The bars are temples...

[godofcologne]

Characters: Thomas and Sam
Time: January 23rd - sometime
Location: The Redhead Piano Bar
Content: Looking for love in all the wrong places. Or something.
Format: Prose.
Warnings: Hungry vampire, amnesiac demonic vessel. What could go wrong, I ask you.

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[huntingmemory]

It was odd, coming back from a few hours passing and finding that over two weeks had gone by. He'd gotten changed from his wet clothing (being dunked in Lake Michigan wasn't his idea of fun), seen Dean and made certain his brother was okay, then needed to move. It wasn't anything against his brother, it was just that the whole thing had brought up some bad things that he needed to push down and aside again.

He found himself standing outside the Redhead Piano Bar, hands shoved in his pockets for a few moments before he pushed the door inward and stepped inside. Something was tickling at the back of his head and he looked around, finally noting someone sitting in one of the booths, reading. He thought about it for a moment, then headed that direction. Just in case one of the actual people in town. "Hey."

[godofcologne]

There was something to be said for losing oneself in a book. Naked Heat was engrossing enough that the presence of a person, real and filled to the brim with life, didn't immediately register on Thomas' senses, not until the individual approached and spoke.

Finishing the sentence he'd been on, Thomas closed the book and looked up, an easy smirk pulling instinctively at the corners of his mouth. He could feel it now, the light in the darkness compared to the empty shells that shuffled through the bar, and his demon stirred deep within him, empty and wanting. He recognized Sam easily, the amnesiac whom he'd nearly run over. The one with the brother, and something that his Hunger slid off like glass. "Hey," he drawled back, eyes the colour of tarnished silver flickering over Sam. "You look healthy and in one piece."

[huntingmemory]

He reached up, rubbing a spot over his heart. "Came a bit closer to not being either than I'd like to think about, but saved by the bell." Sam smiled almost as easily. "And left with a lot to think about."

He let his own gaze flicker over Thomas in return, raising an eyebrow. "You look like you've been through the mill a few times." Which was a impolite way to put it, but it was true. "You want company?"

That he had no idea what he was offering was obvious. And yet.

[godofcologne]

"If by 'the mill' you mean Groundhog's Day from Hell, then yeah. Two and a half week's worth," Thomas answered with an easy laugh. "If you mean monsters, then just once." He shrugged, as if joking, but there was caution to the movement. His right shoulder still hurt, though whether that was from the fact that he'd reset the shoulder by slamming it into a brick wall to keep himself from feeding on Maureen or simply the slowed healing, Thomas wasn't sure. Didn't care too much to know one way or the other.

A mote of bright silver caught in Thomas' eye at Sam's unthinking question, and his demon rose to answer quicker than Thomas could bury the darkness. "Only if you're offering," came the answer in a voice like molten honey, warm and seductive. He gestured to the other side of the booth. "Want a drink?"

[huntingmemory]

That particular voice made things in Sam's stomach go a bit molten themselves. He took a breath, letting it out slowly before taking the spot at the other side of the booth. "Sure. Beer works." Beer was a bit safer than liquor, at least. "Groundhog's Day? I heard something about how the days were repeating. Wasn't a joke, huh?"

The monster, though, explained why Thomas looked like crap, though.

[godofcologne]

The need to catch the bartender's eye and wave him over gave Thomas a few precious moments to gain the upper hand over his demon, but it was a tenuous grip at best. The need to feed wasn't desperate yet, but it was strong and would grow stronger with every passing hour that he denied it. But that was what he had to do, wasn't it? Now that he had remembered what it was he was choosing, what he was fighting for. Now that he wasn't letting fear and memory rule him.

He ordered two beers, then gave a sighing laugh at Sam's question. "Two and a half weeks of waking up in the same place every morning, no matter where I'd ended up the night before," he confirmed. The subtle pull of the demon lingered in Thomas' voice, a testament to just how close to the surface it still was. "Hungover to boot. Talk about hell, waking up with a hangover every day without even getting the benefits the night before."

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture artfully careless. "So what kind of reprieve were you lucky enough to get? Lifting the Mona Lisa?"

[huntingmemory]

Sam settled in to wait while the bartender came over and took their order. He also ordered some food, since he was starving. Though he was good and kept it to a grilled chicken sandwich. Which was about the closest thing to 'healthy' on the menu.

