He had awakened before the television had clicked on again, and watched it with only half his attention engaged. He was thinking about how hungry he was, and how bored. Though not necessarily in that order.
He'd felt something shift within him, after the message from West, but he had no idea what it was. And it wasn't until he passed a mirror--and, being used to wearing a mask he had gotten out of the habit of avoiding them--was surprised by what he saw.
It wasn't him.
That was to say, he recognized himself, but it wasn't quite the face he remembered. And as he thought about it, it shifted back into the grotesque death's head he so hated. Frowning, he thought again. And thought harder. And gradually, the face had changed, morphing into something more or less human
( ... )
See, Erik, here's the thing. Sam doesn't remember ever being here before. So either way -- you win!
Sam turned to face him. "Hey." He was quiet for a moment, before turning to look for any signs that would indicate where he was. "Can you help me out? I'm looking for a phone. I have to call my brother."
"A phone," Erik repeated, as if unfamiliar with the word. Ah, yes. Now he placed it. "There is a telephone on Main Street," he offered. He had heard rumors about it. "I do not think you will find your brother, however. I have heard of no one getting out of Peaksville without their tape being burned, since I got here."
"Unless this place is on an island, I doubt that's possible." Everything had an exit. It was what Sam had been raised to believe, after all. But maybe, just maybe Dean was already here. If that was the case they could put their heads together and figure something out from there, but until then, he just needed to find Dean.
"Maybe you've seen him around? His name's Dean Winchester. He's about six one, medium build. He drives a '67 Chevy Impala?"
"No, the Impala is a car ... " Sam started the sentence that way, before suddenly starting to get worried. "Wait -- what do you mean he disappeared? I -- I just got here, I don't know anything at all."
Which was mostly true. He knew what West told him, and he didn't really trust the credibility of that information quite yet. That's what happens when someone tells you you're not real.
Sam took a step back at that. He was here before? He couldn't remember any of it, and this was just putting him more on edge than he had already been. He tightened his grip on his journal, as well as the tape.
"I think I would remember being here before." That much was certain. "And I don't. So why don't you draw me a picture?"
"I am unfamiliar with your modern English idioms," he said loftily. "In sum, you are trapped in Peaksville, which appears to be an abandoned town out of the American 1950s. Walking in any direction appears to lead you back into town, and no one is here but those who arrive, as we did, and a few select... envoys of Mr. West, who pester and torment us.
"Just like my life, then," Sam muttered bitterly. This was like Yellow Eyes' Death Match, take two. In fact, he was starting to wonder if Jake had actually got the drop on him and managed to kill him, and he had just landed himself in some screwed up level of Hell.
That? That would really suck. Because odds were that Dean wasn't coming here. "So ... what do we do?"
"Why should I concern myself?" he said. "I am going to partake of the cinema, and find some food. I suggest you find the rest of the social do-gooders at the boarding house and... do whatever it is that you do."
Erik considered completely misdirecting him, but it really wouldn't be any fun for him. Sighing, he gestured towards Main Street and the boarding house.
"The streets shift about, but it should be the first left," he said. "Miss Marge's boarding house."
He had awakened before the television had clicked on again, and watched it with only half his attention engaged. He was thinking about how hungry he was, and how bored. Though not necessarily in that order.
He'd felt something shift within him, after the message from West, but he had no idea what it was. And it wasn't until he passed a mirror--and, being used to wearing a mask he had gotten out of the habit of avoiding them--was surprised by what he saw.
It wasn't him.
That was to say, he recognized himself, but it wasn't quite the face he remembered. And as he thought about it, it shifted back into the grotesque death's head he so hated. Frowning, he thought again. And thought harder. And gradually, the face had changed, morphing into something more or less human ( ... )
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Sam turned to face him. "Hey." He was quiet for a moment, before turning to look for any signs that would indicate where he was. "Can you help me out? I'm looking for a phone. I have to call my brother."
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"Maybe you've seen him around? His name's Dean Winchester. He's about six one, medium build. He drives a '67 Chevy Impala?"
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"Do you not know? Dean Winchester disappeared a few days ago. Though I have seen no sign of African wildlife anywhere."
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Which was mostly true. He knew what West told him, and he didn't really trust the credibility of that information quite yet. That's what happens when someone tells you you're not real.
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"You are Sam Winchester," he stated. "I have seen you before. Your brother was here, but I had thought you were gone, too."
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"I think I would remember being here before." That much was certain. "And I don't. So why don't you draw me a picture?"
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"A picture," he said slowly. "Of what, and what good would it do?"
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"I am unfamiliar with your modern English idioms," he said loftily. "In sum, you are trapped in Peaksville, which appears to be an abandoned town out of the American 1950s. Walking in any direction appears to lead you back into town, and no one is here but those who arrive, as we did, and a few select... envoys of Mr. West, who pester and torment us.
"It is very unpleasant, and quite boring."
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That? That would really suck. Because odds were that Dean wasn't coming here. "So ... what do we do?"
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"Why should I concern myself?" he said. "I am going to partake of the cinema, and find some food. I suggest you find the rest of the social do-gooders at the boarding house and... do whatever it is that you do."
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"The streets shift about, but it should be the first left," he said. "Miss Marge's boarding house."
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"Thank you."
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