He nodded, hand tightening on the crowbar. There wasn't anything... but eventually, he did catch something out of the corner of his eye and took a swing at the mirror, smashing it... and then another.

"Come on," he muttered. "Come to this one."

It needed to be her mirror.

He almost didn't notice how his own reflection was moving, not at first. Brows furrowed, all he can do is stare as it starts to speak, "It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica. "

Oh, God, all of a sudden it's like he can't breathe. He can feel something wet drip down his face and if the pain is any indication, it's nothing good. He drops the crowbar, grabbing at his heart.

Fuck.

"You never told her the truth, who you really were. But it's more than that, isn't it? Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning..."

Sam fell to the ground as the pain grew. This was bad. Really bad and Dean wasn't here to help him. "You had them for days before she died. Didn't you?"

He winced at that question, at the accusations. "You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die? You dreamt it would happen!"