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Watching him fall apart was strange. I mean, it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen Sam crumble… but never like that. It started the morning after she left. They had been together for years, I honestly lost count, and they were inseparable. So when Sam shuffled into the kitchen alone that morning I was confused.
“She still asleep?” I asked. I watched as absolute terror tore through my brother’s face.
“She’s not in here?” he said quickly, “You haven’t seen her?”
“No, man, I just got up,”
He tripped over his own feet when his long legs couldn’t move as fast as his thoughts, stumbling into the doorframe as he frantically ran from the room. Calling her name down the hall, I could hear his voice echo through the whole bunker.
He never found her.
Eventually, we found a letter in the room that was supposed to be hers, even though she always stayed with Sam. He wouldn’t let me see it. All of her things were left, like she had just disappeared.
Then, just as she and Sam had been inseparable, Sam and a bottle of whiskey became the same way. For months he was somewhere between drunk and hung-over. He never slept much and when he did it wasn’t restful.
I knew the end was near when I heard his sobs from down the hall. I walked in slowly to see Sam with his elbows on his knees and the side of a gun pressed to his temple, like he had been about to shoot but thought again. His hands clutched at his head and the gun shook as he gagged for breath through his cries. An empty bottle laid on its side by his fee.
“You gotta take care of her,” he rasped; he must have had heard me come in.
I knelt in front of him and tried to ease the gun out of his hand, “Nah, she doesn’t need me to look after her when she’s got you,”
“Dean, you gotta find her. When I’m gone… you gotta keep her safe,”
“Hey, you aren’t goin’ anywhere,” I said softly as I finally pried the gun from his hand; safety off and fully loaded, “Jesus Christ,” I muttered, what if I’d been a minute later?
He leaned his forehead onto my shoulder, he reeked of alcohol, “Alright,” I mumbled as I pat his back, “Let’s go. Let’s get you in bed, Sammy,”
With his arm around my shoulders, I helped him to the couch and he fell asleep quickly with tears drying on his face.
He died a few days later.
Didn’t kill himself exactly… body just gave up I guess. I found him on the couch with one arm hanging off toward the floor. There by his hand was a notepad with his normally neat writing scribbled in drunk haste.
'Don’t let her think this was her fault. Make sure she knows I still love her, forever, no matter what.
- Sam'
She knew, nobody had to tell her that he’d died. Somehow, they both just always knew when something had happened to the other. She showed up the day after Cas and I buried him. I buried him with the note she left, I didn’t read it though. I gave her the note he left.
She didn’t cry. Just numbly took the note from me, grabbed the bottle of Jack I’d left on the table, and went to his room. She locked the door and didn’t open it again. Later that night I heard the front door open and close again and when I looked in the hall his room was open. Apparently he had hidden a stash of alcohol in his room – in case I cut him off I assume – and she found it. Half a dozen empty bottles littered the room. A couple had been thrown against the wall and shattered.
I found her outside under the tree where we buried him.
“What are you doing out here?! It’s raining!” I said as I came up the hill.
“That is a brilliant observation, my dear Watson, your powers of deduction are truly staggering,” she sneered in a fake English accent.
“Come inside, smartass,” I held my hand out to help her up but she didn’t take it.
“No,” was her only response. So, with a sigh and a nod, I sat down in the mud next to her.
The only sound for a long while was the raindrops splashing against the leaves above us. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. I didn’t see her move at all, even wondered if she had fallen asleep a few times. But then she spoke again. So quiet I almost thought I imagined it.
“He show you my note?”
“No, I buried it with him,”
She only nodded and was quiet again. Neither of us spoke for over an hour, just sat in the rain, soaked to the bone. I text Cas and told him to get rid of all of the alcohol in the bunker and lock up anything sharp and any guns.
“I’m pregnant,” she finally said, “That’s why I came back… I came back to tell him. But as I got closer to here… I just knew he was gone…” she looked up at the rain clouds and let the drops wash over her face, “I killed him, didn’t I?”
“Of course not!”
“Oh, shut up, Dean. We both blame me, so just shut up,” her voice cracked and she put her hands over her face, muffling her words, “I shouldn’t have left. I just felt like I had to. I said I’d be back… I just didn’t know when. I just had to go,”
“C’mere,” I pulled her closer to my and put my arms around her. I knew she had premonitions. We all knew. Maybe his death was coming either way and her heart knew what her mind didn’t.
I finally got her to come inside a little before dawn. Cas had cleaned up the glass in Sam’s room, and she went to sleep in his bed.
About five months later she lost the baby. The end was coming and she and I both knew. All of the try she had left was put into that baby. Her body was giving up just like Sam’s did. We buried the tiny baby boy right next to Sam under the tree. I kept alcohol away and made sure she’d eat… but she’d only eat enough to shut me up… and even then I think she was hiding some and just throwing it away.
One night she got up from the table, half the size she used to be, clothes hanging off her body.
“I’m sorry, Dean,”
“What are you sorry for?” I shook my head and looked up from my book. The weight of the sadness in her eyes knocked the breath out of me.
“Just… for everything. I’m sorry,” she walked away weakly. Leaning on the wall for support as she shuffled down the hall to Sam’s room. I heard the door lock.
She didn’t come out at all the next day. I told Cas that if she didn’t come out by the second day I’d break the door down. When the second day came and I couldn’t get her to answer the door, I made good on my promise and knocked the door in.
She was curled up in the middle of the bed, a few papers spread out in front of her. One was the note he left her. One was the last sonogram before the baby died. One was a picture of her and Sam, looking happier than I could ever imagine them being. One was a new note.
'I tried, but I need him back. I need to be with them.'
I sank onto the bed beside her and she didn’t move. Cas stood in the doorway, watching. Her skin was cold, but the tears on her cheeks were still a little damp. If I had only come in last night.
We buried her under the tree.
Now, once a week we stand in front of three little crosses and leave flowers on each. It’s been a few years now, my wife and daughter come with me. Cas is always there with us. He says they have a beautiful life now… in heaven. God know how many times I’ve wanted to join them. Lay my body right there in the ground next to them.
But now, I watch my little girl hang chains of flowers around each little cross…
and I’m glad my brother gets this too, even if it’s so far away.