"Sounds like fun," he said sarcastically at Thomas' explanation of the past two weeks and change. "Honestly, for our side, we were only gone about a handful of hours. Not even that long, really. Just long enough to find ourselves on a cliff, get trapped in a magic circle, lie to Percival and Bors, get saved by Galahad and see the Grail."

Okay, it seemed like a lot longer than it had been, probably.

[godofcologne]

The idea that time had flown differently for the ones who had left was one Thomas chalked up to Harry's field of expertise. Magic gave him a headache. He did, however, raise an eyebrow at Sam's description of what they'd seen. "The Grail? Next thing you know they're going to want us to find a unicorn."

The beers came courtesy of a pretty young thing, sweet and lovely but too empty to be of any use, and Thomas slid one bottle over to Sam before picking up his own. "You remember the names of the knights besides Lancelot. Big on Arthurian mythology?"

[huntingmemory]

Sam grinned at that, picking up the offered bottle and taking a drink before answering. "Well, it did help that one of the others had done the research to be able to recognize their coats of arms, but I knew the names before that." He shrugged. "I'm pretty certain I've always liked reading. I can't tell you where I learned the names, but they seem to have stuck."

Unlike most everything else about his life.

[godofcologne]

Examining the bottle, Thomas wished again that whoever had thrown them into this version of Chicago had at least had the courtesy to stock it with Mac's pale. Regardless, Thomas took a pull from the bottle, looking thoughtful as the cold beer slid down his throat. "So laying eyes on it didn't trigger a choir of angels and give you your memory back?" he mused, his eyes sweeping over Sam again. "Guess that's too much to expect from whoever's here pulling the strings."

[huntingmemory]

"Sadly, I don't think it works that way." Sam shrugged, leaning forward against the table. "Though, from what I've heard off of Dean, I'm not so sure I want to remember what's meant to be in there."

[godofcologne]

Dean had been the one he'd drunk with before, Thomas remembered. The fact that his memories of that evening faded into a silent haze only affirmed Thomas' memory that the other man knew how to put away alcohol. But he remembered, too, how the other man's insight had been rather uncanny. Especially concerning idiot brothers.

Not that the memory meant a whit to the demon riding shotgun, watching and eager. "Oh yeah? Seems like you're the only one who should be making that decision," he drawled, the smoke and velvet of the Hunger's touch sliding back into his voice. "Siblings are all well and good, but you never know when one wants to keep you blind for your own good."

[huntingmemory]

Sam looked down at the bottle, giving that a lot of thought. "No," he finally said. "Dean wants me to have my memories back. I think he finds my amnesia far more annoying than I do." And he thought, sometimes, that Dean took the amnesia a bit personally. "I...go back and forth, honestly. Whether it's worth knowing."

[godofcologne]

The bar's dim light once again caught the motes of metallic silver in Thomas' eyes, and the liquid honey was back in his voice, low and warm. "What if there was a way to find out?"

The demon had switched tactics, and it spoke as much to Thomas as it did to Sam. We gave our Justine peace. Gave her the clarity she wanted. We could give him the knowledge he craves, draw the desire from his flesh and the memories will follow. It was an excuse, of course, and a flimsy one, but it still wormed its way into Thomas' mind and made his willpower falter. It was enough.

He set the beer bottle down, long pale fingers running along the bottleneck in a completely not innocent idle gesture. He sounded distracted, as if thinking to himself, but that seductive pull was present in every word, the Hunger rising and settling over him like a second skin of easy sensuality. "If it's all just locked up, there's got to be a way of picking that lock, don't you think?"

[huntingmemory]

Thomas' eyes were kind of fascinating when they did that. Some part of Sam realized that it wasn't exactly normal and things with eyes like that were dangerous. It was that same part of him that refused to be pulled under by that easy sensuality.

Though there was another part of him that wanted to. Wanted to so badly.

"Maybe so," he agreed after a moment of though, meeting Thomas' eyes willingly. "And while I'll admit you have power, Thomas, I'm not sure you have the power to do that."

But what power Thomas did have...he knew he'd enjoy. Damn it.

[godofcologne]

Sam's words made him laugh, low and rich, the sort of sound that slid warm and liquid down spines and pooled in the pits of stomachs. Thomas knew, deep in his heart and in his rational mind, that he would regret this, that it had been stupid and idiotic to have lingered, that he was losing the battle again, and in this was the same hopelessness and despair that had eaten him alive the past year and more