RP logs: winchesterbitch, notpenelpe, winchesterjerk
Continued from here.
Sarah: *reaches up to caress his cheek lightly, back of her fingers along his skin*
Sam: *closes his eyes, half turning away, more out of guilt than anything*
Sarah: *quietly* Talk to me?
Sam: I fucked up...
Sarah: Maybe, we don't know that. But even if you do... everybody does it, sooner or later. Some of us, many times over. That's what people do.
Sam: 'pparently, that's the only thing I do.
Sarah: Says who?
Sam: I got Dean killed. Couldn't get him out. He was just going to sit there while Cassie walked out that door...
Sarah: He was worried about you, silly. That's not fucking up, that's what just happens. Besides, you didn't let him just sit here. *cups his cheek, though doesn't press to turn his face to her again* That's one time, love, and I know he doesn't think it's your fault. And even so... how many times more was it that you didn't fuck up? That you got him out, that you made sure he was alive? That was... a situation you didn't have a choice in the matter of, so it can't count as a fuck-up. Whenever you've been able to choose, you've saved him.
Sam: I... *breath hitching, sighing out, leaning his cheek into her hand and just... sort of crumpling without physically crumpling* What am I supposed to do? This... what we're doing. You know what the odds of us making it through alive are? And I can't... not again. I can't watch him die again, god, Sarah, I've seen it so many times...
Sarah: *thumb caressing his skin lightly, hand steady* I... don't see a way around. Just through. We're four of us. We will be able to keep each other alive, ok? We'll back you up and you won't have to watch that. Just because you won't let it happen. *softly* No matter what any of us do, the odds to being safe are negligent. He's been picked out, you both have, through no fault of yours. We'll... muscle though. *steadily* You're not alone, Sam. And neither is he. That's giving you both better chances, right there.
Sam: I don't want to see you get hurt either. Sarah. People get hurt because of ... people die. Remember? ... I don't... *but he doesn't know what else to do*
Sarah: I remember, of course I remember. *her other hand moves to rest on his elbow, then slowly moves up, caressing, reassuring.* I was careless, with Ruby. I won't let it happen again. *the rest... she's gotten off easy, for a hunter, this far, and he knows it. Even for a civilian, most days* I'm more protected now than I was before. *she jingles the bracelet with the charms, including the one against posseession.* You are already doing a lot. *fingers tighten on his arm, a little* People die, no matter what we do. But I'm alive here and now. And so are you. And so is he. Try to ... not focus on what might happen and think of what is. 'Might' doesn't mean 'will', not unless you go and turn it into a self-fulfillng prophecy.
Sam: *just sort of... nods, palm coming up to dig into his temple a little. he's getting a headache from the stress and all the crying, even if he's drunk half the water glass by now* There are... there are so m... *trying to organize his thoughts. it's not happening* I have these powers... and I can't use them. To help anyone. I have... I'm not Dean. I can't be, I'm not... And he's the hunter. I'm just the geek. *helpless flutter of hands*
Sarah: *quietly, eyes worried at the gesture of his hand. She... isn't surprised at the headache, but is far from happy with it* You have all these guns, and you can't just randomly use them either, isn't that so? I know there's a difference, you can pick up a gun and then set it aside. And still, you must see the parallel. *swallows, fingers curl against his arm again* I think you're both hunters out of long practice, and you do stunningly well at it, allowing for the fact that nobody's perfect. But I am not sure that 'hunter' is what is asked of either ... of any of us anymore. Feels more like soldiering now. Drafted, too, not voluntary. *small headshake* And you're not just the geek. You're the lovable geek. *nods*
Sam: I don't want it to be random. If we had the Colt... I just want her gone. If she's gone, this all stops, people stop dying, people stop getting hurt, seals stop opening... It may not be the quickest way to end it, but it's better than guns against demons who can... can yank them out of our hands or do god knows what else
Sarah: *nods, listening carefully, her attention fully on him, on what he's saying. Shifts... just a little closer. Not repulsed.* I know... *breath in* I don't know how it will happen. But I know that we will try to plan as much as we can with any information that we have, any scrap of it. And in the end, when the time for choosing comes, we'll all do what we can, with all that we have. *fingers curl a little, hand shifting up, fingertips trailing over his temple, into his hair lightly* Until then, we won't know what we have. You'll... you'll do well, Sam. We all will, because we must. And then there'll be rest.
