milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[OOM: We can't afford for me to do the right thing.]

It's been a long time since he'd last really 'powered up,' as Ruby teases him by calling it. Sam can feel the effects twisting through him. Everything seems brighter, sharper, clearer; he feels clearer, stronger, ready for anything.

He can't sit still, and he sure as hell can't go back to the motel room until it wears off a little - Dean'll notice something's wrong in a hot second, and Sam doesn't want to lie to him unless he has to.

He pushes through the door to Milliways instead. Maybe he can walk it off there, at least a little bit.

[OOC note: Sam is currently riding a paranormal high due to the effects of ingesting demon blood. If your character would be able to detect that sort of taint, feel free to have them do so! Just don't expect him necesssarily to admit it.]

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"And we just never ran into each other."

Until now.

Right.

Sam shrugs. "Guess we can blame it on the Trickster."

Might as well, anyway. It's probably better than the alternative.

"Just don't tell me Uriel comes here too."

"Not so far as I am aware."

Uriel would likely have said something.

"As far as our meeting goes, God has His own timing."

Trusting that has served Castiel well so far.

Well, that's something. If Uriel was here -- he'd rather not think about that.

"I guess."

He sounds a lot more doubtful about that than he used to, but there's no open disbelief.

The look that Castiel gives him this time is not unkind.

"I know that you have faith, Sam. You should trust in it more."

Instead of going for the easy fix, as they say.

"God led you and your brother here just as He sent me to this place. You might find better help and influences here than you have on the other side of the Door."

Minus the 'might.'

"I used to. But that didn't exactly work out, now did it."

It's not exactly a question. After all, Dean had still ended up in Hell for forty years.

"And I'm pretty well clear on what guys like Uriel think of me, anyway."

"Uriel can be rather blunt in his assessements."

That's just his way.

Castiel studies Sam.

"You speak of how things worked out. As if the matters to be worked out ended. They have not. Things are still in progression, even now. How things work out remains to be seen."

A very faint smile turns up the corners of Castiel's mouth.

"A friend of mine pointed out recently that while there may not seem to be a likelihood of a given thing coming to pass, that does not negate hope that it might."

Edited 2012-04-12 04:14 (UTC)

"You got Dean out of Hell when I couldn't," Sam informs him, flatly. "That's what I meant. He's not going back."

There's a beat of silence, while he studies Castiel in turn.

"You mean the war, right?"

"Meg was speaking of a possible reconciliation between Anna and myself. But the sentiment can be applied to the war, yes."

Honestly, Castiel would lay far better odds on them winning the war than on him and Anna reaching some sort of easy accord such as they had before she Fell.

Castiel looks solemn.

"No. Your brother is not going back. He lived up to his bargain."

"So when you guys made that threat, you were bluffing, huh."

Wait a second.

"... Meg?"

"I was not consulted on that particular tactic."

Though, to his shame, Castiel had made a similar threat to Dean once in a moment of anger.

"Yes. Meg. She is a friend I've made here."

He does not include a last name. Castiel rarely thinks to. In his mind, Meg can refer to only one person.

"Good to know."

It is, actually; enough for him to relax the slightest bit. Besides, Sam's distracted by the other thing Castiel's just told him.

No way. Oh, no way--

"About so tall--"

He holds his hand up to approximate Meg's height."

"-- red hair, Canadian?"

"Yes. Meg."

The one and only.

"I met her here some time ago. And I have found her counsel and insight to be invaluable."

It takes a second or two for him to become aware of the fact that his mouth is hanging slightly open.

Sam closes his mouth, swallows, and nods.

"Uh. Right. Okay then."

Castiel raises his eyebrows slightly.

He may look a bit amused.

"She is a good person to know. Which you may be aware of."

And she has done a lot for the Winchesters, whether Sam knows it or not.

"Yeah. I mean, she is. We get along," he manages to explain, finally.

"You seem surprised."

It's just an observation.

"That she's nice? No. That, uh, someone like you is getting advice from, uh, a human?"

Beat.

"Well, yeah."

"Meg is kind. And sensible. She is one of the best examples of humanity that I've encountered. Who better to ask for advice about human nature?"

"... fair enough," Sam concedes.

"And she's a good umpire."

He may just be messing with Sam now. Or not.

Castiel moves on.

"God ordered me to come to Milliways to learn. Well before I was sent to retrieve your brother. Lessons learned here are not to be disregarded, I've found."

"So you learned ... about baseball."

The more he finds out about angels, the less sense any of it makes.

"I was an Enigma."

Never judge an angel by his cover, Sam.

"Still are, so far as I can see," Sam informs him, dryly.

"Yes. Others have made that joke."

Castiel's not sure why. Angels are very straightforward, especially compared to people.

"Look, you set up a target that obvious, you're just asking for it."

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