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crossing_lostrpNight fell on the impromptu and nearly silent camp. Most everyone in the overland group sat or lie near the campfire, exhausted from the long march. The exceptions were Dean and Molly, who'd taken first watch, and Sam, who sat at the edge of the firelight whittling a piece of wood.
Now that the Doctor was deep into his healing trance, Scott was more than ready to turn in for the night. There was one last thing to do before he could. He strode over to Sam. "Hey," he said quietly, prompting the gangly kid to look up. "Do you still want to talk?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, if you're up to it."
Scott smiled mirthlessly as he sank to the ground a short distance away. "I look that bad, huh?" Sam shrugged, and Scott chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes." He nodded at Sam's geometric carving. "That's pretty cool. What is it?"
Sam frowned at the half-carved wood for a moment before answering. "The Key of Solomon." Scott shook his head, puzzled. "A protective symbol."
"Protection from... demons?" Sam nodded solemnly. Scott studied the straight lines crisscrossing the circle Sam had carved. "I didn't think demons existed before coming here," Scott added quietly.
Sam deepened one of the lines with the tip of his knife. "Demons, and lots of other things."
"Great," Scott muttered, thinking of what Mara had been through. (If Sam and Dean hunt these things like they claim, at least someone's fighting back.) The thought was somewhat heartening. "You said you're psychic," Scott stated, keeping his voice down. "Is that why you and your brother hunt demons?"
Sam barked a laugh, of all things. "No. Well, sort of." Scott raised an eyebrow skeptically. "It's a long story," Sam said with a sigh. He continued in a near whisper. "Something's happening to me. Started earlier this year. I have dreams... nightmares... that come true. I never know what I'm going to see when I close my eyes. I try to sleep for only an hour or two at a time to avoid them, but I can't. Now I dream when I'm awake. Premonitions, visions, I guess. Complete with skull-splitting headaches. They'll get Dean and me killed if it keeps up like this." The young man looked positively miserable.
Scott opened his shields a bit to push reassurance to the kid. Sam sat a little straighter. "You're sure it's something psychic?" Sam frowned defensively. "You and your brother mentioned magic before, and again, since coming here, I know that magic exists, too."
"It's a psychic thing. Missouri and the damned demon said so."
Scott blinked, puzzled. "Missouri?"
Sam nodded. "She's a psychic. Helped my family." The young man was quiet for a few moments. Fear pushed aside some of his bitterness and resignation. "Max was psychic, too. Like me, 'cept better at telekinesis."
"You're precognitive and telekinetic?"
Sam's mirthless half-smile returned. "I guess. I've only done it -- moved stuff -- once. Didn't know what I was doing. I had to get to Dean before Max killed him."
Scott stared at Sam, horrified. "Max *was* psychic? He died?"
Sam nodded. "He was psychotic. Not sure if it was from abuse or being psychic." He finally looked up from the carving and met Scott's eyes. "You're psychic and sane. Am I gonna lose it?"
Now that the Doctor was deep into his healing trance, Scott was more than ready to turn in for the night. There was one last thing to do before he could. He strode over to Sam. "Hey," he said quietly, prompting the gangly kid to look up. "Do you still want to talk?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, if you're up to it."
Scott smiled mirthlessly as he sank to the ground a short distance away. "I look that bad, huh?" Sam shrugged, and Scott chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes." He nodded at Sam's geometric carving. "That's pretty cool. What is it?"
Sam frowned at the half-carved wood for a moment before answering. "The Key of Solomon." Scott shook his head, puzzled. "A protective symbol."
"Protection from... demons?" Sam nodded solemnly. Scott studied the straight lines crisscrossing the circle Sam had carved. "I didn't think demons existed before coming here," Scott added quietly.
Sam deepened one of the lines with the tip of his knife. "Demons, and lots of other things."
"Great," Scott muttered, thinking of what Mara had been through. (If Sam and Dean hunt these things like they claim, at least someone's fighting back.) The thought was somewhat heartening. "You said you're psychic," Scott stated, keeping his voice down. "Is that why you and your brother hunt demons?"
Sam barked a laugh, of all things. "No. Well, sort of." Scott raised an eyebrow skeptically. "It's a long story," Sam said with a sigh. He continued in a near whisper. "Something's happening to me. Started earlier this year. I have dreams... nightmares... that come true. I never know what I'm going to see when I close my eyes. I try to sleep for only an hour or two at a time to avoid them, but I can't. Now I dream when I'm awake. Premonitions, visions, I guess. Complete with skull-splitting headaches. They'll get Dean and me killed if it keeps up like this." The young man looked positively miserable.
Scott opened his shields a bit to push reassurance to the kid. Sam sat a little straighter. "You're sure it's something psychic?" Sam frowned defensively. "You and your brother mentioned magic before, and again, since coming here, I know that magic exists, too."
"It's a psychic thing. Missouri and the damned demon said so."
Scott blinked, puzzled. "Missouri?"
Sam nodded. "She's a psychic. Helped my family." The young man was quiet for a few moments. Fear pushed aside some of his bitterness and resignation. "Max was psychic, too. Like me, 'cept better at telekinesis."
"You're precognitive and telekinetic?"
Sam's mirthless half-smile returned. "I guess. I've only done it -- moved stuff -- once. Didn't know what I was doing. I had to get to Dean before Max killed him."
Scott stared at Sam, horrified. "Max *was* psychic? He died?"
Sam nodded. "He was psychotic. Not sure if it was from abuse or being psychic." He finally looked up from the carving and met Scott's eyes. "You're psychic and sane. Am I gonna lose it?"
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[Mayday] Not feeling all that super (tag Sam, Dean, open)
Date: 2006-08-11 02:04 pm (UTC)May nearly laughed out loud at that, but sensing the need for quiet, she tried to stifle it and let out a snort instead. Sam looked surprised. "What's so funny?"
"Sorry, I -" She recovered, shaking her head. "You have NO idea how wrong you are about that. I've had the worst luck with, uh, wardrobe."
"This is something Dean's going to want to hear, isn't it?"
She turned bright red and lowered her voice. "No, not THAT bad, thank God. But I've learned the hard way that you do NOT put spandex in the dryer. Ever. Dad wouldn't let me live it down for weeks."
Actually, maybe Dean WOULD have wanted to be around then, considering she'd been literally coming apart at the seams. But she didn't mention that.
Dean chose that moment to pass by. "What are you two lovebirds talking about?"
"Oh, nothing," May replied innocently. Not that she expected him to buy it.