Sam: I just... rest would be nice. *short non-laugh* rest would be real nice. I'm just... I'm tired. I don't want to do this anymore. I've been doing this all my life, moving town to town... first Dad, then Dean. we never had a... a porch we could stick a rocking chair on. Or a carpet to vacuum. I mean.. *anther short, sharp bark of laughter* People bitch about having to vacuum carpets or dust stupid pieces of art their half-crazy old uncles gave them, do you know what I'd do to have to do that? To have that be the most annoying chore I'd ever have to do?
Sarah: *throat tightens, and her eyes go very soft, looking at him* I think I know. And... I think that we can get there. I can't promise anything from a half-crazy uncle, but I'm sure we can get enough stuff that will need dusting from my father. *now... does pull him in for a hug. Lightly, loosely, just in case he'd... still rather not and will push away, but a hug* It's got to be real, when we get there, but when we do, I promise you there'll be a porch. And carpet. Thick soft carpet that you can walk barefoot in and enjoy the feel of... when it's vacuumed.
Sam: *faint smile* You're promising me a carpet? *does, though, settle into the hug, slowly, very slowly, but he settles. into the hug and into sliding his arms around her and holding her tight*
Sarah: *seriously, but her voice is warm, and holds maybe a tiny hint of laughter. Just a hint. And oh she's holding on steadily, warmly, and so glad that he lets her in, that little bit.* You've not been promised extensive and high-maintenance items like carpet before? Well... there's a first to everything. I haven't promised one to anybody before either.
Sam: *just... starts laughing. tucking his head to her shoulder and he laughs, not quite believing that they're having this conversation* A big, thick carpet you have to vacuum. *more of disbelief, as the laughter turns... back down to more hysterical giggles, sort of, and then subsides altogether as the tears start yet again*
Sarah: *blinks, worried at the giggles, then... when they stop... just turns her face to kiss his head, arms holding him tightly, sliding up and down along his back, maybe... maybe rocking him a little* A big thick carpet. *swallows, but her voice is certain, promising.* And all the good things that go on it. A couch that at least starts up as not one to kill your back for napping in it. *lips twitch* A sound surround system that you can freely geek out at. Potted flowers. Would you want potted flowers?
Sam: *very sincerely, and in a voice thick with tears* I'd love potted flowers. *just... crying. now. because these are things he's never had, things he's still not sure he believes he or Dean will ever have, things that Dean could have had if he didn't have to have a half-demon screwup for a little brother, and... god, he's so scared they won't make it out of this alive*
Sarah: *softly, gently* Good. There will be potted flowers. There'll be a lot of good things. Just you wait and see. *holding on and definitely rocking him gently, in rhythm with his choked up breathing.* Just hold on and you'll see, baby.
Sam: *does hold on now, clinging to her, just... sobbing and clinging, too exhausted to hold onto control any longer*
Sarah: *and that is all right with her. She's holding on tightly, and rocking him a little, and after letting him just cry it out for a bit... eventually starts to hum softly, lightly. Just so that he can ... have something that won't raise more questions to come back to, after the flood*
Sam: *eventually he does cry himself out, at least ... no, he really does seem to have cried himself out for tonight, just clinging to her still, with a pounding headache and feeling empty and drained and weak... but at least not as hopeless as he did*
Sarah: *holds on to him, until his breathing steadies a little bit. then gently tugs at him to get up with her* Come... *if he does follow, she'll take him to the bathroom. To wash his face, have him brush his teeth. Just... little things that will bring tiny bits of physical relief. A feeling of a fresh... not start, but just refreshment*
Sam: *does follow, just kind of... weak. worn out. ready to follow wherever*
Sarah: *does have him wash his face and brush his teeth. Gently, carefully, more coaxing than telling him to. Staying close, touching all the while. Hand on his back... something. Then carefully tugs him back to the room. To their bed. Sitting on it with her back against the headboard and pulling him against her, to lean or curl as he would.*
Sam: *smiles a little as he finally sort of focuses back in, curling against her, snuggling up*
Sarah: *small smile too, cuddles him warm and close and - loving. And there. And alive.*
Sam: *might actually be drifting off to sleep, or at least dozing, by the time Dean and Cassie come back*
***
Dean: *when hey do, kinda smiles, one hand in Cassie's back pocket probably* Looks like Sammy's gotten the right idea first again...
