Sam Winchester (not_amoosed) wrote in incompletedata, @ 2017-10-26 18:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | hansel & gretel: gretel, supernatural: sam winchester |
Who: Sam and Gretel
What: Discuss magic, addiction and maybe perform a little spell
When: Backdated to before Tahanis garden party
Where: Library first then Gretels lair room in Delta
Warnings: mild angst because it's Sam, mentions of past addiction, possible language.
Status: incomplete (continued in comments)
Sam had been trying not to monopolise too much of Gretel's time. She was kept pretty busy working on her spells, plus she needed some time with her brother now and again - Sam understood that more than most.
He’d helped out with spell ingredients where he could and when he found himself at a loose end he'd take himself off to the library - whether it was for research or just reading it was preferable to keep his mind occupied than allow it to wander and possibly end up thinking about things he didn't want to be thinking about.
That was where he was now, leafing through a tattered copy of ‘Paradise Lost’, not really reading it but at least focussing on it enough not to notice anyone else enter the library.
“Must be really interesting.”
Gretel hadn’t meant to sneak up on anyone, but having entered the library through a door at his back, combined with a typically soft gait and no one else around, she could understand why the average person might not have noticed her standing right behind them- but Sam was about as average as she was.
Wearing the shell-pink dress she’d given up complaining about, belted by the sword hilt she’d acquired a month ago, which also now sheathed her fighting daggers and a sewn leather pouch that rested at the small of her back, she rounded Sam’s shoulder, intent for the chair beside him. Before sitting, she set down the items carried in her hands; her mother’s book, and two cardboard to-go cups full of coffee.
Sam's guard wasn't exactly up at the moment, his mind was too occupied with not thinking about the games to be up to his usual standard of awareness. On a normal day he'd have heard her approach, soft gait or not. On a good day he'd have sensed it.
He smiled softly at her comment before looking up from the book, closing the pages as he did. “It is. But I've read it before.”
He still couldn't get used to her in pink. The weapons made it a little more her but it still just seemed so far removed from anything she would wear, even having never known her in clothes of her choosing. Sam raised his eyebrows hopefully at the coffee. “Taking a break?” He asked, though he was fairly sure the presence of her mother's book meant that that probably wasn't the case, or at least if it was it probably wouldn't be for very long. He couldn't blame her though, it was a good thing she was trying to do.
“Actually..” she sighed a little as she settled in the chair, and pushed her braid back over her shoulder where it had fallen for the effort. “I’m almost finished.”
Finished wasn’t exactly the word for it; almost may not have been the best choice either, but for the situation it still applied. The difficult ingredients she’d set out to collect in this place- without going to the ‘scientists’ for help, because she would never see them as anything but the all-powerful captors that kept them all here like animals in a collection, were all readied and waiting. All but one.
And, of course, a volunteer.
“You said you had the holy water?” she asked, glancing up at Sam briefly before carefully opening the Grimoire to the page she had been studying for a lot longer than just her time in the institute.
The corner of Sam's mouth twitched up into a half smile. He reached into the pocket of his black workout pants and pulled out a silver hip flask, a crude ‘S.W.’
scratched on one side. He placed it on the table in front of Gretel. “That's all I have with me, but like I said, I can make more if we can get hold of a rosary.”
He glanced across at the page as she opened the book to the spell. Some of it made sense to him after a lifetime of researching similar things, but he suspected the majority of it only made sense to her. That was one of the things he found most fascinating about the book.
“So, you've got everything else?” He said, sounding a little impressed she'd gotten everything on her fairly obscure list so quickly. “What's the next step?”
Gretel smiled back at him with gratitude, gingerly taking the flask from the table to gauge how much he had left. She noticed his initials scratched into the surface, examining them idly for a second or two. It made the thing more familiar, somehow. Her gut said that was a good thing, for her purposes.
“The ritual itself,” she said, setting the flask back down. “Everything combined in the right order, along with my blood and the incantation- then a tonic is made, and drank.”
Sam listened with quiet fascination until she outlined the steps of the ritual. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head to one side in an expression of confusion. She couldn't just have said what he thought he'd heard. “I….uh, what? You did just say ‘your blood’ didn't you?” He asked, though he wasn't really looking for clarification. Confusion gave way to disbelief. “You never mentioned that before.”
Gretel looked at him, momentarily confused. His curiosity felt shifted somehow.
“It’s a powerful spell,” she explained, even turning the book so he could better see it; much of the writing was in the magical language used by witches- a bastardized fusion of Aramaic and Latin. “The white witch performing it is the source of its magic- not the conduit.” She didn’t think she had to mention it- it was simply a given. She’d already told him about how her body- or parts of it- provided the key ingredient to the most powerful of dark spells she’d ever come across.
“No, I get that, powerful spells need powerful elements. I just…..I guess I always associated blood magic with….well...dark magic.” It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole reason that this revelation seemed to be freaking him out more than it should.
If he'd taken a better look at the book when she turned it he would've had a good enough understanding of both ancient languages to be able to see vaguely that what she was telling him was true. But he didn't, didn’t want to honestly. It didn't matter that it was true. Sam glanced at his hands resting on the table. “I'm not sure how I feel about this.”
