Posted: 10/04/2016
Edited: 04/22/2020


When Crowley disappeared, Sam's entire world went silent.

Dean wasn't there to crack some snarky, shitty joke. Castiel wasn't there to misunderstand it. Bobby wasn't there to put them back in line. Everyone was gone – gone – and he couldn't do a single thing about it.

For the first time in his life, Sam Winchester was truly alone.

The hunter stood in the middle of the room, continuously changing directions as if someone was going to jump out. No matter how many times he shifted, the room stayed bare.

It wasn't supposed to go down like this. After they killed Dick, things were supposed to be okay. Sam and Dean were just started to be brothers again, his relationship with Cas nearly rebuilt, and his mind was slowly becoming his again. Within a few short minutes, everything he worked for – everything he clung to – had suddenly crumbled and vanished.

He didn't know what to do. His presence didn't matter to anyone. Even when he ran off to college, he had people counting on his appearance. His professors, classmates, and counselors held him responsible for a multitude of things, and now… he had no one.

Sam needed his family, but Dean and Cas were gone. They wouldn't be coming back. It was all on him now.

His first instinct was to run. Get as far away as he could from everything and never look back. Sam knew Crowley had Kevin – knew there were things left unfinished – but Dean was gone. Castiel was gone. The family business took away every single person he loved and he couldn't live with it anymore.

Every part of him but his heart knew it was wrong, but Sam fled. He left the lab as quickly as his awkwardly long legs let him. He threw himself into the Impala's front seat, told himself not to think about where he was sitting, and drove.

And drove.

And drove.

That was when he hit a dog.

It seemed like no matter where he went, Sam always hurt the things around him. He'd been paying attention to the road – he had – but the animal came out of nowhere. By the time his foot slammed on the brake, it was already too late.

As he carefully carried the injured pet towards the Impala's backseat, he briefly heard Dean's sharp and distinct voice go off about having no dogs in the car. Sam would've laughed if it wasn't the first time he'd heard his brother in—

Days? Weeks? He didn't follow time anymore. He had no idea.

For some reason, it reminded him of the second Twilight movie. The saga didn't fit his genre, but he'd caught it on cable. At the time, it was the only tolerable program on. He remembered throwing his hands up in frustration whenever Bella threw herself towards danger, just so she could briefly hear Edward's monotonous voice in her grief-ridden head.

Looking back, Sam was pretty sure he understood now.

It took him forty minutes to find an animal hospital that was still open. In that time, he hadn't calmed down, but he was so past caring. If he walked outside and threw himself in front of a car, no one would care. Hell, considering all the shit he pulled through his life, it would probably be celebrated.

The feeling didn't go away when he stumbled into the facility, his arms tightly holding onto the canine he hurt. The receptionist seemed to be immediately put off by him, but she still stood up, redirecting him into one of the rooms.

The doctor, Amelia, guilt-tripped him. Despite him repeatedly stating that he couldn't take the dog – because how was he supposed to take care of one if he couldn't take care of himself? – she manipulated him into taking the recovering pet with him.

After that hurtful exchange, Sam never expected to see Amelia again. Yet somehow, through a blur, they ended up living under the same roof.

He thought that maybe, just maybe, his loneliness would fade away. He thought that with every night they laid together, every kiss they shared, and every meal they prepared together, would bring him one step closer to happiness. After all, wasn't this the apple-pie life he'd always craved? Things couldn't have been more normal.

Like always, Sam was wrong. Horribly wrong. Each night he struggled to sleep, his mind racing around and wishing he was the one that had been killed by that bone. Each morning he still turned to his left, expecting Dean to be sleeping in a bed beside his.

One day, out of seemingly nowhere, the façade he was desperately trying to keep up crashed. He just woke up one morning and knew he had to go. He filled up the dog bowl, left a pathetic note on the kitchen counter, then raced to his brother's Impala. Before he could change his mind, he started up the engine and drove.

And drove.

And drove.

Within a few hours, he found himself faltering at the wheel. Instead of giving himself the chance to hit another dog or drive off a cliff, he parked at some shitty gas station. As soon he took the keys out of the ignition, tears started soaking his jacket.

Crying because he knew he was hurting Amelia.

Crying because he still felt as hopeless as the day Crowley snapped his fingers and disappeared with everyone else.

Crying because it had been months and he still couldn't let go of his family. He missed them more than anything.

He slid out of the driver's seat, his hazel eyes falling back to the Impala. The sight of it changed his despair into rage. He immediately thought about destroying the car then and there, leading to Dean's voice suddenly filling his head, yelling Don't you dare land a hand on my Baby! as if he was there to care about it.

Something inside him clicked out of place. After opening the trunk, Sam took out one of their (his) bats. He lifted it up, letting the metal connect with the back window. The sound of shattering glass only encouraged him. He could feel a few sets of eyes on him, but it wasn't enough to make him stop.

How could he when each hit came with a disapproving comment from his dead brother?

Their (his) bat destroyed the windows, dented the doors, and ruined the headlights. He thought that maybe this was what he needed to feel better. When he finally stopped and let the weapon clatter against the cement, he got a good look at the mess he made.

He didn't feel better. It just reminded him that he ruins every single thing he touches, including beloved possessions that came from a family that didn't exist anymore.

In the distance, bright red and blue lights reflected off the road. He needed to go, but he couldn't get himself to move.

Even through all the commotion, Sam's world was still silent. Dean and Cas— They were the ones that gave it sound. No matter how romantic or destructive he became, it would never be enough to make him whole again.

For the first time in his life, Sam Winchester was truly irrecoverable.