Cassie: *quiet chuckle, leaning against him* Tired, sweetie?
Dean: What, me? Nah. ... alright. Maybe.
((ahahah I wonder if he got the tires fixed too >.> ))
((*snerk* Maybe.))
Cassie: *grins* Come on, handsome. Let's get you stripped down for bed.
Sarah: *murmurs* I'll keep Sam's eyes covered...
Cassie: *much stiffled giggling, tugs Dean gently over to their bed, definitely undressing him down to, well, his boxers.*
Dean: *helps out, returning the favor to ... where she stops him >.> *
Sarah: *gently nuzzles Sam's temple* Ready to really go to bed now? *voice soft, and if he doesn't stir up, she'll pull up the bedcovers over him so he's sort of tucked un, until he does wake up for the full thing*
Sam: Mm-hmm. *but he's so not awake, not really, shifting a bit and dozing off again*
Dean: *snorts, takes the top cover of their bed and throws it over Sam's form so that Sarah can adjust it, then smiles a bit at Cassie and leads the way under the comforter*
Cassie: *smiles softly back, lets him get settled before settling in against him, all curled up*
Sam: *is so going to start snoring any second now*
Dean: *spoons around Cassie, lightly kissing her shoulder. In a bit... yes, when Sam does start snorting, murmurs* thank you.
Sarah: *shifts more comfortably around Sam, though not a lot of shifting. Watches his face ... peaceful for a bit, before reaching to turn off the bedlight*
Cassie: *one hand covering Dean's, squeezing gently, smiling exhaustedly* Love you. *whispered*
Sam: *is just out. like a light. exhausted from the day*
Dean: *breath comes out ... eyes close a bit* Yeah, I think that point came across today. *with a hint of a smile, at that. Then* Me too.
((Sammy's going to sleep till someone wakes him up. Or for twelve hours or so.))
((that is good. He needs it.))
((Oh yes.))
((I ... don't know about Dean... I think he may have at least two times in the middle of the night when he just... starts. And sees that Sam's on the other bed, and settles back. Not getting anything specific on dreams/nightmares.))
((*nods slightly* Cassie will... at least move with him, I don't know if she'll wake up if he just settles back that quickly))
((he is tired too. ow. I spoke too soon about nightmares. *pokes Dean* THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN.))
((... what. Sam leaving?))
((no. Sam's head, severed, rolling down the hallway of that hotel))
((OH MY DEAR GOD NO THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.))
((*sighs* ))
((guh. *sighs* He can wake up from that one, and Cassie can hold him, and point to the other bed, "Look. See. He's right there. Snoring." Small smile. "He's okay. Nothing happened."))
((*wry* I think that she may get to do that semi-regularly for a while. *shudders* I got a freaking visual on that. Maybe because of how much he meant to, right then, even if he didn't want to. ... somewhere inside.))
((*sighs* She'll do that as often as she needs to. *wry* And sometimes Sam will wake up and blink at him an dgo "mrr? go to sleep, Dean."))
((*nods* yes. just... mrr is right.))
((Sleepy Sam is bleary-eyed and cute and prone to 'mrr's))
((Sarah kind of likes the rumble in his chest for that. Just sayin'.))
((... .*giggles*))
((*grins* She can give him cute. In spades.))
((Yes.))
((he can use it all up.))
