Author's Note: It has almost been a year but with several deaths in my family, major health issues, lack of inspiration, school, work, and a broken laptop...this is the best I can do. I'm trying to get my groove back if anyone's still around, I'll post when I can. I hope you enjoy this tiny chapter.
I imagine it's a miserable experience to die alone. Now, I know that everyone inevitably dies alone technically, but to die in solitude; no one around but you and the falling darkness, that has to be the lowest feeling there is. Unfortunately for most of the victims in this case and so many others like it, that's just how it goes. I don't know if I'm sorry for the poor jerks or just infinitely curious about what they must be thinking at their time of death. It's probably both.
I don't pay much attention to the case as Sam works through it. He doesn't actually seem to want me around anyway. I suppose I'm less a use to him than he anticipated, what with me being too young to pose as law enforcement. He calls Samuel when he thinks I'm not listening, though I don't think he bothers to try to hide it to spare my feelings, Sam's not that kind of guy anymore, I think it's because he doesn't want to hear me complain about it. I don't. Being replaced is a bitter pill to swallow but I do it anyway. Sam can take or leave me and I'd rather he not do the latter. I can't go back to Dean and I really can't go back to Bobby, so I sit quietly and stare at the case files Sam drops in front of me with dispassionate eyes. When Samuel arrives, he doesn't gloat. He doesn't have to. He looks at me with a smug twinkle in his eye and I let it slide, staring back at him with the same glazed look I've had on all day. His eyes narrow in a twitch and he turns his attention back to Sam. He's unnerved. Good.
"You don't sleep." I muse aloud when Samuel leaves to suit up for the hunt.
"Hm?" Sam fixes his tie in the mirror as though he's too occupied to hear me.
"I said -" I begin more clearly, moving closer but not too close. "You don't sleep."
Sam gives me a skeptical half-smile. "I sleep. I'm not passed out in my own drool every couple of hours, but I sleep Evan." His joking reference to me falls flat. I know what I know.
"You don't have to lie to me." It's a quiet plea that falls on unsympathetic ears. He ruffles my hair in a gesture so familiar yet so eerily foreign, I feel a chill run through my body.
"Don't wait up." He calls over his shoulder and I lean back against the wall, eyes trained on the ceiling, trying to accept the fact that my brother is actually gone for good.