milliways_bar | (no subject)

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If Sam never sees another catfish ever again, that'll be perfectly fine with him.

Perhaps especially not a giant spinning catfish -- which, as it turns out, isn't actually supposed to be spinning.

This would be why Sam is currently hunched over a table, poring over a collection of books, notes, his laptop, and John Winchester's journal, trying to figure out how on earth to exorcise a possessed statue of a fish.

As far as he knows, Dean's still back in the hotel room, laughing himself sick.

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Sam looks down at his hands.

There's silence for several seconds before he says, quietly,

"Okay, I guess I deserved that."

Blue eyes watch him but she does her damnedest to keep any tears that would come at bay.

"I have to have something to do, Sam. And if its learning about possession or demons or whatnot then so be it. I can't rightfully do anything else. There's nothing to do."

It wasn't like she could just go home. And she sure as hell wasn't ready to pass on. She was too scared of what was on the other side.

"It scares me. And I loathe this. I hate it with a passion and there's nothing that can be done about it."

She goes quiet for a few moments before shaking her head.

"And you don't need to hear all of that. You've got work that needs to get done."

"Yeah. I've got a spinning catfish to take care of. Real important."

Sam looks up at her again, and holds her gaze with his own.

"Jess--"

It's hesitant, awkward.

"--you know I'd never want to keep you from anything that would make you happy, right?"

"For you it is important, Sam."

She shakes her head a bit. She knows that. She really does.

"What makes me happy... I can't be a part of anymore, Sam. You know that as well as I do. Hell, Dean made that real clear the first time."

And boy had he ever. She'd locked herself away for a while after that. But she just gives Sam a slight smile. It doesn't reach her eyes though. Probably never would.

"If you're happy then that's all I need."

"But this? Jess, you don't get it-- I know this life--"

Bad choice of words, which he realizes the second it's too late to take back. Sam winces, but continues,

"-- it's -- there's got to be something else. You don't have to do this. You don't."

"Like I don't already know that. You told me about what you knew. About things that had happened."

Yeah, bad choice of words... but it happens. All the time.

"There isn't anything else, Sam. Never will be. I wish there was. But there isn't."

"There could be."

Just as firm, just as stubborn.

"Like what?"

She really wants to know. Because the only thing that ever made her happy is sitting right in front of her. So she really wants to know.

And that's the question, isn't it?

Determinedly,

"We could figure something out."

It's always the question. When isn't it?

"We could try. But I doubt there'd be anything else."

"Jess--"

Wearily, Sam rubs at the back of his neck.

"We'll try, Sam."

She sounds tired... weary... And she hasn't even noticed the tears. Not before she has to reach up and wipe a few away.

"I'll try."

She just really didn't know what. Because right now in this place... she was starting to feel lost.

"Yeah. We will."

He has to stop himself from leaning forward to brush the tears away.

What bothers him most about that is that it's easier to do than it used to be.

"We will. I promise we will."

She shakes her head a bit at that.

"Please don't. No more promises, Sam."

He'd made a promise to her before. He'd promised everything would be alright and it hadn't been. She'd ended up dying.

"Right." It's a little flat. "No more promises."

Sam closes his laptop and starts to stack up his papers, adding,

"Look-- I'm gonna go. I don't want to-- this isn't helping either of us."

"No."

She gets up and leans over kissing his cheek.

"You stay. You've got work to do. I'll go. And, Sam... I'm sorry."

She gives him a small smile before turning to head outside for some fresh air. She figures she probably needs it.

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