((Oh yes. *sighs*))
Sarah: *reaches up to caress his cheek lightly, back of her fingers along his skin*
Sam: *closes his eyes, half turning away, more out of guilt than anything*
Sarah: *quietly* Talk to me?
Sam: I fucked up...
Sarah: Maybe, we don't know that. But even if you do... everybody does it, sooner or later. Some of us, many times over. That's what people do.
Sam: 'pparently, that's the only thing I do.
Sarah: Says who?
Sam: I got Dean killed. Couldn't get him out. He was just going to sit there while Cassie walked out that door...
Sarah: He was worried about you, silly. That's not fucking up, that's what just happens. Besides, you didn't let him just sit here. *cups his cheek, though doesn't press to turn his face to her again* That's one time, love, and I know he doesn't think it's your fault. And even so... how many times more was it that you didn't fuck up? That you got him out, that you made sure he was alive? That was... a situation you didn't have a choice in the matter of, so it can't count as a fuck-up. Whenever you've been able to choose, you've saved him.
Sam: I... *breath hitching, sighing out, leaning his cheek into her hand and just... sort of crumpling without physically crumpling* What am I supposed to do? This... what we're doing. You know what the odds of us making it through alive are? And I can't... not again. I can't watch him die again, god, Sarah, I've seen it so many times...
Sarah: *thumb caressing his skin lightly, hand steady* I... don't see a way around. Just through. We're four of us. We will be able to keep each other alive, ok? We'll back you up and you won't have to watch that. Just because you won't let it happen. *softly* No matter what any of us do, the odds to being safe are negligent. He's been picked out, you both have, through no fault of yours. We'll... muscle though. *steadily* You're not alone, Sam. And neither is he. That's giving you both better chances, right there.
Sam: I don't want to see you get hurt either. Sarah. People get hurt because of ... people die. Remember? ... I don't... *but he doesn't know what else to do*
Sarah: I remember, of course I remember. *her other hand moves to rest on his elbow, then slowly moves up, caressing, reassuring.* I was careless, with Ruby. I won't let it happen again. *the rest... she's gotten off easy, for a hunter, this far, and he knows it. Even for a civilian, most days* I'm more protected now than I was before. *she jingles the bracelet with the charms, including the one against posseession.* You are already doing a lot. *fingers tighten on his arm, a little* People die, no matter what we do. But I'm alive here and now. And so are you. And so is he. Try to ... not focus on what might happen and think of what is. 'Might' doesn't mean 'will', not unless you go and turn it into a self-fulfillng prophecy.
Sam: *just sort of... nods, palm coming up to dig into his temple a little. he's getting a headache from the stress and all the crying, even if he's drunk half the water glass by now* There are... there are so m... *trying to organize his thoughts. it's not happening* I have these powers... and I can't use them. To help anyone. I have... I'm not Dean. I can't be, I'm not... And he's the hunter. I'm just the geek. *helpless flutter of hands*
Sarah: *quietly, eyes worried at the gesture of his hand. She... isn't surprised at the headache, but is far from happy with it* You have all these guns, and you can't just randomly use them either, isn't that so? I know there's a difference, you can pick up a gun and then set it aside. And still, you must see the parallel. *swallows, fingers curl against his arm again* I think you're both hunters out of long practice, and you do stunningly well at it, allowing for the fact that nobody's perfect. But I am not sure that 'hunter' is what is asked of either ... of any of us anymore. Feels more like soldiering now. Drafted, too, not voluntary. *small headshake* And you're not just the geek. You're the lovable geek. *nods*
Sam: I don't want it to be random. If we had the Colt... I just want her gone. If she's gone, this all stops, people stop dying, people stop getting hurt, seals stop opening... It may not be the quickest way to end it, but it's better than guns against demons who can... can yank them out of our hands or do god knows what else
Sarah: *nods, listening carefully, her attention fully on him, on what he's saying. Shifts... just a little closer. Not repulsed.* I know... *breath in* I don't know how it will happen. But I know that we will try to plan as much as we can with any information that we have, any scrap of it. And in the end, when the time for choosing comes, we'll all do what we can, with all that we have. *fingers curl a little, hand shifting up, fingertips trailing over his temple, into his hair lightly* Until then, we won't know what we have. You'll... you'll do well, Sam. We all will, because we must. And then there'll be rest.
