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

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?"

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"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?"

"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?"

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."

"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."

"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?"

"For whatever reason, Toyota don't insulate their cars well, and since Cutie was evidence of auto theft anything I couldn't do myself with my limited resources just didn't get fixed on her. I got walking pneumonia every year I'd do a northern winter case." Dan's mentioned his stolen rental car, Could-Be-Worse-Could-Be-a-Bicycle a.k.a. "Cutie", to Sam before. It wasn't the only car he's ever had, but he managed to keep a hold on her for nearly four years, which makes her his longest-running vehicle since that bloodsoaked van he and his siblings owned in his teen years.

"I mean, y'all didn't hit Central America that often, did you? Plenty of cases there in the winter for me. The Yucatán in particular has a thriving monster ecosystem that don't always play nice with humans, and Baja's haunted as shit."

Dan smiles at the mention of Bobby, whom, he thinks from what he knows of Dean and Sam's childhood, may have been the single person modeling decent behavior for the boys. He wishes he could meet the man and share a beer. He thinks they'd get along.

"Probably a ghost, you know, headless horseman-style but missing its rider. I'd go do it solo, but solo missions are boring."

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