Empty Veins

Chapter Two: Unusual doesn't mean bad, right?

        Sam wiped the blood from his hands and face, tucking the tissues in a pocket of his coat, before turning the key to start up the '67 Chevy Impala that was now his. Until now, every time he sat in the car, random memories would flash into his mind. Cutting his initials into the car with Dean, sitting in the back of the car with Dean, when Dean was first to sit in the passenger seat, ragging on Dean's cassette collection, waking up with a spoon in his mouth that Dean had put there. Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean. Other memories of course ran through his mind, but they cut deep into him and hurt. But not now. He was on too much of a high to care.

        Pulling into the parking lot of the motel, he got out of the car with more vigor than he had done anything with in the past few months. He jack hammered his knuckles against the door a moment, waiting for Bobby's old friend to come to the door. "Hey, Mark." Sam said, when the man opened the door.

        "Hey, kid." Mark said, standing aside to let Sam in. "You take care of 'em?" He asked as Sam walked in. Something was off about the boy, Mark thought. Not that that was bad, the kid finally seemed happy. The entire week that he had been helping Sam track down the demons, Sam had been hunched over with an indescribable sadness. Now, however, he stood straight, with an energetic feel about him, like most hunters after ganking a monster.

        "Yeah." Sam nodded, hands in his pockets. He could feel the blood on the tissue against his hand. He waited a moment, looking Mark in the eyes. It felt like Mark was studying him, but Sam's guilt didn't hang on him anymore. He was too full of demon blood to have room for guilt or sadness. After a moment, he asked, "How are you, Mark?" 

        Mark swallowed, smiling as he responded. Sam had been through so much, he didn't deserve to be interrogated about the only happiness he had seemed to have had in a while. "I'm good, kid. Thanks for helpin' out. What about you?" "I'm good." Sam said simply. Then, it hit him. A small smile appeared on his face. "For once, I'm feelin' good." It had been so long since he had any scrap of happiness or peace in his life, he had forgotten how it felt. It felt good. It felt so good, he wondered why he had ever stopped. Any memory of the guilt he felt for what he had caused was diluted with the blood that ran through his veins. Blood ran through his veins, and he had been alive, but now it actually felt like he was living.

        "That's good, kid." Mark said, running his tongue along his lips as a few thoughts ran through his mind. Seeing Sam like this was unsettling, but whenever you see something unusual you got unsettled, and it wasn't usual for Sam to be happy. Seeing something unusual wasn't always bad, just unsettling, Mark reminded himself. After all the boy had been through, it was a miracle that his muscles still remembered how to smile, how to do anything but pull the trigger and fight. "You wanna stay for a drink before you head out?" Mark asked, dismissing any misgivings he had.

        "Nah, I should go. I think I got another case a few states away." Sam lied with ease. "But thanks, though." He said, turning back towards the door. He spoke again, hand on the knob. "And remember, if you ever see any more demons, call me." He grinned, opening the door and exiting. The door closed behind him.

        Mark didn't realize what that sentence really meant, as he went to bed that night. He didn't realize that Sam hadn't offered to help with anything, that he didn't say if you got into a spot of trouble, nothing like that. Sam had meant if you find demons, tell me. Mark didn't realize it was like someone trying to find a food that the grocery stores near them had stopping selling. He didn't realize what he had helped Sam to do. He didn't realize that that goodbye wasn't an offer to help, but was a junkie trying to line up another deal when this hit had worn off.