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[unchosen_son]

He hadn't slept. He didn't want to sleep and he was so sick and tired of the way Dean kept looking at him like he was about to snap at any minute. He wasn't in the best of moods and he'd just snuck away with the alcohol left from the funeral and muttered a quiet, "I'm going to the Hub," to the hut at large, as if they could hear him and just made

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[texas_forever]

It's not the first time Tim's seen Sam in the Hub and he's hoping real hard that this doesn't mean what it'd meant the last time. People disappear in this place, sure and Tim's dealt with a fair amount of his own, but he's already gotten the idea that Sam's dealt with way more than he has.

Tim wanders over to him slowly, hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans before nudging Sam's shoulder with his forearm and nodding down at the bottle. "You 'kay, man?"

[unchosen_son]

Sam didn't draw his gun and pull it on Tim, which was helpful seeing as he'd already got into enough trouble doing that the once. As it was, he still turned a wary gaze Tim's way with a warning about not surprising him on his lips. "I don't think 'okay' exactly works," he mumbled around the neck of the bottle.

[texas_forever]

He arches an eyebrow at the look Sam throws him, but doesn't back off any, just glances at the bottle and finds himself really wanting one of his own.

Turning, he looks back over his shoulder like there might be a fridge full of bottles just like it waiting for him. He's not surprised to see that there isn't and sighs inwardly before nodding down at Sam's. "Got any more o' them?"

[unchosen_son]

Sam blinked heavily and reached down under the table to pry and root around, finding something else that was only a quarter full that he pulled to the table, letting it slosh around as he passed it to Tim. "I sort of just took whatever we had left."

[texas_forever]

Tim's actually a little surprised by that, but he takes the bottle gratefully, tipping it towards him to see that it's only about a quarter full and shrugging before taking a long drink of it. It's bitter and burns going down and it's just about perfect. He wipes the back of his wrist across his mouth and then pulls out the chair next to Sam and drops down into it.

"You look like hell," he says, deciding to just go for it. Stating the obvious is usually a good start. "Tell me your brother ain't gone again."

[unchosen_son]

"No, Dean's still around, thank god," Sam promised and there was a certain sort of relief in his eyes. That was the one saving grace of all of this. Dean was still alive and still there and that was all he could really focus on. That was what he wanted to focus on. "I lost a really good friend the other week," he said, words guttural and hard to get out.

[texas_forever]

"Oh," Tim replies, feeling a mixture of relief and sadness for the guy. Whoever the person is, it's pretty obvious they meant something big to Sam, but Tim doesn't really know him well enough to try and guess who it might've been. And he's not sure whether he should ask or not.

Leaning back in his chair, he takes another sip and just watches Sam for a moment or two. "'s place kinda sucks with shit like that," he says because he gets this kind of pain. After Tyra and Coach and Odd, he gets it.

[unchosen_son]

Sam still felt like something was chewing him out from the stomach and moving from there, seeing as he was pretty sure he could look down and find a hole in his stomach. "Ever since the funeral," he said hoarsely, "I can't sleep." And he wished that was something new to him, he really did.

[texas_forever]

A frown tugs at Tim's mouth then and he lowers the bottle, still watching Sam. Funeral. As many people as Tim's seen just disappear here, there's never been funerals held.

It takes awhile, but he gets it then and he swallows tightly.

"Ginger," he says, his voice quieter, remembering suddenly being interrogated by Vimes and how fucking awkward that'd been on so many levels. "I didn't-- shit, man. Didn't know you knew her." And, why he suddenly feels guilty about all of that, he has no idea.

[unchosen_son]

"We were really close," Sam said very slowly and with his voice extremely hoarse, like it was difficult to even get the words out, let alone talk about them in depth. "And then, just...out of nowhere. And it's not even like she vanished!" he complained angrily, the loss echoing in his voice. "It's just...I fucking hate this," he announced.

[texas_forever]

"Yeah," Tim replies, his voice a little tight as he remembers back to the questions Vimes had thrown at him, the initial implications that he was a suspect. As much shit as Tim'd gotten involved in back in Dillon, he'd at least never been suspected of murder before. And he sincerely hoped he never did again.

He takes another drink of alcohol, grimaces as it burns its way down his throat. "You, uh," he clears his throat and blinks at Sam. "You involved in the investigation at all?"

[unchosen_son]

"Yeah," Sam got the word out in a clipped sigh (if sighs could manage to be clipped). "I mean, I'm probably not supposed to be, but I was interviewed and there's been a hunting party going out. Vimes just doesn't want me to shoot." But that left a lot of things under the umbrella of things to do.

A lot of things he wanted to do.

[texas_forever]

"Well, that kinda leaves a lot open," Tim points out, wanting to smile, but not quite getting there, the expression feeling forced and uncomfortable on his face. "Prob'ly be a good idea to know you got the right guy, though."

[unchosen_son]

"Yeah, that's the idea," Sam agreed, staring at the alcohol like it would somehow give him an answer deep in the recesses of all the amber goodness. "I mean, we're good at this. We're the best at this and that's with things way more evil than just people, so it's just a matter of time, I figure."

[texas_forever]

Tim actually gives a snort of a laugh at that and raises an eyebrow, the bottle half raised to his lips. "And, what, you're gonna shoot the guy with salt? Or like-- well, you got knives, I guess." His humor left then, sliding into genuine curiosity. "You ever gut anythin'?"

[unchosen_son]

Sam's face slid into an impassive version of his usual expression and he tried not to look at Tim as he studied the bottle of alcohol a little harder. "I've probably done just about everything." Not that he was proud of it. It just...happened.