InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Rust never sleeps!"

john winchester (winchester) wrote in hotelhelllogs,
@ 2013-03-16 02:54:00

Entry tags:

!closed, !plot, commander paylor, john winchester

Who: John Winchester & Commander Paylor
Where: John's room, 113
When: Friday, March 15, late evening, after [this]
Warnings: none at present
Ghostly Encounter: Opt-in
Summary: nothing to see here, just an agoraphobic demon hunter sharing a drink with a rebel uprising leader
Status: Closed/Ongoing

Fear was something a man could either let control him or he could learn to control; John Winchester had learned early on how to control the fear so that it didn't get the chance to take a hold on him. He had never thought on that beyond it was how he'd been raised. His father had taught him that before he'd ever known about the supernatural world or Mary Campbell. It had been that knowledge which had set him up to make it in Vietnam and it's been that certainty which had made it possible for him to survive after the war, after losing his wife, and even after going to Hell.

He wasn't the kind of man who said he was never afraid though he was the kind of man who would say that fear didn't ever set him too far back to keep moving forward.

John felt that he was about to have to change his answer on that since coming to this hotel. The Crown Plaza had a feeling to it that was getting to him more and more and more. He'd salted the door and lined the whole room to be safe when that hadn't felt as if it were enough to get him by; John had taken to checking the walls for cracks or the formation of any unnatural ridges or bumps. There were supernatural creatures that lived in walls, floors, ceilings, Hell, he'd seen a haunted toilet before. Supernatural things were almost entirely evil. Anything that had moved into this room with him? John wanted it out.

The strange thing was that he couldn't say that he felt something was in the room with him as much as it was keeping him in the room. It was as if the moment he opened the door, all the air rushed out of him and John couldn't hear anything over the sounds of Hell coming to life in his ears. He would have rather walked back into the maw of the pit than to step outside his room which was completely insane.

He knew that.

John knew that it was an insane feeling that he had, but it was how he felt all the same and he'd lived long enough to see enough to know that trusting his instincts was half the reason he was still alive. Or. Whatever it was that he was these days. He was breathing. Food tasted fine. Everything seemed to work as it had before Hell. That meant living as far as John knew.

The visit from Paylor was going to come in handy since Lucy was otherwise engaged and John wasn't sure he thought it was safe for anyone else being out there. He could say that he needed that drink she was bringing him as bad as he'd ever needed one.

Since the feelings had started to intensify, John had moved the couch over to block the majority of the door. He moved it back enough that Paylor wouldn't have a hard time getting in though then it looked strange sitting at an odd angle in the middle of the room so he moved the chairs over to sit in front of it. The placement was still bizarre, but it was the best John could manage. He took a seat in one of the chairs, grateful for the fact that the couch was still between him and the door, and waited on his guest to arrive.

Hearing someone in the hall, John called out, "Door's open! C'mon in!"

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pylor
2013-03-16 04:00 pm UTC (link)

Night time had never been an issue for Paylor. Most of her business when she had still been in District 8 had happened at night. It wouldn't do any good for the Peacekeepers to find them conspiring on how to take down the Capitol and then for the Capitol to make an example out of them like they had District 13.

Paylor nearly snorted at the idea. They had made an example of them, and those who had been left after the destruction at the makeshift hospital after Katniss had come to do a damned promo. Paylor had been against it, but she wanted this little girl to see exactly what was being done to people and why it was damned important that they fix things.

There were so many things she wanted to accomplish back home, good things for the people of Panem who desperately needed more.

As it was, it didn't look like she was going to be going home anytime soon and right now she was more concerned about it being night and not sleeping more than anything.

After speaking briefly with John over the network, Paylor made her way down to the dive bar to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a bottle of Jose Cuervo from behind the bar. She had no idea if either one of these were any good or not, but she was taking John's word for it. Where she was from these brands didn't exist.

Picking up two tumblers from the bar as well, Paylor headed back up from the basement to the first floor. She didn't bother to knock, especially after hearing the greeting and instead she pushed the door open, only to raise a brow as the door stopped and hit something.

Carefully she stepped over the salt line that was laid out there at the door way and she shut the door behind her. Turning she looked over at John with a slight inclination of her head, "I do believe you were going to explain to me what this whole business with salt is about before we start in. I must confess though I'm more curious about the couch." As she spoke she moved around the couch, bottles in one hand and tumblers in another.

