Lilly had been doing her own kind of grieving over Dean's death and although she wasn't completely sober, she had a best friend that she wanted to check on. She didn't bother putting on make up or anything, she just wasn't in the mood.
She had heard sounds coming from Dean's apartment, so that was the first place she went and knocked on the door. If he didn't answer, she would just walk in.
Yeah, she expected that and opened the door. She walked over and sat near him with the two bottles she had brought with her. She had learned grief management from the best.
There was a very good chance Sam had inherited hiding in a bottle from his mother, since she was dealing with her grief the same way. Her first Mother's Day, and one son was dead and the other was...somewhere. Alcohol numbed the pain somewhat, like it had when she found out she was dead and her children were hunters.
This afternoon she found herself walking -- or staggering, to be more precise -- to Dean's apartment. Somehow she wasn't surprised to find Sam there when she kicked the door open. No, she hadn't bothered to see if it was unlocked. Kicking the door felt good.
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She had heard sounds coming from Dean's apartment, so that was the first place she went and knocked on the door. If he didn't answer, she would just walk in.
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As greetings went it wasn't the best, but it was Lilly and he knew she got it.
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This afternoon she found herself walking -- or staggering, to be more precise -- to Dean's apartment. Somehow she wasn't surprised to find Sam there when she kicked the door open. No, she hadn't bothered to see if it was unlocked. Kicking the door felt good.
"Sam," she said. "What are you doing here?"
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Oh, Sam.
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