Empty Veins

Chapter One: Flood the Gates

     Sam was alone. There was no easy way of putting it. Bobby was gone, Cas was gone, and most importantly, Dean was gone. Sam had nothing and no one to turn to now. The crushing feeling of being alone weighed on his shoulders even in sleep, which he barely did anyways. Drinking didn't help, it only brought warped dreams and headaches the next morning. Even the rush of adrenaline coursing through him when he had ganked demons didn't help; he had been on a few hunts after being left alone in an attempt to keep himself going. No matter what he did, the tatters of his heart still flapped in the wind of utter loneliness that blew through his veins.

     This was his last hunt, he vowed to himself. A friend of a friend of Bobby's had called, needing help with a demon problem. There was almost nobody else to turn to; the hunters scattered across America were scarce and not well connected, let alone torn even further apart the chaos of the Leviathains. Besides, Sam had nothing else to do other than hunt. He had only slept and ate the bare minimum, hunting compulsively, chasing case after case. That's how he had ended up in an abandoned apartment complex.

     He sighed, face wearing a fixed, blank expression that it had been stuck in since Dean had been gone, as he turned the corner from the stairwell into the laundry room in the basement of the building. His knife at the ready, he looked around carefully, completely silent as he moved into the room. As he was about to turn another corner, he felt a miniscule puff of warm air behind him. Turning and striking in a practiced, single movement, he sliced at the demon. She was fast, but not fast enough. He had gotten her neck, blood spewing freely. He followed that quickly with a plunge of his knife into the chest of the stocky demon.

     Sam's expression didn't change as he watched the demon die, simply turning and going on his way. A case was never this easy. The demon he had just killed wasn't going to be the only one there. He was right. Before he could get to the next room, another demon appeared. This one was smarter, though much shorter, attacking in the same moment they appeared. Sam was sent stumbling back from a swift kick delivered to his abdomen.

     The demon followed the kick up with a strong punch to Sam's jaw. Sam grunted, returning with a strong kick to the demon's side. It wasn't enough, though. The demon, loosing his balance slightly, managed to shove Sam's leg, hard. That sent Sam toppling over, landing in the puddle of blood from the demon he had killed less than a minute ago.

     Sam breathed in heavily, about to stand. He hesitated, the familiar scent seeping temptingly into his nose. That second was all the demon needed. He forced his foot onto Sam's neck, slamming Sam's cheek into the pool of blood. Sam's mouth opened in a gasp of pain, and what returned was relief. The blood stained an entire side of his face, including his lips. He licked his lips, a part of him hating himself for doing it, but the rest of him not caring anymore. 

     With that small dose, Sam was able gather his strength. He reached behind him with his knife, leaving a long, gaping scar across the demon's lower shin. The demon moved back, struggling to keep his balance. Sam was up in a flash, demon blood clinging to his body like a long lost lover being reunited.

     Sam advanced on the broad-shouldered demon, knife expertly grasped in his hand. Sam aimed for the demon's heart, but he ducked in time. Instead of his chest, Sam's knife scraped against the demon's scalp, leaving dirty blonde hairs sticking to the blood drenching his knife. Before the demon could even falter, Sam's knife was plunging into the chest of the demon, a slight grin cracking his emotionless face, not reaching his eyes, as he watched the light in the green eyes of the demon's vessel fade.

     He straightened, looking around at the scene around him, breathing heavily. It wasn't the fight that was pumping through his veins, but a thirst. It was the first time he head felt something other than an agonizing sadness since Dean and Cas had left. The feeling of guilt had become vacant within him, being crushed into nothingness by the heavy sadness that had resided in him for months now. Something to distract Sam from the sadness couldn't be wrong to him at this point.

        He set his knife down as he bent down by the demon he had just killed, running his hands over demon's bloody scalp. Sam lifted them to his face, eyes glinting as he admired the blood on his hands. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent as he lifted his palms to his mouth and drank. The relief that had been trickling through him since he had had a taste now burst through Sam as he felt the warm liquid in his mouth again, against his teeth, resting on his tongue. The chains of all that he had gone through had finally broken off, and it was only then when he realized how heavily everything weighed on his shoulders.

        He sat there for the next few minutes, quietly drinking. For the first time in a long time, it felt like something was flowing through his veins again. The tatters of his heart were being patched up. For once in a long time, he wasn't empty, and it had been so long that he had forgotten what having something running through him that brought him pleasure like this. Why had he ever stopped, he wondered. All thoughts of loss and guilt were gone now.

        Sam sat in a pool of blood, a slight smile twitching at the edge of his lips, darkened with blood. Power was coursing through his body. He felt like he could do anything now, and there was nothing and nobody that could stop him from trying. So flood his gates with blood, because the boy king was back.