gavemea_45: (Default)
[personal profile] 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.

Date: 2023-01-12 02:07 pm (UTC)
pacificator: (now don't tell me)
From: [personal profile] pacificator
"Yeah, I know."

She pats his shoulder, then lurches ahead. "Come on, boy scout."

Date: 2023-01-12 02:19 pm (UTC)
pacificator: by <user name=berks> (that part of the story)
From: [personal profile] pacificator
"Why not?"

She gives him a slightly cross-eyed glance. "Maybe one of 'em will stick."

Date: 2023-01-12 03:10 pm (UTC)
pacificator: (024)
From: [personal profile] pacificator
She frowns at the key, wobbling gently. "More fussing?"

Date: 2023-01-12 03:31 pm (UTC)
pacificator: by backstreets @ IJ (sun down across the plain)
From: [personal profile] pacificator
"What a mother hen."

She meanders to her door and manages, after a few tries, to fit the key in the lock. Turning to lean against the frame, she tosses him a lazy salute. "See ya, Sam."

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Sam Winchester

February 2023

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