#schizodeadpool

“H-how long have you been standing there?”

Sam was half awake as he asked this question, pulling the blanketsaway from his shoulders and sitting up a little. His hand fumbled forthe gun by the bedside– he kept it there just in case, but he hadn’tfigured on the Winter Soldier coming to him instead of the other wayaround. Looked like his missing persons case just got solved a loteasier than he was expecting it to.

The Winter Soldier didn’t say anything. He just stood there, in thedark, right next to the window so that the curtain softened theartificial light coming from outside as it drifted across his face.Sam stopped reaching for the gun when he caught sight of hisexpression– it wasn’t the same as the face he’d seen attacking them,it looked more wary, less aggressive. This was not a man who had cometo murder him in his sleep. So what did he want?

Bucky had chosen to do this. That was his name, and he was stillgetting used to it, and sometimes he was the Winter Soldier again,but right now he was Bucky. Bucky could do whatever he wanted to do,and right now, he had wanted to see Sam. Standing in people’s housesin the darkness was a habit he was used to- what he wasn’t used towas choosing to do it. Being in a person’s house at night had alwaysbeen something he was compelled to do, that he had been ordered todo. Right now he was standing in Sam’s bedroom because he wanted to.

But Bucky wanting to be here was not the same as Sam wanting him tobe here.

Sam watched in astonishment as Bucky tensed suddenly and leaped outthe window– hurried to the frame and ducked his head out to watchthe rapidly vanishing figure under the streetlights.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered to himself as he pulled hissweatpants on and took off after Bucky, racing through the humid,cool air. He’d found him now, and he wasn’t going to just let him runoff again. Not after he’d actually sought him out. As Bucky realizedSam was chasing him he started to slow down, then halted, just in theshade of a tall building where he could turn and watch himapproaching.

They looked at each other for a few long moments. They talked, andtalked, and in the end, Bucky took up on Sam’s couch to sleep therest of the night. They would find the rest of him later. They hadtime.

“Could you be happy here with me?” 

Probably not, Dean thinks, right away, thinking of Sam andhow Sam is probably not going to stop looking for him until he findshim. And anyway Crowley’s been getting antsy for a while now. Doesn’tlike the bar, doesn’t like the karaoke, doesn’t like the girls Deanis constantly bringing back to the hotel room. He hasn’t so much astouched him, and Dean’s been paying close attention. Crowley must bepretty drunk if he’s actually bringing this up.

He can see the haze in his eyes, and Dean knows his own eyes havethe same drunken look in them. Dean turns to look at a young womanwith red hair– when he looks back, Crowley is standing up. Deanleans back, and takes another swig of his beer. “Hey, what gives?”

“I’m going back to the room. You can come or not, I don’t care.”He puts some money down on the bar to pay the tab and storms up thestairs in the back, away from him. Dean sits there maybe anothertwenty minutes trying to flirt with the girl but his mind keeps goingupstairs. Finally, with a sigh, he chugs the rest of his bottle andstarts up the stairs.

Inside the room, Crowley is watching another special on World WarII. Dean’s starting to really get to know his World of War videos. Helooks away from the black and white footage of pigs eating warcorpses in France to Crowley’s face, wondering what Crowley was doingat the time that’s gotten him into such a fascination with it. Itdoesn’t matter right now, though.