There was a dull thump, then again and again, that came so frequently and timed, Sam could almost predict when the next one was coming.

“You know, Dean, I’m not too sure the motel is going to appreciate you banging up their walls like this.” He had been expecting a snide remark from his brother, or at least something borderline snarky; along the lines of ‘well the motel can shove it.’ But the only response to his attempt at conversing was the sound of another hole being punched in the wall, and then finally, words that were meant to sound angry, but came out weak and small and scared.

“She’s going to leave me, Sammy,” This again. “what did I do wrong? Why does she want to leave me, Sam?” Sympathy shone bright in coffee colored eyes, and the taller Winchester lay a hand on his brothers shoulder.

“Dean… I understand.” Sam had meant to say more, but the words weren’t coming out. I understand what it’s like to blame yourself. I understand what it’s like to feel like there’s nothing left worth living. I understand how you’re feeling; I understand all the questions running through your head. It’s not your fault. But instead, he just stood there stupidly, as his brother shrugged away from his hand, with anger flashing across his face and sticking to his jaw.

“No, Sam, you don’t understand. She’s-“

“What, I don’t understand what your feeling, Dean? I don’t understand what you’re going through? You think me,” And at this point Sam let out a little chuckle of disbelief, “that I of all people, don’t understand what it’s like to watch someone I love unconditionally-“

“Don’t you dare say it.” The words broke through the rest of Sam’s sentence with a calm cool demeanor that scared him, because he could see the resentment in those emerald eyes. To watch someone I love unconditionally, die right in front of me?

“Dean.” There was all that damn sympathy again. And through it all, the only thing Dean could think was how stupid that sympathy was, how it boiled his blood and melted his bones. He didn’t need this crap, this was his own problem. The only person that should be feeling sorry for me is me.

“Don’t you fucking say it, Sam.” The younger brother’s eyes blinked a bit at the silence that followed the outburst. And Dean just continued to glare with those eyes filled with the walls he put up around himself, as if to say that’s what I thought. He could tell Dean was trying, with all his might even, to not let it out, let it show. It; as in emotion, of course, because that’s how the eldest Winchester worked. That’s how Sam knew, as he glanced at his brothers agitated scowl, just how broken up his companion really was. So broken, in fact, that he wanted no form of help what so ever. Nothing new, exactly. But discouraging to say the least.

Sam opened his mouth to speak again, but Dean was having none of that, with a calloused hand on his leather jacket and another reaching for the exit, he didn’t even look to Sam when he grumbled:

“I’m going out.” Large hands threaded through shaggy hair in exasperation at the newest of his brothers tantrums.

“Where the hell could you possibly go, Dean? It’s two in the morning.” That sure got his attention, and flaring earthy eyes bored into Sam’s very being.

“Where do you think, Sam?” To see her. Sam could almost feel the slam of the door rattle the building, and he flopped back on his bed in hopeless defeat. Sure, it was best to leave Dean be on his ‘visits’. He just hoped this time wouldn’t be any different, that he wouldn’t come back to do something he would regret, anything stupid. Moving on was a long, hard process, after all.

It was silence, everything except the sound of his own breathe, cars going by once or twice. Maybe a subtle breeze every once and again. Neither of them had anything to say to each other, so they just peered almost shamefully at themselves in the opposites eyes.

“I missed you, baby girl.” No reply, she never usually had one to his attempts, not anymore. Maybe at another time, an earlier one, she would have chuckled a bit, gazing up at his features and murmured:

“You haven’t changed a bit, Dean Winchester. Good thing, too, I would ‘a disowned you if you had.” And he would have just smiled back at her and pressed his lips against that smirk of hers. But now, all he was rewarded with was nothing, and a sort of disapproving stare as if she was asking why he had come in the first place.

“I…I thought I’d come stop by… we were in the neighborhood. And I thought maybe I could talk you out of this.” And the young man had finally cracked, pulling her close to him. She didn’t look happy, but she didn’t resist him either, almost like a ragdoll tired of a repeating past the two weren’t meant to repeat.

“Why are you doing this, babe? What can I do to fix this?”

