asgardeventide | 1 [Video]

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[Sam is sitting in a chair in the library, surrounded by all of the books, and he looks somewhat tired, but in good spirits. For the most part. Save for that whole 'he definitely hasn't slept' thing.]

Hey -- I think this thing's on... anyway, I'm Sam Winchester.

[Ordinarily he'd never give out his full name, seeing as they're on the run from the Leviathan and all that, but he's ascertained the big bads aren't around -- so a little honesty couldn't hurt, especially with what he's about to ask.]

Nice to meet everyone. I was wondering if anyone could give me a couple of answers to some questions -- you don't have to, and it's obviously not obligatory, but I'd appreciate it.

First, how many of you have any kind of supernatural ability that was taken away when you got here? It doesn't matter what it is -- telekinesis, the ability to fly -- if anything changed, I'd like to know. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but knowing what changed is important in knowing how we all got here in the first place.

[And, more importantly, how to get out.]

Second, I was wondering if anyone could tell me where to find some chalk and some spices. Specifically, rosemary, allspice, or nutmeg. Salt would be good, too. I know there's probably a grocery store or something like that around, but any pointers would be great. And, uh --

[Sam pauses before clearing his throat, thumping his pen against the table for a few seconds before continuing.]

Hypothetically speaking, if you had a coat with a lot of blood on it, what would you do to get it out? And I need to know where to find non-blood-stained clothes that'd fit a normal-sized human being. ... hypothetically.

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Everything.

[No, he's serious. He's found books on most every single world -- anthologies of creatures, of languages, dynasties, histories of magic and war and everything in between, in every language imaginable, though he seems to be able to understand it all.]

Except for stuff on this world.

It is surely no coincidence there is nothing on this world.

Definitely not, but it can't be absent. No civilization goes throughout history without keeping a record.

[Sam leans back in his chair, tired.]

It's just not kept here, that's all. I've searched through all the databases, asked all the librarians -- nothing.

It's likely been removed purposefully, to keep us from gaining any knowledge we might be able to use.

Probably.

[He, like Castiel, isn't all that bothered by it. He figured as much. But Sam pauses, and adjusts notes -- pages of them, for having not found anything on this world -- to tug down a massive book.]

But I found some stuff on the Leviathan.

[He lowers his tone automatically.]

What have you discovered?

A lot of historical documentation of their sealing, in the ancient times.

[Sam lets out a long breath.]

Why they're so pissed off -- but nothing on how to permanently kill them. I don't know whether or not there is a way to permanently kill them. They're not like angels or demons, they're...

[Sam shrugs slightly, looking tired.]

Well. You know what they are.

There must be a way.

Either to kill them, or trap them once more.

[Sam's been mostly mum about the future, because Castiel feels enough horrendous guilt as it is without Sam adding to it, but... if there is one thing Sam has learned throughout his life, it's that being useful, and keeping busy, helps. He doesn't know why, or how, but it does.

And so, Sam remains quiet for only a moment or two before talking.]

We've figured out that they can't stand sodium borate. It works almost like salt does for spirits and demons -- it burns them, melts their skin off, and it renders them powerless for a certain amount of time, long enough for us to behead them. That's pretty much the only way we've figured out how to keep them immobile -- spray them with household cleaners and then chop their heads off. You have to keep the heads separate, or else they'll just reattach themselves and they'll keep coming at you. We've taken out a couple by keeping the body and the head apart, but not the ones that matter.

Their, uh --

[And Sam pushes aside a book to grab at some notes. This is what he's been doing all night. Don't judge.]

Their leader's name is Dick Ronson.

[And there's a special kind of hatred that rolls off of Sam's tongue at the name, but he doesn't go into detail.]

He's in the body of an up-and-coming businessman. Owns billions of dollars worth of companies. Self-help guru. All of this other bullshit that doesn't actually matter... but he doesn't really react to the Borax. I don't know if it's because he's too powerful or what -- it's like when you shoot Crowley, with salt? He bitches a little but he doesn't actually stop for very long... so it might be a power thing. Or maybe he's built up some kind of immunity to it... I don't really know for sure. And -- speaking of Crowley, he ran into him, apparently. Their head boss.

[And Sam glances up at Castiel briefly, before looking back down.]

Said he hated the bastards and called his demons off of us so we could go and kill them, so they're not really all that fond of demons, either, I guess. I don't really know what their agenda is except raising hell and pissing people off, but if that's all they want to do, then they're really good at it -- but the last I checked, back home, they were planning something with food. A lot of food. They put this stuff in a sandwich at a restaurant that made people apathetic -- they didn't notice anything around them. It sort of drugged them into a stupor... Dean ate about four of them before we figured it out and he was like that for about four days, I almost ran him over with the van we've been stuck driving around because we had to put the Impala on lockdown because the Leviathan decided to pose as us and go through a bunch of towns killing people, so we're back on the FBI Most Wanted List --

[And then Sam pauses before slumping in his chair slightly, tossing half an apoloetic smile to Castiel after a breath.]

