By now, Sam had gotten used to hearing what was sometimes weirdly close to a full-on radio drama happening through a bunch of speakers, but it was still hard to take it seriously. Not that he didn't take it seriously; it was just that it tended to come with a brief are you kidding me moment.
And yeah, he couldn't say he liked what he was hearing. It'd started to become clear a few days ago, maybe even longer than that, that something was changing. It'd started with, what. Jill? Jill, yeah, and then the changes to the bulletin board, the sudden crackdown on the notes that went up. Little things, here and there. So this thing with the Eagle and the soldiers, it'd been a long time coming. Now that it was here, though, Sam wasn't sure what to make of it.
He also wasn't sure what to make of the angels, what Castiel had told him, and a whole lot of other crap, so you know, this was basically par for the course. Either way, he needed to talk to Dean. Tell him about Gabriel. What else? Definitely this entire Eagle situation. And hopefully convince Dean to split up for the night again. He wanted to talk to Ruby, too, and he couldn't do that with Dean there.
He felt guilty. It wasn't that he was pushing Dean away, it wasn't like that all. In fact, he felt as if things had actually been a bit better between them since yesterday. Except a part of him wasn't sure if...maybe something had changed in the interim. Like now that Dean had had a whole night to think about his little brother being infected with demon blood, he'd change his tune.
Sam chewed the corner of his lip as he sat on one of the couches, a book in his hand. He'd convinced his nurse that the pollen from the flowers would irritate his sinuses after the tear gas incident so she'd graciously allowed him to duck out of the activity. Not that he would've minded, exactly, but he'd have an easier chance of catching Dean in here. He doubted Dean would put up with gardening and Dean being Dean would find a way to get out of it, too.
Call it a Winchester hivemind, but he'd just got off on the same bullshit excuse.
Somehow he wasn't expecting some military tribunal act, or whatever they were playing at. Role call? He'd say it it was kiddie stuff but judging by the looks on both the staff's face and the soldiers, they weren't dicking around. Supernatural, spooky "boo" crap he could get behind, even if it was borderline B-movie. People, though. Anything with people and it got pretty friggen dicey.
Dean didn't have to look far for Sam in the Sun Room. The kid was doing his best to put on the bookworm act - it wasn't much of an act - and trying to bury his face into the book. Dean doubted he was reading, not when his eyes weren't even moving, but he doubted any of the soldiers here would be looking for that. Dean picked up one of the out of date magazines on his way to Sam, stepped over a cat that was making evil eyes at one of the guards, and threw himself down on the couch next to his brother. Dean kicked back as if he was just chilling.
"Love the uniforms," Dean said. "Nothing like a bunch of badasses, right?"
Sam didn't close the book, but he did lower it. Because yeah, he wasn't actually reading it, but honestly, he'd pretty much read the entire selection the tiny library here had. One of the upsides of the combination of college plus a childhood filled with endless road trips.
He snorted softly. "Tell me about it. Looks like we have some inner politics going on."
Which wasn't a bad thing, but it wasn't good, either. It was weird-he'd spent a good while trying to sort out how this place worked. He'd just gravitated towards the supernatural part of it which yeah, was kind of a mistake, wasn't it? If they brushed all that aside, the situation seemed deceptively simple. And what was especially clear was that whatever was going on, the patients were as good as bystanders dragged into the middle of it. Maybe even as far as the nurses and doctors. Maybe. If he opted for the generous option.
He shook it off. It was still just all conjecture. "You and Jo make out okay this morning? I didn't hear from her."
She might've just missed the note, though. All the activities today had been outdoor-oriented. She wouldn't have had a whole lot of time to skim a board pinned full of vague notes.
Dean rolled his eyes. No kidding. It was kinda like saying the food wasn't too bad here or Martin Landel was a Grade-A douchebag.
"Yeah, she's fine. We tried to sneak out but we didn't get too far. I didn't see much of a point of getting jumped by a bunch of soldiers," Dean said. One soldier, sure. He was fairly sure he could take down one thanks to Dad, no matter how rusty he might've been. "Figured it wasn't worth getting sedated."
