[Open] The only thing that you absolutely have to know...

[fromfryingpantofire]

Who: Sam Winchester and you!
What: Sam's found his home away from home
Where: The library at the North Pole
When: Relatively soon after arrival, probably post-Branch
Warnings/Notes: Winchester mouth. Updated as needed.


Once Dean was back on his feet, Sam started exploring the North Pole. And, honestly, nobody who knew him would be surprised to find that once he found the library, he kept drifting back there.

Not that it was that easy to find things there. That North has a filing system is undeniable. What's also undeniable, though, is that whatever filing system he has is archaic and likely all in his own head. Which doesn't mean that Sam doesn't enjoy the looking.

Which is why he can be found at one of the tables near the middle of the room, piles of books and scrolls around him and a leather-bound notebook open to his right, pen set in the crease between pages as he bends over another book, head bowed and hand on cheek as he reads.

He glances up as somebody approaches, then leans back with a stretch. "Hey. Any idea how long I've been here?"

Comments

[demonicmiracle]

Crowley doesn't have much particular interest in the library; he's done some cursory research but he's mostly leaving it to Aziraphale. Which is the reason he's even in the library in the first place. Aziraphale had found a spot to read a novel while Crowley had messed about on his phone, but it's been several hours and the angel is thoroughly engrossed in the book, leaving Crowley to entertain himself.

Someone surrounded by scrolls and books might be fun to poke at, or they might actually have interesting information.

When he does approach and is immediately asked a question, Crowley grins, "S'been two weeks. Someone was about to send in a rescue."

[fromfryingpantofire]

"Honestly, I'm not sure I'd be that surprised." Sam tilts his head back and forth, letting out a sigh of relief as his joints crack back into place. "The reason I doubt you is because Dean would have come and found me long before two weeks had passed."

And his brother would definitely know to look for him in the library.

He stands up, because he's been sitting far too long. "That's the problem with this whole 'myth' thing. Don't need to eat or drink, really, so nothing happens if you ignore the signals."

[demonicmiracle]

"Oh, we've been keeping him out, seems like you were having fun." He doesn't even know who Dean is, really, but he's committed to the bit now.

Was there a chair on the other side of the desk before? Doesn't matter if there was, because there's one now for Crowley to pull out and drop into, kicking his feet up onto the desk as if he's settling in.

"You're human, aren't you? You'd think force of habit would get you up and about." Considering they're in the North Pole and all myths now, apparently, he's stopped caring about playing at being human.

[fromfryingpantofire]

Sam looks Crowley over before raising an eyebrow. "Considering the lack of blood and the fact that you have all your parts still, I'm definitely calling bullshit on that." Because he knows his brother. This Dean might be very young, but he's certain that if somebody OTHER than Sam himself was trying to tell him to stay away, Sam would have heard the commotion.

He huffs a sigh. "You'd think so. But I had a few years growing up when money was too tight, then ran into a few other issues that mean I kinda got used to ignoring things."

[demonicmiracle]

There's a little laugh from Crowley, complete with nose wrinkle. "That's cute." Could he mean it's cute that Dean would apparently de-limb someone for keeping him from Sam? Maybe, but mostly it's cute that Sam thinks someone could fuck Crowley up.

That's slightly more interesting, but he's not about to pry into people's lives. Partially because he doesn't care enough. "Twitter always tells me that alarms are helpful for that sort of nonsense." Remember to eat and drink and things. Crowley's never needed it, even before becoming a myth, but he can see why it might be slightly unsettling to a human, who's less used to it.

[fromfryingpantofire]

"Mmm. Probably." Sam sits again, picking up his pen to write a couple things down before closing the notebook. "I'm sure I'll get back in the habit. But there's just so many books and so much to learn here. Makes it a lot easier to ignore signals if I'm not paying attention."

[nobodytossesaclone]

Rex had heard that they were fictional here. He'd heard of books and movies that could be about them. He didn't know how to find them and he certainly wasn't going to ask. He himself had spent some time in the library tracking it down, getting utterly lost before finding some movies with titles that jumped out at him.

Star Wars: Attack of the Clones. Star Wars: Rise of the Sith. He didn't know what to choose, if any, until he saw Star Wars: The Clone Wars.

He grabbed that one and moved away from the shelf, distancing himself from any knowledge of the future or a past he didn't know. He stared at his selection for a time, turning it so that he saw the familiar faces on the front cover.

He glanced up just as Sam greeted him and tucked the DVD against his side.

"You were here when I walked in. At least an hour, but if you have to ask it's probably hours."

[fromfryingpantofire]

"Sounds about right."

Sam leans back with the stretch, letting his back realign after sitting bent over for too long. "Still getting used to this 'myth' thing, I guess. Body signals are all out of whack."

