The wine was dry and bitter, and it went down way too easy.

Vodka was next as Dean scrambled through the kitchen cupboards, knocking things over, desperate for some relief.

He wanted to lose himself.

He found the secret stash of whiskey under Bobby's desk and opened the first bottle.

He had to numb the pain somehow, numb it all.

Take away all feeling, easier to deal with the situation.

Oh God... The situation.

He was losing Sam, had lost Sam.

No.

Dean chugged the whiskey, glanced out the window of Bobby's study.

Bobby…

What the?

Oh shit.

Sam.

Sammy.

The pain would never end.