He hadn't seen her since, but he figured Jo could take care of herself. She wasn't the type to jump the gun and go around throwing herself at soldiers. Dean shifted his weight on the couch, flipping through the magazine. Some chick he didn't recognize was on the spread, wearing some kinda dress that wasn't giving much of a clue when this was supposed to be from. No bigass shoulder pads or nothin'. Dean glanced over at his brother. Sam looked pretty decent and he was getting some "things are okay" vibes between them.
That or this soldier/little army thing was a big enough distraction that it totally amounted to the same thing.
Pretty much as Sam had figured, then. It was still nice to have it confirmed, though.
"I ended up under a table with our resident angel," he admitted, feeling ridiculous even as he said it. "I think it was the first time he'd ever seen a food fight."
Speaking of angels. He glanced back at Dean, thoughtful. Should he mention what Castiel had told him about pulling Dean out of hell? That would lead to a whole slew of other questions, though, things he didn't want to explain. The notion was hard to swallow, even to him. To Dean, who didn't even realize his year had long been up...Sam wasn't even sure where he'd start with that.
Okay. So not that bit of information yet. He could tell Dean about the Trickster, though. Or Gabriel now, he guessed.
He closed his book and set it aside. "Anyway, uh." Was there a good way to segue into this? Probably not. "When I spoke to Castiel this morning, he pretty much said what we've both been thinking." Or what he assumed they'd both been thinking. He sure as hell had, and he couldn't see Dean not at least hesitating on the idea despite his brother's stubborn skepticism. "About what the Trickster is. I don't think we can keep kidding ourselves, Dean."
Dean was on the verge of asking if Castiel had decided to jump ship and go for Sam instead of him. He would've probably even smirked (just a little). Better Sam than him, right?
But then Sam had to drop that doozy in his lap.
"Why? 'Cause some nutjob said so?" Dean blurted, forgetting all about that magazine. "So you're trying to tell me you honestly believe that the Trickster is some asshole of an angel?"
Getting over the fact there was no such thing as them - well, not actual proof - why would Sam just up and believe Castiel like that? He got the kid was more religious than he was (well, he prayed and stuff, whatever) but believing a thing they knew was a monster could be some fluffy douche with a harp cause Dean's personal stalker said so? Dean felt like he was missing some facts here, 'cause this wasn't adding up. Big understatement there. Dean realized he was starting to roll up the newspaper and forced himself to flatten it in his lap.
Okay. If Sam wanted to shoot weirdass theories at him, okay. They could do that. It was better than Sam hating him for Cold Oak or the two of 'em getting into fights again.
Sam frowned. Really, Dean could've given him more credit than that. "No, because his shadow went and spilled all that crap on Lucifer and heaven and then called him Gabriel. As in, the archangel. Did you see the look on his face? I'm pretty sure he wasn't faking, dude. And my shadow sure as hell wasn't lying about me."
Which raised all kinds of questions about angels, didn't it? The truth was, Sam hadn't had the time to think about it all that much, but if it was true-which it was getting hard to deny at this point-then it meant, what. That angels occasionally ditched heaven and went rogue? Because that was basically what Castiel said had happened. He was well aware that angels in lore were far from the cherubs on Christmas cards which was why, yeah, he could buy Castiel as an angel.
Gabriel was where it got weird.
"Look, I'm not saying they're here to save the world. I'm just saying, what if angels aren't what we think they should be. We've been surprised before."
The notion went against everything he'd wanted to believe, but after everything that'd happened-after Dean had died, he'd stopped. It'd felt stupid to keep on at it, and he didn't think he could go back. Not yet. Not when everything was still so out of the way from being fixed. But he couldn't ignore the evidence in front of him, either, and so it was easier to just...think of angels as another category of supernatural creature. Anything else would start leading him down roads he didn't want to go down.
Except a part of him knew that it was already too late, that there was never any way to really get rid of that part of you that said maybe it could happen.
