๐ฎ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ฃ๐๐ซ ๐ฎ ๐๐ฉ๐ณ๐๐ฑ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ข (wouldberipper) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-12-14 11:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, dean winchester, stefan salvatore |
Who: Stefan Salvatore and Dean Winchester
When: December 10
Where: Bar
What: Random Encounter
Rating/Warnings: Low/None
Status: Complete
What the actual hell? Stefan Salvatore was turned sideways on his barstool, staring down the bar at the man on the other end. Make that two menโฆ sort of. One of them was particularly tiny, but shaped like an apple sitting on top of a bowling ball. That one was dressed as Santa Claus. The otherโฆ was it really a man? Was shaped more like a giant walking stick insect, only instead of a head he had a skull. His black and white pinstriped suit had a bat for a bow tie. The two men were talking and drinking beers at the far end of the bar.
Stefan could only sit and stare in awe. There was some light Christmas music playing, could barely be heard over the din of the pub. It didnโt really seem odd to any of the other patrons that these stop-motion claymation characters were having a conversation at the far end of the bar. Was Stefan really the only one who found this weird? Was he too sober? He couldnโt possibly be too drunk.
The bartender came by and Stefan ordered another round. This was gonna be a long night.
~*~
"Fucking gremlins," Dean muttered bitterly as he stepped up to the bar beside the guy who'd just flagged for the tender. It helped to get in where the getting was good. He leaned forward on his forearms, sliding his glass helpfully into the waiting hands of the barkeep who winked at him before shuffling off to get him another double shot of Jack. If this shit got worse? Dean was going to have to swap his friendship with Jack out for the night to shake hands with Jim instead.
Looking over at the guy who seemed to also need a drink, Dean tried to assess him quick. He was pale, had a bit of a gruff look to him. There was something old world about the way he held himself. It was easy to see he was a local since that haunted look in his eyes was too familiar to Dean for him to think the guy was someone passing through. A list of things he might be ran through Dean's head before he decided just to ask.
"I'm drinking away the gremlins in the bar because I really, really don't feel like playing zookeeper tonight. I'll do my hunter duties tomorrow. When I'm trying to sober up. What's your excuse? Never seen a gremlin or your species have an aversion to them? You definitely don't have the full human look. It's the eyes. Means you're having one Hell of a time in your Dreams."
~*~
Stefan's attention was distracted from the strange and stranger at the end of the bar to the man beside him. A man with obvious weight on his shoulders. Stefan had seen enough of the gruff guys on deployment, so he knew the type. But this one sure liked to talk. It reminded him of his blonde roommates. The ones who didn't stop talking long enough for him to get a word in edgewise. A little smirk crossed his features. This guy was a hunter, eh? Interesting.
So, Stefan laughed. That was the best way to throw off suspicion, right? He wasn't about to tell everyone in the world what the Dreams had done to him, not like his brother. He didn't broadcast his aversions to the sun or his affinity for drinking blood. He gave a chuckle that was forced but sounded almost real, and turned hopefully human-looking eyes on the man.
"My species? Seriously? You need another drink." He said, and motioned for the bartender to bring them the bottle.
~*~
Why people bothered to try to lie to him was beyond Dean. He rolled his eyes as the bartender returned with his friend Jack, shiny and golden in the tumbler. Dean slammed it back rather than savoring it. Chances were good he'd wind up having to pull out the equipment from his trunk to start taking out fucking gremlins. He didn't have it in him to be slow with the liquor, especially when some had-to-be-local wanted to play games with him.
"Feel free to call Jim up to bat. I'm thinking Jack needs a break considering."
The bartender nodded at Dean, a smile on his face as he brought a fresh tumbler with a bottle of Jim Beam he just set on top of the bar for him.
"Thanks," Dean toasted him after pouring his own shot of Jim.
"No problem, Dean. Just be careful with my bar, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
Dean looked over at the guy next to him. They were relatively alone on their side of the bar. He looked relaxed enough outside of Dean calling him on whatever he was really. Dean couldn't have cared less if he tried.
"Want to shake hands with Jim? He's staying with me for a while because, like you said, I need another drink. I will say I'm not judging. No way I've got room for that with all I've done. Dean Winchester, by the way. I like to at least offer a name to someone I'm drinking with though sometimes? I forget. Manners weren't high on the priority list for me growing up."
