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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Andrew leads the way to the bar, and orders Cokes for both of them and an order of fried paradoxes. The drinks materialize in front of them, served over ice in old-fashioned tulip-waisted glasses, each provided with a straw; the snack appears a moment later, heaped in a little paper-napkin-lined basket.

"Want to stay at the bar, or grab a table?"

"Table's good," Sam decides. "How about one of the booths, over there?"

He nods toward the far wall, where there's a good view of the room.

"Suits me fine." He scoops up his drink and the basket of paradoxes, and follows Sam.

He takes his own drink and crosses the room with a pace that's almost startling, given that there's no obvious reason for hurry.

Sam drops into one side of the booth and sets his glass on the table, drumming his fingers on the wood and absently jogging one leg up and down while he waits for Andrew to join him.

Andrew notices the jittering, and raises his eyebrows.

"Dude, how much caffeine 've you already had?" Grinning.

"Yeah, I know," he says, wryly. "Guess I overdid it a little."

Maybe more than a little -- and it's not caffeine that's got him so wired, not that he's planning to admit that.

"We just came off a job, though, so I'll get to wind down a bit before the next one."

"Yeah?" He slides into the seat, puts down drink and basket, and snags a paradox. "What kind of job?"

He makes a sour face.

"Evil magician."

Munch munch. "Like, stage magician using actual mojo?"

"Like a bunch of stage magicians, famous and not-so-famous, only one of them--"

Sam takes a sip of his drink.

"-- turned out to have gotten his hands on a grimoire and was using that to kill off the competition and extend his life."

"Urgh." Andrew makes a disgusted face. "And you guys stopped him?"

"With help from one of the other magicians, yeah," he admits. "It was pretty close there for a bit."

He takes a long drink of soda.

"And this wasn't anything to do with the stuff you were telling me about last time? The ..." He gestures vaguely. "Armageddon scenario?"

He shakes his head, unconscious of the grim look that passes over his face.

"Not this one."

The look registers, though.

"Seems like every time there's an end of the world coming," he says with a sigh, "there's always at least a few completely unrelated things you have to take care of along the way."

Sam sounds doubtful.

"I guess."

~~They're called non-arc episodes!~~

A little quieter: "How's that one going, though?"

A dark look passes over his face.

"Not good," he admits.

"Right now, we're losing."

Andrew sits up straighter, the last of his smile wiped away. "Losing how?"

"So there are these seals that hold Lucifer's prison shut, right? Lilith and her demons are trying to break them open, while the angels and people like us are trying to stop her."

Sam's tone is hard and flat.

"They have to break sixty-six seals. They've hit thirty-four in under five months."

"... oh that's not good at all," he breathes, a bit shakily. "Do they know where all the seals are? -- Do you guys know, for that matter?"

The way Sam says they've hit, he's guessing the seals aren't all in one place.

(His mental image of the seals is fuzzy; something like a large manhole cover patterned with arcane symbols, something like a smaller disc in the shape of a yin-yang sign.)

He shakes his head.

"And even if we did, it's looking like there's no way we can protect them all, if the angels can't even do it."

Sam's expression twists a little with disillusionment at the thought when he mentions the heavenly host.

"But there's another way."

"What other way are you thinking?"

"Kill Lilith."

Beat.

"You mentioned her," he says slowly. "Who is this Lilith?"