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0. it's all my fault!
SAM WINCHESTER was dead.
The man was cold to the bone. Unmoving and unfeeling. Laying on the small cot with nothing to give but his slowly decaying body. Frankie felt sick to her stomach - physically sick. Dean had left the house hours ago to do god knows what in a fit of rage. Cursing and punching anything or anybody that got in his way - his sister included. She deserved it was her only thought as she just stood there in the moldy living room, just inches away from the one room that holds her brothers body. Frankie just stood there like an idiot and took it. Took in all of the curses and yelling that came out of her brothers mouth because in all actuality, it was her fault.
Frankie just had one job and she screwed it up this bad. So bad to the point that he wasn't ever coming back. She couldn't imagine the thought of even continuing, going on hunts without him in the backseat with that lopsided puppy grin. His snark comments that always left her giggling mess at the most inappropriate times. Sam was gone. Frankie had to live with the thought that it was her doing. She might as well have just stuck the knife in herself at this point.
It was weird looking at him in this way. Frankie was sure the man had insomnia by the way she never really saw him sleep much. Sam was the early bird within the bunch. Woke up bright and early to go on his run and made it back to the room in time to his siblings risings. He was also the last to go to sleep, he was kept up majority of the time doing research. What a fucking nerd. The thought made her snort, rapidly wiping away the stray tears that made their way down her face. The saltiness of them touching her lips.
The blonde hesitantly lifted her hand to brush away the stray brown hair that made its way onto her brothers eyes. Green eyes that matched her own. They all shared the color, but Sams eyes were so different. Expressive in ways that Dean and Frankie weren't ever capable of. She just wanted him to open them. Just one more time, she internally begged. God please, just one more time.
Her lips met his hairline in substitution to her hands. The kiss lingering as she let out a small prayer - a promise. "I'm going to make this right"
Frankie hastily left the room, hurriedly making her way to the car that Bobby Singer loaned her ages ago. The oncoming tears blocked her vision but she was determined to get where she needed to go. She just wanted to make all of this right.
