Nights were lonely without the sound of Sam’s breathing coming from the bed beside his.
He went to the vending machine, stared at bags of chips and candy bars that he used to drool over as a kid but left empty-handed; it felt wrong to have those treats without Sam.
The mirrored ceiling reflected back a pale version of himself, his eyes heavy and his face still.
He hadn’t smiled since Sam said goodbye.
But he stood a chance. He could have a normal life, could be happy while Dean was meant to bear the burden of their blood alone.