She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, which seemed to drag on for minutes- only watched his face, searching for something to explain the weird sudden turn.
“Are you saying you think this...” she gestured over the book, vaguely. “-what I’m doing… is dark magic?”
“What? No, that's not what I meant. I just...I didn't realise...I mean….” Sam sighed, trying to stop the threads of a meaningful point from unravelling. “blood magic is powerful stuff, like you said, and you're going to ask people to drink a tonic made from it? Have you done this before? Do you know what kind of effect it's going to have on the people that drink it? It's just….it's not something people should mess around with.”
Sam's heart was pounding, he could hear the pulse in his ears, feel it rattle against his chest. He didn't want to argue with her, to make light of what she was trying to do for everyone, but the mention of blood had triggered something in him that he hadn't anticipated.
“Mess ..around with-?” Sometimes Gretel needed clarification on the slang people now around her used, when she couldn’t gather the meaning through context. By her tone, this was not the case. She knew what the words meant, even if she didn’t understand where they were coming from. Unfortunately for Sam, that meant he would be getting an argument whether he wanted one or not.
“Gun powder is also powerful stuff that people shouldn’t mess around with- but I’ve also been around that my whole life,” she continued, keeping her tone level, but she didn’t hide the little edge it contained- not quite offended, but confused as to why he was suddenly questioning her when he’d done nothing but trust her since the beginning. “-this is not something I have ever taken lightly. And why do you suddenly look like I’m about to punch you in the face?”
It could've been because she was more than capable of punching him in the face, and would probably be well within her rights to do it too. But it wasn't. It was the realisation of what was really bothering him about this. It hadn't occurred to him right away but that little outburst about effects and messing around made it pretty clear - it was projection and not how he felt about Gretel at all, or her spell.
He wasn't being fair to her, reacting this way when it was clear to him now it was his own issue. But he couldn't very well explain that to her without explaining everything and he wasn't sure if he was ready for her to see that side of him.
“I need some air.” He said lamely and without waiting for any kind of answer from her he started walking. Before he knew what was happening he was leaning against the wall outside, thinking about what an idiot he was.
The edge of confusion hadn’t softened in Gretel’s eyes as she watched him push up from the table and walk out without looking back; she wasn’t always a talker, but she was rarely left speechless; the silence that was left in his wake felt chaotic and so sudden- almost like a suckerpunch itself.
In the minutes that followed, she was left wondering what had just happened; she didn’t think she’d said anything wrong, but the whole exchange left her feeling tense and defensive- until she forced herself to think about it. What would make a seasoned hunter like Sam- who she’d watched keep his head while in the middle of a literal bloodbath- suddenly jerk back from a conversation like he’d been burned?
He’d been outside for no more than five minutes before her shadow crossed his; her eyes still searched his face, but they weren’t so guarded.
“...you want to tell me what’s really wrong?” she asked, gently- compared to the last few sentences they exchanged. “Or should I go.”
Sam wasn't really aware of how long he was out there. He was trying to will his thoughts about this into some kind of cohesive statement that might make sense to another person. But this wasn't just another person, this was Gretel.
He owed her more than running out on her in the middle of an argument that they shouldn't even be having. But before he mustered the strength to go back in she was in front of him - calmer and with an air of patience and a willingness to try to understand. Both things Sam had come to associate with her and both things he didn't feel he deserved right now, grateful as he was.
Sam made eye contact with her for the first time since she'd mentioned the blood. With genuine remorse in his eyes he shook his head. “You don't have to go. I'll tell you.” He reached for her hand. “Just not here.”
The shift in his demeanor was as stark and noticeable as it had been back in the library, confirming her suspicion; something deeper than the conversation she thought they were having had struck him hard.
They ended up back in her pink fever-dream of a room in Delta, though little by little, Gretel had been adding small things that made the space a little more tolerable. She closed the door behind them, and set the grimoire down on the table by the unmade bed.
He didn't say anything on the way over there, or for a few moments after they arrived. He didn't want to keep her waiting but he had no idea how to start with something like this. All she'd have to do was look at him to know something definitely wasn't right with him, a fact she obviously knew already, but his face had grown more ashen the closer they'd gotten to her room.
“I'm sorry.” He blurted out finally. “I shouldn't have lashed out like that. This is...it's not about you or anything you've done. I care about you too much to let you think that.” Sam wanted her to know that before he said anything more, because he wouldn't blame her if she never wanted to see him again after she heard what he was about to say.
He'd paced the room a bit as he always did when his mind was racing, now he'd sat down on the edge of her bed, his hands clasped in front of him and his elbows resting on his knees. It could've almost been mistaken for a prayer.
“I don't really know where to start.”
Gretel settled next to him almost as soon as he’d dropped to the mattress, but she didn’t crowd him. She stayed close enough to gently on his lower back. He’d called what happened earlier ‘lashing out’- she didn’t particularly think that qualified, usually Hansel’s ‘lashing out’ included something exploding- but she didn’t go into that.
