At this late hour, Rhys was sound asleep in bed, but he's used to wake-ups at strange hours. It's part of what he does- "Can you stitch a knife wound?" "Do you know anything about naga bites?" "What's the best way to get imps out of a basement crawlspace?" The calls come at oh-fuck-hundred in the morning, and killing curses and heavily bleeding injuries don't wait for you to get your full eight hours of rest. So he stirs when the phone rings, listening to see if the message is something urgent he needs to respond to.
And hearing the plea in Sam's voice, that just snaps him completely awake and makes him fumble for the phone by the bedside. There's a cascade of possibilities going through his head right now, mind playing back to the night Sam called and told him they needed him because Ellen might not survive, and his heart is already sinking as he takes in a deep breath and tries to make his voice sound stable. "Sam? M'here. What's wrong? What happened?"
His voice is warm. Solid and stable and it helps Sam focus beyond the jitter and jive of power making him edgy and nervous. "I, ah.." He bobbles the phone again, jamming his thumb into his palm so hard it sends a spike of pain up his forearm.
"There were demons, Rhys. Three of them."
The call is harder than he expects, but he has to tell someone. If he doesn't he's going to slip off into addiction again and this time, there wouldn't be anyone left to pull him back. No Dean, no Cas. No one.
"I.." Sam looks down at his blood smeared hands. "I slipped up Rhys. I.. the demon blood. I need help. I need someplace to.." A place to get clean. Someone to stop him. Anything.
Oh, Sam. Rhys takes a breath and lets it out slowly, focusing himself- just a moment, not too long because Sam needs his voice, needs his answer, and he knows exactly what he's going to say, anyway. He swings his bare legs over the side of the bed. This is bad, but he can deal with this. He has to, for Sam's sake, and that's reason enough to keep calm, keep it together.
It's not a surprise, not in the least. Bobby's gone, and the Winchester boys constantly on the run, constantly fighting...things falling apart. Rhys can see it in the way Sam keeps more and more from him, and yet seems to cling tighter every time they see each other. But he doesn't hold it against him, knowing what the Winchesters' life has become, and at times like now, when Sam needs him...Rhys just does his damnedest to be there to help. Especially at times like now, when there's no one else for Sam to turn to. Demon blood is toxic, potent, unpredictable stuff
( ... )
Everything is spiraling out of control and for just one moment, Sam needed that control back, he needed to feel like he was in control of something. Bobby was dead, Dean was lost in a bottle of whiskey every day, and he was slowly going insane. They’d even had to give up their home, the Impala. He’d been terrified, hurting, and he hated himself even as he brought the demon blood to his lips. It was control, and Sam was desperate for something, anything to make the pain stop, make the voice in his mind stop for just a few hours
( ... )
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And hearing the plea in Sam's voice, that just snaps him completely awake and makes him fumble for the phone by the bedside. There's a cascade of possibilities going through his head right now, mind playing back to the night Sam called and told him they needed him because Ellen might not survive, and his heart is already sinking as he takes in a deep breath and tries to make his voice sound stable. "Sam? M'here. What's wrong? What happened?"
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"There were demons, Rhys. Three of them."
The call is harder than he expects, but he has to tell someone. If he doesn't he's going to slip off into addiction again and this time, there wouldn't be anyone left to pull him back. No Dean, no Cas. No one.
"I.." Sam looks down at his blood smeared hands. "I slipped up Rhys. I.. the demon blood. I need help. I need someplace to.." A place to get clean. Someone to stop him. Anything.
Reply
It's not a surprise, not in the least. Bobby's gone, and the Winchester boys constantly on the run, constantly fighting...things falling apart. Rhys can see it in the way Sam keeps more and more from him, and yet seems to cling tighter every time they see each other. But he doesn't hold it against him, knowing what the Winchesters' life has become, and at times like now, when Sam needs him...Rhys just does his damnedest to be there to help. Especially at times like now, when there's no one else for Sam to turn to. Demon blood is toxic, potent, unpredictable stuff ( ... )
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