Sam: I just... rest would be nice. *short non-laugh* rest would be real nice. I'm just... I'm tired. I don't want to do this anymore. I've been doing this all my life, moving town to town... first Dad, then Dean. we never had a... a porch we could stick a rocking chair on. Or a carpet to vacuum. I mean.. *anther short, sharp bark of laughter* People bitch about having to vacuum carpets or dust stupid pieces of art their half-crazy old uncles gave them, do you know what I'd do to have to do that? To have that be the most annoying chore I'd ever have to do?
Sarah: *throat tightens, and her eyes go very soft, looking at him* I think I know. And... I think that we can get there. I can't promise anything from a half-crazy uncle, but I'm sure we can get enough stuff that will need dusting from my father. *now... does pull him in for a hug. Lightly, loosely, just in case he'd... still rather not and will push away, but a hug* It's got to be real, when we get there, but when we do, I promise you there'll be a porch. And carpet. Thick soft carpet that you can walk barefoot in and enjoy the feel of... when it's vacuumed.
Sam: *faint smile* You're promising me a carpet? *does, though, settle into the hug, slowly, very slowly, but he settles. into the hug and into sliding his arms around her and holding her tight*
Sarah: *seriously, but her voice is warm, and holds maybe a tiny hint of laughter. Just a hint. And oh she's holding on steadily, warmly, and so glad that he lets her in, that little bit.* You've not been promised extensive and high-maintenance items like carpet before? Well... there's a first to everything. I haven't promised one to anybody before either.
Sam: *just... starts laughing. tucking his head to her shoulder and he laughs, not quite believing that they're having this conversation* A big, thick carpet you have to vacuum. *more of disbelief, as the laughter turns... back down to more hysterical giggles, sort of, and then subsides altogether as the tears start yet again*
Sarah: *blinks, worried at the giggles, then... when they stop... just turns her face to kiss his head, arms holding him tightly, sliding up and down along his back, maybe... maybe rocking him a little* A big thick carpet. *swallows, but her voice is certain, promising.* And all the good things that go on it. A couch that at least starts up as not one to kill your back for napping in it. *lips twitch* A sound surround system that you can freely geek out at. Potted flowers. Would you want potted flowers?
Sam: *very sincerely, and in a voice thick with tears* I'd love potted flowers. *just... crying. now. because these are things he's never had, things he's still not sure he believes he or Dean will ever have, things that Dean could have had if he didn't have to have a half-demon screwup for a little brother, and... god, he's so scared they won't make it out of this alive*
Sarah: *softly, gently* Good. There will be potted flowers. There'll be a lot of good things. Just you wait and see. *holding on and definitely rocking him gently, in rhythm with his choked up breathing.* Just hold on and you'll see, baby.
Sam: *does hold on now, clinging to her, just... sobbing and clinging, too exhausted to hold onto control any longer*
Sarah: *and that is all right with her. She's holding on tightly, and rocking him a little, and after letting him just cry it out for a bit... eventually starts to hum softly, lightly. Just so that he can ... have something that won't raise more questions to come back to, after the flood*
Sam: *eventually he does cry himself out, at least ... no, he really does seem to have cried himself out for tonight, just clinging to her still, with a pounding headache and feeling empty and drained and weak... but at least not as hopeless as he did*
Sarah: *holds on to him, until his breathing steadies a little bit. then gently tugs at him to get up with her* Come... *if he does follow, she'll take him to the bathroom. To wash his face, have him brush his teeth. Just... little things that will bring tiny bits of physical relief. A feeling of a fresh... not start, but just refreshment*
Sam: *does follow, just kind of... weak. worn out. ready to follow wherever*
Sarah: *does have him wash his face and brush his teeth. Gently, carefully, more coaxing than telling him to. Staying close, touching all the while. Hand on his back... something. Then carefully tugs him back to the room. To their bed. Sitting on it with her back against the headboard and pulling him against her, to lean or curl as he would.*
Sam: *smiles a little as he finally sort of focuses back in, curling against her, snuggling up*
Sarah: *small smile too, cuddles him warm and close and - loving. And there. And alive.*
Sam: *might actually be drifting off to sleep, or at least dozing, by the time Dean and Cassie come back*
***
Dean: *when hey do, kinda smiles, one hand in Cassie's back pocket probably* Looks like Sammy's gotten the right idea first again...
