theprodigalson: (wet & gaping)
Sam Winchester ([personal profile] theprodigalson) wrote in [personal profile] forthedog 2013-03-31 08:11 pm (UTC)

It's Sam's night off work. At least at Semele's.

Which means he's out walking the streets, watching an following and picking up leads. He's killed one demon tonight already, slit his throat and filled up three old gallons of milk with thick, red blood, hiding them in the trunk of the Impala before taking the body out to the farthest reaches of the city to set up a pyre. The least he could do for the stolen, broken body.

There's still blood and dirt crusted under his fingernails, still a stench of ash and burnt flesh he can't shake as he climbs the stairs back to his apartment. He's tired. Sore. Killing things, even evil things, has never been particularly exhilarating for Sam.

He hears the pounding before he rounds the corner, adrenaline spiking anew in his blood even before he sees the source. "Mike?"

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