If he didn't already have an explanation, he might be more concerned.

[nobodytossesaclone]

While Sam relaxed, Rex remained as stiff as ever. He'd gotten better at blending in, but acting natural was something that took effort. Rex stood not quite at attention but with his spine straight and his body still.

"It is hard to get used to. Did it affect your... abilities?" Or perhaps lack thereof but with that height Rex knew Sam could prove a more than capable opponent if he had the training.

Not that he expected he'd need to fight him. Still, it was second nature to size someone up and Rex's appraisal was swift.

[fromfryingpantofire]

Sam's height is very noticeable.

So is the way that Rex holds himself. Sam eyes him for a moment before offering a half smile. "Military?" he asks before shaking his head. "My dad was a Marine before Dean and I came along. I recognize the way you're standing."

Though he realizes that the guy looks familiar. It's just not coming to mind right now why.

"I mean...it kinda has? In that I have abilities, but what I've found isn't what I've had before?" He reaches up, brushing a hand through his hair. "But as far as the rest of it, I seem to be able to fight as well as I could before. A little stronger, able to take hits better, that sort of thing. Which may come in useful."

[nobodytossesaclone]

A small trace of awkwardness flashed across Rex's face. The change in expression was slight. There didn't seem to be any harm in being honest here. He doubted anyone was going to execute him.

"Yes," he said after a pause. "I served the Republic."

He cleared his throat. "I haven't noticed any changes to my strength but I do heal faster as well as other-- things." He couldn't say that he could use the force now because it was something he still couldn't reconcile.

[fromfryingpantofire]

"The Republic?" Even as he's saying it, it's poking at something at the back of Sam's mind. A certain movie series he'd watched way too many times. Though that couldn't be right.

"The place I was before this? I could use telekinesis. Nothing fine, but it was good for shielding and pushing people." Sam leans forward on the table. "But that's changed since I got here. What I have is still primarily protective, though, so that's good."

[mostdangerousbird]

“Three hours and four minutes,” Tim calls down from a balcony with a casual glance at his communicator.

He’s been trying to keep to less occupied spots until he gets his new shrinking under control. Hence, occupying a table on the curving balcony with his phone propped up against the stack of books he’s been logging. “What are you looking for? Maybe I found it already.”

[fromfryingpantofire]

Sam groans, letting his head fall back. "No wonder my body feels like it's been welded to the chair." All the myth enhancements mean little when you just don't move.

He pushes himself with another groan, reaching up to stretch. "Trying to figure out the rules for how supernatural predators work in this world," he calls back. Not concerned about talking about it because everybody on the Rig knew he was a Hunter. And he gives Stacia piggy back rides, so he can't actually have a problem with them. "Mostly the ways to deal with them."

[mostdangerousbird]

"Stretching might help," Tim says, stretching out his own arms and back at the reminder. He's been here longer than Sam, and a stiff neck cramps anyone's style. "But I haven't seen anything like that. I've looked through two full bookshelves so far: it's a mix of old books about niche topics - indexes of birds, flowers, things like that - and history so far. Haven't found anything modern or fictional so far."

It almost makes sense, in a way, why would you find new works in the home of an ancient myth? "I'm not mad about the lack of fiction. I still don't know how I feel about the possibility of finding the story of one of us here."

[fromfryingpantofire]

"Stretching means having to stand up."

Which definitely means he's been in one place far too long.

He pushes himself up with a groan, hearing AND feeling the vertebra in his spine pop back into place as he straightens, then raises his arms over his head.

"You may not have seen anything like that because I got here first." Sam turns around, leaning back against the table. "Older stuff is kinda what I'm looking for, anyway. From what I understand from Bunny, dealing with supernatural threats was the sort of thing that Guardians did, anyway."

[mostdangerousbird]

Tim winces at the groan. You know what, now's a good time to get up and move around himself. So he does, scooping up an armload of books to put away. "Or maybe because I'm loathe to touch old vellum without gloves, and I'd rather have modern sources with scientific analysis. Yes, I realize that you can't scientifically analyze the supernatural, but you can try."

[rambles_on]

Dean snorts. Some things never change, and apparently finding Sammy with his nose stuck in a book is one of them.

He hasn't seen much of Sam since his recovery. First he was getting used to Christmastown, then he was trapped in the most comfortable bed he's slept in in years, then he was exploring, then he was...

Well, then he ran out of excuses to keep trying to avoid Sam. Not that he was avoiding him. He just didn't want to run into him until he got his head screwed on straight about the whole thing.

'The whole thing' being that this is all real and not a near-death hallucination, which is a hell of a surprise. But Dean's not gonna spend his time being scared of his own little brother, so here he is: manning the hell up.

