I'm done.
Forget it. All of it.
It's all pointless.

These thoughts were echoing in the Winchester's minds insistingly. No matter how hard they tried to focus on something else, the thoughts would come. Like that never ending rash that you can't get rid of no matter how hard you tried, these thoughts were making both Sam and Dean alike itch. It was overwhelming.

Gun to the head.
Bullet in the brain pan.
I'm done. It's pointless. All of it.

"Dammit!" Dean said through a yell as he hit the steering wheel of the Impala. The Impala groaned in response, almost as if it were a sentient being and was feeling Dean's pain.

Sam looked at his brother and asked, "You too, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean said as he nodded. "I just can't stop thinking about it."

"Same here," Sam said as he rubbed his forehead. "Just keep on driving, Dean."

"What the Hell do you think I'm doing, Sam? Just doing a joy ride! For fuck's sake, Sam!"

Sam looked at his brother, bewildered at Dean's rash response. Then, something bubbled up inside of him... something he hadn't felt in a long time. An emotion that really has no name, yet can only be described as severe and overwhelming despondency. He just wanted to reach out and hit something, anything, to make it go away.

Sam slammed his eyes shut and started to take deep breaths. He has to calm down. He has to. This will pass. It WILL pass. He just had to go on about his life and ignore this overwhelming feeling to hurt something. Someone. Anyone.

"I'm sorry," Sam said through a sigh. "I didn't mean anything. I was just trying to be helpful."

Dean sighed as he rubbed his forehead fiercely. "Yeah, I know. I know, Sam. I'm sorry too. It's just... this. These feelings."

"Yeah, I know. I'm feeling it too. Just try to not think about it," Sam said.

Dean huffed in response, fearing what he might say next. Out of all the times that the oldest Winchester had been angry, this was the first time he ever felt rage and anger like this. It was at everyone and everything around him: At Sam, the Impala, the way that the road was paved. Everything was just making Dean more and more angry.

"Do you think this is what Mariah was going through?" Dean asked through slightly gritted teeth.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. Possibly. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea. It could be that her emotions, etc, were being influenced by a force like what we are going through. Or, it could be that she was having such negative and powerful emotions that she scared the environment around her and left an imprint."

"Yeah, well," Dean said. "Either way, we need to investigate this. Something isn't right. Whether it be that she is haunting that room or there is something else involved, we need to fix this. Good call, Sam."

"Thanks," Sam said. "Wish I was wrong, though. I wish she was murdered by a crazy friend or something. Be a lot easier."

Dean looked at his brother and felt his anger soften slightly. As the Winchesters increased how far away they were from Mariah's dorm room, the depression and feeling that came with it started to simmer down. Now that Dean was able to think clearly, he asked, "You have any idea about who we can call to find out what's going on? I'm pretty sure that she isn't possessing that room. I had no reading on the EMF."

Sam sighed. "I don't know. Under normal conditions, I'd say call Bobby and ask him, but..."

"What about that crazy ass dude that we dealt with a few months ago?" Dean asked, ignoring Sam's previous statement. "Frank Doveroad or something."

"Frank Devereaux. He may know something, but I highly doubt he'll return our call. I'll give him a shot, along with Garth and Stark."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean said as he raised a few fingers up in protest. "Garth, yeah I can understand that. Kind of. But Stark? Seriously? Last time we saw him, he and his psychopath wife were trying to kill us."

"Yeah, I know," Sam said as he nodded at Dean's concern. "But, if Garth or Frank don't know what's going on here, we should cash in on that favor with Stark. Might not be the best idea, but it's the only one I have right now. Unless you would prefer that I called Crowley. I can do that instead, if you like."

Dean looked at his brother with a sideways glance and huffed. He didn't like either one of those ideas. However, if Dean had to choose the lesser of two evils...

"Call Stark. He might have an idea if the other two stooges don't."

Sam smiled as he texted Garth, Hey, it's Sam. Needing your help on a case. Call me ASAP.

Then he realized something. "Wait, did you seriously just huff at me?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "So? Better than smacking something. And that something, most likely, would have been you."

"Wow," Sam said as he chuckled. "Just wow."

Keeping his eyes on the road, and without missing a beat, Dean said, "Bitch."

Sam looked at his brother with another astonished look before he smiled and said, "Jerk."