Life Blood
A bar fight: it’s how Sam always finds him. Adam makes his way from New York to California and manages to get into a bar fight in at least every other town. Stories follow him. He’s the man who never dies. Pistols and shotguns, knives and beer bottles… Nothing makes a real dent. Nothing lasts.
Its hell stopping Dean from getting suspicious but it’s worth it.
Every now and then, Sam will find just the right bar at just the right time and he’ll be there, waiting to hurt, waiting to get hurt.
Sam follows him outside: “I’m taking a walk, Dean. Stay and have fun.”
By the time Sam gets out, it’s already started. They throw him on the ground. They make him bleed, break his nose, and kick in his skull
He gets up again. Skin pulls together. Bones snap back into place. Covered in blood but just like new. Invincible. ‘Like a god,’ he later whispers in Sam’s ear. Sam groans and arches into him.
Adam laughs at that. He laughs as Sam drags a knife down his chest, mouth following it, sucking up the blood even as the body heals beneath his lips.
“One of these days,” he says. “I’m going to stop feeding your sick habit.”
Despite those words, he lets Sam stick the knife into his stomach until blood pours out at an alarming rate. He tangles a hand in Sam’s hair and urges him closer, harder, faster. Take as much in as possible before it closes up again. He then yanks him back up beside him. He eyes the red surrounding his mouth with approval before taking the knife and drawing it down Sam’s face. A gash opens from his forehead to his lips only to rapidly close a second later.
And Adam laughs.
“Then again, maybe I should keep you around.”
Its hell stopping Dean from getting suspicious but it’s worth it.
Every now and then, Sam will find just the right bar at just the right time and he’ll be there, waiting to hurt, waiting to get hurt.
Sam follows him outside: “I’m taking a walk, Dean. Stay and have fun.”
By the time Sam gets out, it’s already started. They throw him on the ground. They make him bleed, break his nose, and kick in his skull
He gets up again. Skin pulls together. Bones snap back into place. Covered in blood but just like new. Invincible. ‘Like a god,’ he later whispers in Sam’s ear. Sam groans and arches into him.
Adam laughs at that. He laughs as Sam drags a knife down his chest, mouth following it, sucking up the blood even as the body heals beneath his lips.
“One of these days,” he says. “I’m going to stop feeding your sick habit.”
Despite those words, he lets Sam stick the knife into his stomach until blood pours out at an alarming rate. He tangles a hand in Sam’s hair and urges him closer, harder, faster. Take as much in as possible before it closes up again. He then yanks him back up beside him. He eyes the red surrounding his mouth with approval before taking the knife and drawing it down Sam’s face. A gash opens from his forehead to his lips only to rapidly close a second later.
And Adam laughs.
“Then again, maybe I should keep you around.”