thecapitol | There'll be peace when you are done [OPEN]

WHO: Sam Winchester and OPEN
WHAT: Sam's been killed. Now he's alive. He's not really happy about either.
WHEN: Anytime after his death in Week 4
WHERE: District 4 Apartments, Training Center Common Area, and as he explores, the vicinity
WARNINGS: None yet

The last thing he remembered was being dead. Okay, that didn't narrow things down much, because this wasn't the first time Sam had woken up when he shouldn't have. He'd had an inkling this would be the case, here, given their technology and even more advanced sadism. But he hadn't really been thinking about it, in his final moments. He'd been trying to protect De. Why? He wasn't sure, except it had seemed the thing to do.

And anyway, he'd gotten out of the Arena without killing anyone. Wasn't that a sort of victory?

///

Sam wandered around the training center, poking into any corner he could find, looking for any information that would lead him out. It was fruitless, he already knew this, and his search was, at times, perfunctory. Habit. Because he had to be doing something, but sometimes, that something resembled the shuffling of an automaton. Everything he knew was gone. And he alternated between manic rage and dogged acceptance. Both were exhausting, even if his body no longer felt the effects of starvation.

///

It was inevitable that he'd start to explore. When he wasn't stopped, he ventured further. And it occurred to him that their captors were supremely confident that they would be unable to escape. It was also likely, he thought, that he was being watched constantly--which was why he'd yet to use the communication device. But he could not be deterred from action, even if it was just staying in motion, looking for those he'd met before, inquiring into the deaths of those he'd been briefly comrades with.

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Gabriel had been busy completely ignoring that the entire arena happened at all. It was a full time job. Distractions didn't just climb up on you in this place, you know. You had to get out and get moving first. Of course, whenever someone mentioned anything about the third floor, he proudly spoke about it only so far as to convince any other parties that he totally meant to do that. And enjoyed it.

It was a very confusing time for him, to be honest, but he wasn't going to say that out loud.

It was nearly noon now - early morning for him - when he crossed the common area with the intention of grabbing some fancy, expensive coffee and maybe a girl or three. He was humming to himself and momentarily glanced back when he reached the entrance. He considered doubling back to the bar before leaving, but the thought left his mind as his eyes fell on someone who hadn't noticed him yet. For a minute, he thought it was another wax figure like Dean, but this one was moving and looking very real.

"Sam?"

... Drawing attention to himself was probably a bad thing to do, but excuse his slow, mostly-human mind. This is an actual familiar face, for God's sake. Yet, it was slowly occurring to him that this might not go well...

It wasn't unusual for someone to recognize him, though Sam still wasn't used to it and hoped he never would be. What was unusual was for him to recognize the voice back, and he turned, blood already rising in a way he hadn't felt in... well, pretty much since he'd last dealt with any of Gabriel's brothers or sisters.

"You!" he shouted, charging across the room towards Gabriel. "Get us out of here now!"

Oh. Sam was running to him and not in a very loving sort of way.

"Oh, shit." The archangel cursed beneath his breath and ran straight out of the front entrance, willing to plow down anyone in his path. For now, his mind was thinking of obstacles to slow the younger Winchester and an escape route, rather than the fact that he would have to return to that building eventually.

Unfortunately for Gabrial, Sam had determination and long legs on his side. Fortunately, Sam was not generally of the auto-homicidal bent.

"You're running? Seriously?" he asked, obtusely considering he was striding after the angel. "Since when won't you talk way too much?"

Well, he was trying to run. Right now, he was just weaving in between people and hoping to gain a little bit of distance.

"Since you got that Let's Kill Gabriel look on your face!" he yelled back... He wasn't going to get anywhere at this rate. Sam was going to catch up and it was going to suck.

"This is the look I always have when I'm looking at you!" Sam called after him, feeling like he was in third grade or something. He started running in earnest now, held up by having to dodge around smaller people but determined just the same. "And I'm not going to kill you. I just want answers!"

"Yes, you are!" he screamed back. He didn't have answers. And what was a Winchester to do with an angel who had killed his brother over a hundred times, happened to be powerless, and didn't have answers? This was about self-preservation, man.

That is, until Gabriel ran himself into a wall. He turned quickly to find a good exit path. He was shorter and faster than Sam, so there was that. Only, time wasn't really on his side.

The only exit, at this point, was between Sam's arms. Which were currently pressed to either side of Gabriel's head, palms to the wall. Which meant that while there was some leeway considering how tall he was, Sam wasn't about to let Gabriel slip through.

"When have I ever killed you in the past?" Sam insisted. Their faces really were too close for anyone's comfort. "Um. Permanently, anyway?"

He let out a little yelp once he was officially cornered. Gabriel then tried in vain to melt into the wall.

"I think the fact that you've tried a few times counts, big shot," he said, still not missing a beat.

"Excuse me. Did you lose something?"

Carlos, resplendent in a warm flannel shirt and a white lab coat, handsome but nerd-voiced, had just come in from exploring the outside. Sam's erratic behavior had attracted Carlos's attention: opening closet doors, peering behind potted plants, and inspecting furniture were not exactly normal behaviors.

Sam straightened suddenly, banging his head on the cupboard above and wincing. "Yes," he said, after a moment. "The way home. Have you seen it?"

"No," Carlos admitted. "But I don't think you'll find a vortex leading to your own dimension has opened in a cabinet. That kind of thing doesn't happen around here." He paused, noting that painful-looking bump, and added, "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Sam waved away the man's concern. "I'm not looking for a vortex," he said. "I'm looking for... well... anything."

Okay, it sounded lame when he actually said it.

"Where I'm from, you can really find anything. Hex bags, sigils... anything might mean something. I'm just..." He sighed, frustrated. Not with the perfectly-coifed man, but with his current state. "I'm just looking for some answers."

Well, color Carlos interested. "I think I know what you mean," he said, being a protagonist himself in a world full of bizarre items with arcane properties. "Unfortunately, it looks like this place has nothing like that. No psychic spires, no bloodstone circles, no bleeding doors or malevolent spirits -- everything I have observed points to one conclusion. Aside from its advanced technology, Panem is completely ordinary."

There was a note of disappointment in Carlos's voice, one he barely noticed.

It was Chaud's first time exploring the training center, and he was similarly curious about his new surroundings...although maybe not to this stranger's extent. In fact, his behavior caught the teen's eye and before he knew it, he found himself wandering over to the older man despite himself. It probably wasn't his business, but...maybe there was something wrong that Chaud needed to be aware of?

"Looking for something?" he asked in any case, with a half-suspicious, half-confused expression on his face. No harm in asking, right? Not like he was still in a situation where this stranger might possibly want to kill him...(like Chaud was so ready to go through that again. Except not.)

Sam turned to him, sighing. He was tired of being asked that, though really, he ought to have been thinking about why everyone thought it so odd. "Anything," he said, grimacing. "Just... I'm not really interested in staying here the rest of my life."

Even if everyone else seemed resigned to it.

"Does anyone really want to stay here that long?" That came out a little bluntly, but Chaud's facial expression was now more curious than anything. He couldn't fault the man for a motivation that he shared, after all.

"...What's your name?" the teen asked next, wanting to better remember someone with a similar mindset about this place. Proper manners dictated that Chaud should've offered his own name first, but oh well. Manners didn't really matter so much in a place and situation like this, did they?

There'll be peace when you are done [OPEN]

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