(no subject)

[gavemea_45]

[From here.]

There's something he has to do before they get back on the road - one last thing, one last time. Dean had agreed when Sam suggested it.

He walks through the door into Milliways alone, with a duffel slung over his shoulder. In his hand he carries a notebook. (Ruby's knife is sheathed and out of sight under his shirt, seated at the small of his back, in easy reach.)

Sam takes a seat at the bar, one with a good view of the room, and orders coffee. He's got a lot of letters to write.



[ooc: open until it scrolls, or longer if needed/wanted. This is Sam Winchester's last visit to Milliways. thanks!]

Comments

[cutting_edgex23]

"Sam."

X appears to his left, having dropped down from the rafters several yards away.

It seemed sensible.

"You are okay."

She's not relieved, not quite. But it's close.

[gavemea_45]

"Hey, Laura. It's good to see you."

Sam smiles, a little.

"Yeah, I'm okay. More than I have any right to be. How're you?"

[cutting_edgex23]

It has been a long time since anyone has called her Laura.

X's eyes widen a little, because it sounds strange to her ears.

Then --

"X. Please. I like it better. Now."

She sits down next to him, though, nostrils flaring as she scents the air.

"There is no sulfur. That is good."

[gavemea_45]

"Got it. X."

He grimaces at that, and reaches for his coffee.

"Yeah. That's -- over. Never again."

[cutting_edgex23]

"Good."

X's voice, like her expression, is momentarily fierce.

"You were not okay. Before."

[makesthings]

Sameth's at the counter and looks up and walks over, its been a long time since he's seen Sam, "Hello."

[gavemea_45]

"Sameth. Hey."

He smiles, a little.

"Been a while."

[makesthings]

"It has. I'm trying to remember the last time we talked. Was it before I fought Orannis?"

That's his main marking point in his life, before or after the Old Kingdom was almost destroyed.

[gavemea_45]

Sam blinks.

"Wait - you did what?"

[makesthings]

"Not just me, there was a battle but Orannis the Destroyer was stopped."

[buh_bye]

A very skinny man appears at the bar. He has a habit of not using the door.

"Hello Sam," he says.

[gavemea_45]

He manages not to startle, but barely.

(For various reasons, Sam's been living on adrenaline and caffeine of late.)

"Do I know you?"

[buh_bye]

Death smiles, "I guess you haven't met me yet."

A beer materializes on the bar top, "Thank you dear."

"So, Sam, when are you from?"

[gavemea_45]

He looks extremely skeptical at this.

"Before I answer that, I'd like to know who you are."

If this is Lucifer in some other image--

[buh_bye]

Death sighs.

"I'm Death," he says before taking a drink of his beer.

[stilljustandrew]

"Hey Bar, can I get a -- oh my god, Sam?"

It's Andrew, frozen a few feet down the bar, delight and incredulity battling for control of his expression.

[gavemea_45]

He spins on his seat to face the other guy, and the small wry smile that appears is unfeigned.

"Hey, Andrew. It's good to see you."

[stilljustandrew]

"It's been -- frith, is it years yet? I think years -- how long's it been for you? How are you guys doing? I haven't seen you since ..."

He slows, starting to rememeber what each of them was doing when they last spoke.

[gavemea_45]

"-- years?" Sam lets out an exasperated breath. "Damn that Trickster, anyway."

He shakes his head.

"Not years. Not even months, for us. Weeks."

His jaw sets, and his expression tightens.

"Pretty bad weeks, come to that."

[stilljustandrew]

Weeks?, he doesn't say, because they've more or less covered that; instead he breathes out a long half-whistle of dismay.

"What's been happening?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"Hey, Sammy."

Dean swings by Sam's table from where he was sitting in the back, enjoying one last ice-cold beer.

He's got a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and his car keys in his free hand.

"You comin'?"

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah. I'm coming."

His own bag is lying on the floor by his chair, packed full of supplies from the infirmary and the bar - everything he'd been able to think of, anyway.

Sam gets to his feet and picks up the pile of letters he's been writing, each one carefully folded and labeled with a name. (The notebook's empty, all its paper used up, and the pen is dry.)

"Just let me drop these with the bar, and I'm all set."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Clock ain't tickin' yet, Sasquatch."

They've got a little more time. Maybe a minute or two.

[gavemea_45]

"Not in here, anyway."

Or at least not enough to matter, the Trickster's tampering with time aside.

Sam steps to the bar and sets down the stack of papers, watching as they vanish into the wooden surface.

"Thanks," he tells her, and turns back to Dean.

"Okay."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Let's go."

Dean's smile is crooked and exhausted, but not without hope.

"We've got work to do."