Strange Staff (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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strangetrip2016-12-31 10:09 pm
st_aff) wrote in strangetrip2016-12-31 10:09 pm
Entry tags:
- # check-in day,
- abby sciuto,
- angua von uberwald,
- buffy summers,
- caroline forbes,
- constance bonacieux d'artagnan,
- dean winchester,
- dorothy williams,
- eugene thompson,
- henry winchester,
- ignis scientia,
- jack robinson,
- jaime vegas,
- joan girardi,
- joanna beauchamp,
- kitty pryde,
- lara croft,
- leonard snart,
- lindsey mcdonald,
- molly carpenter,
- phryne fisher,
- raleigh becket,
- rebekah mikaelson,
- rey,
- river song,
- river tam,
- robert maccready,
- sam winchester,
- sansa stark,
- snow white,
- stephanie brown,
- vax'ildan,
- yasmeen
Welcome to the Hotel (in) California...
None of them planned it.
It just happened.
After a week of nothing but Iron Chef: Chicken, Sam had gone to the Copper Cafe to make himself a salad and found Steph already there making waffles. Dean joined them when he couldn’t find Sam in the room and immediately started pouring draft beers. Snow crept down a little later, apparently planning to make mashed potatoes to go with her chicken, and found Steph already peeling them.
With promises of alcohol and no questions, they convinced Snow to stay. And then, to their surprise, she not only helped Steph with the potatoes but overheard Dean bitching about a bakery with no pies and rolled up her sleeves to make one or three. The Chef drifted in a bit later, made fried chicken without talking to any of them and left them to their demented, sad but drunkenly social New Year’s Eve “party”.
By ten they were bored of draft beer and Sam and Steph went and raided the Steak House coolers for champagne—Steph because she wanted it and Sam because it was entirely plausible that an insurance investigator/estate appraiser would know something about what was decent champagne. But when they found a room service cart, they didn’t stop at champagne.
Why should they? They couldn’t go anywhere. They had nothing to do except when Sam and Dean could sneak off to bust the odd ghost or Steph to crawl the odd roof and Snow for a horseback ride. No reason they couldn’t spend the next three days drinking in the Cafe if they wanted.
Which was why when the new guests started arriving in groups of threes and fours, they were still there, drinking, listening to whatever crap music Steph on her phone and ready to share their booze for consolation. There wasn’t any way for people to get out of the lobby without seeing them, either, so they ended up consoling a lot.
Of course, there were four of them and eventually like twenty-six new people, so pretty soon it was less you’re stuck, it sucks, I’m sorry and more have a drink, grab a chair, have some pie. Some stayed in the wood-and-red leather cafe with its copper fittings, and some didn’t.
Whatever they chose, not one could say it wasn’t an interesting New Year’s Day.
It just happened.
After a week of nothing but Iron Chef: Chicken, Sam had gone to the Copper Cafe to make himself a salad and found Steph already there making waffles. Dean joined them when he couldn’t find Sam in the room and immediately started pouring draft beers. Snow crept down a little later, apparently planning to make mashed potatoes to go with her chicken, and found Steph already peeling them.
With promises of alcohol and no questions, they convinced Snow to stay. And then, to their surprise, she not only helped Steph with the potatoes but overheard Dean bitching about a bakery with no pies and rolled up her sleeves to make one or three. The Chef drifted in a bit later, made fried chicken without talking to any of them and left them to their demented, sad but drunkenly social New Year’s Eve “party”.
By ten they were bored of draft beer and Sam and Steph went and raided the Steak House coolers for champagne—Steph because she wanted it and Sam because it was entirely plausible that an insurance investigator/estate appraiser would know something about what was decent champagne. But when they found a room service cart, they didn’t stop at champagne.
Why should they? They couldn’t go anywhere. They had nothing to do except when Sam and Dean could sneak off to bust the odd ghost or Steph to crawl the odd roof and Snow for a horseback ride. No reason they couldn’t spend the next three days drinking in the Cafe if they wanted.
Which was why when the new guests started arriving in groups of threes and fours, they were still there, drinking, listening to whatever crap music Steph on her phone and ready to share their booze for consolation. There wasn’t any way for people to get out of the lobby without seeing them, either, so they ended up consoling a lot.
