Disclaimer: nothing mine A.N. Deepest apologies, Sendai, love. I know, I owed you Destiel, but...shorter than usual writing time, plus Tennant on the telly (Around the World in 80 Days, which honestly – wow) meant that Sam, Clara and Me came forward...forgive me? Also, I swear, my characters keep blindsiding me...^^''' A Happy New Year to everyone!
Sam has to admit it. He's curious...and a bit flattered. Also lowkey nervous, because well, when people pick him rather than Dean...there's often something wrong with them. Usually they know - or maybe feel, he sometimes thinks - that there's something wrong with him, too. No matter how much he tries to change.
"I so hoped you would accept" Clara welcomes him back, with a grin. "Gentlemen, you'll forgive us...This time, it's all on the house." She nods at the other two couples, and grabs his hand, tugging him to follow towards the back of the diner.
He lets himself be guided, beyond the kitchen and down a surprisingly long corridor. "I thought you went to fetch the other..."
"I did. You wouldn't believe how deep in hiding Me was. She indulged me in this - I let her have her own treats, mind - but love troubles have never interested her. And happy love even less."
"Me?" He can't help it. He's not a stickler for grammar, but that sounds weird..and possibly complicated. Are they going to see someone split in two again, like Charlie after Oz? And if so, are they going to visit Bad Clara?
"Better let her explain, you'll see." Finally, Clara knocks on an ornate door, and a voice calls them to come in.
It looks like an old style sitting room, maybe late 1700s (so far, so weird) and a girl sits at a desk, playing with a quill of all things. She wears a simple black dress, and her features are delicate (definitely not a twin though, evil or not), but the eyes she pins him with are sharp and way older than she looks like.
"So, that's your puppy," she huffs.
"It's not mine," Clara replies without missing a beat, "and we definitely can't keep him."
"Then why did you even bring him here?," Me - for lack of a better word - retorts. And sure, they're two girls (or look like it anyway), he towers over both of them, and there's not a single weapon in sight, but he still tenses up. He's seen enough witches, monsters and...other things to know sometimes - especially with the right preparations in place, and he's on their turf - you don't need anything more than a pretty mouth to have someone at your mercy.
"Because we're going to come here again, and probably again, and again. I sorta doubt the two I told you about can organize a decent wedding on their own, so..." Clara shrugs. "And yes, you can hide all the time if you want. You can hang on my arm and glare at the rest of the world if you prefer. Or you could make a friend, for once."
If Me glares at the rest of the world the way she's glaring at her companion, Sam won't be surprised if the rest of the world scurries away. "You know me. I know better, and I told you over and over that you should, too."
"I can leave, if you prefer," Sam interjects. This is so awkward.
"Oh, sit," Me says, with a wave of her hand.
Clara smiles in victory, and Sam does, because what the hell. He can handle whatever's coming...probably.
"Fascinating name," he says. If he's staying, might as well try to steer the situation. Earn some knowledge. "A little confusing, too, before actually meeting you." He smiles.
"Yeah, well. I had a different one, once. Ages ago. Then I took another, obviously. And then another. And then, at some point, everything stopped being worth bothering with, you know? I'm me. People can deal with that. And if they don't, I don't care." She shrugs.
He nods along. She makes sense, even if he feels a little sorry for her. In his experience, people who don't actually care try to pretend they do, at least at first approach. She sounds a little too insistent to actually be believable.
"I hope you don't mind the question. I promise, it's academic interest," (and maybe it isn't entirely, but he hopes he sounds sincere enough,) "but since I've been told you're functionally immortal...what are you?"
"Cursed," that's Clara "more or less."
"That can be fixed!" he blurts out. "Probably. Different universes, sure, but we could still try, or - study something. Find a way. I can't promise a quick fix, and there might a lot of fiddling, but. Is that why you've invited me, then? What do we know?"
"That wasn't my intent," Clara said. "We're cursed, yes, but we're good. We know how to handle it, don't we, Me?"
She nods."Besides, you could never do anything for me, and you better not try to take Clara away."
"I'm not. But how can you be so sure? We have a lot of resources on curses, so - if you want to change, I could -"
"It's not a curse. It's not magic. It's medicine, simply. Fucking futuristic medicine - even from Clara's point of view, imagine mine - that won't ever let me go."
