catch-all Prue & Sam log~

[astralling]

Who: Prue and Sam, also Dean and possibly Cas in places.
When: various, mostly backdated
Where: various!!
Summary: fixing Sam's brain and breaking it again. 8| also shippy stuff.
Warnings: uhh... Winchesters?

[This log deals with all the business between Prue and Sam that certain muns have been too scattered and spacy to attend to up to now.

Dates and cast lists in the top-level comments.]

Comments

[upstairsbrain]

[ For Sam, it'd been more than weeks. In Siren's Pull time, it had been two months. From home? Over a year. Just hearing her voice over the NV was enough to send his stomach into nervous spirals, flings of guilt and regret and love and terror that she'd have been hurt in his absence. And oh, had she been hurt. But he'd resolve to fix it, to never forget her again. To stay with her. And this might be a way to do it.

Despite the warnings to the contrary and the doubts of the others, he knew he had to try this. Messing with memory might be dangerous, but it could also yield... well, information. Results. And that's what counted.

So he told himself, pacing, as he waited for her to arrive. When she finally does knock on the door of his apartment, he freezes, heart pounding. And then answers the door. The second his eyes find hers, his expression melts down to this raw emotion, something very strong and barely restrained. ]

... Hey. Prue.

[ And, oh, does he want to pull her in, to make sure she's real. But he won't, not if he's trying to give her space. ]

[astralling]

[Prue considers herself a strong person. Her entire life has been defined by quiet, uncomplaining strength and sacrifice. Her ability to stay outwardly impassive in the face of whatever life throws at her is one of her treasured traits. And yet, when she lays eyes on him and sees that melting of raw emotion, it's hard. It hurts to look at, because oh, she can tell immediately that this isn't that hollow creature with no warmth or light anymore, no- this is Sam.

She remembers what she wanted to tell him, and tightens her hand on her bag.]

Sam. Hi.

[upstairsbrain]

[ He swallows, hard. And shifts where he stands. ]

Uh-- Come in. [ Moving aside, he tries really hard not to just-- stare at her, because it's been so long, and memories of them just wash over him one after another the longer she spends with him. But he still refrains, hands tightened into nervous fists at his sides. ]

Thanks for coming.

[astralling]

[She comes in pressing her bag tightly to her side, shoulders almost hunched defensively against the uncomfortable feelings swarming her. God, it's hard to not turn her head and look at him, but she manages it.]

Of course. [It's a feat, having this conversation without eye contact.] I'm happy to help.

[She puts the bag on the coffee table and stands there, hands clasped, looking around.]

So, let's get started.

[If it seems like she's rushing the fuck out of this without leaving five seconds for polite conversation or breathing or taking off her jacket, it's because she totally is.]

[upstairsbrain]

[ They're both doing that-- trying to avoid meeting each other's gazes while simultaneously sneaking glances and struggling with it all the while. Sam licks his lips, nodding slowly, turning his head to actually look at her. ]

Okay. [ ... Though, he's not sure what to do. ] Should I... sit, or...?

[ Dammit. ]