milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Susannah is once again working in the bar, although she has less of a pile of documents with her tonight. All she has is a notebook, in which she is alternately taking notes, scratching out notes, and doodling.

She is not a bad teacher, but some things are hard to approach.

She also has a large bottle of water, because proper hydration is important.

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"Maybe so," she says. "But it was only a symptom of six or seven other really bad ideas, in the end. All of it goes back to hubris."

"They thought science could make them gods, but it just made them humans with too much damn power."

Dean snorts, one hand absently rubbing at his sternum.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"In any case," she says, "the world has moved on since then, and they've all been dead a very, very long time."

She signals a rat, and asks it to bring her a Dragonfly.

Dean gets a swift sideways look before Sam turns back to Susannah.

(The sudden tension in the line of his shoulders stays, though.)

"And now you're here," he says.

"That's right," she agrees. "Back to Earth. Or an Earth."

"Dimension-hopping, too? Jeeze, this place has it all."

Dean is not always a happy camper about that.

Go figure.

"Oh, that was nothing to do with Milliways, sugar."

Her drink's here; she has to dip almost below the level of the table to reach it, bending over the arm of her chair.

"This place is strange, but not as strange as some people think."

A beat.

"It sounds like you've got more than a little experience with strange things yourself."

"I've never denied it," she says.

The drink is good; they almost always are, at Milliways. Citrus is something she'll never get sick of, maybe.

"But I'm not the only one, am I?" She looks from one young man to the other, a small smile on her face.

"Yeah, well."

Dean cracks a grin.

"We all just keep on comin' back here, don't we? Guess it comes with the territory."

"What I mean is, some people here lead perfectly ordinary lives outside of Milliways. And some people have ghost trucks."

"Among other things, yeah."

Sam shrugs.

"Ghosts, spooks, vampires, cursed objects, all sorts of weird stuff."

"You go looking for them? Like Ray Stantz and his friends? Or just unlucky?"

Dean snorts.

"Little bit of both, some days."

She nods. "Once you brush up against that world enough, it starts... gravitating towards you."

She wrings the lime into the gin and tonic again.

"A friend of mine called it the highways in hiding; all the lost roads that lead to places other people never go. Is that about right?"

"Most people just don't know where to look."

Quietly.

"It can be a shock, when they find out otherwise. You know?"

"Sure." She herself once ruined a woman's sanity by appearing out of thin air and stealing her shoes. It's not a story she brings out at parties.

"So why do you do it? When it doesn't come to you?"

Dean's expression says, very clearly 'Jesus, woman, what the hell kinda question is that?'

Go figure.

"Who the fuck else is gonna?"

"A good answer," she says. "A very good answer, and a very good question."

It could be almost choreographed, it's that smooth. Sam's glance flicks to Dean, and in the same moment he shifts his weight and his position, moving forward and slightly to one side to try to draw Susannah's attention toward himself.

"Why do you say that? Things different back where you're from?"

She's not unaware. "Where I'm from these days," she says, "doesn't have the same level of infestation as it sounds like you're dealing with."

"I was thinking in the broader sense. There's the sane world of order, and then there's all of the... everything else. And so much of it--not all, but so much--is intent on knocking down that fragile house of cards."

"And somebody has to stand in between. By choice, necessity, or calling. Is that not so?" She takes another sip.

(The cadence of the last sentence is not her own; it's old, and rhythmic, a lesson well-drilled in.)

Edited 2008-09-28 05:05 (UTC)

"You find a sane world anywhere, sweetheart, you just let me know."

Dean's got his doubts.

As for the rest of it--

"I'd kinda like to see it."

She shrugs. "Maybe you will."

"Hey, anything's possible, right?"

Sam's smiling.

She's not; she's solemn. (They're very young, these two. They--Eddie, Jake, Cuthbert, Alain--were very young.)

"Exactly. Anything at all. We see a lot more nightmares than miracles," she admits. "But there's always hope, and every once in a while, it even comes through."