[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 chuckles. “Guess you’re safe then.”

[pacificator]

"It's worked so far," she agrees.

"So, you and your brother. You get into this because of your parents?"

[gavemea_45]

“Yeah.” Sam looks down at his notes, then back at her. “The demon killed my mom in my nursery when I was six months old. Everything changed then, pretty much.”

[pacificator]

She watches the way he looks down and back up again. "I'm sorry."

Six months old. He's been saddled with this his whole life, just like her. "Demons are such assholes, seriously."

[gavemea_45]

“Thanks. And yeah, they really are.” He reaches over to clink his glass against hers.

[pacificator]

She huffs a breath and lifts her glass. "I'll always drink to that."

And to most other things, but that's neither here nor there.

[gavemea_45]

“This - what’d you call it? Black badge?” Sam looks curious. “Do they deal with —“

Bad choice of words. He switches, fast. “— I mean, help get rid of demons and stuff like you’re handling? Really?”

[pacificator]

"Yeah."

At least, that's what Dolls is here for. Right? She sips at her whiskey, musing. "They're pretty goddamn shady, though."

[gavemea_45]

“How so?” It’s still hard for him to believe that something like that could even exist.

[pacificator]

"Everything's classified to hell and back. I basically got shanghaied into working with them when one of their agents showed up in Purgatory the week I came home. Looking into a bunch of revenant murders and other creepy shit."

She frowns at her whiskey. "Deputy Marshal Dolls."

Who is... her boss. Maybe... a friend? But definitely hiding shit from her.

[gavemea_45]

“Wait, if — you mean murders by revenants, not murders of them, right?” Sam eyes her warily.

[pacificator]

"By."

She thinks of a funeral she'd walked home for; a grave in Gus's beautiful garden. "Definitely by."

[gavemea_45]

“Well, if there’s a whole agency or division or whatever, can’t they help you with corralling all the ones you’ve got to kill?”

It seems obvious to him, anyway.

[pacificator]

"They send us ammo, they send us equipment..."

She fiddles with her glass and shrugs. "Dolls sends them reports. Samples. But it's just us."

[gavemea_45]

"Uh-huh." He sounds more than a little dour. "Here's a shotgun, try not to get killed, we're watching to make sure you don't go nuts?"

[pacificator]

"More like: if you fuck up, we're nuking the entire town into a smoking crater."

She takes out her deputy badge and passes it over to him. That, at least, won't burn him. "But the money and equipment is nice."

[gavemea_45]

"Friendly types, I see." He studies the badge, front and back, then returns it. "But yeah, I can see how having some money to cover stuff could help, at the very least."

His expression is wry. "Mostly we work with pool, poker, and other kinds of ways to pick up cash on the barrelhead."

[pacificator]

"They suck a lot. But Dolls is..."

Annoying. Rule-following. Stern. Unfunny, uncool, unaffected. Wound tighter than a spring, sexy as hell. "... fine," she admits, resentfully.

Sam's admission makes her huff a laugh, just as wry. "Yeah, I'm pretty familiar with that, too."

Or was. When she was Aphrodite.

[gavemea_45]

"Uh-huh." Sam can't help but sound a little doubtful of that. "That's the deputy marshal you mentioned? Is he assigned to your triangle or to you or something else?"

[pacificator]

"That's the one."

She scoffs and swallows more whiskey, letting it burn into her gut. "Not to me. He didn't know about the curse before he showed up."

[gavemea_45]

Sam's eyebrows hit his hairline. "What was he doing there?"

[pacificator]

"Investigating a bunch of supernatural-adjacent deaths," she tells him, swirling her liquor around the glass.

"He thought there was demonic bullshirt going on. He was right."

[gavemea_45]

"Ah." Sam takes another swallow from his own drink, and scowls at his computer screen. "Better than dealing with the FBI, I guess."

[pacificator]

"Pretty sure they don't have jurisdiction in Canada."

Right? "Why, you having problems with the Feds?"

[gavemea_45]

"Probably not," is his unhelpful answer. "And yeah. One in particular. Crossed paths with him on a case a while back and he's decided we're personally responsible for everything the monsters did."