"Slowly, floor, chest stuttering, and stumbled back to the bed, dropping down onto it. He didn't even bother to properly pull the blankets or undress. He laid his body on Dean’s pillow and faced the wall that Dean had spent most of his days staring at, eyes roaming for answers.

There were no answers there. It was only a wall; blank and unforgiving.

He closed his eyes, the anger making him cry.

He didn't want to cry anymore, because crying wasn't going to bring Dean back. But the bed felt so empty without him, and the apartment was so quiet without his screams, without the constant reminder that Dean was right there. He laughed bitterly, shaking his head, because it was pathetic, thinking that he would much rather have Dean beside him, thrashing in his sleep, than to be in bed alone.

But it was true, because at least Dean would be with him."