Cassie: *quiet chuckle, leaning against him* Tired, sweetie?
Dean: What, me? Nah. ... alright. Maybe.
((ahahah I wonder if he got the tires fixed too >.> ))
((*snerk* Maybe.))
Cassie: *grins* Come on, handsome. Let's get you stripped down for bed.
Sarah: *murmurs* I'll keep Sam's eyes covered...
Cassie: *much stiffled giggling, tugs Dean gently over to their bed, definitely undressing him down to, well, his boxers.*
Dean: *helps out, returning the favor to ... where she stops him >.> *
Sarah: *gently nuzzles Sam's temple* Ready to really go to bed now? *voice soft, and if he doesn't stir up, she'll pull up the bedcovers over him so he's sort of tucked un, until he does wake up for the full thing*
Sam: Mm-hmm. *but he's so not awake, not really, shifting a bit and dozing off again*
Dean: *snorts, takes the top cover of their bed and throws it over Sam's form so that Sarah can adjust it, then smiles a bit at Cassie and leads the way under the comforter*
Cassie: *smiles softly back, lets him get settled before settling in against him, all curled up*
Sam: *is so going to start snoring any second now*
Dean: *spoons around Cassie, lightly kissing her shoulder. In a bit... yes, when Sam does start snorting, murmurs* thank you.
Sarah: *shifts more comfortably around Sam, though not a lot of shifting. Watches his face ... peaceful for a bit, before reaching to turn off the bedlight*
Cassie: *one hand covering Dean's, squeezing gently, smiling exhaustedly* Love you. *whispered*
Sam: *is just out. like a light. exhausted from the day*
Dean: *breath comes out ... eyes close a bit* Yeah, I think that point came across today. *with a hint of a smile, at that. Then* Me too.
((Sammy's going to sleep till someone wakes him up. Or for twelve hours or so.))
((that is good. He needs it.))
((Oh yes.))
((I ... don't know about Dean... I think he may have at least two times in the middle of the night when he just... starts. And sees that Sam's on the other bed, and settles back. Not getting anything specific on dreams/nightmares.))
((*nods slightly* Cassie will... at least move with him, I don't know if she'll wake up if he just settles back that quickly))
((he is tired too. ow. I spoke too soon about nightmares. *pokes Dean* THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN.))
((... what. Sam leaving?))
((no. Sam's head, severed, rolling down the hallway of that hotel))
((OH MY DEAR GOD NO THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.))
((*sighs* ))
((guh. *sighs* He can wake up from that one, and Cassie can hold him, and point to the other bed, "Look. See. He's right there. Snoring." Small smile. "He's okay. Nothing happened."))
((*wry* I think that she may get to do that semi-regularly for a while. *shudders* I got a freaking visual on that. Maybe because of how much he meant to, right then, even if he didn't want to. ... somewhere inside.))
((*sighs* She'll do that as often as she needs to. *wry* And sometimes Sam will wake up and blink at him an dgo "mrr? go to sleep, Dean."))
((*nods* yes. just... mrr is right.))
((Sleepy Sam is bleary-eyed and cute and prone to 'mrr's))
((Sarah kind of likes the rumble in his chest for that. Just sayin'.))
((... .*giggles*))
((*grins* She can give him cute. In spades.))
((Yes.))
((he can use it all up.))
((Oh yes. *sighs*))