(Untitled)

[badblood_rising]

Earlier that day, Sam Winchester had freed the Devil himself from Hell, and now he needed a drink.

There was something called the Hub and something called the Catscratch, but the Winchester was closest and after everything he'd gone through that day, Sam could somehow accept a mysterious bar practically named after his family more than a long walk

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[little_moons]

I've got my back to the door, leaning over the cooler behind the bar and breaking up a block of ice that got a little too solid overnight. I'm about to turn around to tell him that he's shit outta luck, that we ran out of anything branded as whiskey months ago. We've got shit that comes pretty close. Everybody's gonna have to be lowered down to my standards from now on, and I've always been more than okay with drinkin' the cheapest stuff I could find outta a paper bag.

It doesn't quite hit me how familiar the voice is 'til I turn around, catching sight of him and fumbling with the glass in my hand that I'd grabbed from over the bar. "Sam? Holy shit."

[badblood_rising]

...Of course. How many times had he and Dean gone investigating a case and went to the local watering hole to ask some questions? Of course the guy behind the bar would know his face, even if Sam didn't have a clue who he was. But they'd gone under aliases and no names at all for so long that an unfamiliar person naming him on the spot made Sam nervous. He tried to pretend it didn't though, and shrug it off. "Yup," Sam answered dryly. "That would be me."

Weird. Just weird.

[little_moons]

The first thing that pops into my head, the first thing that tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it is, "Dean? Does he know you're here?" But then I see him, looming in the back booth and trying to pretend he's not staring and doing a pretty fuckin' piss poor job of it. Well, guess that answer that question.

"Right," I mutter, grabbing a bottle of what passes for the good stuff around here and pouring him a glass. It's easy to ignore that tone in his voice. It's not exactly unfamiliar, considering that half of what I ever said to him was met with anything ranging from disbelief to outright horror. Which was, you know, always half the fun.

[badblood_rising]

Sam didn't bother to acknowledge the question since the answer was lurking in the shadows. Things were strained and awkward, and Sam just really wanted to sit down and forget about it all for a little while instead of draw attention to it.

"Thanks," he muttered, sliding onto a stool and taking his drink. Knocking it back turned out to be a bad move, and he winced as he swallowed it down. "Did you brew that in a bathtub or something?"

...Actually, yeah, he probably did, didn't he? Isolated island.

[babyviper]

It wasn't important how O-Ren had confirmed her sources-- she wasn't even sure she could say, not with how her heart beat at the possibility of the world turning over. This was why you didn't going around forming attachments, she tried to tell yourself, because you'll only be freaked out when their own family members appear and disappear.

Okay, maybe it had something to do with how the last Sam hadn't even liked her, and she knew if she had a sibling by blood... well.

All of it was enough to make O-Ren want to throw up with terror.

Instead, she made sure her appearance was spotless before she went to look; hair brushed, clean skirt, nice t-shirt and cardigan, her swords polished and cleaned immaculately even if they would just stay in their sheaths at her hips.

And then she went first to the Winchester, on a hunch. She saw her target, and slid onto a barstool, folding clammy hands neatly into her lap.

[badblood_rising]

It was hard for any hunter worth his salt (and salt was worth a lot in their world) not to notice someone slide into a bar with swords at her hips, no matter how small and otherwise unassuming she appeared. Sam hadn't had more than one drink, so drawing a connection between the ridiculous conversations of the day and this moment wasn't that difficult.

"Let me guess," he said slowly, taking a sip of his godawful drink. "Dean's little ninja?"

There was a joke here about Dean's fixation on Busty Asian Beauties, but Sam wasn't drunk enough or twisted enough to go there yet.

[babyviper]

"He called me that?" O-Ren asked, her anxiety melting for a moment into horrifed bemusement. She bit back the automatic response that she wasn't a ninja, she was technically an assassin, but she doubted it would win her the kind of favor she was looking for here.

"My name is O-Ren," she finally said, and her mother's training beat out her fathers, because she bowed a little. "I'm not technically a ninja."

[badblood_rising]

O-Ren. Why did that sound familiar? Was there some Japanese myth with that name?

Should Sam maybe stop trying to decipher everything like it was a trick? Maybe. This was just a kid that Dean had taken in, that had had a tough childhood not exactly but kind of like Dean and Sam. Sam reminded himself not to look beyond that.

"Nice to meet you, O-Ren," he said, trying to give her a friendly smile. "I guess you know I'm Sam."

[loaded_wolf]

Dean was still pretty shaken up by Sam's reappearance and news from the future. Angua thought it might help to get him out of the house, and led him down the path toward the Winchester with the promise of pie. Working there part time had it's perks, no one would mind if she used the small kitchen to bake. Or, hopefully there'd be some left over from the last batch Jess had made.

