knightsoflegend | chicago ♔ subscribe me not to darkness

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chicago ♔ subscribe me not to darkness

♬ To Darkness - Mumford and Sons

WHO || Buffy Summers, Sam Winchester, Robin Wood [closed]
WHAT || Buffy accompanies Sam to Chicago, seeking answers about Dean's past... and the fate of the version of Sam from this world
WHERE || Chicago, USA
WHEN || Late-October [back-dated]
HOW || Actionspam

Sam Winchester has not a very easy time of this world.

Most of the reasons for which, it seems, can be traced back to the fact that there was another Sam Winchester native to this dimension. One who somehow managed to alienate his brother Dean to the point where he almost murdered Sam on sight, and it's been a very slow, uphill battle ever since to get Dean to say more than two non-hostile words in a row to him.

An uphill battle that's going too slowly for Sam's taste.

Upon googling his own name and doing some research in hunter circles, he learned more and more disturbing facts - including the fact that he and Dean from this world were held responsible for the deaths of Jo & Ellen Harvelle, and Bobby Singer. Distraught by what he'd learned, he shared the facts with his new friend, Buffy, who agreed to travel with him to Chicago tracing down one of the only leads they have on finding out more about what happened, since Dean doesn't seem inclined to share.

And so off they go to Chicago - home to some of Buffy's own demons - to check out the Hunter's bar run by Robin Wood.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They say Sam sold him out in the end.

Threw his lot in with Hell. Sold his soul to the Devil, and swore allegiance to Lucifer himself.

I even hear he got hooked on drinking devil blood. It's supposed to grant... some kind of powers. He kept it from Dean for months: the addiction, and the truth about who he was working for.

I don't know if it was the angel, one of his buddies, something outta hell, or Dean himself. But I wasn't surprised to hear that Sam wasn't left standing when it was all over.

[ An instinctive step back follows, and Buffy's eyes widen. ]

No.

[ Everything in her is not only repulsed, but totally incapable of processing the idea. Her stomach turns, one hand reaching up to cover her mouth as she tries to process her own disgust while the information sinks in, bit by bit. Buffy's not in any position to stand on some moral high ground, but drinking devil's blood? Signing on with Hell? ]

No, Sam would never do that. They were wrong. They have to be wrong: that's not him. I've met him. Robin, he is a good person.

[ there's real sympathy in his eyes as he watches her. but also a harsh realism. ] A lot of people start out one way and end up another, Buffy.

Sometimes the ones who fall the hardest are the ones who had the farthest to fall.

[ It's there in her eyes, breaking through. Horror. And it's not Sam she thinks of when he says it: it's like looking in a mirror, staring at every horrible thing she's done and feeling sick. He's not the only one falling. She's crashing, covered in blood, and outwardly, her hands tremble as they drop to her sides. ]

No.

[ She croaks the word out. ]

It was a mistake. A misunderstanding. There's more to it; there has to be. He's not a monster.

I'm not sure there's a whole lot of 'ends justify the means' logic that's going to make up for this one.

But who knows. Like I said, I don't have the whole story.

You're right. You don't.

[ But maybe she knows who will—if she can get them to talk to her. ]

But I'm gonna find out what it is. [ She steps back, ready to turn and head back into the bar, but she stops. ] Until I do … Sam can't hear this. It'll destroy him. Everything he's been working for, everything he wants to prove about himself ...

Might make him throw it out the window, right. [ an uncomfortable pause. ] Though who's to say it's not going to happen anyway?

Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe it wasn't. But if Sam's capable of this kind of thing, someone's got to make sure he doesn't fall that far again. And if he does...

I know.

[ Misery colors her voice. It's something she's already had to consider before, even if not for Sam, and she feels sick even acknowledging that she knows what he means. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is all she's good for: a sword arm. A killer. ]

But he's not, Robin. I'm telling you: he's not capable of what you're saying.

I hope you're right, Buffy.

I really do.

[ There's something steely and resolved below the self-loathing and conflict in her eyes, all layered beneath an overwhelming sadness. Truthfully? She isn't so sure that she's right, either. She rarely is. Blinking it away, moistening her eyelashes in the process, she turns away from Robin. ]

I have to go. He's out there in a bar full of hunters, they could—

[ Sharp, cheery pop music cuts her off, vibrating out of her jacket pocket. She glances down, reaching in and pulling out her phone. There's a banner message—following a lead. back soon.—that injects dread directly into her veins, but Des' picture pops up over it. A quick swipe, and she answers the call, turning away from Robin for some imitation of privacy. ]

Des? Not a good time.

There's not gonna be a good time for this, Blondie. [There's a definite edge to his voice.] I tried to call Rafael and his phone's been disconnected. Same with Isabella's. And Burt's not in his office.

[There's a lengthy pause.] I'll give you three guesses as to what my theory is, but I bet you're only gonna need one.

[ Even before he dives straight into the nitty gritty, the fact that there's no good time makes her stomach drop.

And then it gets worse than she could have imagined. Quickly.

The ground falls out from under her, her expression crumbling into disconnected shock. Entirely slack and empty, disbelieving. Numbness creeps in from her extremities, dulling her senses, making her feel separate from her own body—enough so that she doesn't feel the phone slipping through her fingers and clattering to the floor.

Green eyes go out of focus, and she slowly turns her head, looking around the back room without actually seeing any of it.

