[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

[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?"

[gavemea_45]

"Well, when you put it that way... no." Fair's fair. He doesn't have to like it. And it's not like there's an extra risk.

"More like we're dealing with the aftermath of someone opening a gate to hell. In Wyoming."

[pacificator]

"I mean, I guess Wyoming seems like as good a place as any for a gate to hell."

She makes a face, annoyed. "Great. So someone kicked open the door. How many demons are we talking about?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam grimaces. "Couple hundred. Maybe more."

[pacificator]

Wynonna grimaces back, forcing it into a smile that lacks any warmth or humor. "Cool."

The bitch of it all is that he was right, before. Even without the curse, she knows what the right thing here to do is.

But she's so close. She sucks at her teeth, frustrated, the offer tugging out of her like she regrets even thinking it. "Look, I can't leave Purgatory right now. I'm – I have to find one more demon. Cross him off the list. Then maybe I can take a break."

The very act of offering to help seems physically painful. "Come give Peacemaker a workout in the wider world."

[gavemea_45]

Sam stares at her in stunned shock before a slow grin splits his face. "You mean it? Because I sure as hell won't turn you down, if you do."

[pacificator]

"Yeah, well, don't cream your shorts just yet."

She reaches into a pocket and draws out a photo: seven men standing with their hunted prize – an eighth man hung from a beam by his ankles like a hog for slaughter. Six of the faces are crossed out in red marker. Wynonna sets the photo down and taps the last unmarked face. "I need to get him, first."

[gavemea_45]

He takes a close, careful look at the guy she's after. "The rest your work already?" he asks, while studying the image. "Seven of your seventy-seven, or what?"

[pacificator]

"The Seven."

Hunters. Killers. Making sport of the curse and her family's pain. Her jaw tightens. "See that man hanging from the cross bar?"

Her glance never leaves Sam's face. "That's my Daddy."

[gavemea_45]

"Oh, shit." Sam touches the image gently, then looks up at her. "Fuck. Wynonna, I'm so sorry."