Dean was real tempted to keep arguing this point, no matter how much it felt like this time Sam had some stronger stuff behind him than "I just believe in the feathery little bastards".
But the kid had a point. He'd believed Sam about what the shadows said, or at least enough to try to call him out on his shit only to find Sam really was holding stuff back from him. So it wasn't a big logical leap here to assume the Trickster (Gabriel, seriously? What kinda fruity name was that?) might've had the same deal. Dean flipped to a random page in the magazine, mostly to keep his hands busy 'cause it was too early in the day for this kinda thing.
"Okay," Dean tried again. He was trying to aim for the new improved, patient with his brother Dean Winchester. Harder than it looked. "So what do we got, assuming they're really what they say we are? One's a creepy stalker, the other we know is a certified psycho who gets off on ganking folks. Not exactly the cavalry."
Although it would explain why the Trickster - Gabriel, whatever his real name was - didn't die when he'd staked him. So he hadn't missed, he'd just tried to stake a possible friggen angel. Nice to know. How did you even kill one of these things? Could you even kill one? Sam seemed awfully calm about the idea of this Trickster actually being an angel.
At least Castiel seemed more or less harmless. Or at least he wasn't ripping off the Weekly World News for his kicks, so that was one point in his favor, compared to Gabriel.
Man, he seriously couldn't believe he was even having this conversation.
To be honest, Sam had expected Dean to press a little harder. He was kind of taken aback when his brother just kind of went with it.
Okay. So maybe he should give Dean some credit here, too.
"I don't know," he admitted. "They're apparently just as stuck and clueless as we are. I had a run-in with the Trickster last night so I mean, if he was up to his usual scheming, it involved a lot of staring blankly at a door."
Something had two angels not just trapped, but from what he could tell with Gabriel last night, downright uncertain. The idea that neither of them had any idea what was going on...God, he couldn't think of anything about this that was good. Even during Dean's last year, he hadn't had this much going on all at once.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look, Dean, Ruby asked me to...uh, give her a hand tonight." He fumbled over the phrase, aware by half a second too late that that was probably not the best turn of phrase to use. His brother was going to exploit it for all it was worth, wasn't he? Crap. "Anyways, I mean, she's basically back at square one again, so..."
Christ, talk about excuses. But it would fly with Dean, he knew that. Dean didn't trust Ruby, but Sam wanting to help a fellow hunter out? Yeah. And it was half-true: Ruby was back at square one.
"What about you? Wait, what'd you do last night, anyway?" he asked, the thought occurring belatedly. He needed to stop getting so distracted, Jesus. "Did you come across anything?"
And yeah, he couldn't say he liked what he was hearing. It'd started to become clear a few days ago, maybe even longer than that, that something was changing. It'd started with, what. Jill? Jill, yeah, and then the changes to the bulletin board, the sudden crackdown on the notes that went up. Little things, here and there. So this thing with the Eagle and the soldiers, it'd been a long time coming. Now that it was here, though, Sam wasn't sure what to make of it.
He also wasn't sure what to make of the angels, what Castiel had told him, and a whole lot of other crap, so you know, this was basically par for the course. Either way, he needed to talk to Dean. Tell him about Gabriel. What else? Definitely this entire Eagle situation. And hopefully convince Dean to split up for the night again. He wanted to talk to Ruby, too, and he couldn't do that with Dean there.
He felt guilty. It wasn't that he was pushing Dean away, it wasn't like that all. In fact, he felt as if things had actually been a bit better between them since yesterday. Except a part of him wasn't sure if...maybe something had changed in the interim. Like now that Dean had had a whole night to think about his little brother being infected with demon blood, he'd change his tune.
Sam chewed the corner of his lip as he sat on one of the couches, a book in his hand. He'd convinced his nurse that the pollen from the flowers would irritate his sinuses after the tear gas incident so she'd graciously allowed him to duck out of the activity. Not that he would've minded, exactly, but he'd have an easier chance of catching Dean in here. He doubted Dean would put up with gardening and Dean being Dean would find a way to get out of it, too.
