Sam took the bottle from Claire with a pair of unsteady hands and mutely stared down at it. He didn't feel much like drinking it. Sam didn't feel much like doing anything. His eyes were puffy, outlined with dark circles, and there was a shadow painted across his jaw that indicated that he had failed to shave for a number of days. Sam had much difficulty functioning when Faith and Ruby weren't around, he'd realized. Ruby, because of the blood, and Faith because...well. Ruby represented his blood. Faith represented his heart. He was useless without either.
The bottle tipped back and forth between his fingers. Faith was dead. The vampire version was, while the other...
A horrible feeling clenched into his gut. Sam finally lifted the bottle to his mouth, forcing some of the alcohol down. He couldn't bear to think about it. The possibility alone...it was enough to, and it had already, make him sick.
"Thanks for picking me up," Sam muttered, head hung lowly. He tapped at the neck of the bottle with his fingers and stared it down. His truck was out there, somewhere. Parked on the side of the road. It was where he had left it after he had staggered away from the scene in horror. He'd have to go looking for it tomorrow.