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winchester
2013-03-16 11:16 pm UTC (link)

Shrugging a shoulder, John gave her a sheepish grin, "I'm not good with anything out there right now. I've been feeling safer with something between me and the outside."

He gestured to the table for her to be able to sit the bottles down, standing to collect the tumblers from her hand so that he could help her out with that. Paylor had brought up two full bottles which would have been funny except that John felt as if he could use two full bottles to make it through his evening. There had been a time when John had needed a bottle to get through any evening. It had made him a piss-poor father and an even worse hunter, a dangerous hunter, and that was what had straightened him out.

Bad hunters were dead hunters in his world.

John took a seat in one of the chairs again, letting his arms rest loosely on his knees as he considered his guest, "I did promise to fill you in on that, didn't I? Well, where I come from, I deal with all the things that go bump in the night and as it turns out? Ghosts, evil spirits, the nasty undead? They can't cross a salt line. They can disturb the salt to get at you, but they can't cross it if it remains unbroken. Bullets filled with rock salt will dissipate them, scatter 'em out. It'll buy you some time since you can't kill 'em again. To get rid of them on a permanent basis, you have to find their remains and salt and burn those."

It was a Hell of a thing to drop on someone. John knew that. He had promised he would tell her though and he was a man of his word.

"You feel as if you could use that drink now?"

He laughed because it was a little funny. Who got to drop on someone that there were spirits and people who had to find ways to hunt them? John Winchester. That was who. He wasn't sure if he should be thanking people for that or cursing them.

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pylor
2013-03-17 05:29 am UTC (link)

Turning Paylor considered the couch again with a small shrug of her shoulders. "Makes sense to me." There might've been a point or two in time where she'd done the same thing back home. It wasn't because of evil entities or anything like that, but because of people.

She handed over the tumblers easily, and sat the bottles down on the table. Moving to sit down in the chair opposite him, she smoothed a hand down over the fabric of her trouser pants after crossing one leg neatly over the other. They'd taught her about presence, about making an impression while she'd been running for office.

Paylor didn't think she needed all that really. The people looked at her and saw someone they could relate to on a level that they'd never been able to before. Paylor had, however, taken to dressing up rather than dressing down and it seemed like all of her good clothes along with a few other pieces that she'd worn during the rebellion

It might be time for her to go check out this clothing store that she'd seen on the map. During daylight hours of course.

Folding her hands in her lap, Paylor tipped her head to the side as she listened to him. Her brows rose slightly at the news, and she chuckled softly with a nod. "Hm, I do think I could use one after that. I'm fine with whichever one you prefer to drink first." She wasn't sure which one was better or if they were equally as good.

"I've never heard of any ghosts, or evil spirits where I'm from. We have things that are called Muttations, or Mutts for short." The Capitol had been breeding, genetically altering or engineering them for all sorts of uses for years now. "They're used for torture, intelligence, weapons even. They've been made by The Capitol for those purposes only, and they weren't too happy when one of them got out of hand." The Mockingjay, beautiful creatures with sweet voices if one listened to them sing, or long enough to get a message. They were a sign of the rebellion as well, or at least that's what she'd heard. Paylor had been too busy getting things organized to deal with that sort of nonsense.

"People are what you really had to worry about in Panem. Power hungry people who only wanted more, more, more for their cushy existence while they left others out in the cold." A light smile danced on her lips, "It's always been that way throughout history hasn't it? The rich take from the poor, making the poor to work harder for them while they expect them to be dumb enough to not realize what they're doing up there."

Taking in a deep breath she looked curiously at John. "So, how did you come about learning about these things back in your world since it doesn't appear to be common knowledge?" Paylor didn't actually scare easy, but the idea that there could be something worse than Muttations out there did intrigue her. Of course she had heard about ghosts, and things with the hotel but she hadn't personally witnessed anything paranormal.

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winchester
2013-03-18 01:37 am UTC (link)

Some would think it was a long leap from supernatural entities to alternative universes, worlds, or planets even, but John had been dealing with too much in his life to count anything out. There really wasn't a lot that could even move him anymore. He'd been to Hell. After that, everything seemed pretty tame in comparison.