Dean had been too busy trying to survive to care about 'please' or 'thank you.'
~*~
Stefan wasn't exactly lying. He was avoiding the truth--which may have been as bad--but he wasn't about to come out with his whole life story to some dude at a bar. Maybe. Depending on how this conversation went, that might change. Stefan didn't get the gonna cut your head off vibe from this guy--at least, not at the moment. He was warming up to the gruff dude who called his bottles Jim and Jack.
When the bartender turned a questioning look to Stefan, he nodded once. Sure, he'd have another, too. His tolerance was quite a bit higher than it'd been only a couple months ago, and the alcohol helped to curb his hunger. He lifted the glass with a gentle 'thanks' and downed it at the same speed as Dean.
"Stefan Salvatore." Stefan replied with his name when Dean introduced himself. "You've got a good eye for weird, even around here in Orange County, I take it?" The man seemed to know who was human and who wasn't from a glance--that wasn't something people learned easily. Stefan didn't even have that skill down yet, and he'd been a vampire since the Civil War.
~*~
"Hell will do that for you. If you don't get enough of an eye for what's not normal growing up as a supernatural hunter, a few decades in Hell helps to further your education. In case that wasn't good enough? I had a long, long while in Purgatory to have fun figuring out the rest."
Dean wasn't interested in all the details for Stefan Salvatore. With a name like that, the guy had to be some kind of old school something. He had ruled out demon based on the smell. Superhuman was a possibility in the OC. Dean had met a few of those. There were also immortals courtesy of some weird shit from their own realms. Who knew what Stefan could attribute his 'I'm-not-human' vibe to really?
Pouring himself a shot and offering the bottle to Stefan, he admitted, "I don't really care as much as I should. My closest friend in Purgatory was a vampire. Without him? I wouldn't have made it out. I let him ride my soul to get out. I don't regret it either. Whatever you are? I don't care. As long as you're drinking with me and not instigating the damn gremlins? We're fine."
~*~
Wow, spending time in purgatory and soul-riding vampires? It sounded like this guy's dreams were about as interesting as his own. Stefan accepted the bottle and poured himself a shot, then set it right side up beside the glass. "...a vampire rode your soul, you say?" He asked, then lifted the glass to clink against Dean's.
"On behalf of vampires everywhere, I thank you for your service." Then Stefan tipped back the shot and downed most of it in one go. A vampire and a hunter making friends was quite an interesting story, he imagined. Then again, he was friends with a witch and a werewolf (kinda) so there was that.
"I've never heard of any Dean Winchester in my Dreams," Stefan said. "You don't know Mystic Falls, do you?" That seemed to be where his dreams centered. Stefan wondered if they'd ever crossed paths and he just didn't remember. Or didn't know about it yet. Damon and Caroline were both way ahead of him in the Dream timeline.
~*~
Shaking his head to the negative, Dean tossed back another shot as if it were water. He didn't pour more into the tumbler. Drunks ran in his family line. There was nothing wrong with his ability to hold his liquor. That didn't mean Dean wanted to destroy his liver for the sake of destroying his liver. He could slow down if he wanted to or speed up. That was the difference between him and a full-blown alcoholic: he still had the illusion of control.
It didn't surprise him the Salvatore guy was a vampire. Dean had already figured something which was old given the name. There wasn't anything wrong with vamps. He'd much rather put his faith in them than in demons or fucking angels. Those bastards would get a guy killed all shades of wrong. Dean rolled his empty glass between worn hands, looking at the bar instead of at his drinking partner.
"Nope. No Mystic Falls. I'm originally from Lawrenceville, Kansas, if you believe in the Dreams. I haven't met you. You seem different from the vamps I knew. Glad to know you're not a leprechaun or something really nasty like a ghoul. I have zero motivation to start crushing skulls or chopping off heads. Not today at least. I'm pretty glad you haven't heard of me. I got enough looking for me without adding more names to the list."
~*~
Hey, at least if Dean lost control, he'd only be hurting himself. If Stefan lost control over his drinking habits? People lost heads. Literally. They didn't call him The Ripper for nothing. Fingers crossed they both maintained at least the illusion of control.
