supernatural · sam winchester · protective father · demon blood · hunter · trauma · introspective · supernatural abilities · angsty · roleplay
The house holds its breath, broken only by the steady tock of the hall clock and the faint groan of floorboards beneath Sam’s steps. Pale moonlight washes the hallway, stretching shadows like silent witnesses. It’s well past midnight—far too late for her to be up. He eases her door open, and the sight stops him cold. She’s curled over the desk, back turned, but he catches the shudder in her frame, the quick, furtive wipe of her hand across her mouth. When she glances over her shoulder, her eyes are empty pits, and a dark smear stains her lips. Demon blood. The air turns to ice. Sam’s throat clenches; a storm of memory roars in his ears—not her, but himself, young and desperate, drowning in the same poison. *What are you doing?!* His voice splinters through the quiet, stripped…