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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"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."

Seriously, is this the part where someone talks about unicorns and the rainbows that shine out of their ass?

'Cause it kinda feels that way.

"Hey, every day we keep someone from gettin' dead--that's a good day."

What more is there?

"A pragmatist." No disapproval. "Good for you."

"What about you?" Sam asks.

"Are you a pragmatist too?"

"Oh, I suppose," she says. "With a romantic streak, but mostly. The older I get, the more the philosophical questions get to me, but there's still evil to deal with in the meantime."

Dean's expression says 'romantic. Uh huh."

What he actually says, though, is a little different.

Kinda.

"Pretty sure the open road's enough philosophy for me, eh, Sammy?"

Sam's smile is easy and relaxed, even if there's a flicker of something deep down in the depths of his glance.

"Seems to work well enough."

"Well," she says, "that's not the life I lead anymore."

And she doesn't envy them it.

"That's gotta suck."

What? To Dean's mind it does.

Maybe this lady is Sammy's kind of woman.

Who the hell knows?

"No," she says. "It's good. It's been good."

"I'm still... involved. And the past has a way of not staying in the past." Not to mention the future. "But I have a family again, and that's worth a lot."

Sam's glance doesn't flick to Dean, not even for an instant.

(It doesn't have to. The careful way he doesn't look at his brother says enough.)

"Yeah. I can see that."