A/N: I know, another short chapter. It's becomming a trend... On a brighter note, I do have the next 5 chapters outlined roughly. So, this story is no longer plodding pointlessly forward in no particular direction with no particular destination. It's now plodding somewhat intently forward in a semi-certain direction... but still has no particular destination. At least Led Zeppelin songs makes for good chapter titles. And you can rock out while writing. ;)

Enjoy.

"Okay, all right. You know what? I get it. You've got faith. Hey, good for you. I'm sure it makes things easier. I'll tell you who else had faith like that - Mom. She used to tell me when she'd tuck me in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me."

"You never told me that."

"What's to tell? She was wrong. There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power, there's no God. There's just chaos and violence and random, unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere. It rips you to shreds. So, you want me to believe in this stuff? I'm gonna need to see some hard proof. You got any?"

"Last call, pal."

"What?"

"Closing time."

Sam left a generous tip for the bartender. The guy'd left him pretty well alone the whole night and kept his glass full. Or, at least, every time he'd come back to reality, it'd been full. And that was all that really mattered. Because dealing with the flashbacks was bad enough under the influence.

Three years worth of psychology classes told him drinking was only enabling the memories, but three years worth of psychology classes had also told him there were five stages of grief. But he sure as hell wasn't getting any closer to acceptance.

"So, we didn't get along then, huh?"

"No."

"I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy."

"It wasn't. It was just a wish. I wished for Mom to live. And Mom never died, we never went hunting, and you and me just never… you know."

"Yeah. Well, I'm glad we do. And I'm glad you dug yourself out, Dean. Most people wouldn't have had the strength, they would've just stayed."

"Yeah, lucky me. I gotta tell you though, man - you had Jess, Mom was gonna have grandkids…"

"Yeah, but, Dean… it wasn't real."

"I know. But I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since Dad… all I can think about is how much this job has cost us… We've lost so much. We've sacrificed so much."

"But people are alive because of you. It's worth it, Dean. It is. It's not fair, and it hurts like hell, but it's worth it."

It had been worth it. When he'd still had someone to share it with. And maybe he was a hypocrite, and it should still be worth it.

But it really just wasn't. Not anymore.

"Stop it, Sam."

"Stop what?"

"Stop askin' if I need anything, stop askin' if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise."

"All right. Dean, it's just… we've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you haven't brought up Dad once."

"You know what, you're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug – maybe even slow dance."

"Don't patronize me, Dean, Dad is dead! The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long, buried underneath this damn car!"

"Revenge, huh?"

"Yeah."

It wasn't as though the thought hadn't passed through his mind. Wasn't still crossing his mind, at least a hundred times a day.

But the truth was – he was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of barely coming out alive. Tired of giving more than he ever got back.

Just for once, just this one time, why couldn't someone else give? Someone he didn't know. Someone he wouldn't miss with every ounce of his being. Someone he didn't need.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"The way I've been acting… And for Dad. I mean, he was your dad, too. It's my fault he's gone."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you've been thinking it, so have I. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I had a full recovery. And it was a miracle. Then, five minutes later, Dad's dead, and the Colt's gone."

"Dean-"

"You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But Dad's dead because of me. And that much I do know."

"We don't know that. Not for sure."

"Sam… you and Dad - you're the most important people in my life. And now… I never should have come back, Sam. It wasn't natural. And now, look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead… You wanted to know how I was feeling. Well, that's it. So, tell me… what could you possibly say to make that all right?"

Sam still had no answer.