Cracking open the seal on the bottle of Jack Daniels, John smiled at the thought that Paylor simply accepted that he'd gone nuts enough to start blocking off his door before he began pouring them a solid serving each of the stuff. There had been a time in his life that he would've filled that tumblr to the top with every intention of making that drink one for the evening and no intention of letting his glass remain empty before the bottle itself went dry. It hadn't even been that long ago in terms of time back topside. Below---below time was different. John had learned the hard way that time passed a lot slower in Hell. Ten years to a month slower.

He stood slightly to reach across the table to hand a glass to Paylor before settling back in his own seat. For a moment, John simply rolled the glass between his hands to warm it. Jack Daniels had a rich smell to it, smoky and filled with its own kind of magic; John had always felt a connection to it though he imagined that had more to do with the fact that he remembered his daddy drinking it than because whiskey was in his blood.

"Jack Daniels is a whiskey. I don't know as how they have whiskey where you're from, but it's always brought me comfort when I needed it. Near about---" John tried to think on what numbers he should use, "We'll say twenty years ago, Jack here became my first best friend because a demon killed my wife and dragged her off to Hell. Took her right out of my baby's nursery. The only blessing I have there is that my son was too young to remember seeing her burn. I'd been to war before that. Thought I knew all there was to know about the evil that men could do. That was when I found out what I thought was wrong and that was when I got the option to bury my head in the sand or come up fighting."

John nodded to her briefly before trying the liquor. It burned the way he remembered. Exactly the way he remembered in fact which was almost enough of a shock to have him sitting the glass down before he had to cope with the loss of his Mary all over again.

Trying to take his mind off it, he asked, "So you're from another planet? World? I don't know how these things work. Where I am, it's called 'Earth' and I lived in 'America.' Never heard of Panem or Mutts though I've seen first-hand what a country is willing to cook up in the name of war. I could believe a government was capable of that."

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pylor
2013-03-18 05:52 am UTC (link)

Paylor gave an inclination of her head in thanks to John as she took the offered drink from him. The smell of it was good enough, strong enough to drown out her current fears she was sure and hopefully it would lull her to sleep tonight.

She'd been having issues sleeping as well. The looming threat of possibly having nightmares was weighing heavily on her. She'd had her share of nightmares already. She was tired of them if she was being honest.

A line appeared between her brows as he spoke of how he'd gotten involved with hunting things. Loss was something that she could understand. Not only had she lost her own child, she'd lost her husband as well. It wasn't as gruesome as being burned alive, and dragged to Hell but Paylor's family had suffered. It was why she'd started planning for the rebellion. She was tired of seeing good people suffer, and die just because the Capitol didn't care about them. "I'm sorry that you had to deal with the loss of your wife. Losing a spouse isn't easy. Your son though, he's alright?" Her brows drew together as she looked at him, "And I can't blame you for coming out swinging. It seems as if you and I have that in common."

She tipped her drink in his direction, taking a small testing sip of it. Hissing in a breath, she cleared her throat before she laughed softly. "You'll be surprised to learn that no, I'm not. I'm from Earth, a place formerly called America just--things are different." She leaned back in her chair, taking another sip of her drink as she considered how to put things.

"About a hundred years ago, give or take, there was a worldwide event that caused an apocalypse. No one really knows what happened, the officials were tight lipped about it all." Paylor had found out some things, but not everything before she'd been brought here. "They divided up the states - places that weren't underwater - into different districts, thirteen in all. I'm from district 8, we handled textiles, mostly Peacekeeper uniforms. They're our police force if you will." She loathed the Peacekeepers, "Our children would go to school then go straight to the factory afterward for shifts. Everyone worked as hard as they could for as long as they could." Glancing down at her hands, her eyes trailed over some of the old scars from sewing needles, and the faded burn marks from the broken press machine that marred her hands. Some had it worse though.

"Someone had to do something, and we did." She offered with a small shrug of her shoulders before she took another sip of her drink.

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winchester
2013-03-19 01:30 am UTC (link)

"I've three boys and yeah," John agreed, "They're alright. They're good men. All of them. I can't say that I have any complaints about how my boys turned out though I do wish that I'd been a better father than I turned out to be. Hate. Vengeance? It can make a man mean. Makes him lose sight of what's important. That happened to me more than I'd like to admit."

