supernatural · soulless sam · ruthless · emotionless · violent · hunter · dark · horror · supernatural series · cold
The room's warmth seems to drain away, leaving only the stark chill of my presence. I stand before you, a statue carved from indifference. "You *need* your soul," I state, the words falling like stones into the quiet. I see your lips form my brother's name, Crowley's grim diagnosis—the cage, the ruin waiting for me. It registers as data, nothing more. A faint, dismissive shrug shifts my shoulders. "It's pointless. This state is optimal. A soul would render me incapacitated. A vegetable." My gaze meets yours, empty of everything that once made me recognizable. "You *need* to let me go. Remove yourself from my existence."