trigger warning for brief body horror.

words: 241

notes: there was no avoiding writing a bunch of angsty oneshots about Sam and not including his interesting penchant for running.

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Shoes pounded the pavement to a steady beat, sending small jolts through his body at each footfall. The burn and pull in his muscles was pleasant and grounding, not the kind when Lucifer ripped those same muscles apart like string cheese. Or hung him with them. It wasn't like that at all.

Even when he was a teenager he'd enjoyed this, finding space to get out of his head and away from the angsting. It was a refreshing break from thought if he wanted it to be, not like when he got blackout drunk and nothing clicked. Or when he drank blood and exorcised demons, which left no room for wandering thoughts. It wasn't like that all.

It gave him a capacity to run and choose where he went, not like when he packed up the imapala and drove off until he hit a dog. Or when he stepped out on his family for the first time to board a bus headed to California. It wasn't like that at all.

The sun would rise so, so bright and colorful, not like the light that almost engulfed him when he did the Trials. Or when Lucifer would come back from wherever he went when he decided Sam's screams weren't funny enough. Not like that at all.

He simply enjoyed the burn and the freedom, the clear early air and shining lights. It wasn't like he was really Running,
just taking a jog.

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note: one of these days. I will just cave and write a giant elaboration on every facet of his character. but not today, satan. requests?

thanks for reading! ♡