Quae differentia facit diem | Sam and Jesse
For someone who'd seen both Heaven and Hell, up close and personal, Sam still appreciated 'the little things'. The things that were taken for granted and not even noticed until they were gone.
Stupid things that would be considered unimportant and insignificant, like the way the early morning sun was blazing through single pane glass. Like the way he could feel the ambient heat it brought, warming his shoulder through the flannel shirt he wore. Like the way it picked out the tiniest of dust motes in the air, dancing there on unseen eddies and currents, glinting like diamond dust, like the most minute galaxies - each with a billion stars.....
--{ Best not think about the stars right now, too many connotations, too many questions, not enough answers. }
So Sam dragged himself of of his reverie and looked down at the plate of food that had just been set in front of him; a small smile to the waitress and a quiet 'thanks'-
- the hunters appetite back with a force now. He was eating, sleeping,
f u n c t i o n i n g -
more or less like a 'normal' person should. Like he used to - or like he remembered he used to anyway.
With three layers of memories overlaid in one mind, it was still difficult sometimes, picking out the truth from the criss-crossing of images and sounds and words and emotions... Just focus on the damn pancakes.
It was still a little weird. After all this time, sitting in diners and eating alone, without the constant droning backdrop of a second presence. No comments about the special of the day, no pig-in-a-poke, no embarrassingly cheesy flirting with the waitress... No Dean.
Though, if anything, that helped Sam concentrate a little more on the task in hand. Stop Crowley - don't let Crowley know what you're up to. Find out a way to stop him cracking open Purgatory. Save the world. Again... Yaddah, yaddah.
So while Sam tucked into his pancakes he tugged out a small notebook from his pocket reading and re-reading some of the goddamn obscure references and half suggested clues, snippets, all sorts of random things which made little to no sense right now...
And it would be nice, Sam thought, to have been able to share his breakfast, to be able to go through the pieces of research with someone, and just have a little friendly conversation, instead of the looming, oppressive silence. Oh, there was ambient noise - the white noise of hustle and bustle and people just living their lives... But Sam sat apart from that - excluded, an outsider, an observer. He wondered if he always would...
