The music blared through the dark car as it barreled down a strip of road. Sam had never particularly liked pop music, growing up riding with his dad and older brother he had gotten used to listening to their music but tonight he couldn't. Dean's CDs that Sam had made him for Christmas sat in a box in the passenger seat untouched since his death. Every time he thought of it he couldn't think straight. It was a strange new reaction to him. He grew up killing and slashing his way through hordes of vampires, ghosts, and demons, but was reduced to a sobbing at the loss of his brother. He tuned the music up just a little louder as he turned a corner into the parking lot of a motel. He hadn't even decided if he would stay he just needed to stop driving. The miles of road were no where near enough distance from anything. He had even ignored Bobby's twelve phone calls that probably involve a case that he didn't want. He couldn't work a case. Not without Dean. He recalled something Dean had said to him once. Something about how he would haunt him for playing 'bad' music in his car. He hadn't paid nearly enough attention but he wished he had. Sam knew exactly what music Dean meant and it was all he had played the entire drive. He played it loud so the cars beside him gave him looks. He sang at the top of his lungs. Hoping that maybe by some miracle Dean would haunt him. He just wanted his big brother back.