Sorry. Off topic. The point is, Borax melts them, chopping their heads off incapacitates them, and they want to make people stop caring about the world around them. Or... that's what we think.

Did you pick up on anything when they were possessing you?

Possessing me?

[ -- oh.

Sam stares at him for a moment, confused, before a sudden look of recognition appears, and he slumps into his chair slightly, looking tired again.]

They... when you gave back the souls, the Leviathan hung on. I -- ... wasn't there, I got -- stuck.

[By the hallucination. Sam doesn't need to explain further than that. And Sam stops again before he averts his eyes to his notes, his pen hitting the table in a series of 'thumps' before he speaks again.]

Dean said they took over.

Edited 2011-12-11 08:25 (UTC)

The last thing I remember is giving up the souls, and losing consciousness.

This occurs afterward?

Edited 2011-12-11 08:29 (UTC)

I think so.

[He's quiet for a second or two, fiddling with his pen.]

I'd -- you'd have to ask Dean to know for sure. He doesn't... talk about it.

[Because it's Dean. And he never talks about anything closely resembling feelings, not unless forced. And normally, Sam can pry it out of him, and force him to talk to him, but not this time.

He takes a quick breath before continuing.]

I met up with Dean and Bobby when they were following you outside. You -- well, they -- went into a public reservoir and the lake turned black. You didn't come back out.

[His lips twitch into an almost smile, though, despite the story.]

Dean has your coat in the car.

I'm sorry.

I know you are, Cas.

[It's not a dismissal, but a gentle prodding that he doesn't have to keep saying it. And the tiny twitch of a smile becomes a genuine one, more to comfort his friend than anything else.]

He's a lot tougher than he looks. Alright? Trust me. Because when he shows up here, we're going to have to deal with him being in a seriously pissy mood and I don't feel like listening to him bitch and moan, so --

[Sam pushes an empty notebook toward him, almost encouragingly.]

Let's try to figure out good news to give him. Got it?

[Because Dean is going to come here. There is no other option.]

Alright.

[There's a small flash of relief, at the sudden determination, and Sam relaxes slightly into his chair. Nothing in the world made sense anymore, but this small piece of the world did -- and if he could focus on this much, and put his energy into this much, then he could do this. Dean would find them and everything would be alright.

He could stave off insanity long enough for Dean to get here.

He watches Cas flip through the pages a little dazedly, not really focusing on one thing or the other, his eyes slipping out of focus, from sheer exhaustion. He could do that much, right? Try to stave off insanity for just a couple more days -- Dean would surely notice him missing by now, he had been right next to him, over Bobby's bedside --

It isn't the soft click against their teeth, nor the focused hum, but the hand on the table as the Devil leaned over Castiel's shoulder, to read the pages alongside his youngest brother.

Sam immediately straightens, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes widen, staring just over Castiel's shoulder, and before he can actually stop himself, he manages a slightly strangled:]

Cas --

[But then his common sense catches up to him, and his fingers dig into the palm of his hand as the hunter refocuses his attention on the angel. The real one.]

-- pen. Can I see that pen? Mine died.

Are you alright?

[He takes the pen and uncaps it quickly. He doesn't actually need the pen. Nor does he want to stay in the library -- going for a walk to clear his head sounds like a much better option. But he tosses Cas half a smile anyway, before refocusing his attention on the books.

He can go for a walk later. Worrying people isn't going to do anything.]

Yeah, I'm fine.

So -- the Leviathan.

[As Sam tugs a book closer to him, clearing his throat.]

Most lore states that they're ancient sea creatures -- God's first experiments with life that went kind of wrong, way back in the day. Figures, He didn't really get it right until He made you guys.

[And Sam tosses Castiel a grin before he refocuses his attention on the book.]

It makes sense that they transport themselves through water, then, but it doesn't really explain how the Borax has such an effect on them. They bleed black -- maybe it's a purification thing. It kills them on a cellular level, like holy water does to demons.

It isn't chemically the same as salt, but it is similar. That may also be a factor.

Salt has zero effect. Neither does silver.

[Automatically. They weren't screwing around.]

But for some reason the borax does. It literally... melts them down until there's nothing left but bones.

[Sam pauses.]

It's kind of gross, actually.

Sodium borohydrate reacts with water, but borax is sodium borate. They are not the same but there may be a connection there as well.

Edited 2011-12-18 05:03 (UTC)

[ ... Sam considers that for a moment.]

... that could be it.

[It's said slowly, as he thinks to himself.]

Or, at least, partially -- the Leviathan travel through water and seem to be mostly compromised out of it. Something inside the borax could have a chemical reaction with the water they go through, which is why it only weakens them, not completely kills them. It's not like the water completely vanishes, which is what they are at a cellular level -- so I guess it could be almost like an allergic reaction.

[Sam doesn't seem particularly satisfied with the answer, pursing his lips into a thin line, but it's something more than what he had ten minutes ago.]

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