“Sam… whatever this is, bad or fucking horrible-” Gretel began after a long breath. “-it’s obviously important. If you think I need to know, just… say it.” She’d processed a whole hell of a lot in a short time before, and that didn’t include the Institute. Torturing himself by dragging it out served no point.
Sam gave a small nod at her words and after a very deep breath that felt like it stretched out for hours he started to speak again. “For context, I'd just watched a hell hound tear my brother to pieces and drag him to hell - it doesn't excuse what I did next but it was a pretty big motivating factor.” He said before swallowing hard and continuing.
“After Dean….when he went to Hell I was a mess. I tried everything I knew to get him back. Spells, rituals, I even tried to make a demon deal for his soul but no one would trade with me. It was the lowest I'd ever been and the most powerless I'd ever felt. A demon, named Ruby, found me and offered me a way to overpower the demon that killed Dean. Maybe that wouldn't bring him back but turns out revenge is a pretty motivating factor too.”
Sam paused briefly, trying to find a way to get the next words out. “She encouraged me to develop powers, that I had always had but never really used so had little control over….develop them by….drinking her blood.” He stared resolutely at his hands, not wanting to see the effect these words were having on Gretel.
“Demon blood is….was...filled with power, like drinking liquid electricity. It was like a drug. To me it was a drug and before I knew what was happening I was addicted. It took the better part of a year before I got clean again, but not before I betrayed my brother and used my powers to do something terrible.”
Gretel watched Sam’s profile as he went through what she gathered wasn’t the entire story, but it was enough to make the point. It was a lot of information, but he didn’t beat around any of it; everything was painted in a very clear, horrible picture. Now she understood- the way he’d acted in the library wasn’t just understandable, she was a little surprised it’d been so …restrained.
She didn’t say anything at first, but after a few thick heartbeats, her hand on his back slowly moved back and forth a few times, then twisted lightly into the material of his shirt, like an anchor- she did it without thought.
The ‘something terrible’ was weighing on her mind, wondering the limits of just how terrible it could be; considering they were talking about the work of demons, she wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to know.
“What did you do?” she finally asked, but her tone was gentle, however appropriately grim. She wasn’t judging him, but stifling the fear that whatever he said could change the way she thought about him was proving difficult- still, it had to be done. She couldn’t ignore it forever.
Sam had known it was coming before she'd asked it, but that didn't stop his stomach from tying itself in knots. He wished she hadn't, but he wouldn't keep anything from her and he wouldn't lie. He sighed heavily, a pained expression on his face. “I let myself be tricked into letting the Devil out of Hell. I thought….I was told that killing the demon that had killed Dean would end the apocalypse, but it turned out to be the thing that started it.”
Since he was so intensely locked in a staring contest with his hands, Sam didn’t notice the minutely tiny flash of something akin to relief in Gretel’s eyes. It had no place there, given the situation- obviously, in the scheme of things, kick-starting the end of the world by accident was one of the worst things anybody could ever do.
But not the worst. That would’ve been doing it intentionally; maybe it was splitting hairs, and she knew just because of the kind of person Sam was, he’d buried himself in unrelenting guilt ever since… but it was her gut reaction, and she always trusted her gut.
“Sam…” she murmured his name, threading her arm around his and giving it a squeeze- a reminder that she was, in fact, still right there. “I’m not going to tell you it’s alright- or that you shouldn’t worry about any of that anymore. But I will say this…”
Before she went on, Gretel leaned a little closer, her cheek pressed lightly on the round of his shoulder. There, she breathed out a sigh she hoped was centering for them both.
“I’m glad you told me- and… I promise, I’m not a demon. ...you can test me all you want.” The last part, she added with a little body nudge and just a hint of suggestion, to help lighten the mood.
Sam tensed ever so slightly at the contact of her hand around his arm, not because he didn't want it but because he hadn't expected it. He hadn't ever expected to feel that touch again after what he'd just told her. The relief that followed it swept through him like a wave.
He looked up from his hands then and kissed her head where she lay it against his shoulder. “I know you're not.” He said quietly. “I tested your coffee that first time I took you for some.” The ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips.
He sighed again. He did feel better for having told her, and he knew the situations were polar opposite but it was just difficult to reconcile the idea in his head. “It's just a knee jerk reaction. The combination of blood and power. It's been too much for me before….”
She smirked at his confession about dosing her coffee, but there was no heat behind the expression; there never had been, not even when she was still recovering from this so-called ‘knee-jerk’ reaction. When the moment passed, her face softened, and the hand she had through his arm found its way to his palm, entwining their fingers.
“If you don’t think this would help you, don’t worry about it- I’m not going to push it on you. Or anyone.” She hadn’t missed the way he tensed when she first touched him, though that initial hardness had since rounded off.
“Just know that the power in my blood can never be used to harm. That’s how it works.”
Sam was fully aware that this probably would help him and he knew he'd feel much better about other people doing it if he knew first hand that it worked. He still felt a little uneasy about the whole thing but he trusted Gretel, and he trusted her magic. He kind of felt like saying no and giving in to his anxiety would be disrespecting that trust. He just had to keep telling himself that it wasn't the same.
“I think I….talk me through it.” Maybe if he could focus on the practicalities he wouldn't think so much about what had happened before.