InsaneJournal

Who: Sam Winchester
What: Finding a little something left for him
Where: The Roadhouse
When: Tonight
Warnings: None

The pregnant girl, Juno, made it safely to the Roadhouse, and Sam met up with her shortly after. He found her just as quirky and interesting in person as she'd seemed over the messages they had exchanged. He owed her a lot, whether she realised it or not; she'd helped him pass the time, when otherwise his mind would have been racing and likely thinking not good things.

In a quiet moment, Sam looked around to see that everyone else in the bar was doing their own thing. Some sat alone, or in small groups. The noise level was low, respectful. Sam finished off a beer he'd been nursing for a while, set it down, and stood up. he stretched, and sauntered off to the restroom. He noticed the flask as he was washing his hands. He thought he would have noticed it when he came in, but he hadn't noticed it. He picked it up from the counter and turned it over in his hands.

It was silver, and bore his initials, S.W., in a Victorian script. Sam frowned and set the flask down. A lot of people had the same initials he had. Initials didn't mean anything. Sam took a step toward the door, b ut promptly turned back around. He knew on some deeply unconscious level, he wasn't going anywhere without that flask. It was his. He picked it up a second time and uncapped it. Forgetting, or maybe ignoring, the suggestion of wafting, he brought the lip of the flask right up to his nose and sniffed. he smell hit him hard and fast. It was all he could do not to drop the flask, but his fingers tightened around it, and would have crushed it if the metal wasn't so solid. All at once, he started trembling, and his mouth watered. He felt dizzy, and he knew one taste of the liquid inside the flask would make it all go away. One taste and he'd forget about ever feeling nauseous again.

Sam pushed his shoulder into the wall, using the wall for stability. He dug his PDA out of his pocket, but couldn't hold on to it. Leaning over to pick it up made his head swoosh, not unlike the feeling of riding a roller coaster that turned upside down. He slid down the wall, until he was sitting on the bathroom floor. It took every ounce of Sam's concentration to pull up his brother's name and contact info. He bit his bottom lip so hard his teeth dug into his skin. The pain helped him regain some focus, at least long enough to send Dean a message.