Of course, there were four of them and eventually like twenty-six new people, so pretty soon it was less you’re stuck, it sucks, I’m sorry and more have a drink, grab a chair, have some pie. Some stayed in the wood-and-red leather cafe with its copper fittings, and some didn’t.
Whatever they chose, not one could say it wasn’t an interesting New Year’s Day.
Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
It wasn't fatal, he told himself. It wasn't fatal or he'd already be dead. A demon with enough power could've banished him like that. Perhaps Josie had regained control just for a moment to use Abbadon's power against her? Used it to save him. In his pocket, he could feel the familiar light weight of the puzzle box. He'd investigate the magic on that later. He needed to find a needle and thread now.
Up ahead there were a great deal of lights and sound. He shoved Dean's gun into the back of his trousers under his coat and began walking. By the time Henry made it there it was clear some kind of party was going on. Blood stood out rather a lot on white so he stood up straighter and buttoned his jacket, hoping it wouldn't soak through that too. He didn't need to cause anyone any alarm. He just needed to patch himself up and leave. He went up to the front desk and was presented with a key as if someone there somehow knew he was coming. It would've been more alarming if he weren't so focused on the more important priority.
Dimly, he was grateful that he'd come through the front door of this hotel rather than the closet. The last thing he needed was to burst forth from the closet only to be manhandled again. Now that would've been a disaster.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
If what he was hiding beneath that jacket was a gun, they needed to handle it now.
It never occurred to Sam that the staff might handle it--there were only five of them that he and Dean had been able to count--or that someone else would do it. Just like he knew it was for him to save Dean from his deal (even if Dean maybe hadn't made it yet), it was for him to go talk to this guy.
So he stood, excused himself from the conversations he'd been having and went to greet him. "Hi. I'm Sam," he said in the kind of patient, friendly tone you might use when opening negotiations with a hostage-taker. "It's safe here."
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
The man was much younger in the face than he'd saw him just twenty minutes ago. It couldn't possibly have taken him any longer than that to get to the hotel. He was being careful but he wasn't about to bleed out or anything. Not only that, but he was fairly certain Sam was sensible enough not to choose that exact moment to get a haircut. Henry sighed heavily. "Lovely. Time travel." Again. Well, there went his theory that Josie had somehow managed to use Abbadon's power to get him out of danger.
A quick glance down confirmed that he was not, in fact, bleeding through his coat just yet and he forced his hand away from his abdomen to try and keep that from happening. It wasn't the most pain he'd ever been in. He was still taking shallower breaths and working on controlling his emotions just so he didn't aggravate anything too badly. His right hand held his room key and the loose binding of his handcuffs just so he didn't have to worry about anything jangling. When he bothered to get himself free, he'd worry about introductions. "I'm rather in need of a needle, thread, some bandages and whatever passes for antiseptic now. Is a diluted isopropyl solution still used?" He'd find a way to check soon if any of his wounds actually required stitches. They certainly required a thorough cleaning and at any rate he was going to need to clean and mend his shirt so the needle and thread were going to be necessary no matter what.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"I don't know who you are or what you want, but if you're here for Dean, you have two choices. Go back where you came from or die."
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"I'm not here for Dean and when I tried to go back where I came from, your brother put me in a chokehold, kidnapped me and we had to go rescue you." Wincing, he lifted his hand and raised one finger, very clearly and very obviously making slow movements as he pulled out his wallet. The last thing he wanted was to was spook the taller man into action. Sam seemed fine and Henry was not in any state to engage in any sort of combat. He held open his wallet so Sam could see his license. He was expecting a quiz about John to follow at any moment as that was how things had gone previously. "My name is Henry Winchester. I'm from Normal, Illinois 1958 and most recently Lebanon, Kansas 2013. I'm in need of medical attention. If you'd like to assist me in getting supplies, you're more than welcome to interrogate me during the entire process, but I would like to get going on that as immediately as possible."
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"I don't believe you." But that was less overtly hostile. He didn't want to call attention to them. He definitely didn't want Dean coming over to 'chat' with someone claiming to be a relative of Dad's. Dad never talked about them. "But you're not a demon. You can talk while I hold the needle. Gift shop has medkits." He jerked his chin in the right direction. "This way."