Iscariot. ]

[ NAT TWENTY REFLEX SAVE?? robin probably could have caught the phone before it dropped, but instead he's reaching out for her to steady her. ] Buffy? What is it?

[on the phone, des is going:] THAT'S NOT EVEN REMOTELY A GUESS. And considering this ain't even the first time Blade's got his claws in Isa- are you even still there? Hello?

[ When she raises her hands in front of her, turning into Robin's touch, she notices them shaking. She looks up at him, eyes searching, floundering for how to explain. ]

My "it's complicated" just got more complicated.

[ The missing kind. He seems to tether her back to reality, and she looks down for the phone, tearing out of Robin's grip to grab for it. She presses the phone to her ear. ]

I'm in Chicago with Sam. We'll swing by NOVA and see if we can track Burt down. [ She turns the phone mic away and looks to Robin. ] What do you know about Iscariot?

Iscariot?! Blondie, do you really think I'd be calling you right now if they were prowling?

[man he

really wanted to believe this was blade, buffy. don't make him doubt that.]

As in... Judas Iscariot?

[ blank stare indicates

little to nothing ]

[ Impatient groan. She holds up a hand like bitch nevermind please hold. Des gets her full attention. ]

We've got enemies in every corner, Des, excuse me for narrowing it down to who hates Rafael the most. Get Jack on the phone with Hellsing: see if they can track Iscariot's movements.

[ Turning to Robin, she makes a quick gesture with her hand for him to follow her back out into the bar, and starts through the door out of the back room. ]

You're joking, right? This has Keijen Blade written all over it. I'll call the goddamned Queen if it'll ease your little blonde head, but there ain't no frickin' way that Iscariot would bother with Isa and Burt and not even stop to grab one of us. Let's not forget who mowed through the fucking Vatican this summer.

[he sighs.] Both options suck, but we did invite a retaliation from Crombe's pop star brigade after the smoke cleared on Andres.

You're really going to ignore the possibility that Alexander Anderson did this because your ego wants to believe he'd hijack you too?

[ deS. Coming back out into the bar, she huffs a sigh, resting one hand on the countertop, stopping there to continue quickly, ] If we wanna get ahead of this, we should look into both. [ #compromise. Also, Des makes good points. ] We need last known locations for all of them from NOVA reps. I don't care if we have to burn the Vatican down: we're finding them.

Sam and I got what we came for here. We'll pack up, and call you from the airport so you can tell us where we're headed. [ New York, or Rome. ]

It's not my ego, Buffy. It's- [His voice sounds momentarily strained, but after a second or two of terse silence where he's unable to find a good way to end that sentence, he speaks again, in a resigned voice:] I'll make the calls. Just stay on guard. I'll talk to you once I hear something.

Got it.

[ She hesitates a moment, waffling. ]

... And Des? Be careful.

[ A beat later, she just hangs up the phone before he can tell her the same. Robin forgotten, she glances down at the bar top, silently cursing herself: ] I should have called him. I should have called him right away, I was stupid, and — [ Fresh tears start, and that reaction only makes her angrier. She shouldn't be crying. She should be doing something. No time for tears. She swipes to reread Sam's message, check the timestamp and compare it to now. ]

[Don't even bother checking the time, Buffy, it doesn't matter anymore.

He also got a nat 20 listen check to catch the end of that as he walks back into the bar, hopefully into less hostile circumstances. Because best time for a nat 20, I guess.]

Should have called who?

[He has literally no context so he's suddenly REALLY WORRIED SHES TALKING ABOUT HIM FOR SOME REASON?]

What's wrong, Buffy?

[ Her gaze flickers up immediately to fall on Sam. As numb as ever, she moves out from behind the bar automatically, going to him. When she approaches, she opens her mouth to explain, but the words fail her. How can she tell him what's happening when she doesn't know herself?

There's so much to say. Any part of her that would have been wary, would have held back or worried about what Robin had told her, it gets buried quickly by the gentleness she sees in his expression. The concern. He's never been anything but a friend to her, a confidante.

So when she reaches for words, and they do finally come to her, they still never make it out of her mouth—but her lips tremble, and she raises her hands to cover them, tears welling up and finally falling as distress contorts her features. It hits her like a ton of bricks. Action mode fails because there's too much downtime between her and anything she can do. Packing, driving, flying. A series of too much time to think and too long to wait, to be left wondering.

With the adrenaline dump fading, it all sinks in. He could already be dead. The thought shakes her breath, draws it in like a hiccup, and her shoulders begin to tremble as well. ]

I can't — [ But the tears quickly grow too intense to speak through, her throat closing up. She can't do that again: all she can think is that he could already be gone, she could already be too late because she didn't reach out, didn't notice, didn't know how to after what she'd done, and now it might have cost her the opportunity to save him. Just like she'd missed her window to save Thomas. She can't do it again. Can't be too late, can't find the corpse of a loved one and watch the body get cleaned out. ]

[He moves over to her, hands reaching out to grasp her shoulders. She looks like she's about to fall apart, crumble into a million pieces, and he has no way of knowing why.

Did she hear something about him? Was this about something else entirely?

He guesses if she punches him or gives him some horrified look, he'll know.

In the meantime, though, he looks over her shoulder at the man standing nearby, and assumes that he followed her in here, that he might know...something?]

What the hell happened?

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