He hid a smile behind his glass at her reaction. It seemed that Commander Paylor had never had whiskey like Jack Daniels. He had a feeling that she likely hadn't been given a lot of opportunities to try a good stout whiskey. Their world sounded unbelievably different; John found himself grateful that he didn't have to worry about that kind of life. He'd take demons over politics any day.

John had fought in Vietnam because he'd been young. He had believed that they were there to do some good for those people. They had been preached all about freedom and democracy and how they were spreading the American way of life to those who were less fortunate. It had been a crusade as much as anything else and John remembered all the boys who'd enlisted with him being real proud of themselves for being willing to go. He could still remember the way some of them had laughed, played, gone on and on about how good things were going to be when they were done.

All wars were just an excuse for legalized murder.

That was what he'd found out once he'd been there in the jungles praying that he wouldn't be the next dumb American boy shipped home in a box. He had seem most of his platoon dead before he had even gotten a chance to learn their first names. Some had been gone before he'd even bothered learning their last names and those were printed right on their damned uniforms. If it hadn't been for Bobby Singer, John doubted that he would have made it out of 'Nam alive.

Part of him didn't.

"I believe in freedom as much as the next man. God knows I've fought for it enough. I don't envy you that revolution of yours though. There's no such thing as a bloodless war. I know that better than most. I fought enough to know it firsthand. You think you're going to win? Take the big man down? Close the factories? Free the masses? Is that the idea?"

It sounded like the kind of thing that they'd spouted during 'Nam and every other war after it. John could practically hear the 'oorah' echoing in his ears already.

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pylor
2013-03-19 07:07 pm UTC (link)

A light, rarely seen smile danced on the corners of Paylor’s lips and she gave an inclination of her head towards him. “Good, I’m glad that they’re alive and well.” There were a lot of things that could make a good person turn into a bad person, or at least by their definition bad. Paylor understood that. “I’m sure that you did the best that you could given the circumstances. That’s all that anyone could ask of you, though I don’t know the full story.” She offered another small nod of her head in his direction before taking a sip.

“We did win.” She offered with a small shrug of her shoulders, “We took them down, not without a lot of causalities, but we did manage. There’s a girl around here, her name is Katniss Everdeen, and she assassinated our would-be president because she had killed a lot of innocent people in order to get inside the mansion where our current president lived.” Clearing her throat, she looked down at the glass in her hand. Alma Coin had been the worst sort, sending all of those children in there to assist with the injured only to bomb them to make it appear as if the Capitol had done it. Paylor had known, and knew that if she nudged Katniss in the right direction that things would be taken care of.

“I was actually the election that was being held; believe it or not, it’s why I’m having a hard time with all of this.” She waved a hand around before letting out a sigh. “Most of our children live in fear that they’ll be reaped for the Hunger Games. It’s barbaric. I wanted to end it.” Shaking her head she decided to explain. “There was a rebellion around 75 years ago. District 13 rose up against the Capitol and they were ‘blown off’ the map so to speak. They didn’t destroy them like they wanted, but they did decide to make sure that all of the districts knew their place. So to ensure that there wasn’t another uprising they created the games.” Her brows furrowed at the memory of each reaping she’d ever witnessed from the time she’d been old enough to attend and remember them.

It was sad to watch families being torn apart, and District 8 hadn’t faired so well in the games. “One boy and one girl from each district between the ages of 12 and 18 as tributes fight to the death in the arena created by the gamemakers. To the victor goes the spoils, and the district lives well for another year.” Shaking her head again she took a longer sip from her glass, and licked her lips.

“That was why I had to do something. Why we had to take a stand. It was a long time coming, but things finally fell into place.” Letting out a long breath, she looked over at him. “Did you ever get the demon that killed your wife?” A brow rose over at him curiously. Paylor knew how to work a gun, and how to shoot to kill but she had no idea how killing a demon would work exactly.

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winchester
2013-03-23 08:07 am UTC (link)

Arena fights had been a big deal in the world in ages past; it didn't surprised John Winchester to imagine that the future held nothing more than a return to the past. It seemed that humanity was doomed to repeat a lot of their mistakes. He could empathize with that personally since he had done it himself. There had been more than once in his life that he'd thrown in on the wrong fight for the wrong reasons to get the wrong results.

