#hellcures tagtbd.

[hctelboss-aa]

       @hellcures​  ↹  ❝ you’re lucky it’s not infected. ❞          

         AGONY FLICKERS OVER FEATURES and despite how Jo attempts to hide it she’s certain Lana’s seen. As gauze peels back from wound that stretches across expanse of pale cream thigh the Harvelle girl swallows back a yelp and instead releases her pain in a vice like grip against comforter, gritting teeth just enough to take the edge off. “S’cause I got such a great nurse.” She bites, inhaling sharply as alcohol washes over wound.

       The stitching had been haphazard at best, crimson constantly cascading opaque made consistency a difficult objective to attain but never the less Lana had managed and hell if Jo wasn’t nearly indebted to her for it. “How much longer y’think I’ll be laid up like this?” Walking on it was certainly out of the question and the Harvelle had already spent three days cooped up, albeit in comfortable quarters, and she was beginning to GET THE ITCH.

[shotgunscn]

@hellcures​ liked the thing for a DRUNK SAMMY starter           HE COULD BE LIKE DEAN ; Sam could drown his sorrows in a bottle too, couldn’t he? Especially after what the eldest Winchester had said. ‘ he said, well he said I might have to kill you, Sammy. ‘ What the hell was that supposed to mean?! And why the hell hadn’t he said something to Sam about it!? Rage bubbles beneath the surface and like a fireman with a hose the youngest hunter attempts to douse it with a hearty shot of liquid ; tequila goes down harsh and forces Sam to grimace as he orders another three from the bartender ; only four shots in— how bad could it be?           At least he’s not alone ; Lana sits next to him, parked comfortably on a subpar barstool ; feeding Sam’s unhealthy coping mechanism. It wasn’t as if he was in any kind of danger, if anyone needed to be talked to about their drinking habits it was Dean— this was clearly some kind of release for Sam ; and knowing her as long as he had the youngest brother knew she wouldn’t try to stop him. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He insists, clinking his next shot glass with her own, a dribble of liquid finding its way over rims edge with the motion. “I wanna have fun tonight ; —deal with this crap in the morning.” He mutters and SLAMS BACK HIS FIFTH SHOT.

[shotgunscn]

         @hellcures​  ↹  ❝ I’m telling you, It’s just better with you around. ❞

        HE HASN’T STEPPED FOOT IN KANSAS IN A LONG WHILE. Too many memories ; too much pain here— but there’s always her ; always Lana, and that’s something that makes Sam feel some twinge of regret— some inkling of sorrow. He hadn’t meant to hurt her when he’d gone, but what should he have expected? It hurt to lose someone you cared about, dead or not Sam had vanished— he might as well have been six feet under for as much as he’d tried to communicate with her. But wasn’t that the best thing? Wouldn’t that have easiest for her? Cut ties all together to prevent heart ache? Besides, if Sam wanted normal he couldn’t very well have any ties to his old life now could he? And that included HER.          “I’m sorry. I had to try. If I didn’t—“ I would have gone crazy, I would have killed Dad , I would have done SOMETHING i’d regret I had to know. A breath, a pause. “Expect to see a lot more’a me. THINK I’LL BE AROUND A WHILE.”

[shotgunscn]

@hellcures​  ↹  ❝ we can just sit here, you don’t have to talk.. ❞

          HE WEEPS. Openly, without apology ; because he can in front of Lana. Because he knows there’s no judgement there— only friendship, only safety. Tears flow like broken spigot, sour salt water streaming ugly river rapids across Sam’s cheeks. There’s a hole in his chest, gun shot wound doused with vinegar and rock salt and an unending twisting of butchers knife. His stomach feels hollow— almost missing in its entirety ; as if the youngest, now only Winchester might never need to eat again. It  h u r t s. Worse than he could have imagined, more painful than John, more devastating than Jess ; like every soul he’d ever lost wrapped into one and tormented right before his eyes. Sam had lost Dean ; and there was no way to get him back. No demon would deal, no hoodo man or woman this side of the equator could think of a way to help him. No saving souls from the jaws of hell flame, child. Your brother is gone— ain’t no comin’ back from that. These words and more twisted in his mind, an echoing cacophony of torment and mocking. If he’d only acted sooner; if he’d only taken Ruby up on her offer.             Eventually the tears stop falling— not because he’s recovered, but because there simply isn’t any more liquid in his tear ducts. Eyes burn, shimmering dewy red ache ; and Sam’s breaths come hitched where they used to break and gurgle. He sits, motionless against the edge of the motel bed as Lana sits beside him— takes another ragged breath and shakes his mop of brown shag. “ . . . you should go. Get some rest— IT’S LATE.”