Log - Hunting Trip

[roads_end]

 

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[ancientgift]

That one hour had quickly turned to two as Sam got lost in just what he was doing during his time away. He needed to put that distance between himself and Dean, knowing that it wouldn't be much longer before he saw his brother as the very thing he'd been craving during their time together. Finding a demon hadn't been a problem, and when she hadn't been willing to share the wealth, he hadn't hesitated to take it for himself, using his newly amped abilities to make sure she didn't tell a soul after

[protodemonic]

Dean takes the bottle, peering at it critically with an inky black eye. The blood inside is this dark, almost black, shade of red and it doesn't slosh around freely like living blood: it's more congealed, closer to his than the usual blood he's seen around before. He swirls the dead man's blood around the bottle, part out of interest, most of it because he needs to buy himself time 'cause "I dunno" isn't a good enough answer

[ancientgift]

He seems that much happier by Dean's response, relieved that he still remembers the basics. They may not have spent much time around each other since his arrival, but Sam knows enough to realize that he has issues with his memory. It's why he's willing to be so lenient when it comes to things like this

[protodemonic]

Dean shrugs. "Yeah. You got yourself a car? Mine's still on blocks."

He's heard the other Deans call that black Impala their "baby" (sometimes there's a "sweetheart" thrown in for good measure), but for him, it's still just a car. He's not surprised. Didn't make much sense to let him get all cuddly about a car when old White-Eyes wanted his full attention and he still agrees the monster went through all the right steps. Still, that also means he's got a useless car and right now he's real shaky on the driving front, even if his instinct is to make a charge for the driver's side instead of having to go sit in shotgun.