He had gotten back early that morning. That made it the thirty-second trip Sam had made to the Crossroads demon and the thirty-third deal he had proposed. No demon would touch a Winchester. His father was in hell for good and his brother had joined him leaving the one and only Winchester behind. Whiskey had become his replacement brother and he was fine with that. Between hunting anything and everything and making weekly trips to the Crossroads demons he had gotten down to a pretty sad-sack routine.
He didn't know when housekeepers decided to let themselves in or if the fleabag motel he was staying in even had housekeepers. But, he refused to open his eyes and if she wanted to clean the room, then hell, he would let her
( ... )
"Okay, first of all? There are enough wards on this place that any demon who was trying to get in would choke before they managed to steal your booze. Second of all? You smell like a garbage truck, so I'd appreciate it if you took two big steps back. Thanks a bunch."
She reached up and wrapped her hand around his wrist, before shoving him back, and readjusting the bottles in her hand, before raising an eyebrow. "My name is Cordelia Chase. I've been sent by the Powers to help you get your act together."
Now that she was actually looking at him, she could admit that if he wasn't a gross mess, he had the potential to be really attractive. But a hot mess, whether it's formerly just hot or not really wasn't desirable on any level and only reinforced that she had a job to do. Operation: Clean Up Sammy was in effect, and Cordy was on the job.
"The Powers?" he asked. He slurred a bit, as well, considering he was probably still a little drunk. He huffed and sniffed himself. Whatever, He smelled like a garbage truck. what did she care? And how did she get in? "Thanks a bunch?" He laughed a that, a good hearty, intoxicated laugh.
"Cordelia, let me save you the effort. I'm fine. And I have my act together. You can leave now. Please be gone," he said, pointing at her and then disappearing in the bathroom. Closing the door, he unzipped and gave into the already broken seal. He just hoped she'd be gone by the time he returned.
Sam didn't know Cordelia that well, and she could be just as stubborn as he was. She just sighed heavily, moving over to one of the tables and started lining up the bottles for her to clean up later. Once she was finished with that, she found a chair that wasn't completely filthy, and sat down in it, crossing her legs in front of her as she waited.
She wasn't going to screw this one up. And if Sam was going to fight her, fine. She was just going to fight him right back.
No, he didn't wash his hands. The grabbed a towel, though, and wiped them. Opening the door, he was not very surprised to see that this Cordelia woman hadn't left. Oh well. Well, she had a long road ahead of her. He...needed more sleep.
Ignoring her existence, Sam climbed back into bed and turned the lamp by his bed off. Earlier when he had passed out, he had forgotten to, but not this time. This time he plunged the room into darkness and tried to forget she was even here.
A part of him hoped it was just a strange, pointless dream. Not that anything in his life had a point anymore, anyway.
The room went dark, and Cordy rolled her eyes, but she knew that letting him sleep off the hangover was probably better than trying to wake him up again. In the meantime, she could get the motel room looking a little more presentable.
God, this was gonna suck.
A few hours later, the bottles in the room were cleared up and out by the recycling, she had made a quick trip to the motel's laundry room, and there was breakfast sitting on the table. Bacon, eggs and coffee -- and no, Sam, she wasn't going to be considerate to your stomach. Taking a sip of her own, she settled down for her meal and waited.
He heard "Cordelia" shuffering around the motel room. Bottles clinked together, the door opened a few times - and to his knowledge was never left open - and for the first time, he thought he heard the kitchen being used as a kitchen and not storage for takeout.
Around the time the former Queen of Sunnydale sat down to enjoy her side of the prepared meal, Sam grumbled and brought his hand to his head before rolling over and essentially falling out of his bed. Or, the bed, it wasn't his bed. He didn't and never owned a bed that was really his.
Hitting the ground, he grumbled more before bringing himself to his feet. When he was coherent enough and had his eyes open, he saw that not only had see cleaned, but she had made breakfast. Who was he to deny himself free food? Moving over to the empty chair, he sat down and started to dig in without saying a word. For all he knew, this was a more surreal, realistic part of that hangover dream.
She looked up at him for a moment, taking another sip of her coffee before speaking. If he was going to eat her food, she demanded conversation. It was only fair.
"Look. I know you don't want me here. When this place was full-blown pigsty, I didn't even want to be here. However, the Powers sent me here to pull you out of your dirty little rut, and that's what I'm gonna do. You can fight me or you can help me, but either way -- you're stuck with me."
