Not Again - Open Post

[goingdarkside]

When Sam walks into the hotel, the first thing he notices is that this is not the sleazy lobby he saw through glass doors. He stops abruptly, turning sharply on his heel to stop Dean from walking in behind him, but his brother is no where to be seen. In fact, the doors behind him are not even the doors he walked through, but ones belonging to a

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[papademonhunter]

He half expected this once Dean showed up, and also half expects a remarkably similar reaction to his own presence as Dean exhibited.

Therefore John will stand in a doorway, just looking at his son for a bit before he calmly and softly speaks, making sure not to make any sudden movements. "Sam. Been a while."

[goingdarkside]

And the gun is out and pointed at John's head before he even completely turns around. He stares at John for a minute, the shock clear on his face, before his expression closes off completely. This was not funny, especially after the last week. "Who are you?" he barks, glaring from behind the muzzle.

[papademonhunter]

John carefully raises his hands, holding them up at head-level, palm out. "I am exactly who I appear to be. I know it's damn hard to believe. Please don't shoot me in the head."

[goingdarkside]

"And I'm supposed to believe that? I don't think so." His mind runs through the possibilities: demon, shapeshifter, heck, another ghoul, a remnant, - who knows what else, and each more plausible that John being alive. "So let's skip the messing with my mind bit. Just tell me who you are."

[papademonhunter]

"It's actually me. It's this place. It's... strange. In a way I hadn't seen before."

[goingdarkside]

"Meaning what?" He focuses on John, or the thing that looks like John, staring at him for a moment, trying to reach out, get a hold of the thing to throw it back into Hell- nothing. No, not a demon. Damn, that makes this harder. He does not move the gun, frowning and trying to decide what to do.

[papademonhunter]

As long as he's not shooting, it's a plus. "It's like a... strange hotel, in a... hole between times. It's hard to explain, to be honest. And I know I'm supposed to be dead. But I swear it's me."

[goingdarkside]

"Forgive me if I don't take that on faith." He motions to a chair with the gun. "Sit down." At least he seemed wary of the gun, which meant he could most likely be harmed by it.

[papademonhunter]

Yes, he can be harmed by the gun. "Nothing needing forgiving. If you did take it on faith, that would be another story entirely." But he heads to the chair and sits down calmly.

[goingdarkside]

Sam digs in his pockets with his free hand, eventually finding his small silver knife and flicking it open as he approaches him. "Hold your hand out." He watches him carefully for any movement.

[papademonhunter]

He promptly holds his hand out. "About damn time you got down to this. Even if I weren't me, the odds of a questioning at gunpoint actually working would be slim."

[goingdarkside]

Sam frowns at him, pressing the knife against his palm. "The bullets are silver," he shoots back, before stepping back, lowering his gun. This was weird. It could not be John, but - he could not imagine what else it could be. Unless this whole thing was a nutty illusion, which, well, would not be the first time.

[papademonhunter]

"Well, I can definitely say I wouldn't be any more resistant to silver bullets than I am to plain old lead ones, which is to say not at all." He shrugs. "Have any holy water to confirm I'm not a demon?"

[goingdarkside]

...oh, oops. Sam awkwardly gropes for his flask and tosses a liberal amount of holy water into John's face. "There." He hesitates a moment before tucking the gun away along with the flask. "But you'll have to answer a few things first."

[papademonhunter]

John squinches his face up a little, wiping it off. "You know a couple drops works just fine, right?" That being said... "And I don't doubt it. Ask away."

[goingdarkside]

"With some demons it doesn't work at all," Sam pointed out, before realizing that he was just being confrontational. He forced himself to back down a little, studying John. "What year did I end up in the soccer finals?" Granted, John never went to his games, but the man had kept the trophy, so he should have some idea.