[img]http://i.imgur.com/awzuRbb.jpg[/img]

Sam was slow to react when the shade came into the room. Sluggish from…from what: exhaustion? Hunger, maybe? He had been fine moments before. Perhaps it was an after effect of the stigmata from before or perhaps he was just coming down hard from the adrenaline of the last few hours. Either way, the world moved faster than he did: as someone threw something at the shadow, only to have it sliced in half. 

Sam was staring in disbelief at the creature. It was made of blackness…Something similar to the strange blackness that had dripped from his wounds like so much bile in his blood. On instinct, he raised his dagger and was about to surge forward and attack the thing, sluggishness be damned, when he faltered lightly. He didn’t know what it was, or where it was, or why it stopped him; something had Sam standing stuck to the spot though. For a moment, it felt like he was looking at himself through a mirror or through someone else’s eyes. He was frozen in time: a monolithic pillar in the middle of the room. 

…and then he was Sam again. He shook his head and saw Angel acting against the shade. To think that it was him who acted first was almost insulting. Sam didn’t notice what was thrown, it was too small or perhaps his vision was simply too blurry. Either way, he couldn’t ignore what came next. Attached to his arm was a shield. It had appeared from nowhere and it seemed almost weightless to the strong arm of Sam. He stared at Angel, unsure of what to think or say. He heard the man’s words, and at the end: he finished with the magic word. 

“…Sam?” 

Pride smiled as he stepped towards the shade, knife and shield raised and ready. He was facing up to the shadow, the umbra, the whatever-the-fuck this thing was. Sluggishness was still there, but self-confidence and the knowledge that someone was depending on him was enough to move the tired limbs back into action. He squared up to the shade, unflinching and unafraid of the creature before him. 

“I don’t what the fuck you are, but your ass is in the wrong house. This is the Sinner’s house: the house of Sloth and the den of vice.” He was standing at full height. The Asian heritage seemed to bubble away as Six foot four inches of muscle stared down the spirit-thing. “Now get the fuck out.” He lunged forward, shield arm facing the slimy creature while the knife darted forward, aiming for a throat. He wasn’t giving the creature a chance to leave in anything other than a body bag, if he could help it.