Sam Winchester (
gavemea_45) wrote2023-01-05 07:38 pm
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[AU] two worlds, a lot of demons, and a new set of problems
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.
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.
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Dean lets out an explosive breath. "At least there's that. Jesus."
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Her voice is quiet, almost sympathetic. "It's awful."
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"I guess they don't try that much."
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"He was still alive after weeks, but... that's all you could say for it."
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He won't. They'll find a way. Somehow.
"How many of the seventy-seven are left?"
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She pulls the truck to a halt a fair distance from the building, which looks like a house and shop pushed together, the yard filled with metal detritus. There's a no trespassing sign that she chooses to ignore, unbuckling herself and reaching for the skull and wine. "Let's go see what she has to say."
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She clutches the bottle in one hand and the box in the other and starts crunching across the snow, headed toward the barn that seems to function as a workshop. As she comes nearer, the door slides open, and a dark-haired woman with an exasperated expression steps out. "You did see the "No Tresspassing" sign, didn't you?" she calls, annoyed.
"Uh – " Waverly swallows and finds her courage. "I was wondering... I need to talk with you."
The Blacksmith looks her over. "And you think an eight dollar bottle of pinot's going to make me listen?"
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"Not 'make,'" he says, with a warm, easy smile. "More as a friendly gesture."
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With a tip of her head toward Waverly. "Who are you?"
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It's not too much of a stretch, all things considered.
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She tips the box so the woman can see the skull inside. The Blacksmith steps forward, glance dropping to the skull, and sighs. "Curtis McCready," she says. "I shoulda known."
She turns and strides back into the workshop, gesturing for them to follow. "Hurry up."
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"Come here," she says, finally, and motions for Waverly to kneel near the fire. "Set that skull here."
Here being a small table made of hammers, their heads pointed inward. Waverly sets the skull atop the metal circle they make, and, at the Blacksmith's gesture, puts her hand on top of the skull.
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"Not my boyfriend," Waverly tells her, then gives Sam a comforting smile. "It's okay, Sam. If Uncle Curtis was bound like this, it couldn't be all that bad, right?"
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She nods to the Blacksmith. "Go ahead."
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