Sam remembered the good and the bad.
He remembered growing up in motel rooms.
Learning to ride a bike.
Dean's first hunt.
Changing schools.
Girlfriends.
Boyfriends.
Love.
Pain.
Anger.
Sadness.
Everything he could have done.
Everything he didn't do.
How many people he saved.
But the last thing he remembered, the thing that made him go through with his plan,
Heartbreak.
He pulled out the notebook and wrote five letters. One to Dean, One to Gabriel, One to his past, one about the future he could have had, and one to the body he walked in. When he was done, he folded them and set them in the side pocket of his duffle. He looked at them, then grabbed the bleach and the razors. He took off his shirt and looked down at himself. His ribs and stomach were covered in thin white lines and red/brown lines. Scars and scabs from the past three months. He almost doubted his choice, but he looked at the letters again, and everything calmed. He had to do it.
He broke the razor, taking out one of the blades, he pressed it to one of his old scars, and traced it, cutting it open again. A shiver ran through his body as the relief and pent up tension started flowing out of him with the blood that was beading up along the cut. He opened the rest of them, all except the ones that were under the tattoo. He couldn't mess that up yet. Gabriel would save him.
He looked down at his arms as he traced his vanes, cutting them open all the way up to his elbow. When he got dizzy, he destroyed the tattoo, and swallowed a mouthful of bleach. He felt the initial burn, but that was it, because his vision went black. In his last seconds he prayed only three words to Gabriel.
Find my body.