𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚍 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
technophobics) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
piscesnebula2024-01-02 04:08 pm
technophobics) wrote in piscesnebula2024-01-02 04:08 pm
technophobics) wrote in piscesnebula2024-01-02 04:08 pm
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(And when did he start thinking of him as Sam and not Winchester.)
Spencer's really not sure he should be driving in the state he's in. He's been worse -- he's been a lot worse -- but he's lost blood, his arm hurts, and now that everything has caught up with him, he's exhausted. He drove away from the vampire nest and back to the station after the hospital, but the thought of adding a third trip today feels insurmountable.
(He catches on too late that Sam specifically said his unit's name. Is that concerning? No, he doesn't think so. He's successfully proved that Sam Winchester is not a psychopath and didn't blow up a whole police station, so he's fairly certain he has nothing to be afraid of. He is curious how Sam figured out that he was BAU, though.)
"First, we're getting takeout," Spencer says decisively.
He's agreeing to stay the night in a room with one of America's most wanted, and he's mentally lining up questions about the supernatural for him. What has his life become.
Spencer cleans up the supplies in the bathroom, and retreats to the main room again, perched on the edge of one of the beds. He always takes the one furthest from the door -- it's habit, he has to share hotel rooms with Morgan a lot, and Morgan once went on this whole lecture about how the guy with the better gun skills needs to sleep closer to the door in case of break-in and that guy is not Reid. Not that he's expecting a break-in here, unless... the vampires had friends that will get pissed and track them down?
Halfway through scrolling his UberEats app, Spencer looks up at Sam, alarmed.
"Are there going to be other vampires who track us down because we killed their friends?" Pause. "And do you want pizza, Thai, or burgers?"
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"Okay, sure," Sam says with some resignation. He's too tired to sleep, so eating feels like a chore, but he endures the idea the same way that he would if it were Dean suggesting it. Old habits die hard."Do any of the places off Larb or Tom Kha Gai?"
Whatever reconnaissance Spencer and his team at the BAU had done, it would have heralded a lot of greasy takeout, and a penchant for smutty magazines, and classic rock. All Dean's genre of expertise. Sam was the more astute of the two, the more interested in vegetables and healthier options and the more aware of cultures other than his own. Back during simpler times, Dean would call him the 'geek boy sidekick,' and despite what he'd been through he hadn't yet bothered to let go of those little things.
"And we killed the whole nest."
Sam pulls what was left of his shirt after the stitch job from Spencer and tosses it and the bled-through undershirt into a bag to be torched later. He puts some gauze over the wound now that it's had time to breathe, not quite trusting enough of the scratchy bed sheets and dimestore pillows not to cover his basis. He puts some Tegaderm on over the gauze bandage and drags a weary hand through his hair as he does his mandatory sweep of the room for hex bags and bugs. It doesn't take him long, and when he's done he slips his handgun under his pillow and a blade under the mattress just in case.
"If there's more they're not in the state and are part of a bigger network who wouldn't come after you because of what you do. They won't be able to find me, and even if they do most won't bother with following through. No fledglings made it out thanks to you, so, we're in the clear."
no subject
"Okay. So we're not going to have some stray vampires bent on revenge following us. Good," he says, relieved. "They really wouldn't come after me just because I'm FBI?"
That seems a little too good to be true, actually. Or maybe vampires are smart, and wouldn't go after someone whose job it is to track down criminals across state lines.
"That's strange, actually, because law enforcement are the victims of crime at about the same rate as non-law enforcement," he rattles off, still looking for a decent Thai place on his phone. "Home burglaries occur at roughly the same rate, as does assault. The rates obviously go down if a police officer is in uniform, but in plain clothes all bets are off the table, apparently. In fact, if someone was looking to steal a gun, law enforcement would be more of a target."
Spencer breaks off, thoughtful.
"So I guess it's a good thing vampires probably don't need guns."
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"It's about keeping a low profile." Whether or not the statistics follow it on a normal basis didn't apply here. Sam knew the way it all worked and for a species that had supposedly died out in the rumor mill decades ago, they'd managed to elude both hunters and the local feds long enough to get their numbers back up after that particular gossip made it through the grapevine.
"They don't, but there's nothing to say that they don't carry weapons. They might be stronger and faster than us, but they're still susceptible. Dead man's blood, sunlight, and if you can manage there are other ways if you're handy with making your bullets or setting traps like trip wire."
no subject
Interesting. Scientifically, how does that even work? Does it weaken the vampires by way of flooding their veins with dead blood, the opposite of what they need to sustain themselves?
It does make sense that vampires would want to keep a low profile, though. Staying out of the way of law enforcement is reasonable. If the world was alerted to the fact that vampires existed, well. Spencer can't predict exactly what would happen, but America does love an excuse to throw its military around.
"How long have you known all of this?" he winds up asking. A little exasperated, a little frustrated. Mostly curious. "I mean-- I sort of already know the answer. Your dad has a list of similar crimes almost as long as yours, so I can only assume that your dad was a hunter too. Did he teach you all of this as a kid?"
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It is miserable for them, though, and based on what Sam's seen them do to good people and children, he's not above using it if it's a necessary measure. "Well, the garlic and the crosses will just get you laughed at." All stipulations, not real, not worth the time.
Sam rubs an eye and hides a yawn in his palm. His shoulder ached, and the rest of the liquor they'd used to clean his wound was looking tempting as a replacement for Nyquil or something to knock him out for the night.
"My dad and my brother tried to keep me normal, or at least as normal as possible. I went to school... I made good grades, but I was in middle school when I figured it all out and by that point, there was no hiding it anymore, so I was taught to hold my own. Just in case. The days of watching Lion-O on TV and doing the Daily Crossword at the hotel when I got bored became a thing of the past."
That doesn't detail why or who they got brought up in it but that was a story for another time maybe. Reid was smart enough to put two and two together. The incident with his mother, and then with Jess. Sam felt like a man cursed without speaking on the truly tragic loss of the people he loved. People like Amelia, who he realized now with this new injury and Dean gone was better off without him.