*CAUTION: I apologize in advance for any Feels this may give you. #sorrynotsorry.
~j.g.

"What's up?" Sam asked, giving me a worried look. I noticed his room was half empty, with boxes scattered around his floor. But I was too furious to wonder why.
"Did you really ask Crowley to apologize to me? I mean, you wouldn't do something like that, you know I can take care of myself." I laughed nervously, hoping I was right.
Sam's expression turned to cold. "I can explain."
I furrowed my eyebrows in disbelief. "What the hell, Sam?"
"I heard him and his asshole friends talking about getting payback on you, okay? I saw that you were already having a rough morning so I decided to take matters into my own hands," he explained.
"I don't need to you defending me all the time. I can take care of myself," I spat, disgusted.
"You can take care of yourself? You are skipping school and getting into fights. I don't know, man. I just thought you could use some help." He shook his head, looking away from me.
"I don't need your help," I hissed, hating how he thought I couldn't take care of my own problems. "It's none of your damn business."
My head throbbed, anger boiling inside me.
Why doesn't he understand?
"Okay, okay." Sam held up his hands, taking a step back. "I just wanted to help."
"Just stay out of my way," I muttered, exiting his room and slamming the door behind me.
I stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen. I grabbed a soda from the fridge. I opened it and chugged half of the can, hoping it would calm me down.
"Dean?" My dad called from the other room. I groaned, walking into to the living room.
"I need to talk to you about something," he said, finishing off his beer.
"Aren't you suppose to be at work?" I asked, taking another drink of my soda and ignoring his sentence.
"That's what I want to talk about," he said, his voice heavy.
I stared at him, feeling my chest squeeze. I swallowed down the emerging thoughts in my mind. No.
"I got fired this morning," he said, and I could already feel my heart breaking in two. "The moving trucks are going to be here tomorrow morning."
My heart didn't just break in two, it shattered.
"No," I whispered, my chest aching. "No."
"Sammy already started packing and I suggest that you start too." He said.
The image of Sam's room with the scattered boxes on the floor flooded into my mind. He was packing.
"No!" I yelled, tears spilling from my eyes and onto my cheeks.
"Son-" Dad began, standing up from his chair.
"I'm not moving!" I panicked, taking a step back. "I'm actually normal here. I have a boyfriend. Good neighbors. A good house. I'm going to a dance for once in my life! We can't move!"
His expression turned serious. "You know we were going to move eventually, you know the drill. This one just got cut shorter than usual, I'm sorry."
"No, you're not!" I yelled, my cheeks soaked with fallen tears. "We don't have to move every year. We don't have to move every time you lose your job!"
"Yes we do, because-"
"Because what?" I demanded. "Because you're running away from mom? Because every time we stay somewhere for too long you remember her?"
His expression deepens, his voice booming. "That's not true!"
"Yes, it is! You don't think Sam and I know? We miss her too, you know. But at least we can actually get over it and move on!"
"Stop talking to me like you know me, boy. We are moving and that's the end of it!" He yelled, taking a threatening step forward.
I clenched my hands into fists. I opened my mouth to fight back, but I'm too choked up that words failed me.
I turned on my heels, rushing into the kitchen and grabbing the bottle of vodka that sat on the kitchen counter.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Dad's voice boomed.
"Out." I said, my voice cracking as I slammed the front door.
Tears continued to stream down my face as I trudged to the Impala. I threw the bottle of vodka onto the passenger seat after taking a long swig of it. Even though I've had vodka before, it still burned my eyes and throat. But in a twisted way, I liked the pain.
I started up the car, the song "Lips Of An Angel" by Hinder playing on the radio. I could hear Dad calling to me from the porch, but I didn't care.
I backed out of the driveway, but slowly stopped when I passed Cas's house.
I took another long sip of the liquor, staring at the window where his room would be.
"I love you, my Angel." I whispered through tears.
I sped down our road, turning up the radio louder as I drove. I turned the corner, driving down the nearest country road, hoping that Sam or Dad wouldn't follow me to the field that Cas and I went star-gazing at. I finished off the bottle, my head feeling hot from the alcohol.
"It's really good to hear your voice saying my name, It sounds so sweet.
Coming from the lips of an angel, hearing those words it makes me weak," I sang along, my eyes watering and my throat burning.
I smiled through the tears, those blue eyes still visible in my intoxicated mind.
I hadn't even noticed when the Impala dipped down, hitting a large hole in the dirt road. Nor had I noticed when the car flipped, and crashed into the ditch. I was too focused on remembering those vibrant blue eyes.
I could still see them burned into my mind when everything went dark. I could still see them when I toke my last breath. I could even still see them in the after life.
And I think that's the best way to die.