He can't help it. His mind jumps to Benton, presumably still buried. Sure, they've been busy, but if someone had dug him out, it would have made headlines big enough to ping their radar. How often do you find someone buried alive in the middle of nowhere?
She sighs. "You know, I wouldn't be so bitter if I'd asked for it. I was a Viking, or - my father was, at any rate. I hadn't yet raided anything, but war came to us, and I helped win it. I was integral to it. I should have died, and really, could old me have dreamed of anything better? But then suddenly I was alive, again, for fucking ever."
It's just a flash, but Clara looks definitely guilty, before settling back into her gentle expression.
"So yeah," Me continues. " You can't fix Clara, because I'm tired of everyone dying on me. I'm not going back to that."
"I can promise you that I won't do anything, unless I figure out a way to undo what was done to you, too. But hey, at least it sounds like they meant well."
Me's gaze softens for a moment. "What did they do to you?" Oh, she's sharp, all right.
"Long story. Know what? I'll send you a link. One of the few times that being the subject of a book series, creepy as it is, might be useful."
"Wow. So messed up there's a whole book series? ...You know, Clara, you might have found someone who can get head-to-head with us in the shit happened department. Are you positive we can't keep him?" Me comments.
"Read at least a few books before asking me again, darling. You might reconsider, " Clara says, with a giggle.
"Spoiler: a soon-to-be brother in law killed Loki," Sam mentions, just because he can. Yes, technically Gabriel should be currently dead. Well, it wouldn't be the first time they're wrong about that, so he doesn't even count it as a trick...much.
"Loki is - was - that Loki?" Me sounds baffled. If by a god existing or dying, or both, Sam can't say?
"That Loki. Pretty much...most if not all of what you ever assumed was fantasy is, was, or can be made into reality here," Sam shrugs. "Which isn't nearly as entertaining as it might sound, given that they're also often hungry, murderous, sadistic, or a combination of the three. Not all, thankfully. But, you see - that's why I assume I can find a way to work around pretty much anything, eventually. If you ever want me to. I'm just a little surprised anyone well-meaning would expect you to go through eternity alone."
"Technically, he didn't. I had one trinket that I could use to damn someone else to the same. Only, it was...well, one. How do you decide who gets it? Your first husband? Your first child? Your twenty-fourth husband? How can you be sure you want someone around for eternity? Or that they won't hate you for it?"
"Is it pathetic that I wouldn't have to think twice?" And not just back when he tried to talk Dean into the Benton formula. Basically Mark-of-Cain results without the looming black eyes or the heightened bloodthirst? Yeah, he'd be signing Dean up for that in a blink. Possibly whether he had one for himself or not. And yeah, there was a chance that Dean would hate him for it, but he'd be alive to.
"I guess it depends," Me replies.
"He's been stupidly, recklessly, self-sacrificingly suicidal like every other year. Or at least it feels like that. So yeah, I assume I'd still have to talk sense into him, but at least not for quite as high stakes. You don't - happen to be in contact still with the person who gave you yours, do you?"
"I, huh, technically have their number," Clara said. "But I can make no promises. Not that they still have some spare ones, and of course, not that they'd be willing to give them to you. Especially when they don't know you."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, of course. I understand. But - do you think they would be willing to know us? One of these days, or...you know what, invite them to the wedding if they feel like it, too."
"I can ask, but I make no promises. Especially because when I was with them, the majority of the time we ended up landing somewhere different than we'd planned to. They could agree to come and find themselves 40 years too soon, in a different continent. Sexy simply does whatever she wants. Or they're not as good a driver as they like to think," Clara replied, shaking her head.
"Ask them anyway, please. It's okay, if they end up in the wrong year we can always ask Cas to send us to them, so long as they can let us know when and where they are. At least so long as they get the right universe."
"Assuming that it all works like you hope...are you sure you aren't going to regret it?" Me asks.
Sam shrugs. "Maybe it's different between our universes, but believe me - it beats dying. Besides, he got vastly more than his share of that already."
"Did he now?" Me says, looking fascinated. "I really have to read these books. If I'm going to give a chance to a whole different universe, might as well do it with full knowledge."
Clara grins widely. "Brilliant. I knew you'd make her see my point."
He needs to get more info from them, too. Make sure he knows this mysterious them well enough to understand the best way to persuade them. One can't always rely on puppy eyes for everything.