighting without you. There is no more big bad enemies to fight against. No more apocalyptic world people to rescue or archangels to kill.

Hunting is out of the question. You and I both know that there are other hunters that can easily take care of those monsters. I am sure they are going to keep saving people for as long as this world keeps spinning around the sun.

I have no one to watch my back as I would like to, nor no one left to die for, anyways. I know you would understand what I am trying to say. I'm alone. I feel so freaking alone. My foolish soul thought that I wouldn't feel this low ever again. Especially after so many aspects of my life changing for the better.

Thinking about these things feel like a punch to my stomach most of the time. I can't breathe, and every time I try to get up, life kicks me in the guts again, until I'm curled up on the ground, with no will to get back up.

I'm trying to be healthy again, in every sense of the word. I gained at least half the weight I lost during the past couple months, and the nasty flu is gone.

When Erik gave me the okay to start working at the garage with him, I decided I wouldn't drink anymore. Not a single drop of whiskey or Vodka. The heavier drinks to digest without feeling like crap the next morning, you know?

Being wasted was not going to make me look good in front of my boss, or even help me cope with you being away. It's just something I used and abused of for a while, before leaving Kansas.

Today's Saturday, and Zac, the new guy, works at the garage during the weekend now. I would work every single day, even during Sundays, when Erik trusted me enough to let me borrow the keys to open the shop by myself, and close it once I finished fixing that old Mustang that should be retired already.

Today, I woke up feeling numb, but wanting to yell and break everything surrounding me at the same time. Honestly, I can't say I slept. Not even a little.

I just closed my eyes and shifted in bed for hours. I wanted to sleep, but my mind wouldn't let me. All I could think about was you.

All the good times we shared together. I don't want to leave those memories behind.

Dean, I'm afraid. I don't wanna forget the sound of your voice saying my name, or the loud way you brushed your teeth in the mornings, while being on our way to our hunting trips.

When I gave up trying to fall asleep, I made myself some coffee, fed Miracle, and took him for a walk so he could go pottie.

Needless to say, I am not proud of what I did to myself today. I read this quote, that basically says grief comes in waves. Sometimes, the waves are calm and you can stand on your feet without being afraid to fall. Other times, the waves can knock you out.

Gosh, I hate that word.

GRIEF.

I did not fully hate it until I lost you.

Earlier this morning, I drove Baby to the nearest bar I could find. It has a weird name I cannot remember now, and the bartender is a cute brunette you would have talked with without a doubt.

She saw my sleepless face and puffy red eyes, and without saying a single word, told me that the expensive shots of whiskey we drank whenever we could afford it were on the house.

She must have met many people like that. I don't know why she cared about me, but I was too drunk to properly thank her for the kind gesture.

All I can remember is drinking more than I should have, and then, I woke up lying on the grass, in some random street near the bar, somewhere where I have never been to. The sun was already losing the fight, starting to hide behind the moon when I drove the Impala towards the cabin.

Miracle was excited to see me. I rubbed his belly for a couple seconds before I sat in bed, shaking and feeling sick.

I was sweaty, and If I had been near the kitchen, I could have started a fire just by exhaling in this tiny space with the gas turned on. I need to move somewhere where I can see people walking by, just by opening the windows in the early morning.

As soon as I can reunite the money to afford a tiny house with a backyard for little Miracle, I will take everything we own and run.

Will it really help me? Will I always do the same thing for the rest of my life? I cannot run away from this reality forever. Maybe, when I can think clearer, I will find the answer to that question.

Soon after coming back to the cabin, I barely made my way to the bathroom, trying not to puke onto the floor I had just cleaned two days before.

I must have knelt there for longer than I thought, because when I was able to see the hour, it was eight PM.

Miracle was hungry. I was hungry as well, but I knew better than eating the salad inside the fridge. My stomach is still upset.

After a long bath, and a clearer head, I fed the little guy, waited for him to pee on a couple of trees, and headed to bed. Lying down felt good. It didn't help to calm my thoughts, though.

I concluded that when I talked to Charlie and mom about accepting this life, I was not seeing the full picture. I don't miss hunting monsters, nor the life we had to live. Even if Chuck was the one writing our story back then, what I miss the most is the journey we went through together. We leaned on each other's company through master plans, deaths of family and friends, and those unforgettable long car rides with you behind the wheel.

All that ever mattered was the journey, not the destination. You and me against the world.

We saved people in the process, and I'm still happy for that.

Erik told me there are two moments in your life that are eye opening. The first one is when you are born, and the second one is when you find out the reason why you exist.

You, Dean, were born to be loved and save people. I don't like to analyze myself, but I guess I was born to be your pain in the ass little brother, and to carry every single lesson you taught me without saying a single word within me for the rest of my life.

You taught me how being strong feels like, even after you were gone. I'm so proud of you, Dean.

Sorry for the long letter, Dean. You hated reading. In my mind, I can picture you rolling your eyes while reading this girly letter.

I'm too tired and still feeling a little sick. Gonna try to sleep for a couple hours.

Have fun, wherever you are. Remember to stay out of trouble.

Sammy.

Author's Note: Hey guys! I couldn't sleep because I'm missing my dad more than ever. Yes, I cried a lot, and decided to pour all these feelings into the chapter.

I thought this chapter would be happier, but the quote is true. Grief is a b*tch.

The quotes Erik and Sam talked about are special to me. I read them on internet, and at the very last minute, decided to include them to the chapter. Hope it matches with the story.

If you have a minute, please, leave a review or suggestion. I really need them these days. The way I see it, it is a way to express love, and I'm very grateful for all of you guys.

I think the next letter will be written on Sam's birthday. I am still thinking about it, though. Someone suggested me that wanted Sam to go to the beach, and it sounded like a great idea! Miracle will go with Sam, too. That's a promise.

See ya in a couple days! Love you!