[ for his big bro :c ]
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Somehow he wasn't expecting some military tribunal act, or whatever they were playing at. Role call? He'd say it it was kiddie stuff but judging by the looks on both the staff's face and the soldiers, they weren't dicking around. Supernatural, spooky "boo" crap he could get behind, even if it was borderline B-movie. People, though. Anything with people and it got pretty friggen dicey.
Dean didn't have to look far for Sam in the Sun Room. The kid was doing his best to put on the bookworm act - it wasn't much of an act - and trying to bury his face into the book. Dean doubted he was reading, not when his eyes weren't even moving, but he doubted any of the soldiers here would be looking for that. Dean picked up one of the out of date magazines on his way to Sam, stepped over a cat that was making evil eyes at one of the guards, and threw himself down on the couch next to his brother. Dean kicked back as if he was just chilling.
"Love the uniforms," Dean said. "Nothing like a bunch of badasses, right?"
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He snorted softly. "Tell me about it. Looks like we have some inner politics going on."
Which wasn't a bad thing, but it wasn't good, either. It was weird-he'd spent a good while trying to sort out how this place worked. He'd just gravitated towards the supernatural part of it which yeah, was kind of a mistake, wasn't it? If they brushed all that aside, the situation seemed deceptively simple. And what was especially clear was that whatever was going on, the patients were as good as bystanders dragged into the middle of it. Maybe even as far as the nurses and doctors. Maybe. If he opted for the generous option.
He shook it off. It was still just all conjecture. "You and Jo make out okay this morning? I didn't hear from her."
She might've just missed the note, though. All the activities today had been outdoor-oriented. She wouldn't have had a whole lot of time to skim a board pinned full of vague notes.
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Dean rolled his eyes. No kidding. It was kinda like saying the food wasn't too bad here or Martin Landel was a Grade-A douchebag.
"Yeah, she's fine. We tried to sneak out but we didn't get too far. I didn't see much of a point of getting jumped by a bunch of soldiers," Dean said. One soldier, sure. He was fairly sure he could take down one thanks to Dad, no matter how rusty he might've been. "Figured it wasn't worth getting sedated."
He hadn't seen her since, but he figured Jo could take care of herself. She wasn't the type to jump the gun and go around throwing herself at soldiers. Dean shifted his weight on the couch, flipping through the magazine. Some chick he didn't recognize was on the spread, wearing some kinda dress that wasn't giving much of a clue when this was supposed to be from. No bigass shoulder pads or nothin'. Dean glanced over at his brother. Sam looked pretty decent and he was getting some "things are okay" vibes between them.
That or this soldier/little army thing was a big enough distraction that it totally amounted to the same thing.
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"I ended up under a table with our resident angel," he admitted, feeling ridiculous even as he said it. "I think it was the first time he'd ever seen a food fight."
Speaking of angels. He glanced back at Dean, thoughtful. Should he mention what Castiel had told him about pulling Dean out of hell? That would lead to a whole slew of other questions, though, things he didn't want to explain. The notion was hard to swallow, even to him. To Dean, who didn't even realize his year had long been up...Sam wasn't even sure where he'd start with that.
Okay. So not that bit of information yet. He could tell Dean about the Trickster, though. Or Gabriel now, he guessed.
He closed his book and set it aside. "Anyway, uh." Was there a good way to segue into this? Probably not. "When I spoke to Castiel this morning, he pretty much said what we've both been thinking." Or what he assumed they'd both been thinking. He sure as hell had, and he couldn't see Dean not at least hesitating on the idea despite his brother's stubborn skepticism. "About what the Trickster is. I don't think we can keep kidding ourselves, Dean."
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But then Sam had to drop that doozy in his lap.
"Why? 'Cause some nutjob said so?" Dean blurted, forgetting all about that magazine. "So you're trying to tell me you honestly believe that the Trickster is some asshole of an angel?"
