Do Ya Like the Hard Kick of Old Kentucky Bourbon or the Slow Burn of Tennessee Rye?
Who: Eliot Spencer and Sam Winchester.
When: The day after Eliot's arrival.
Where: The bar.
What: There's only one solution... drink the crazy away.
Twenty-four hours. He'd been a rat clawing at the walls of a maze for twenty-four hours. Eliot found his car. He even tried driving away, but sure enough... the hotel was always just over the horizon. No matter which direction he drove, how fast, or how far... there was no escaping it. No way out.
The post to the communication network, while informative, had turned up no leads on his team. In a way, it was a blessing. If they weren't answering, then most likely they weren't trapped here, like the Doctor said. On the other hand, if he was here, he wasn't there protecting them. He had one job. One job in the world and that was keeping those four people alive. It was a full time fucking job, too. God only knew what was happening there now, without him.
It was the mental images of all the many, varied ways his team could have gotten themselves all killed in his absence that drove him to do what he'd half-joked to Owen the day before. He made his way down to the lobby and found a door. It wasn't the right door, but he determinedly stood there, opening and closing the damn thing until it got him where he wanted to go. That first drink was damn near heaven.
The eighth or ninth was just overkill...
When: The day after Eliot's arrival.
Where: The bar.
What: There's only one solution... drink the crazy away.
Twenty-four hours. He'd been a rat clawing at the walls of a maze for twenty-four hours. Eliot found his car. He even tried driving away, but sure enough... the hotel was always just over the horizon. No matter which direction he drove, how fast, or how far... there was no escaping it. No way out.
The post to the communication network, while informative, had turned up no leads on his team. In a way, it was a blessing. If they weren't answering, then most likely they weren't trapped here, like the Doctor said. On the other hand, if he was here, he wasn't there protecting them. He had one job. One job in the world and that was keeping those four people alive. It was a full time fucking job, too. God only knew what was happening there now, without him.
It was the mental images of all the many, varied ways his team could have gotten themselves all killed in his absence that drove him to do what he'd half-joked to Owen the day before. He made his way down to the lobby and found a door. It wasn't the right door, but he determinedly stood there, opening and closing the damn thing until it got him where he wanted to go. That first drink was damn near heaven.
The eighth or ninth was just overkill...