[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]

"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."

[pacificator]

"Huh."

She purses her lips, musing. "Wanna borrow Dolls? He's pretty good at giving the higher-ups what they wanna hear."

[gavemea_45]

He grins at the thought. Too bad it probably wouldn't work. "Thanks. But right now we're just trying to stay off Henrickson's radar. He can't slam us in prison if he can't find us."

[pacificator]

"I hear that."

She shrugs and slouches back in her chair. "One nice thing about the badge is it's kept the local cops off my ass."

[gavemea_45]

"That'd be useful, can't argue that," he agrees. Sam finishes his drink and waves at a waitrat across the room.

"They know about this bar?" Probably, if she's offering to loan them her agent contact, but Sam's done with making assumptions unless he absolutely has to.

[pacificator]

Wynonna scoffs and flips her hair back over her shoulder. "Please. You think I'd tell my boss about another place where he won't come drink? No."

Not that she knows of, anyway.

[gavemea_45]

And that's exactly why making assumptions can bite you in the ass. Sam just nods. "Probably just as well. Keeps him from looking over your shoulder when you're off the clock."

As much as people like them can be, anyway.

[pacificator]

"There's a clock?" she says, wry. "We can get off it?"

[gavemea_45]

"Rumor has it," he says, equally wry. "Didn't work when I tried once, though. So probably not."

[pacificator]

"Yeah."

She sets the sole of her boot on the rung of her chair, lounging. "I ran as far as I could from the damn curse. But it wasn't any good."

[gavemea_45]

In the silence that follows that statement, the waitrat runs up and squeaks at them. Sam looks at Wynonna. "Want anything to go with the whiskey?"

[pacificator]

"Tequila?" she suggests.

[gavemea_45]

Sam eyes her. "Going for the triple threat? Jim, Jack and Jose?"

[pacificator]

"Oh, you know them, too?"

She cants her head and grins, sharp. "Those're my boys."

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah, I'm real familiar," Sam drawls, and looks at the rat. "You heard her. Add coffee to that, and, uh, something to snack on, I guess. Whatever looks good."

He hadn't known it was possible for a rat to eyeroll.