and the train won't stop going, no way to slow down.

[astralling]

Who: Sam Winchester, Prue Halliwell
When: January 21st
Where: somewhere in sector 1
Summary: Prue figures out that Sam is a psychopath now.
Warnings: Language, violence, Sam being literally soulless.



Prue wasn't normally the type to track her man across the city and haul him in to talk to her, but things weren't exactly normal lately. With time ticking on and the trail to Dean's killer getting colder, Sam's absence from the proceedings was becoming more and more conspicuous. Mostly he texted her excuses or told her stories when she called, saying he was busy, he was looking into it on his own, he didn't feel up for talking. She'd almost believe him, but he certainly seemed up for swinging by once in a while to have sex, so she was starting to wonder.

And sure, maybe Sam was dealing with this in his own way. Maybe he really did just have his priorities somewhere else. But this shift came on the heels of another major one in their relationship- and why would he convince her to finally take it to the next level, only to immediately start blowing her off? That paranoia gripped her for awhile, before it occurred to her that he'd been acting weird since before that night.

It wasn't so easy to write off Dean's warning anymore. The one that had shocked the hell out of her and made her worry about Dean's sanity- that Sam was the one who- no. No, that couldn't be true, Prue knew that. She had told Dean as much at the time, and promised to figure out what had obviously screwed with Dean's mind.

When Prue called him last night, it wasn't about the case, or Dean, or anything- she just missed him. She missed him and she was worried about him, and usually when that happened he came before she could even put the phone down. Only this time, he blew her off. There was something offhanded about it, almost callous- a word she'd never associate with Sam before. She'd hung up feeling kicked and talked to Kit about it, since cats don't give unwanted input. The cat hissed every time she said Sam's name.

Maybe that was what prompted her to figure out exactly where the hell he was, and drag him home. Kit usually hissed at people who weren't who they said they were- and yes, this was a coincidence, and yes, it probably didn't mean anything, but it triggered too many bad memories for her to not act on it. It reminded her of the time she thought her boyfriend was a monster, or the time her baby sister dated one. Her baby sisters, and everything she's lost just by being in Siren's Port.

She'd be damned if she would lose him too. Because like it or not, whether he was blowing her off or looking right at her, she couldn't ignore the sense that something was wrong. Maybe he didn't kill Dean. Maybe he did, and she's been made a fucking fool this whole time, worse than any mistake her sisters ever made. Maybe he didn't, but he's been running away from her and blowing her off and using her for sex, and that all by itself was enough to set her teeth on edge.

Maybe there was nothing truly wrong, and she was making a mistake- but she had to know. This was driving her crazy, the prospect of losing someone who has made her whisper love for the second time in her life, though she feared the jump into something deeper. And no wonder, if that jump led them here. (No, she told herself, maybe it's not about me- maybe it's about Dean. She didn't know which possibility was worse.) Either way, things were bad, and her paranoia mounting.

So damn the consequences, she would use magic to find him and fuck anyone or anything that tried to talk to her about what the rules were. Those rules came from home, and she wasn't home.

That bad feeling only got worse when she figured out where he was. Sector One, one of the seedier parts. She pinpointed the address and astral projected right into the building, Darkness be damned, and set out looking for him. Quickly, since she couldn't astral project forever. It took some bluffing and a little flirting (and some internal griping about how much easier this shit is with Piper's ability to freeze the room backing her up) but she got past some security guard through a door. She had no idea what door that was, but if it had a guard it looked important, so she wanted in.

Back there was a hallway and the sounds of- a poker game? Poker? He blew her off to gamble? Somehow, that pissed her off more than anything. She burst in on the game, not giving even a single fuck about how bad an idea it was and strode across the room.

"You," she accused, pointing at him angrily. "Home. Now."

Rather than wait for an answer, she grabbed Sam by the flannel, and used a charm she enchanted just for this purpose to drag him back to the apartment with her when she astral-projected out. Yes, for this purpose. Let nobody ever doubt her obsession attention to detail.

