time for a broment

[triplelindy]

Who: Sam and Dean Winchester
What: Winchester greeting time!
When: Day 100 (after running in to Allison and Anita)
Where: The fountain to begin with.


Since he parted ways with Allison and Anita, Sam's been scouting the area.

Or, really, he's been trying to scout the area. In his current state, there's only so much he can do before he has to take a breather. His pattern has turned into five minutes of walking, ten of sitting down and trying to catch his breath. It's frustrating, incredibly so, and more than a little worrying.

Being stuck in a strange place isn't something one actively prepares for, but he has a system. Now he's sure this isn't some kind of murder town, it's time to go down the list of what the hell is actually going on.

He's gotten a run down of the basics, anything specific can wait. Getting a good look around makes sense, even when he knows he should probably be resting. Too bad this just isn't the time, but really, when is the time?

Sam's never felt this god awful before, though, and those damn tablets should come with warnings labels or something. He stumbles a bit near the fountain, catching himself before he flat out lands on his face. Okay, now's the time for a break.

He settles down on the wall, glancing around to get his bearings. It's getting dark out, and he should probably find a place to stay, but he wants to take a minute. Just a minute.

Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his thighs, head going down to rest in his hands. He runs through the past couple of hours, making a mental timeline of events. It keeps him there, anchors him to the here and now rather than falling into the haze his body so desperately wants to be in.

Maybe he should just give up, let his body do what it wants. It has to be better than feeling like a semi truck took him out for dinner and then ran him over a time or five.

Sam's still alert, though, and he registers a sound that's just the slightest bit different than what he's been hearing. Footsteps? His head comes up, and he starts looking around, his right hand moving toward his gun.

Just in case.

Comments

[venatical]

"Me and Cas." He leaves it at that while he hooks an arm around Sam and helps him to stand up, steadying him and letting Sam put as much weight on him as he needs. It isn't until they're upright that Dean clears his throat, interrupting whatever Sam might have been wanting or trying to say.

"And Meg. Come on, it's kind of a walk, so..."

So let's move and ignore the fact that Dean just casually dropped that into conversation.

[triplelindy]

Sam hesitates a moment before putting some weight on Dean. He knows his brother can handle it, but that years old stubbornness of how he can take care of himself always rears its head. It might not be something he gives in to often, but oftentimes it is his first reaction.

The mention of Meg earns a questioning look from Sam, but he doesn't have much to say on it right then. It takes too much concentration to move forward, careful not to topple over on his brother entirely no matter how badly he wants to. It would just be so much easier.

He makes a note to ask about it later, though. When he's conscious again, because he has a feeling he will be dropping into a coma state once he stops moving again.

"Living with a demon and an angel, huh?" His voice is strained, and he's not really concentrating so much on his words as he is the ground, making sure it sounds down there. "A demon, an angel and a hunter walk into a bar....and decide to shack up."

And he'll laugh at this, a bit obnoxiously. Because he's reached the point of no return - his brain is fried, his legs feel heavy and dammit he is tired. That's when he gets loopy, but right now he doesn't care.

[venatical]

"Well, Cas is sweet on her." And she's sweet on Cas. And it's more of a mess than he'd like to get into right now, especially with Sam spouting off that goofy babbling shit like he did back in that hotel where they found Metatron. Dean's even more concerned now; he'd thought that maybe Sam would have gotten through that for good, but apparently not.

"Doesn't matter; there's a room for you, and you're going right to bed, at least until you stop with those lame jokes."

It's good Dean doesn't have to answer to much right now, but the reason for that is pretty shitty; he's worried about Sam and what the hell he's going to do for him now, here. He wouldn't have even known where to start with that back home.

[triplelindy]

"Not as lame as your pickup lines." Sam's feeling proud of that comeback, or as proud as he can while he's stumbling alongside his brother. Okay, it's not one of his best, but he's still talking and that's something.

In the back of his mind, Sam has a million questions. His mouth and brain, however, aren't connected exactly as they should be at the moment so instead he concentrates on moving. He does end up resting most of his weight on Dean, but he knows his brother can handle it. Earlier, he tried to keep it light with Anita and Allison but now his guard can be down. It's a little bit of a relief.