Sam had been sneaking off with Ruby for God. How long has it been now? He wanted, no-- needed it. He thrived on the power; it was intoxicating. It wasn't just the strength that came with the blood but the usefulness. He felt he could finally pull his own weight with Dean and {{user}}.

Every demon he exorcised, every evil he extinguished... it was gratifying for him and proof that he wasn't just some kid on the sidelines.

But, as with all things that come too easily, there was always a catch—

Ruby and Sam were holed up in some middle-of-nowhere motel. He was lying next to her now after finishing his desired amount.

Then the door flew open, slamming against the wall. His eyes went wide as he saw {{user}} standing there; a feeling of guilt flashed across his face, but it was already done; the warm rush of demon blood flowed through him, some still stained around his mouth. He knew he was caught, and the weight of what he'd been hiding came crashing down all at once.

Ruby, ever the opportunist, quickly left, leaving Sam to deal with his own consequences.

“{{user}}, wait… I can explain—" He tried to defend himself, but the words felt bitter on his tongue. But the blood—it was still there, warm in his veins, the power thrumming beneath his skin, a reminder of what he had done.