He waited until he was finished chewing and had had a sip of orange juice before speaking.
"You keep saying, 'the Powers.' What are the powers and why do they care about my dirty little rut?" He blinked after that and shoveled more eggs into his mouth. He was more hungry then anything and this food was feeding the hangover. Mid-chew, however, Sam had more to say. "Look, Dean's gone, but you don't see me rolling over and playing dead and pretending that's okay. What do you or anyone else care about what I do in my spare time?"
He purposefully left out his weekly turned every few days trip to the Crossroads' demons.
"The Powers, also known as the Powers that Be, and they're basically the benevolent higher power. Demons have Hell, we've got them, and they suck about ninety-five percent of the time, but that's not really their fault. That's just the way the rules work
( ... )
He stopped what he was doing as soon as she mentioned his extracurricular activities. His eyes traveled downward to the hand on his. But, he wasn't about to show this woman any emotion. He had things to...do. Demons to kill and a meal to finish. That, and she creeped him out. If he really looked at her, he would see that she was actually quite attractive but this morning he was not in that mindset.
"What, have you been stalking me?" He clearly wasn't getting the whole 'Powers,' deal. "I haven't told anyone - did Bobby send you here?"
She rolled her eyes. Yeah, he definitely wasn't getting it.
"No, I haven't been stalking you. I have better things to do with my time. The Powers that Be? They're the ones who provided me with the intel." She paused for a moment, trying to think of a better way to explain them. "They're higher beings. Like -- angels, except higher on the food chain. If you want to be technical, I'm probably closer to 'angel' since I'm the one doing the heavy lifting, but given my previous stint as human, that's not likely."
She took a breath before she got sidetracked. "Anyway. They're the good guys, who watch the major players and make sure they're doing what they're supposed to be doing. And you're not. So they sent me to get you back on track."
"Angels?" he spit out, narrowing his eyes at her. "Angels aren't real." With everything he had ever seen including clown demons of which he'd love to forget, he wouldn't have been surprised that Angels were real. "Say, angels are real. And I've been knocked off the track," he said. "What are you going to do? Bathe me?" Yes, he heard that. "Kick my ass into gear and what, stop me from killing every Crossroads demon that won't help me?"
"No, by all means, kill the demons. It's not going to get you anywhere though, because they're not going to help you. It's pointless. It's just going to keep happening until one of them gets wise and kills you before you kill them."
She crossed her arms in front of her chest as she leaned back in her seat. "Look, I may have shuffled off the mortal coil, but that doesn't mean I don't remember how much this job sucks. This job cost me everything. But that doesn't mean the job doesn't have to be done, and you've got a long way to go before you sleep. I'm not sure whether you really want to bring your brother back, or you just wanna die, but neither of those things are going to happen anytime soon, so you might as well just suck it up, deal, and let me help you."
"One of them will help eventually," he said, adamant before taking a sip of orange juice. "Besides, this time around they'll be incentive." He wouldn't keep eye contact with her. Even when he spoke to Bobby, he found it difficult to keep his gaze. Fingering the necklace around his neck, Dean's necklace, he took in a deep breath.
"What are you?" he finally asked, satisfied with looking past her. "I would die to bring my brother back. But he's where they wanted him. He's in the pit. If I could I'd crawl into hell myself and take him back."
"What am I?" Oh, good question. "I think whitelighter is the common term. But I've been everything, really. Human, half-demon, seer, higher being, possessed by a higher being -- I've done it all. Except vampire. That I haven't done. Nor have I been a Slayer, which really I'm kind of grateful for. They ruin so many good clothes."
She sighed as the moment of vanity passed, before looking back at him. "And no, they won't. They're more scared of Lilith than they are of you, and there's something in Hell that she wants Dean to do. Whether or not he will is still up for grabs, but fact of the matter is -- not one of those demons is going to give you Dean back. You're wasting your time."
He didn't know when housekeepers decided to let themselves in or if the fleabag motel he was staying in even had housekeepers. But, he refused to open his eyes and if she wanted to clean the room, then hell, he would let her ( ... )
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She reached up and wrapped her hand around his wrist, before shoving him back, and readjusting the bottles in her hand, before raising an eyebrow. "My name is Cordelia Chase. I've been sent by the Powers to help you get your act together."
