Maybe it'd meant to be this way, Sam thought, the rasp of the blade over the stone a familiar background noise. Fighting alone. No one who knew him left.
Maybe it was his destiny. Strongest of the bloodline, thanks to the demon who was dead. Able to face the queen of Hell on her own terms.
It was better to think of it like that. Better than feeling. Than remembering.
'Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can't get close to people, period.' Dean'd been right.
He couldn't care. Couldn't feel or want or love, ever again.