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
He moved slowly. His pride wasn't so intense that he was of any mind to pretend he wasn't in the pain he was in. At least there wasn't anything currently in his stomach for him to be revisiting. Small blessings, he supposed.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
By the time they'd made it past the cafe, Sam had decided to be civil until he had a reason not to be. After all, "Henry" hadn't asked for any favors or done anything suspicious besides having the same last name. "How bad are you hurt?" he asked as they neared the doors to the shop. "What happened?"
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
But he had it on him now. He'd left his grandsons of the future in terrible danger. At least Abbadon wouldn't get the key unless somehow she found her way there.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
It was a lot less interrogation and a lot more pure curiosity. Especially once they'd made it into the gift shop and Sam got a better look at the mess. "Did she think you swallowed it?" Because it sure as fuck looked like she'd tried to dig it out with her bare hands.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"What I had was a box containing a key. What it was a key to, I don't know. You went in search of those answers while Dean forcibly stopped me from returning to my own time. And she knew I had it because I was the only one left of her massacre on my order that night." Not entirely true. At the time, he'd been the only one who'd obviously survived and he'd made a run for it. And, alright, she'd seen him holding it.
"I performed a blood sigil. Blood calls to blood. I...had hoped to find my son who should've been trained well enough to assist me and instead found you two. Unfortunately, in my haste, I neglected to lock the door behind me and she followed. I don't know where she thought I might've put it. She was very angry. I imagine she just lashed out because she could and I was closest." As long as he wasn't hiding his stomach, he reached over to undo the cuff on his other wrist and slip both it and his room key into his coat pocket.
"I do know that when she and Dean performed a sort of...hostage exchange, I slipped the box into your pocket." He reached into his other pocket and pulled it out. "And somehow it returned to me."
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
Sam sighed as he gestured for Henry to sit. The wound was going to take a lot more tending than Henry seemed to think, even if it was uglier than it was bad. "Okay. Let's say I believe you. How do I know you're actually who you say you are--" My grandfather. Dad's dad. Weirdest hunting trip ever. "And not something wearing your skin or someone who knew Henry Winchester?" Sam could think of a few ways, but he wanted to see what Henry suggested. "Short of another blood sigil. Pretty sure inviting a Knight of Hell into a hotel with three hunters and a bunch of normal people's the worst idea I've heard since 'I made a deal with a Crossroads Demon'."
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"I'm not a hunter," he said first, wanting to get all that out of the way as quickly as possible. Somehow, he managed not to sound offended by the suggestion that he was.
He licked his lips and began to whistle softly the tune of the music box he'd gotten for John. Based on their reactions at the time, he didn't think very many people at all knew that John too would whistle it and he definitely knew that John had never named the source of it. Just the first few measures. Enough to get the general idea across.
"I don't know...I don't know if either you or your brother are currently in possession of your father's journal, but there's a photograph on the inside front cover of a man in uniform. If you lift it up and look behind it, inscribed on the inside are the initials H.W. I sent away for it the day...the day before the incident." Was Dean even there? Henry had no idea. He suspected as much. He didn't think Sam would be willing to help if Dean wasn't around. He'd likely be pressing him for more information on where he'd last seen his brother and the whole encounter would be going very differently.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
Sam rolled his tongue behind his teeth, irritated and raw from being stuck here without a way to rescue Dean from the demon deal. Another part of his mind had already grabbed onto I'm not a hunter even though Henry had the box and was talking about demons. Dad hadn't known about them before mom. So how did this guy who was supposed to be Dad's dad know about them? Too many questions. Not enough answers. And that wound needed treatment, now.
But the journal... "I have Dad's journal." And he knew the photograph Henry was talking about. "You're saying it was yours?" he asked while tearing open a sterile gauze pad. Making sure Henry saw what he was doing, Sam dampened the gauze with holy water from his flask and then added betadine. "Demon or not, this is going to sting a bit." And the holy water might help with anything Abaddon had left in him.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"Do what you have to do, Sam. I can handle it." Probably.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
Which was why Sam scrubbed the wounds thoroughly (carefully, but still), letting the betadine kill anything that might have gotten into them that was natural and the holy water work on the supernatural level. He tried not to think about any of it, but he finally couldn't help but ask, "Why do you know about demons when Dad didn't know anything about them until Azazel took Mom?"