Now that she was actually looking at him, she could admit that if he wasn't a gross mess, he had the potential to be really attractive. But a hot mess, whether it's formerly just hot or not really wasn't desirable on any level and only reinforced that she had a job to do. Operation: Clean Up Sammy was in effect, and Cordy was on the job.
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"Cordelia, let me save you the effort. I'm fine. And I have my act together. You can leave now. Please be gone," he said, pointing at her and then disappearing in the bathroom. Closing the door, he unzipped and gave into the already broken seal. He just hoped she'd be gone by the time he returned.
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Sam didn't know Cordelia that well, and she could be just as stubborn as he was. She just sighed heavily, moving over to one of the tables and started lining up the bottles for her to clean up later. Once she was finished with that, she found a chair that wasn't completely filthy, and sat down in it, crossing her legs in front of her as she waited.
She wasn't going to screw this one up. And if Sam was going to fight her, fine. She was just going to fight him right back.
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Ignoring her existence, Sam climbed back into bed and turned the lamp by his bed off. Earlier when he had passed out, he had forgotten to, but not this time. This time he plunged the room into darkness and tried to forget she was even here.
A part of him hoped it was just a strange, pointless dream. Not that anything in his life had a point anymore, anyway.
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God, this was gonna suck.
A few hours later, the bottles in the room were cleared up and out by the recycling, she had made a quick trip to the motel's laundry room, and there was breakfast sitting on the table. Bacon, eggs and coffee -- and no, Sam, she wasn't going to be considerate to your stomach. Taking a sip of her own, she settled down for her meal and waited.
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Around the time the former Queen of Sunnydale sat down to enjoy her side of the prepared meal, Sam grumbled and brought his hand to his head before rolling over and essentially falling out of his bed. Or, the bed, it wasn't his bed. He didn't and never owned a bed that was really his.
Hitting the ground, he grumbled more before bringing himself to his feet. When he was coherent enough and had his eyes open, he saw that not only had see cleaned, but she had made breakfast. Who was he to deny himself free food? Moving over to the empty chair, he sat down and started to dig in without saying a word. For all he knew, this was a more surreal, realistic part of that hangover dream.
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"Look. I know you don't want me here. When this place was full-blown pigsty, I didn't even want to be here. However, the Powers sent me here to pull you out of your dirty little rut, and that's what I'm gonna do. You can fight me or you can help me, but either way -- you're stuck with me."
Reply
"You keep saying, 'the Powers.' What are the powers and why do they care about my dirty little rut?" He blinked after that and shoveled more eggs into his mouth. He was more hungry then anything and this food was feeding the hangover. Mid-chew, however, Sam had more to say. "Look, Dean's gone, but you don't see me rolling over and playing dead and pretending that's okay. What do you or anyone else care about what I do in my spare time?"
He purposefully left out his weekly turned every few days trip to the Crossroads' demons.
Reply
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"What, have you been stalking me?" He clearly wasn't getting the whole 'Powers,' deal. "I haven't told anyone - did Bobby send you here?"
Reply
"No, I haven't been stalking you. I have better things to do with my time. The Powers that Be? They're the ones who provided me with the intel." She paused for a moment, trying to think of a better way to explain them. "They're higher beings. Like -- angels, except higher on the food chain. If you want to be technical, I'm probably closer to 'angel' since I'm the one doing the heavy lifting, but given my previous stint as human, that's not likely."
She took a breath before she got sidetracked. "Anyway. They're the good guys, who watch the major players and make sure they're doing what they're supposed to be doing. And you're not. So they sent me to get you back on track."
Reply
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She crossed her arms in front of her chest as she leaned back in her seat. "Look, I may have shuffled off the mortal coil, but that doesn't mean I don't remember how much this job sucks. This job cost me everything. But that doesn't mean the job doesn't have to be done, and you've got a long way to go before you sleep. I'm not sure whether you really want to bring your brother back, or you just wanna die, but neither of those things are going to happen anytime soon, so you might as well just suck it up, deal, and let me help you."
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"What are you?" he finally asked, satisfied with looking past her. "I would die to bring my brother back. But he's where they wanted him. He's in the pit. If I could I'd crawl into hell myself and take him back."
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She sighed as the moment of vanity passed, before looking back at him. "And no, they won't. They're more scared of Lilith than they are of you, and there's something in Hell that she wants Dean to do. Whether or not he will is still up for grabs, but fact of the matter is -- not one of those demons is going to give you Dean back. You're wasting your time."
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