Nightshift 50 - M1-M10 Hallway
Like Dean was supposed to believe the whole beaming down crap was supposed to be all for their benefit. You wanted to help someone, you didn't kidnap them from their homes - or friggen time machines like the Doctor - and then offer them great food and a pat on the head like that made it a-okay.
Whatever it was, this wasn't from the goodness of the ( Read more... )
Whatever it was, this wasn't from the goodness of the ( Read more... )
As Sam left Ruby's room, he picked up the pace through the hallways. If he'd had a watch, he would've looked at it. He missed his watch. Or a way to tell time, period. It wasn't as though it mattered here-obviously-but he still didn't like not being able to keep track of things that had become so ingrained for him to do so: time, dates, hell, the year. They could be anywhere from the late-90s to the present day. Maybe further?
There was a thought. One that he wasn't so sure he wanted to consider, even if he knew that he had to.
He pushed open the door with only an It's me as warning so that Dean wouldn't think it a stranger. One of the troubles of not being able to lock your doors from the inside ( ... )
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"Yeah, I got one," he said. "Peter has it, though."
He wasn't sure if his roommate would get the chance to give it a whirl tonight, but he supposed it didn't matter. He suspected they had plenty of time to check it out. They sure as hell weren't going anywhere soon, and the way the doctor spoke, it sounded like these rings would be a long-term addition. Whatever power it had, Sam was in no rush to dive headlong into it. He'd had enough reality-bending, time-twisting crap in his life, even before last night's incident.
Picking up his flashlight, he shone it at the piece of jewelry. He squinted. "Looks like blood coral."
From the blood of Medusa, apparently, though he'd be damned if he could put together what that had to do with teleportation. With the way things were going, for all he knew this was a stone from Mars or something. There'd been an Admiral not too long ago who'd named a ( ... )
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“You first,” Dean said. Demons were safe. They weren’t going to sprout damn phasers on him or do anything nuts - their brand of nuts, he got. It was doucheness taken to a new level, but it was still something he could get. Demons just were evil begging for an exorcism. It was just how it was, from before he’d even been born and it’d still be like that when he kicked the bucket. There was something comforting about knowing evil was going to be out there and folks like Sam and him were going to be hunting them. No paradoxes, no aliens, just normal monsters out there that needed ganking. All in all, normalHe missed normal ( ... )
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Maybe not typical, but that seemed to be the point. If he thought about it, there was nothing especially new that was going on here, not really. They were still dealing with something whose potentiality was rooted in whatever existing lore there was. All that was happening was that this was occurring on a much larger scale.
"The only thing I'm not sure about right now is pinpointing what's based on an illusion and what's real," Sam went on. "I mean, I don't think we can take it all the way here and just say everything. There has to be a-a foundation of some sort. Ground zero."
The institute itself couldn't be it, not if they considered the shifting landscape. That first night had proven it pretty solidly. He'd seen that hole in the door, and there was no way it could've been repaired by morning that fast. Something had been done, something not normal. And the way the town had simply aged, started to fall apart, as soon as the sun set. But where the institute rested was another thing altogether. It was an ( ... )
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He waved his brother off, automatic, and eyed Dean right back. Dean didn't seem so much affected as he was annoyed. The hell was that was a good question.
Sam shook his head. It was already fading, not as crippling as the visions had gotten sometimes and definitely nothing like the migraine that had plagued him just two nights ago.
"I think this is a case of wait and see," he replied. Which he knew wouldn't sit well with Dean-it didn't sit well with him, for that matter-but unless Dean had any ideas as to where to start looking...Besides, if it was going to be anything, he had a feeling it would find them before they could find it. Whatever that had been, one thing was obvious: its effects were meant to be internal, not external ( ... )
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