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"I was a Man of Letters," he said, swallowing a lump in his throat. "We're observers, preceptors, chroniclers of all that which Man does not understand. My father was as well and his father before him. There's..." He hissed as Sam's work hit a particularly sensitive spot. "If it becomes necessary, we share our findings with a very few trusted hunters. They do the rest. For the most part, we practice non-involvement actually asking questions and taking note of a situation before anything comes to violence. If necessary, we possess the skills and knowledge to act on our own, but most prefer not to. The brains to a hunter's brawn if you will."
He glanced down at Sam. "If I do truly never make it home, there's no one left to teach John. Abbadon massacred what remained of our number in North America. Normally if something happened to the parent of a legacy, the order would supply assistance and ensure any children were safe after and later invited to join if they wished." Another audible wince. "I didn't know it was Azazel who took your mother. I'm sorry."
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
Why did everything they touched have to turn to shit and worm food?
Suck it up, Sammy, his inner Dean mocked, and for once Sam was grateful for the irritating pain in the ass that his brother's constant presence in his thoughts provided. It brought him back to what he was doing enough to splash the wounds with regular bottled water and then clean them again more gently. Enough to say, "She knew he would. She made a deal. For Dad's life."
On any objective measure, Sam shouldn't be talking to this guy. He shouldn't be sharing family secrets. Dean would be effing pissed when he found out, but Dean could bite him. If Henry was half of what he was suggesting, he was probably their best chance to get out of there. What was a few truths the entire hunting community knew in exchange for the chance to get back in time to save Dean's life?
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"And Azazel has always been essentially the personification of a snake oil salesman. If at any point your mother revealed any weakness to him there...well there wouldn't be much of a chance he wouldn't latch on until he had what he wanted. I've read some reports on him, but was fortunate enough to never have any encounters with him myself. I am sorry, Sam." This too somehow felt like a failing of his. If he had lived and been able to teach John perhaps he and whoever he married wouldn't ever have had to worry about deals in the first place. He was just thankful that his son hadn't had the poor luck of marrying a hunter. It seemed like he just sort of...fell into it after the fact.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"She knew," he said instead as he probed the wounds to see which ones needed stitches. While he threaded the needle, he kept his eyes down and away from Henry's face. "Her family were hunters, like me and Dean and Dad." Yeah, so, he was making a bit of a point about it, but only because it kind of sucked that if things had been different, Sam would've been someone Sam would've liked a lot better than the person he was now.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"Which family?" he asked. He wasn't personally acquainted with very many himself. He knew the names of the ones the order dealt with. He didn't think John's wife's family would be on it. If they were, well they obviously weren't worth their salt when it came to teaching their daughter some sense.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"Listen, man. It seems like we're stuck here, which means we're gonna have time to get to know each other some while we're trying to get out. Maybe we ought to dial it back and leave some of the family skeletons in the closet for now. And another thing. Dean's here. He thinks he just died. He didn't, but Dad did. Do yourself and me a favor and don't get into it with him about Dad. He worshipped the man."
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"I've rather gathered that in the short time I've known him," he said, opting to look up at the ceiling instead of at Sam. It seemed to hurt less if he didn't have to pay attention to the needle any more than he had to. "Would you like me to make an effort to give him some space? I- I don't want to make anything more difficult for anyone if I can help it. If some time before meeting me or even becoming properly aware of me is something you think might help Dean, I'm willing to give him that."
He couldn't say that he loved his grandsons yet, of course. He barely knew them. He had a soft spot for Sam and could understand Dean's...ferocity in some ways.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
If he'd expected Sam to stop tending his wounds to discuss it, he also didn't know Sam. Maybe Dean was the good son, the good soldier, but Sam made them both look pliable. Henry needed stitching and there would be time for him to react when the stitching was done.
"But you waiting for him to come to you isn't a bad idea."
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
"I'll wait, then." Dean would probably call him a coward for it. Dean had already called him worse and didn't even know it yet. The elder of his grandsons could stuff it on occasion as far as Henry was concerned.
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads
Re: Henry Winchester - Assigned Threads