[AU] two worlds, a lot of demons, and a new set of problems

[gavemea_45]

It's still hard to believe it's over; that the yellow-eyed demonic bastard they'd spent their whole lives hunting is finally dead.

Sam figures it'll sink in eventually. Given everything else -- right now he's still pretty numb.

He's also desperately tired, but that doesn't matter. There's something he needs to do, and he can't afford to delay.

He waits until they've settled in for the night, and then waits still longer. Once Dean's been asleep for half an hour, Sam picks up his messenger bag -- already stuffed with books and his computer -- and heads straight for the bar.

He orders black coffee and snags a table with a good view of both doors and the stairs, then pulls out the first of the old texts and starts to search through it.

There's work to do.

Comments

[pacificator]

"Yes, obviously as in Wyatt."

Exasperated, she shoves Peacemaker back into her boot. "And Peacemaker can kill anything, too. As long as I'm wielding it."

[gavemea_45]

“Right, you said you were some kind of heir.” He’s thinking frantically. Maybe there’s a way—

“So how’d you solve the bullet problem?”

[pacificator]

Her expression very clearly says: what the fuck?

"By having bullets? I don't know, what do you mean, bullet problem?"

[gavemea_45]

“Are you telling me you don’t need special bullets for that gun to work?” Sam demands.

[pacificator]

"Special bullets? No – "

She pulls Peacemaker back out again and gestures loosely with it. "Special gun, remember? How dumb would it be to have to have a special gun and special bullets? What happens when you use them up, you just chuck the revolver at the bad guys and hope for the best?"

[gavemea_45]

"You have to make more, that's what." Never mind that they haven't figured out how to do that yet. Bobby will, Sam's sure, it'll just take some time.

Sam glares at her. "How dumb do you think it is to have a demon-killing weapon only one person can use? What if you're not there, Earp?"

[pacificator]

"Well, I am there."

Bluster and bravado, two of her favorite b-words. Maybe she was never meant to be the Heir, but she's doing the best she can. "I'm there, putting down every revenant in the Ghost River Triangle."

And she'll be the one to break this goddamned curse.

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah, you mentioned that. Where's this triangle of yours?" A thought strikes him. "And just to make it clear, I'm not a damn revenant, either." Resurrection notwithstanding. "They're more like zombies, you know."

[pacificator]

"'More like zombies, you know,'" she mocks, then drops the tone. "No, they're not. Mine aren't. They look and act like humans. Mostly," she amends, thinking of their burning red eyes, the way their demonic nature can appear out of nowhere. "And it's in Alberta. With a little bit in Montana."

There's the faint edge of a smirk to her lips. "Just the tip."

[gavemea_45]

"Mostly. That's the point. Why, don't your zombies do that too?"

Canada'd at least explain why he hasn't heard of it, but that doesn't make sense. Sam stares at her. "What the - Earp wasn't Canadian."

[pacificator]

She has two choices here: admit she hasn't seen any zombies yet – no – or bluster her way through it.

Scratch that: three choices. She can just ignore it. "No, but he didn't combust when he crossed a border, either," she points out. "He came to Purgatory for a while. Put down some roots."

And a whole lot of bad people.

[gavemea_45]

Sam grimaces. "Quite the name. Guess he got a taste for places like that, after Tombstone."

[pacificator]

"Wyatt Earp had a flair for the dramatic, who knew?" A thought strikes her, and her eyes narrow. "Hey. Don't think I've forgotten about that whole 'marked' thing."

She had. But he doesn't need to know that. "So if you're not a demon and you're not a revenant, what's your deal?"

[gavemea_45]

"I'm a hunter, that's what." Sam reaches for his coffee and takes a large swallow, then grimaces at it.

"What's your name, Earp?"

[pacificator]

Well, apparently this is happening. She sticks Peacemaker back into her boot, then sighs as she turns back to the bar to retrieve bottle and both tumblers.

She sets the glasses down on his papers with a smack of finality, then kicks out a chair to take a seat before she starts pouring.

He didn't ask her to sit down, but one so rarely gets what one asks for, anyway, right? "Wynonna."

[gavemea_45]

Sam's eyebrows hit his hairline, but he sets his coffee aside and reaches for his glass when it's ready. Maybe it's like an apology. Sort of. If he squints.

"Family name?" Dryly. "Or country music fans?"

[pacificator]

She gives him an exasperated look over her own glass. "Are you always this funny, or just when you're trying and failing to be charming?"

Wynonna snorts. "At least I wasn't saddled with 'Winchester.' Little on the nose, don't you think?"

[gavemea_45]

"I tend to save the charm for people who don't aim guns at me." He shrugs. "Heck of a statement from a girl whose last name is Earp."

[pacificator]

"Hey, in my defense, I've never seen Peacemaker react that way to someone good."

She takes a large swallow of the whiskey and tops off her glass again. "You're just jealous because there's no way to dine out on the same name as a gun."

[gavemea_45]

"Well, now you have." It burns like acid, makes him sick with self-loathing, but that's nothing new. He lifts the glass and downs half of it.

[pacificator]

She watches the way he downs that drink, her fingers tapping on her own glass. "Hit a nerve there, Sam?"

Marked. What the hell does that mean? "You say you're a hunter. Are you with Black Badge?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam lowers the tumbler and stares at her like she's lost her mind. "What's Black Badge?"

[pacificator]

Uh. "It's..."

Shit. What would Dolls say? "... Classified."

She takes another swig of her whiskey and glances away, mind whirring. "So you're, what, freelance? Running around hunting demons for funsies?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam snorts at that. "Classified. Right. Like if hunters had an X-Files division. Sure."

He shakes his head and finishes off his drink, then reaches for the bottle without asking. "All hunters are freelance. And I wouldn't call it fun. It just needs doing. Someone's got to stand between civilians and what's out there."

[pacificator]

"Not all."

She says it low and into her glass, then gives him an exasperated glance and tugs the bottle away once he's finished pouring, so she can top off her own drink. "Then I guess we're on the same side."

She sounds annoyed about it.