It's been twenty minutes since he found Charlie's body. It took him some time to carry her, to swallow down the grief and convert it into anger, and he was half way through loading up the arsenal when a thought occured to him.
Charlie was a message, a message intended for him. If someone's out to peg his weak spots, if someone's after the people that impact him the most, that means-
"...Sam." It's out of his mouth, murmured, stunned, and he can't believe it didn't hit him immediately, didn't hit him sooner.
As soon as it does, he's slamming the door behind him and tearing down the hall toward Sam's room. He pounds, but there's no answer. He calls, bites out a frustrated curse when it goes to voice mail, and moves down the stairs like a man possessed.
Like foreshadowing, like a horror movie, he finds a trail of blood clinging to the railing, to the floors, and he knows. The doors to the stairwell bang open in a fury, and there a few yards away is Crowley, short, stubby Crowley carrying the slumped and lifeless form of his brother in a sight that would be comical except that it's fucking not.
The hall is a blur, he doesn't remember moving, he's just there instantly, gripping Crowley by the shoulder and fumbling to relieve him of the burden that is Sam's enormous weight.
"Sam- what did you do?" He snarls at Crowley, glancing up from his fervent searching of the younger's face only long enough to bite out the accusation.
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Charlie was a message, a message intended for him. If someone's out to peg his weak spots, if someone's after the people that impact him the most, that means-
"...Sam." It's out of his mouth, murmured, stunned, and he can't believe it didn't hit him immediately, didn't hit him sooner.
As soon as it does, he's slamming the door behind him and tearing down the hall toward Sam's room. He pounds, but there's no answer. He calls, bites out a frustrated curse when it goes to voice mail, and moves down the stairs like a man possessed.
Like foreshadowing, like a horror movie, he finds a trail of blood clinging to the railing, to the floors, and he knows. The doors to the stairwell bang open in a fury, and there a few yards away is Crowley, short, stubby Crowley carrying the slumped and lifeless form of his brother in a sight that would be comical except that it's fucking not.
The hall is a blur, he doesn't remember moving, he's just there instantly, gripping Crowley by the shoulder and fumbling to relieve him of the burden that is Sam's enormous weight.
"Sam- what did you do?" He snarls at Crowley, glancing up from his fervent searching of the younger's face only long enough to bite out the accusation.