"Too long, people are starting to complain about the smell."

Dean sprawls himself into the chair opposite Sam and drops a plate on the table with a heavy thunk. Sitting on the plate are two burritos. He sets down two beers, grabs one, pops the cap off with his ring and takes a swig. He props his feet up on the table for good measure, and finally tops it all off with a smug smile.

[fromfryingpantofire]

His little brother who is suddenly very much NOT very little any more.

Sam has had a chance to talk it out with Bunny, at least somewhat. He and Bunny both know a lot more about each other than the others do, so it means they understand the problems a bit better.

He blinks at Dean, then at the food. Then he takes a moment to tidy things away. "I think it's a problem with not having to eat and drink. Makes it easy to ignore signals."

[hallelujahjunction]

Dan hates libraries. That isn't surprising, given that he can't read and that Sam's gentle and insistent coaching is the only reason he can even sort through his initials. It's one thing to exist in a culture that's hostile to a part of him; it's another to walk into the halls of a world totally beyond him, with secrets everyone else can access except for him, and that sense of inadequacy makes him grumpy, at least, as grumpy as Dan ever gets over things that aren't personal but certainly feel personal.

"If it ain't Sam Winchester. Fancy seeing you here." Dan's voice is already a quiet croak, so he barely has to lower it to be properly relevant to the library's purpose, but he does sit on the edge of the table rather than a chair, the only indication that he isn't properly genuflecting to the concept of literacy. "I got no idea how long you been here. I just got back from New Zealand."

Bunny's been taking Dan around on tiny missions, anywhere they can go together to do what they love best, which is saving the day. He's only dropped Dan back off because the next call to action was something that would probably require a few days without sleep, and Dan's already running on fumes, despite feeling energized by the adventuring.

"How are you?"

[fromfryingpantofire]

"What was in New Zealand?" It's interesting to think that they could travel now. Differently than back home, of course, though Sam is kinda wondering if Dean would be able to handle Santa's sleigh for flying better than an airplane.

Maybe if he was in the middle.

Sam sets his book aside with a grin. "Hey, Dan." It's not that he doesn't know this sort of place is uncomfortable for his friend. But Sam's always been the researcher and books are a safe place for him.

He stretches with a yawn that isn't really necessary for him, then scratches at the back of his head. "Other than having sat here too long? I'm fine. It's too easy to lose track of time, I'm finding, but that's just something I'm going to have to get used to? How about you? How're you handling things?"

[hallelujahjunction]

"Just some pixies getting a little big for their britches and trying to make off with some newborn humans. Stuff the Guardians here would might be handling if not for, you know, the current troubles. Bunny likes to take me along because of all my gift of gab." Dan has a cup of coffee for each of them, and he holds one out to Sam, since he was anticipating company. He doesn't go into libraries without some of intention to find people there.

"I'm great, aside from the fact that it's fuck-as-shit cold outside. Thank God for North's central heating." He takes a sip of his coffee, which is about one third cream, one third liquor, one sixth sugar and one sixth actual coffee. "What you reading?"

[fromfryingpantofire]

The coffee is taken with a murmured thanks, Sam closing his hands around it gratefully. His is black. Not always his favored way of taking coffee, but he also doesn't take it quite as doctored as Dan does.

"You're a good one to take when talking is needed," Sam agrees, taking a quick sip of the coffee. "And yeah, this is definitely worse than most of the northern US. I'm trying not to go outside much, honestly. Unlike Bunny, neither of us have a fur coat." He reaches out for the book, glancing at it. "Nothing much, honestly. Researching the local cryptids and how to fight or subdue them. I know that some of the rules are a bit different here. I'd rather know what I'm dealing with and have a clue how to handle things."

[hallelujahjunction]

"I already avoid the Northern US when it's winter. And the Midwest. Honestly, most everything north of San Francisco ends up on my shit list past November." Dan grins and peeks at some of the photos Sam's looking at, humanoid blurs and chimeras of various sorts.

"Smart use of your time. Smart use of this place." He takes a drink. "You want to go hunt a cryptid? I got a lead and it seems up our alley. Flesh-eating horse in Quebec."

[fromfryingpantofire]

"We didn't always have a choice. We went where the cases were. And Bobby lived in South Dakota, so sometimes we'd head up there for the winter." Sam's definitely talked about Bobby before, the crotchety old hunter who had been like a second father to him and Dean. Or, really, the first real father they'd had. "The Impala was pretty well insulated, though. I'm pretty sure that had to be after market."

He takes another sip of his coffee, then raises an eyebrow. "Flesh-eating horse? Are we talking kelpie or something else?"