Comments

[astralling]

Although there is a moment of shock at the Hell thing, throughout the whole time Sam talks, Prue's face slowly closes off into a steely mask. Her voice is just as cold.

"You mean me."

[upstairsbrain]

Is there a point in lying?

"Yeah." He debates explaining further, really not concerned with what she thinks of him, but settles with giving her a little more than that. "You won't take it as an excuse; no one does. But, it's not like I've got a choice. I can't feel. I was pulled out of Hell like this. So, you can blame me for what I've done, but not for what I am."

He shrugs, indifferent.

[astralling]

Prue does accept the excuse, though, that's the thing. There's something in his eyes that's gone cold and utterly alien, something so clearly not the man she's in love with that part of her realizes the truth in it instantly.

The rest of her can't comprehend the fucking ridiculousness of what she's hearing. She doesn't want to believe it.

"What you've done?" she repeats unhappily, seizing on that one foreboding detail. He says it so casually that it makes her shiver. "And what exactly have you done?"

She narrows her eyes suspiciously. New Year's Eve. Holy shit, New Years.

"Wait." She steps closer, eyes widening in sudden, very angry realization. "What have you done?"

[upstairsbrain]

She hasn't figured it out. He heaves a sigh, clenching his jaw. They're all so dramatic, these people, and it's exhausting to have to play this game with them. To summon up expressions for emotions that don't exist. But Sam does, leveling his features for now, trying not to look too annoyed with it all.

"Back home, Dean stuffed my soul back in, even though he was warned that it was a stupid idea. That trying to stuff a shredded soul back into its body was suicide."

He doesn't know how that'll end up, but here's hoping he never has to.

"I had to stop him from trying again." With a gun.

[astralling]

What crosses her face isn't exactly surprise or even shock. It snaps past that into outrage, that he could do something so horrible (because she knows instantly what he did, before she even asked), that he had the gall to pose as her boyfriend, that she ever trusted her heart to this bastard.

"You murdered him." It's a heated, furious, but dead-certain statement of fact. Accusations imply some degree of uncertainty, and Prue is too furious for that. Of course she is, after weeks of turning her life upside-down to help their family, torturing herself about her role in not saving him, about leaving Dean in that prison to die. After weeks of him soothing her and listening to her guilt, and-

Another realization follows. That day when she told him (again) how sorry she was, when he latched into her like that and wouldn't let go and for the first time refused to let her retreat from him. When he didn't let her back away, and asked her why, and asked her (again) about that incident on the baseball field and asked her why she was hiding, and finally convinced her to trust him enough to make a final step she had to be sweet-talked into.

That bastard. "You used me. Didn't you?"

That fucking bastard.

[upstairsbrain]

"I told you," he said, more on edge now because he can guess what she'll try to do next. "I had to stop him. He would've taken me out. I've got as much a right to live as his little brother. And there's no point trying to bring that thing back from Hell. It'll ruin us."

He sort of glowers, drawing himself up to full height. Well, a man's got to do what a man's got to do. Her anger might as well have been rain, washing over him with no effect. Sam just watches her like a hawk, tense and ready if she tries anything.

The drama of it all. He clenches and unclenches his jaw.

"Yeah, I did," he says evenly. "Sorry."

Sorry's just a word. A stupid made-up word with no real meaning.

[astralling]

"Lying bastard." She spits the insult quietly but with intense venom. There's still some thin pretension at civility here, under her rising temper and temperature. "Not only did you take advantage of my guilt and let me waste my time trying to repay you for your own crime, but you actually used me- to sleep with me."

It's kind of hilarious, how much angrier she is about that. On some level, Prue's aware of this, how ridiculous it is. That's the thing, though- being lied to by monsters she can take, that's almost a normal Tuesday for her. Betrayals due to magical fiascos are part of her life. But the last time she trusted someone enough to stay with them for this long and share this much of herself was years ago, with the man whose death she's still getting over, and Prue- Prue does not handle betrayal well. Not on a personal level. She took so long to defrost and get serious with him precisely out of terror that some stupid fucking Core thing would happen that would ruin their relationship, and here it is. In the instant of realization, she doesn't just realize what this contemptible shade of Sam did, she realizes that she's been fucked over again, and burned again, as the price for being trusting enough to fall in love.

