Sam laid awake, staring at one of the bedroom walls. He had woken up at 3AM and found himself unable to go back to sleep.

He was thirsty. For what…shame gnawed at him. He tried to think of water, juice, anything but what he craved. But it did not go away.

Surely it was too early for this? And yet… Since the conversation with Famine about the demon blood, Sam found himself growing insatiably curious about it. How it would taste, how it would feel going down his throat... Would it really make him stronger? Something in the back of his mind said "yes!" It urged him to drink. To demand Famine let him have it now.

He fought that urge back. Famine said they would start on it soon. He couldn't just jump into it unprepared…

Sam thought about how he always felt strange around demons. He remembered his gaze lingering on their spilt blood. The substance, darkened by the demon's influence, had an alluring smell. As if it was trying to beckon Sam to it. Meanwhile, Dean claimed it smelt terrible. Now there was an explanation for it.

He needed to taste it.

Sam grunted and rolled over, hugging Oscar, the Labrador plushy, closer. He tried shutting his eyes, tried to will himself to sleep, but his eyes remained locked on the door.

He had to…

Several seconds past with unsuccessful attempts to cull the urge and sleep. Finally, Sam decided he couldn't fight it any longer and got up. Surely, he could convince Famine to let him have the demon blood early? Or, hopefully, Sam could find something to quench the thirst…

The door squeaked as he peaked out into the hall. It was quiet and mostly dark. The small hallway nightlight only provided enough illumination for the bathroom and stairs. Stepping out into the hall, Sam considered going to Famine's office first but wanted to at least try a normal drink.

He crept to the kitchen. He squinted at the bright light of the fridge and let his eyes adjust enough before searching its drinks. Milk, juices, punch, soft drinks, alcohol he knew not to touch, lemonade…nothing caught his interest.

He wondered if the punch would suffice… It was a nice, dark, red. Almost like blood, but nothing like the dark of demon blood. And the flavor would not be right…

Sam growled in frustration, glaring at the contents.

The kitchen light flicked on and he jumped, spinning around to see who snuck up on him.

Famine had a sympathetic frown on his face.

Sam shrank back despite himself. "I was just looking for something to drink…"

"I know. Nothing wrong with that. Can't find what you want?"

"No…" Sam shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to tell Famine. Though, he had a feeling he already knew. "They're not what I want… I…" He couldn't help the returning shame and embarrassment that made him hesitate.

Thankfully, Famine just nodded in understanding. "I know, Sam." He said gently and Sam's gaze fell to the floor. Famine crouched next to him. He brought a hand under Sam's chin and carefully guided Sam to look at him. "Look at me…I'm not upset at you. This is nothing to be ashamed of. That urge was always there and always going to get worse. But- Sam, look at me," Famine lightly urged, "listen, I cannot introduce you to the blood yet. Not until after the warding ritual in the least and when you're fully under my care…"

"But can't I have a little taste?"

Famine smiled in amusement but shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Even the smallest drop will cause your powers to increase and the hunger with them. I fear you might get tracked if you're not warded."

"Oh…" Sam did not consider that. He didn't want to be taken by either Heaven or Hell… Or anyone else by that matter. Still, that did not quell the desire. He made a discomforted noise when it itched at him again. "But it hurts…"

Famine squeezed Sam's shoulder. "I know. I still cannot give you the demon blood now, but I can dampen your desires for tonight so you can rest. Tomorrow, I will teach you some techniques to sooth the hunger yourself."

"Like meditation?"

"In a sense."

"Do they help you?"

Famine chuckled. "Mostly. I wouldn't teach them to you if they didn't work."

Sam hummed. That made sense…Famine wasn't the type to teach something he deemed useless. And anything that will help deal with these desires was better than being in pain. "Alright."

"Good. As I said: we'll worry about that tomorrow. For now," Famine stood and placed a hand atop Sam's head, "let me ease your hunger."

Sam nodded. "I'd like that." Famine's aura linked with his and the urging voices quietened as his thirst was…absorbed by the Horseman.

"We can't truly get rid of a desire so much as take it from them." He remembered Famine once mentioned. "It can be quite uncomfortable, depending on what it was and how bad it was. But a learned famemancer can easily wave it away once it's theirs."

It wasn't the most comforting thought. Sam couldn't help but feel concerned hearing Famine grunt. Was his thirst that bad?

Famine gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm alright, Sam. Don't you worry about me. Feel better?"

The voices were quiet, the itch subdued. All that remained was tiredness. He nodded. "Yeah… I think I can sleep now."

"Good. Let's get you back to bed, shall we?"

A secluded cabin sat in an unusually wooded area of Kentucky. Few knew its location or that it existed. Rarely did strangers stumble upon it. As if it was only found when it wanted to be. Or when the owner did.

If one listened closely, they could hear said owner grumbling from within…and accidentally knocking a metal bowl off a counter.

Pestilence swore in the Horsemen's native tongue. He glared down at the squirming worms that once resided in that bowl as if they were somehow at fault. It would not be the worst thing he had to clean up. Not by a long shot. But that was not the point. Pest had been irked all day. Nearly all week, even.

His experiments kept going wrong, for one. The parasitic fungus was not taking to the worms. Or rather, they were not surviving in the worms once consumed.

It was no big deal, he supposed. Experiments did not always succeed. It was merely time for a new approach. So long as these worms got a new environmental check.

What really bothered him was his brothers' recent surprise.

He knew they had found a famemancer and polemomancer child. Knew they had been keeping tabs on them. Possibly gearing up to take them in.

That would not have been a problem. A sudden adoption he could have handled. Euthalia was, after all, quite sudden.

What he did not expect was for them to be the Winchesters; the rumored True Vessels.

Taking in Euthalia had been a risk of its own, sure. But at worse, they would be used as blackmail if captured. Nearly were, once.

For Heaven and Hell to learn of this... The price potentially too big for the Horsemen. Heaven and Hell knew they cared little for Their petty war. They would suspect plotting, and They would be right.

The Horsemen had already been planning a way to screw over the apocalypse. To have the Vessels on their side so early was a boon. How, exactly, this should play out during the apocalypse itself was details for later.

Pestilence would be lying if he said he wanted no part of it. Happy to spite the Two Sides at any given chance. He knew opportunity upon seeing it. This was likely the best opportunity they had ever caught.

It was his brothers' safety he was worried about. He was uncertain if the risks outweighed reward.

But the reward, his family's freedom, was too sweet to ignore.

He closed his eyes and took a breath, exhaling slowly.

He opened them and stared down at the mess of worms once more.

What was there to lose in the end, truly?

To the Void with it. "I have work to do."