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THE EDGE
"...there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over." -Hunter S. Thompson
Sam was trying to get familiar with his new surroundings, but the whole situation was surreal--and that was saying something, for someone who'd led the kind of life he had. He still wasn't entirely convinced that his mind hadn't just entirely snapped (for more than one reason, but he was ignoring that).
The place seemed real, if too good to be true, and he'd spent some time exploring the more civilized areas in the last few days, whenever Dean would let him out of his sight. He understood how Dean felt, but if what his brother said about this island was true, it wasn't as if he needed supervision. No demons, no ghosts, no skinwalkers, shapeshifters, werewolves, vampires, none of it. A magical island without a trace of the supernatural. It was as if the universe had decided to send them to the only place where they could truly relax.
Sam wasn't relaxing, wasn't letting his guard down. The world was never what it seemed, and Sam had seen the dark shadows that accumulated in the corners if you didn't keep an eye on them. He knew how deceptive trusting face value was. He was a Hunter, and this place didn't change any of that.
He went into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee from the pot someone else had prepared, stirring a little sugar into it and surveying the room with a sigh. He didn't flinch when a darkly cheerful voice spoke up. "Settling right into Fantasy Island, aren't we, Sammy? Gosh, it's nice. I haven't had a vacation in millenia--not one you'd want to send a postcard from, anyway." There was a chuckle, and even though Sam pretended not to see or hear anything, he could see Lucifer moving in his peripheral vision, strolling into the kitchen and perching on the table, hands clasped loosely between his legs.
"Maybe I'll learn to surf. What do you think? Satan on a surfboard, now that is a photo op. You could join me, get some sun on that pasty skin of yours." Sam didn't answer, gave no sign of hearing, and Lucifer tsked and shook his head. "You may as well enjoy your time here, because it won't last forever. I have plans for you, Sammy-boy. Big plans." Sam's jaw tightened and he took a sip of coffee through clenched teeth, eyes narrowing. He was so busy ignoring the fact that he was either hallucinating or being haunted by Lucifer, he didn't realize an actual flesh-and-blood person had entered the room.
Sam was trying to get familiar with his new surroundings, but the whole situation was surreal--and that was saying something, for someone who'd led the kind of life he had. He still wasn't entirely convinced that his mind hadn't just entirely snapped (for more than one reason, but he was ignoring that).
The place seemed real, if too good to be true, and he'd spent some time exploring the more civilized areas in the last few days, whenever Dean would let him out of his sight. He understood how Dean felt, but if what his brother said about this island was true, it wasn't as if he needed supervision. No demons, no ghosts, no skinwalkers, shapeshifters, werewolves, vampires, none of it. A magical island without a trace of the supernatural. It was as if the universe had decided to send them to the only place where they could truly relax.
Sam wasn't relaxing, wasn't letting his guard down. The world was never what it seemed, and Sam had seen the dark shadows that accumulated in the corners if you didn't keep an eye on them. He knew how deceptive trusting face value was. He was a Hunter, and this place didn't change any of that.
He went into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee from the pot someone else had prepared, stirring a little sugar into it and surveying the room with a sigh. He didn't flinch when a darkly cheerful voice spoke up. "Settling right into Fantasy Island, aren't we, Sammy? Gosh, it's nice. I haven't had a vacation in millenia--not one you'd want to send a postcard from, anyway." There was a chuckle, and even though Sam pretended not to see or hear anything, he could see Lucifer moving in his peripheral vision, strolling into the kitchen and perching on the table, hands clasped loosely between his legs.
"Maybe I'll learn to surf. What do you think? Satan on a surfboard, now that is a photo op. You could join me, get some sun on that pasty skin of yours." Sam didn't answer, gave no sign of hearing, and Lucifer tsked and shook his head. "You may as well enjoy your time here, because it won't last forever. I have plans for you, Sammy-boy. Big plans." Sam's jaw tightened and he took a sip of coffee through clenched teeth, eyes narrowing. He was so busy ignoring the fact that he was either hallucinating or being haunted by Lucifer, he didn't realize an actual flesh-and-blood person had entered the room.