This chapter has 666 words. Cool, huh?
Imagine yourself walking to your car after leaving a club, a bounce in your step from the shots your friends convinced you to take. A crash from the alley makes you whirl around, looking for the source of the noise. A tall man is leaning against the side of the alley, a trash can spilled over by his feet. Hesitantly you go over to him, wanting to know if he's alright. You think he might be drunk, he's got a dazed look in his eyes, as if he can't quite focus on anything.
"You alright?" You ask him. He looks up at you with wide hazel eyes, his long brown hair hanging limply by the side of his face.
"What?" He asks, his entire face contorting in confusion.
"I said, are you alright." You repeat, stepping closer to him. He struggles to stand against the wall and you see just how tall he really is. "Do you need a ride home? I could call a cab, or a family member?" You suggest.
"No! No, I'm fine. I'm fine." He grabs his left hand and digs his thumb into it, wincing in what looks like pain.
"Hey, buddy, are you okay? You look terrible." You tell him, taking in his appearance. His hair is limp, the bags under his eyes make him look like he's got two black eyes, and his clothes are basically just giant wrinkles.
"I'm fine. I just, I need to sleep." He mumbles, one hand carding through his hair.
"How long since you last slept?" You ask him, worried for his health. Which doesn't make sense, you just met the guy. But, he does look familiar.
"Uh, a few days. Four, five." He answers, stumbling over his answer.
"You need to sleep! You'll kill yourself if you keep going like that!" You tell him, your eyes widening.
"Tell that to Lucifer." He mutters, so low that you almost don't hear him. But you do.
"Lucifer?" You exclaim. His head shoots up from where it dropped to his chest and he stares at you with wide eyes.
"You weren't supposed to hear that." He tells you in shock.
"Well, I did." You say, standing your ground. You're positive he's crazy, maybe a druggy, but he looks so lost and scared, you can't leave him alone. You slip your phone out of your pocket. "Is there someone I can call?"
"My brother. But, don't. Please, just don't." He answers, rubbing his left palm again.
"You need help!" You tell him. He shakes his head, causing his ridiculously long hair to fly around his face.
"I'm fine. It's fine." He protests. He slides down the wall, sitting on the slightly damp asphalt of the alley.
"Look, uh, what's your name?" You ask him, crouching so you're at eye level with him.
"Sam." He answers automatically.
"Sam. Okay, Sam, I don't know what you're going through, but you need help. You can't sleep, you're seeing Satan, and I don't know what else is going on, but if you don't get help, you'll probably die." You tell him bluntly. He lets out a humorless, slightly hysterical, chuckle.
"You sound like Dean." He mumbles, only just loud enough for you to hear.
"Dean's your brother?" You ask. He nods in confirmation. It's then that it clicks in your head. Dean and Sam. Lucifer. It makes sense now, in a weird way. Supernatural is real. "Holy shit. You're Sam! From the books!"
"If I ever see Chuck again, I'm going to kill him." He growls. His entire body tenses and his eyes widen. He pushes you away and stands, looking down at you in fear. He half-stumbles and half-runs away from you, leaving you in the cold alley.
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