She waits for his answer for about three seconds, but after realizing that fuck that, sends him flying into the wall with a wave of her hand.

[samocchio]

He thinks briefly back to the time he'd spent in their own world, when women were women and no one needed feelings. Dean'd been disturbed at the change, his complete disassociation of sex and love, but it was incredibly freeing. Something else he didn't want to have to lose about this new life. People got hurt all the time, wrapped up and choked by their own damn emotions. What was the point?

"Yeah, I did," he admits, jaw still tensed, expression unchanged. "I'm not--"

But she sends him flying back, and he goes as she's directed, crashing into the opposite wall. Wincing, definitely on edge now, he gets to his feet, face darkened.

"If you're gonna keep that up, I'm leaving," he says, glaring across the room. "I'm here to talk. And that's it."

[astralling]

"Shut up," she snarls viciously, and slams him into the wall again, hard enough to hurt or crack something if he hits the wrong way, and holds him there with one fist clenched in the air.

"You lied to me," Prue repeats, eyes narrowing. She approaches him, still holding him firmly against the wall not unlike Lilith or any number of other demons, until she's close enough to stare up into his eyes with rage. "You hurt and killed innocent people and you don't feel anything. There isn't a single part of you that's human or redeemable. If you ever hurt someone else again, I'll know about it."

"Don't make me use my magic on you." Prue swallows hard and remembers the last time she stood in front of the man she loved and said those words. Things were murkier then and shrouded in mystery, and it was said with the love and dread of having to watch him die, and yet she thinks she would take that day for this one. Things were simpler then. The last time she made this thread was less serious; this doesn't have the same protective love behind it. This- this is a real threat, and she hurts to make it.

[samocchio]

He doesn't land in quite the wrong way she's likely hoping for, but it's still painful, and he grits his teeth angrily. Well, if it comes to it, he'll fight back. Hell if he's going to let her bash him up like this for no good reason. Or worse, for a moronic one.

"People lie," he snaps back, irritated. "Sorry if you've been living in some fantasy land all this time. People lie."

Sam does, too. Soul or not. He scoffs at her threat, and though he's well pinned to the wall, it doesn't stop the scornful expression from growing across his features.

"Go ahead," Sam says dryly, about ready to empty a round into her chest. "Fair warning? I'm not really a fan of small-time witches who pull their hoodoo on me."

Oh, did he just accidentally refer to you the same way his family's been doing for the past however-long-it's-been? Because Sam-- Normal Sam doesn't view you as a witch, Prue. But the hunter that's against the wall now knows a monster when he sees one. Takes one to know one, right?

[astralling]

Prue's lip curls a little in disgust- it almost looks like hate. Don't think she didn't catch that reference. It burns to hear her talking like John and Dean, but that hurt translates immediately into defensive anger, and it's all that shows.

Her eyes narrow, and he slams against the wall a little. Just enough to wake him up. Try moving a hand to even get to a gun.

"Try the strongest force of good magic of all time," she says irritably. Small-time. Pah. "You really don't want to piss me off. More."

Her tone gets icy. "Don't give me a reason to come after you."

[samocchio]

"Good magic," he scoffs in return, just barely not rolling his eyes. "I can count on one hand how many good witches I've ever run into."

He knows she's powerful, but that doesn't stop him. It doesn't scare him. Goes with the whole gig of not feeling emotion, of not living beyond a base level. So his lip curls in a sneer, and he lifts his chin slightly, teeth bared.

"Go ahead," he says in a light voice, as if he could care less. "Even if you kill me, I'll be back. And we can do this dance all over again."

Eyes glinting, trace amounts of malice present, he adds:

"This is what you're getting out of the deal, Prue. No matter what you do, you have to live with what's happened. Live with me."