Who: Sam and Heather. What: Sam dropping by to get rid of all the razor blades. When: Evening. Where: Heather's place. Rating: PG-13. Status: COMPLETE.
Between the throbbing pain along the side of his head, the lack of an appetite that he had developed after tossing up his insides, and the discovery of his drunken stupidity striking the people of Los Angeles, it was more than easy to say that Sam Winchester was not in a very good mood. He was tired, sick, and miserable. Despite it all, Sam still found himself pushing into a situation that, while some might have thought unnecessary for him to take immediate action toward, Sam was quick to get involved in. He'd promised Heather that he was going to help her with her problem. They weren't on the best of terms at the moment and they were supposed to be keeping their space, but that didn't stop Sam from driving on over to her place to make sure that every razor was properly disposed of before he left her to whatever it was that she wanted to do with herself.
He was furious at her for giving in. Hurting herself. Thinking that it was okay to hurt herself. It was a bit ironic, considering that Sam was the one who had a gun pressed to the side of his head less than twenty-four hours prior. But to be fair? He didn't have much memory of it. There was just Jo, coming to get him. And then nothing. No attempted suicides, no talk about how it was better for the world if he went now. Nothing.
Maybe it was better that way.
Looking worn, tired, and frustrated, Sam knocked on Heather's door with one hand and kept a grip on Cricket's leash with the other. Another promise that he was trying to make good on. Bringing her dog back.