† SEVEN [video]

[upstairsbrain]

[ There's a lot going on in the Port right now, but a one Sam Winchester doesn't care. He's only been missing for two days, but he looks as if he's been gone for months. The changes are slight, in his physical appearance. His demeanor, though... is another story. And when he goes to send out a message to his brother, he's not quite put together enough to manage the secure connection. ]

[fail!private to Dean:]

Your NV's still connected, so you've gotta still be here. Right?

[ "It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I've got him." ]

I went home, for... a while. Now I'm back.

[ There's an understated "Can you come and get me?" ]

Comments

[momchester]

About three days. [She tightens her grip on his elbow. The first window they come near, she teleports them the fuck through it and they come out in her kitchen.] Here, sit down.

[Something catches her eye] Oh honey, you're bleeding, come here, give me your hand.

[She pushes him into a chair and takes his hand in concern.]

[upstairsbrain]

[ "It's not my blood," he thinks bitterly, but doesn't say. If she doesn't notice, then it's for the better. He nods wearily at the information about his departure, hardly able to believe that it's only been three days. It was just like when Prue had left, and then come back after a long of time had passed in her world. ]

I'm fine, really. [ He squeezes her hand, but then tries to gingerly pull it away. ] I'm not hurt.

[momchester]

[She wipes the blood off his knuckle with her thumb, frowning in confusion.]

No... you're not. [A concerned look up.] Whose blood is this? [Her other hand reaches up and tucks some hair behind his ears.] Sweetie, what happened?

[upstairsbrain]

It's-- [ "Mine," he goes to say, but. As experienced he is at lying, he can't bring himself to lie now. Not to her. His chest tightens uncomfortably, and he looks away, before the truth spills out. ]

... It's Dean's. [ He says, quietly. ] From back home.

[momchester]

[Her brows knit unhappily, expression pulled tight with concern. She squeezes his hand and brushes back his hair again, gently.]

What happened? I promise, you can tell me.

[upstairsbrain]

I can't. [ He says it quickly, firmly, looking away. He clenches his fists over his knees, taking slow breaths. ] It's-- It's over, now. No one has to worry about it.

[momchester]

[Her hand squeezes his tighter, her frown deepening.]

Sam. [Seriously.] Tell me. Things in our world don't always stay there. What happened? When are you from?

[upstairsbrain]

[ Dodging: ] What do you know?

[momchester]

Enough to be worried. Sam, what year is it for you? What month?

[upstairsbrain]

May. [ Pause. ] 2010.