(Untitled)

[extra_psychic]

She knows she should be dead. By all rights, she should be dead. It wouldn't have hurt, it wouldn't have been scary. If the booze hadn't gotten her, the cold would have. It was just chance, dumb luck, and an Angel of the Lord. That's all that kept her from being a New Year's corpse

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[little_moons]

Seeing her on the path, I stop, give her room and think about letting her go right on past without letting her know it's me. But that feels... really fucking shitty, even if things've been sorta weird with us, lately.

"Hey," I say, glancing at the robot following her around with a vague kind of interest. "Cute dog."

[extra_psychic]

"It's not mine," she answers, even before she places his voice. She knew he was there. People give themselves away a hundred different ways to someone who relies on everything other than sight. She gives Neil a wry twist of a smile and pushes her hair back off her face.

"How's it going, tiger? You've been scarce." Except it's her that's been the scarce one. It's been hard, not crawling out of bed to head for the Winchester, but she's somehow managed it.

[little_moons]

"I'm never too hard to find," I say, and I don't just mean the Winchester. I've always had a pretty set pattern: Tree, compound, waterfall, ocean... There aren't too many other places I frequent.

"I'm... good. How you been?"

[extra_psychic]

"Shitty," she shrugs. It's no secret...she's never been great with secrets. And she's pretty sure that between Castiel and House, people ar gonna know.

"I kinda got a wake up call. This week has been rough."

[out_of_realm]

Tom was walking out of the Compound with a bag of fresh laundry over his shoulder, so deep in thought over how to next coax the girls into using the tiny, hand made potty in the corner of the room that he barely looked up until he'd barreled into her.

"Oh I - Jesus, Pam, I'm sorry, I wasn't -" He stepped back, looking at her with wide, concerned eyes. She looked like...hell, and it wasn't the detox. That would have passed days ago.

"Are you okay?"

[extra_psychic]

She's sure she looks as tired and hollow as she feels. That's not the sort of shit that doesn't translate to a girl's appearance. No use in lying about it.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm not dead," she shrugs. "I'm just moving into the compound. I think Bridge is gone, and Bobby and Ellen don't need to deal with my shit."

Not to mention the fact that Bobby and Ellen both live too damn close to a bar for her comfort. It'd make it too damned easy.

[out_of_realm]

"I - oh, shit," he said, face falling a little. "I'm sorry. I didn't know him well."

You live here long enough, you know not to ask if they're sure.

"Here," he said, touching her elbow gently. There was so little to say, so little to do. "Can I make you some lunch?"

[extra_psychic]

"Might as well. I haven't had a decent meal in a while," she says as she takes his hand and switches out so she's holding him. Her hands are dry and six days hasn't been long enough for the tremors to go away entirely, although it's miles better than it had been.

"I, uh, haven't really been out of my place since I got out of the clinic."

[heartless_sob]

Castiel is taking Mimi on her daily walk when he sees Pamela ahead. She's looking better, some color in her complexion, and he smiles. "Pamela, can I walk with you?"

[extra_psychic]

She doesn't stop walking, but she slows down considerably. It's amazing, she thinks, the capacity for shame one person can have. She nods, but it's barely noticeable when her chin continues to drop.

Pamela tilts her face in the direction of his voice. Suddenly she isn't so aware of the heat of the air or the weight of the sun. The birds and bugs and monkeys- and God knows what else lives in the jungle -fade to little more than a droning background noise.

"I guess," she says, trying for hard, though the sound of her voice in her head is just...pathetic. Fuckin' pathetic. "I'm just going in, though. Won't be a long walk."

[heartless_sob]

"That's alright. Mimi and I could use some cool air." Air conditioning, he thought, was one of man's finest inventions.

Castiel tried, surreptitiously, to watch Pamela, even if she couldn't see him. He couldn't smell alcohol on her, and she didn't seem inebriated. "Are you feeling any better?" he ventured, not quite sure on how...well, all of this worked.

[extra_psychic]

"In some ways, yes. In most ways, no," she answers honestly. "I'm tense, I'm tired, I'm sick of being alone in that treehouse, and..."

She sighs.

"And I haven't had a drink since...you know. So I'm doing that whole thing."

[steel_singer]

Bobby hadn't seen Pamela in days. He'd walked past her place a few times, stoppin' briefly just outside, but then kept on goin'. He didn't think she'd be too happy to see him, so Bobby gave her space, for the time being.

"Hey," he said, spotting her as he stepped out of the rec room. "Long time no see."

[extra_psychic]

Just his voice makes her cringe. She's sure it's gotten back to him, her little stay in the clinic. It's not like news like that stays quiet. And the fact that she's gone through it before, and with Bobby taking care of the worst of it...

This is some real bullshit, and it's totally of her making.

"Yeah. Has been," she agrees, ducking her chin and letting her hair fall forward. She feels like a kid who's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Only, you know, a million times worse. She's so glad she can't see so she won't have to look at Bobby's eyes. She couldn't stand to see disappointment there.

[steel_singer]

If Pamela had been able to see Bobby's expression, she woulda seen it wasn't disappointment in his eyes, it was concern. He'd heard about what happened, and he was pretty sure lectures weren't gonna help her at this point. "How ya feelin'?" he asked.

[extra_psychic]

"I feel like shit, Bobby."

No reason to lie. She's sure she looks about as good as she feels. She hasn't eaten much and she needs a shower. And she's got the shakes still. Nowhere near as bad as they've been...if they were, she'd have stayed at home.

"I...you know, you were right. Just like you're always right, you son of a bitch. I quit drinking, okay? Not a drop since New Year's Eve."

She pauses.

"Except I'm pretty sure I drank enough to count for the first three days of the month."

[thirdboxcar]

Having finally spotted Pam - Walt needs to talk to her, after all - Walt calls her name, waving his arm, before he realizes she can't possibly see him. "Pam, wait up!" He calls, breaking into a jog to catch up with her.

[extra_psychic]

Walt sounds too happy to be bringing shit down on her. She stops and waits as his footfalls come closer and closer and she even manages to smile a little.

"Heya, soldier," she says. "Put some hustle in it. I'm in a hurry." And isn't that a lie? She hasn't been hurrying over anything in days.

[thirdboxcar]

"I wanted to ask you," Walt starts, and pauses. How the fuck is he supposed to ask if she wants to come to Nate's wedding without making it sound like a fucking date too much, he wonders.

"Look, my LT is getting married, and I'm invited- plus one," he starts to explain, feeling more and more like an idiot. "And since we get along so well, I thought I'd ask..."

He pauses again, before shrugging. Hell, now that he's started it, he better just finish it. "I thought I'd ask you. You know. If you wanna go with me."

[extra_psychic]

She's pretty sure that if he knew how fucking fragile she was, he'd have slowed that down a little. It takes her a minute to parse it, then she tilts her head and scrunches her nose a little.

"You want me to be your date to a wedding?" she asks, making sure she's got it right. "Are you sure? I mean, are you sure you want to take me?"