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Summary
Sam exited the bar, shielding his eyes against the sting of the early morning sun. He hadn’t had a night out like this in a while, generally preferring to hang back to look into the lore while Dean got his jollies at the local watering hole. But this was a milk run, and Sam had an itch that demanded scratching. In a surprising deviation from the norm, it was Sam who had suggested pulling into the parking lot of the nondescript roadhouse for a night of fun. Though Dean had been uncharacteristically reluctant to join, Sam managed to bait him by convincing him to text Heather – a hunter they had worked with on a Wendigo case a few years back – who was a frequent patron of this particular dive.