[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]

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.

[gavemea_45]

Sam eyes her skeptically. "Is this a Canadian thing?"

If so, it's even more annoying than not being able to get health care without committing fraud whenever they turn around.

"Good for us. Wanna tell me more about this Heir business, then?"

[pacificator]

"North American," she mutters. "Joint Canada and U.S. division."

Dolls is going to kill her. She purses her lips and considers him, then narrows her eyes. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she says, blunt. "Tell me what you mean by 'marked.'"

[gavemea_45]

It's not like it's a secret, not anymore, not with what they'd heard from Isaac and Tamara, but he's still reluctant to admit it.

"A demon took an interest in me," he says, short. "Along with some other people. It did some stuff, then kidnapped us into an abandoned, haunted town."

If he never sees Cold Oak again, it'll be too soon. "Not a fun time."

[pacificator]

She cocks her head to the side, frowning. "Really."

Abandoned, haunted towns being her jam aside. "What's so interesting about you?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam looks right back at her.

"You first. What's this Heir thing?"

[pacificator]

Well, it was worth a shot. She prevaricates for a second, focusing on her whiskey, then presses her lips together and looks back at him.

"It's a curse," she says, blunt. "The seventy-seven outlaws killed by Wyatt Earp resurrect as revenants and try to end the Earp line. The oldest Earp child becomes the Heir when they turn 27. When an Heir dies, the curse moves to their oldest child. And so on, forever."

It should have been Willa. It was never supposed to be her. "The revenants will keep resurrecting and the curse will keep going until an Heir sends all seventy-seven back to Hell with Peacemaker."

[gavemea_45]

Sam stares at her. "Seventy-seven? Only with that gun? Jesus. Please tell me you have help."

[pacificator]

"I have... some."

It's a little defensive. She's got – well, Dolls. And Waves. And Doc... kind of.

Maybe. "Look, there's a reason why there have been five Earp heirs and the curse is still ticking, you know? And that reason is numbers."

[gavemea_45]

"Do you at least have a way to find them? Or are you doing the usual things?" he wants to know.

[pacificator]

"Finding them isn't the problem. Most of the time."

She turns her tumbler on the table, letting the liquid inside spin. "Most of them are holed up in a trailer park on the outskirts of town."

She grimaces, but has to ask: "The usual things?"

[gavemea_45]

Surprise flickers in his glance. "Sure. Historical searching, archive checking, monitoring tabloids for sensational news that civilians don't realize is true, looking into unexplained disappearances, that kind of thing."

Sam studies her for a second or two as suspicion begins to form. "So when you say you have 'some' help, just how much are you talking about?"

[pacificator]

"Oh."

She gives him a half-heartedly hopeful glance. "I mean I've got stick-in-the-mud government agent, an immortal cowboy, and my baby sister."

Wynonna lifts a fist in the air like she's holding a little flag and gives it a wave. "Yay Team Earp...?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam lets out a low whistle. "Could be worse," he says, after a second or two. "But yeah, that's not a lot to go up against a nest of seventy-seven probably pissed-off revenants."

[pacificator]

"See? We're fine."

She sips at her whiskey, then nods at the book. "So. Your research."

Wynonna glances back at him, studying. "You really so focused on it right now because you ran into a few devil deals a while ago?"