It Takes A Week

He spends the days following Cas' death in a haze.

The days blend together, one after another passing, but he doesn't really care. He doesn't really care about anything.

On Monday, Sam calls, but he doesn't pick up. He just can't bear hearing his voice right now, can't bear hearing him ask if he's okay, because he isn't, he will never be, and he just doesn't understand.

On Tuesday, Charlie knocks on his door, but he doesn't open up. When she states that she brought vodka and practically begs him to let him in, he turns up the music. He's tried alcohol, and it doesn't help. It just dulls the pain for a while and makes it worse when he finally feels it.

On Wednesday, it's the elderly old lady from next door who knocks on his door. She wants to complain because he keeps listening to the mixtape Cas made for him before his death at full volume. He doesn't even raise his head, and wonders if she knows that he's only listening to music to silence his thoughts.

On Thursday, nobody bothers to check on him. He feels relieved, but also a bit sad. He starts thinking that the only person who genuinely cared about him died on that horrible day in the hospital.

On Friday, he empties a bottle of vodka and when Sam calls again and he actually does answer his phone, his words are slurred and barely understandable. Sam cries a little bit and begs Dean to talk to him, to get help, and when he wakes up the next morning, he only remembers screaming at him that he doesn't need help.

On Saturday, he gets out of bed and puts on clean clothes. He showers and brushes his teeth before he drives to the nearest city and buys the sharpest kitchen knife he can find.

On Sunday, he writes a letter on a piece of paper torn from a book Cas gave to him for his birthday. He cries the whole time and listens to the mixtape again and again, every song like a stab in his already dying heart.

On Monday, Sam calls again, but he doesn't pick up. He's too busy staring at the knife in his hands.

On Tuesday, Charlie knocks on his door. When nobody answers the door and there's no sound from inside, she calls Sam.

On Wednesday, Sam and Charlie sit in a waiting room. The coroner comes up to them with a sad smile. "I'm sorry.", he says. "It was suicide. He slashed his wrists."

Sam cries himself to sleep that night and on the following Wednesday, he overdoses with sleeping pills.

It only takes a week to fall apart, after all.