I hate Eric Kripke.

I hate that my mind can not let the hell go of this show, of the boys. That even thought it's been going to hell for a season, and I know it's not going to be better I'm going to keep watching. Because of them. Because of some twisted loyalty to two people who don't even exist. Whose universe won't leave my head, ever I don't think. And I want it to, and I don't, and I've got this messed up loyalty to them and I just... I want to be able to do something about it. More than do nothing and miss them like hell. It isn't good, it isn't healthy and I don't even know any more.

But I am going to stick with it because I'm delusional, because I'm not going to abandon them. Because more than anything I want to do what I can for them, even if it's just in my head.

I want to believe that they can have an ending that doesn't suck. That they can be them again, and have...something, anything. That they can be together and brothers and god it's just a show, it's fantasy, it's controlled, and after everything they've been through, that they will be through, don't they deserve to have some kind of a happy ending more than anyone?

The problem is I don't think they've had that possibility for a long while now.

And Kripke's scared off the one who might have been able to help me give them one.

I don' know what to do any more.

No, dammit, /no/! They're Sam and Dean's songs, not- Dammit brain- /Stop it!/

If there's not an afterlife, there's nothing, this doesn't make a difference.
If there's an afterlife, it's forever, this is forgotten eventually, this doesn't make a difference.
If there's something like reincarnation, it wipes the slate, this doesn't make a difference.

In the end it's either forgotten, or there's nothing there to remember anything.

"I don't know how you can even look at me," Sam confides one night, alcohol in front of him that he knows he's not going to touch. Doesn't deserve to and wouldn't be able to stop if he started.

"Wasn't you, Sammy." He gets in stubborn, worn response. It's the expected answer, lie; he can still see the blood on his hands as he stares at them. His silence is telling of his lack of agreement, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as Dean finishes his drink with a long swig, sees him reach for his.

He counts it as another failure that he doesn't stop him.

I've given this some thought, and...

Touche, Trickster.

Your MO I know it; just took me a little longer than I should have to figure it out.