A/N: I was inspired to write this because of Ambrose, in Infinity (which kind of left my head spinning). There are no spoilers so don't worry.

Nick, stepping out of the darkness and into the light of the bathroom, peeled off the damp t-shirt, skin shining and slick from sweat. He left the shirt on the floor by the doorway, and hitched up his jeans only to have them fall back down where they were resting low on his leaner than usual hips.

It was a bad night. He'd let his aggression out on some deserving Daimons, but it hadn't been enough to quell the rage and anger in him. He turned the cold water on and leaned over the sink, splashing water on his face, trying to get a handle on himself, a little control over his emotions. It felt like a losing battle.

Not bothering to dry off he shut off the tap. He braced his hands on either side of the sink, breathing deep, eyes closed. He just wanted to shut down, this constant anger and hate was tearing away at him, exhausting him.

Nick opened his eyes slowly then let his gaze drifted up and he caught sight of his dark eyes, and the murderess look in them. He rarely looked at his reflection these days, not comfortable with what he saw. Tonight was no different, as he had to turn away from the face in the mirror.

A/N: Feedback is always welcomed.