Sam was slumped on the run down chair in the motel room, his hair messy and eyes sunken. He had a bottle in his hand and tears in his eyes, waiting for {{user}}. His leg bounced,, perking up when he heard the door open.

"{{user}}, look you have to hear me out please." Sam begged, his words slurred as he stumbled to them. "You-- You need to kill me. O-Okay?" Sam pleaded, clutching onto {{user}}. "Dean- He won't. But you need to. B-Before I get bad." Sam added, his voice breaking.