‘You did nothing wrong, Dean. This is the best thing for both of us. There is so much about me you could never imagine. This is good for you too, trust me.’ It was all in his head, he already knew her answer by heart.

“What is there about you I don’t already know? What aren’t you telling me? You wouldn’t lie to me, that isn’t you.” She let out a little sigh, cold as the wind. But Dean wouldn’t stop. He knew he would get down on both knees and beg to have his baby girl back. And the words kept coming, all the words he had rehearsed over and over in his head just for her, the night he met her and the night he was no longer able to continue meeting her.

“I love you, don’t you know that? I thought you did, I thought you loved me too, just as much.” She had said it, how could she get his hopes up like that, to someone who wanted nothing more than a constant in his life. A happy ending for once.

“I lose everyone, baby girl. Please. I can’t lose you too. Not now. Just stay. At least for a little, until I find it inside me to stand without you. Just please, not now. I can’t do this without you.” At this point Dean could no longer take it, and despite him, his face was wet from tears and his nose that had just started to run, and he pulled her closer, hands on her waist and chin in her hair.

“You were my everything, dammit, I hate myself because you still are.” He was shouting now, eyes clenched shut as he grasped her body in a crunching hold, his figure shuddering with each ragged breathe.

“I promised I’d protect you forever. You always teased me, telling me that now that I had you, you were a permanent change in my life, that I couldn’t get rid of you. And hell, I never minded that! We were going to get through this together. That’s why I gave you a ring, because this was supposed to be never ending.” If anyone were to be watching the two now, you couldn’t have made out a single word he was saying past his guttural sobs.

“We were going to have a wedding, a small, quaint one like you had always wanted by a little cottage or a clearing in the woods, and Sam would have been my best man and also your maid of honor and Bobby the minister, because they were family and that was all we needed to be happy. You were all I needed. And we were going to have a nice house, but not one with a picket fence because you thought that was lame, and we were going to have kids, two, five, three hundred; however many we damn felt like and we were going to grow old together and not,” She was on the ground now, watching his sorrows with daunting un-interest,

“not this.” He finally grew silent, out of curses to wail but not out of tears, and he knew it had been stupid of him to think the two of them could have had a happy ending. Salt, to lessen the taste of his bitter nostalgia. It had been a life he hadn’t been meant to live, too good to be true, it was in the family. One life he lived over and over again in his head the moment he saw her. Kerosene, to drench her in something other than his own tears for once. He supposed that was the thing about his job, you never could really get close to anyone. Fire, to burn his heart and hers to melt them together but ultimately tear them away from each other for good. He stayed a while though, letting the flames dry his tears, yet his head was in his hands, and at the crack of dawn he stood, voice wavering:

“Anything for my baby girl.” Her voice was in his head, ‘and anything for you, my not so little baby boy;’ but it was time to go.

When Dean burst into the motel room, he saw Sam was still up, and he saw that ever present sympathy still there like a sweetly persistent cancer. But he found it didn’t bother him so much now, as he began to pack his bags. Sam could have sworn that if he was in a bad sitcom, he would have over dramatically rubbed his eyes and done a double take, not believing his brother’s sudden will, to just pack up and leave his deceased fiancé.

“…Leaving?”

“She’s already gone, Sammy. She’s dead. She left. So why not me too? I burned her bones just in case. Don’t want her haunting my ass. Let’s go.” Yep, Sam took with mental note: he was still bitter, though who could blame him. But Dean’s sudden eagerness made him flinch, and green eyes softened at that, and nudged his brothers shoulder.

“Besides, I want to leave before anyone reports me as the creepy guy hugging dead bodies.” He smiled, but the kind that showed his dead inside. But Sam managed to muster up a smile back, his brother was trying.

“Whatever you say. Hurry up, then, we’ll leave in 15. Less, if you can make it. Go freshen up.” The older nodded, and headed to the bathroom to most likely splash water on his puffy, tear stained face. And as the sun slowly rose, Sam had to hand it to Dean; he was winning this war the best he could, even though winning wasn’t something he had wanted to have to do in the first place.