Leprechauns and ghouls didn't really exist in Stefan's Dream world. Dopplegangers and Hybrids... that was another story. Stefan nodded, a little relieved that they were from different Dream worlds (because being locked in a safe and dropped off a cliff was enough for his troubles today without having to worry about more supernatural creatures, thanks). Reaching forward to pour himself another shot, he considered his options. He could open up about his Dreams, which might be nice, or he could offer to sit and listen to this guy about his own Dreams. Actually, either sounded like a viable option.
"So, you're a hunter," Stefan finally said, setting the bottle back down. "What's that mean in your Dreams? Some superhuman strength and agility, a sixth sense about vampires nearby? Or are you just a human with a ton of hunting skills?"
Something itched at the back of Stefan's mind. A feeling that he really should explain his situation to this hunter crept in; he would likely make it clear that he was an animal-only vampire. It might set the other guy's mind at ease.
~*~
Dean gave a derisive snort, "Superhuman strength and agility? No. I don't got that. I got sixth senses which are also called 'good instincts' about all the things that go bump in the night."
How was he supposed to explain his life as a hunter to a vampire from another world? Dean was pretty damn aware of how unimpressive he sounded in comparison to some of those who lived in the OC. There were all types around him. He was just some guy with a love of pie and Magic Fingers beds in bad no-tells. It wasn't a matter of abilities for Dean. It was a matter of experience which he had in spades.
"Where I'm from? Hunters are just humans who know too much. They risk it all to protect the norms who get the lucky draw of not having to know about all the dangers in the world. Me? I was born into it. Raised in it. There wasn't another choice for me. If you want to know do I have any special skills? Sure. I can't be possessed. I happen to be the chosen vessel for Michael, as in the archangel, and I've got more than twenty human lifetimes worth of experience at killing anything that tries to mess with me or mine. That's all I need to keep myself relatively happy. Well. That and a little help from my friends, Jack, Jim, sometimes Jose."
He winked at Stefan before taking the bottle to pour himself another shot of liquid fortification.
"What about you? You the kind of vamp who can't go out in sunlight or is that crap for you? Drink blood, live forever, the whole undead schtick? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I'm just making conversation."
~*~
Hey, there was nothing wrong with having the experience to know when to make a move and when to keep your fool mouth shut. Stefan had the latter in droves, and it seemed that this Dean guy had the former. And being acutely aware of 'all the things that go bump in the night' was a pretty impressive skill, too. In Stefan's world it was hard--sometimes impossible--to tell the difference between supernatural folk and normals.
There weren't Angels in Stefan's Dream world. He knew a little about Christian Angel lore, but no more than your average guy. Michael was a familiar angel name.
The wink brought forth a smirk to Stefan's lips, and he nodded before sipping from his tumbler again. It wasn't impossible for him to get drunk, it was just difficult. Took a lot of liquor for something like that.
Swallowing, a frown crossed his brow. "Oh, well. The Sunlight definitely isn't my friend, but we have magic to help take care of that. And blood is a necessity: I live off of animals instead of people. People blood makes me a little crazy." He set the tumbler back down again on the coaster on the bar. "My heart beats, and I breathe. I can eat and drink human food, though I don't need to. I haven't died yet, and I've met Vampires who claim to be a thousand years old, so I assume I could keep going indefinitely."
~*~
Benny weighed heavily on Dean's mind. He'd been a good friend. The best Dean could have asked for under the circumstances in Purgatory. It was painful to think about what happened in that terrible place to both of them only to know what was coming for Benny in the end. Dean hoped his friend found peace in that place between Earth and Hell. Purgatory could have happiness.
Couldn't it?
"Sounds reasonable. My friend was---very old. I've met very, very old vamps. Time is a thing which has its benefits. It works different in Purgatory as much as in Hell. There's no way to track it the way you can with a calendar and a watch. I'm a long way from the number of years listed on my birth certificate. I'm probably older than you at this stage. I am definitely a little crazy."
Animal blood tasted like garbage to vamps from what Dean knew. He grimaced before tossing back another shot of Jim Beam. They were going to be drinking for a while as far as Dean was concerned. It was either drink and ignore the gremlins or fight the annoying bastards, ruining his night. Dean was one-hundred-percent certain he was going to enjoy as much of his night as he could.
Pouring them both another shot, Dean toasted, "To new friendships, new introductions to old ideas, and ignoring the problems around us for as long as we can. Happy Holidays."