When they came in, the first thing Angua saw was Sam alone at the bar. There was no mistaking the broad shoulders and the way they hunched. His hair was longer and he seemed bigger somehow, but she recognized him.

She paused in the threshold and looked to Dean, waiting for him to decide what to do.

[weary_head]

Dean was a little buzzed, and gratefully so due to Roger's quick thinking, but he was still rocked by the familiar sight of Sam at the bar. That it was something he could get used to again was, well, going to take some getting used to, but Dean squeezed Angua's hand, for once not at all perturbed that he probably looked like a pussy for having needed it threaded through his own.

He raised his eyebrows. Want to say hi?

[badblood_rising]

It was habit that had Sam glancing up towards the door. A creak of floorboards, the swing of hinges-- you looked or made some note of your surroundings, or you just might end up dead. Especially if you were working alone.

Everything about this place was just a little too much Fantasy Island, and looking up to see Gwyneth Paltrow waltz through the door just kind of sealed the deal. And then he saw Dean walk in, slip his hand into Gwyneth Paltrow's, and Sam knew he wasn't in his fantasy world, he was in Dean's.

He nodded a greeting to Dean and took another sip of his drink.

Gwyneth Fucking Paltrow. What the hell?

[loaded_wolf]

Angua's smile said sure, then she turned it on Sam. No matter what had happened, this was still Sam and he was still Dean's brother, and she was glad they had each other again.

She led Dean over to the bar, keeping her hand in his. "Hi Sam," she said, and paused. This was awkward, now that it was actually happening. "I'm Angua."

[heartless_sob]

Castiel liked The Winchester. He liked that it shared it's name with the Winchesters, he liked all the food and sometimes the music, and he liked the people who worked there. That night he was hoping for some pizza. Instead, he found Sam Winchester.

Sam looked just as he had the last time Castiel saw him, though there was still a chance this Sam did not know him, as the island Dean had not.

"Sam," Castiel said, taking a seat next to him. There was a lot to follow that up with, but Castiel just stared as though he could still read Sam's thoughts and know how and why he was here.

[badblood_rising]

Sam had been disappointed the first time he'd met Dean's angels. It was hard not to be. Through an exceedingly dark childhood, Sam had clung to the one shining, perfect thing he had: his faith. And then, years later, he met one angel who really did look like a tax accountant and one who was ready to kill an entire town just because it was an easy way to get a job done. Sam wanted to be more disappointed to find Castiel there, in a bar, looking powerless or at the very least helpless to escape this place like the rest of them, but today was a hard day to put any kind of faith in angels. They'd all failed today.

"He's free," Sam answered shortly. No greetings or explanations. They didn't see eye to eye -- well, no, they probably both agreed that what Sam had been up to with his powers was very fucking evil -- but at least Sam knew Castiel's priorities. "I killed Lilith and it set him free."

[heartless_sob]

It was the last thing Castiel expected to come out of Sam's mouth.

It was such a shock he could only sit there, mouth parted, gaze falling to the bartop, hands locked on the smooth wood as though the weight of Sam's words were too heavy for him to move.

"But. I sent Dean to you," he finally said.

[badblood_rising]

To kill him. I sent Dean to you to kill you. That was doubtlessly what Castiel meant. At this rate, Sam couldn't even get mad about it. Maybe he needed to be put down. Maybe caged up in Bobby's panic room was where he should be.

Sam shook his head and sipped his drink. "Too late," he explained. "He didn't get to me in time."

[steel_singer]

Bobby knew Sam was there, but he still had to pause in the doorway for a moment before heading over to take a seat next to him. The boy looked different, like he had the weight of the world on his back. Was pretty unsurprising, considerin' what John had told Bobby.

"Hey, Sam," Bobby said simply, with no smile but with a clear expression of care as he looked at the man he loved like a son.

[badblood_rising]

His breath caught in his throat and stayed there until he turned to look at Bobby, letting out his words in a shaky exhale. "Hey, Bobby."

It'd only been last night that he'd knocked Bobby out for getting in his way. Bobby had no clue, but Sam regretted it like hell now.

[steel_singer]

For a second, all Bobby could think when he looked at John's boy was he started the goddamn Apocalypse. But this was Sam, someone he'd known since he was a kid, someone who used to call him 'Uncle Bobby', and that was what was most important. "It's good to see ya, son," he said, and he meant it. "Real good, despite the strange-as-hell setting."

[badblood_rising]

"Yeah," he said, throat going dry and tight on him. "Real weird. But real good. It's--"

He just felt so guilty, sitting there looking at Bobby as if nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong, not between him and this Bobby, but that didn't change what Sam had done. Setting aside his drink, Sam rose to his feet and opened his arms with a little shrug, a subtle offer of or asking for a hug. "It's been a long day."