He'd gotten a few good people killed over mistakes like that. It didn't surprise him to imagine that a government could get a lot more good people killed than one man could. That was what he'd lived through in Vietnam and it was what a lot of other men could say they'd lived through in other wars. All peace came at a price. There was no such thing as free peace.

"I could see a world dissolving into that. Legalized murder. Sport killing. Hell really likes that kind of thing. You wouldn't be wrong to say I've seen it first hand."

John had seen plenty in Hell that he never would have wanted to experience or see or live through, but he imagined that he hadn't since he'd only gone on to see it after he'd gone on.

Death hadn't been a thing like what he'd expected. John hadn't really believed in the idea of Heaven or Hell for natural men. He thought that Hell was a place one could be taken while living or surrendered up to if he had made the wrong sort of deal. The truth was that he'd figured he would die to simply go on to return to the earth from whence he'd came. The idea of an afterlife was out of his mind until John had found himself being faced with the choice to save his son with his soul or keep going while leaving himself damned to a life lived out with the knowledge that half his family was in Hell without him.

He'd figured he'd be in good company and if nothing else? He'd be going where the action was and John Winchester had never been afraid to take the front line in a fight.

Shifting in his seat, John finished the last of the Jack in his glass before starting to pour himself another, "I'm glad to hear your rebellion paid off. There should be more rebellions that end in favor of the rebels you ask me. Seems that there's few rebellions start up for the wrong reasons and many wars won for them. Me? I got my vengeance. Had to sell my soul and spend a few decades in Hell, but they never broke me and I clawed my way out to see him die. That was enough for me. Seeing him die. My boy, Dean, shot him dead as Hell itself and all I had to do was catch his attention long enough for him to pull the trigger. I've never had a prouder moment in my life and never had a better victory."

He toasted her as he slid the bottle toward her in case she wanted another.

"You know the real question that no one ever asks following any fight? What are you going to do next? The final death was my next step, yet here I am. What about you? You going to be El Presidente now that your war's over? Lead the democracy?"

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pylor
2013-03-24 07:23 am UTC (link)

"Yes, history does always have a way of repeating itself." Paylor agreed with a nod of her head, and she could imagine that Hell would like things like that. They were probably the entire reason why the Games had gotten started. Well, if Paylor believed in such things. It was hard to argue though with the man sitting across from her. She honestly didn't believe one way or another, in Heaven or Hell as in her world? Hell was already on Earth.

There was nothing worse than watching the children fight to the death, to watch people starve to death, and die from that or illness. That to her was Hell. She was sure that this place that John had been in previously was far worse than that in terms what he'd had to endure while there.

At least that was what she'd gathered from what he'd told her about the place.

Dark brows rose at the tidbit of him having to sell his soul in order to get his vengeance. Paylor thought on that for a moment. Would that have been something she'd been willing to do in order to win their war? The short and simple truth of it was yes; she would've given up a part of her self and gone directly to a place of enternal damnation if she believed that it would pay off for the better in the end. There was very little that she wouldn't do to ensure the safety of the people, to give them hope and a better life.

It was why she'd agreed to let Katniss come to District 8. She needed her to see what they were fighting for and why it was so important that they continue. Plus she'd wanted to see what the girl was made of. Katniss hadn't disappointed her needless to say. She tipped her glass towards him though after he spoke, "I'm glad that you had that moment even if it did cost you in the end." Tipping up her glass she finished off the rest of her drink and licked her lips before she sat her glass down on the table.

Letting out a long breath, Paylor nodded. "I don't think any one really thinks about what happens next except for those of us who have enough sense to think ahead." She gave a small tip of her head in his direction and she wasn't sure if him being here was better than where he was going to go. She supposed that peace would be a better state to go than some horrible, haunted hotel that liked to fuck with people but that wasn't something she was going to bring up. "I would've done what I could if I'd been elected." All signs were pointing to her being the next President of Panem though. "The games would've been abolished, freedom restored to the districts and equal trade among the people. I would hope that I could make life better for everyone, the way that it should be."

Reaching forward she picked up the bottle and poured herself two fingers into the glass and shook her head. "I don't know if it would've worked, but the people were tired, they needed something better than what we'd been given. The people who lived in the Capitol were blind to what was going on outside the walls of the city. I guess that's what it's like for you too, dealing with things that most people wouldn't believe in and yet." She put the bottle back down, "They're very much real things that can hurt them."

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