Hands trembling, Sam took apart every one of his guns. Cleaned them, put them back together. He polished the bladed weapons, trying not to nick himself.
Afterward, he took his clothes out to the Laundromat, watching with single-minded fascination as the loads worked through both the washer and dryer cycles.
When that was done, he cleaned his car of the week. Washed. Waxed. Vacuumed out the interior. Organized the trunk.
All too soon, there was nothing left to do. He sat on a kitchen chair, ignoring the figure on the bed.
"Well, aren't you the busy little bee!" snickered Lucifer.