Getting over the fact there was no such thing as them - well, not actual proof - why would Sam just up and believe Castiel like that? He got the kid was more religious than he was (well, he prayed and stuff, whatever) but believing a thing they knew was a monster could be some fluffy douche with a harp cause Dean's personal stalker said so? Dean felt like he was missing some facts here, 'cause this wasn't adding up. Big understatement there. Dean realized he was starting to roll up the newspaper and forced himself to flatten it in his lap.
Okay. If Sam wanted to shoot weirdass theories at him, okay. They could do that. It was better than Sam hating him for Cold Oak or the two of 'em getting into fights again.
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Which raised all kinds of questions about angels, didn't it? The truth was, Sam hadn't had the time to think about it all that much, but if it was true-which it was getting hard to deny at this point-then it meant, what. That angels occasionally ditched heaven and went rogue? Because that was basically what Castiel said had happened. He was well aware that angels in lore were far from the cherubs on Christmas cards which was why, yeah, he could buy Castiel as an angel.
Gabriel was where it got weird.
"Look, I'm not saying they're here to save the world. I'm just saying, what if angels aren't what we think they should be. We've been surprised before."
The notion went against everything he'd wanted to believe, but after everything that'd happened-after Dean had died, he'd stopped. It'd felt stupid to keep on at it, and he didn't think he could go back. Not yet. Not when everything was still so out of the way from being fixed. But he couldn't ignore the evidence in front of him, either, and so it was easier to just...think of angels as another category of supernatural creature. Anything else would start leading him down roads he didn't want to go down.
Except a part of him knew that it was already too late, that there was never any way to really get rid of that part of you that said maybe it could happen.
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But the kid had a point. He'd believed Sam about what the shadows said, or at least enough to try to call him out on his shit only to find Sam really was holding stuff back from him. So it wasn't a big logical leap here to assume the Trickster (Gabriel, seriously? What kinda fruity name was that?) might've had the same deal. Dean flipped to a random page in the magazine, mostly to keep his hands busy 'cause it was too early in the day for this kinda thing.
"Okay," Dean tried again. He was trying to aim for the new improved, patient with his brother Dean Winchester. Harder than it looked. "So what do we got, assuming they're really what they say we are? One's a creepy stalker, the other we know is a certified psycho who gets off on ganking folks. Not exactly the cavalry."
Although it would explain why the Trickster - Gabriel, whatever his real name was - didn't die when he'd staked him. So he hadn't missed, he'd just tried to stake a possible friggen angel. Nice to know. How did you even kill one of these things? Could you even kill one? Sam seemed awfully calm about the idea of this Trickster actually being an angel.
At least Castiel seemed more or less harmless. Or at least he wasn't ripping off the Weekly World News for his kicks, so that was one point in his favor, compared to Gabriel.
Man, he seriously couldn't believe he was even having this conversation.
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Okay. So maybe he should give Dean some credit here, too.
"I don't know," he admitted. "They're apparently just as stuck and clueless as we are. I had a run-in with the Trickster last night so I mean, if he was up to his usual scheming, it involved a lot of staring blankly at a door."
Something had two angels not just trapped, but from what he could tell with Gabriel last night, downright uncertain. The idea that neither of them had any idea what was going on...God, he couldn't think of anything about this that was good. Even during Dean's last year, he hadn't had this much going on all at once.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look, Dean, Ruby asked me to...uh, give her a hand tonight." He fumbled over the phrase, aware by half a second too late that that was probably not the best turn of phrase to use. His brother was going to exploit it for all it was worth, wasn't he? Crap. "Anyways, I mean, she's basically back at square one again, so..."
Christ, talk about excuses. But it would fly with Dean, he knew that. Dean didn't trust Ruby, but Sam wanting to help a fellow hunter out? Yeah. And it was half-true: Ruby was back at square one.
"What about you? Wait, what'd you do last night, anyway?" he asked, the thought occurring belatedly. He needed to stop getting so distracted, Jesus. "Did you come across anything?"
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