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[The few days it's taken to adjust have been, well - Sam is not going to use the word 'Hell' because he's actually been, and this is crappy but it doesn't come close. Still, anyone who hasn't seen him yet might be a little alarmed at what's being broadcast: six feet and four inches of sickly sasquatch, valiantly trying to address the network, appallingly pale, sallow-faced and bloodshot-sunken-eyed.]

Hey. Uh - Sam. I'm new. I guess this is a, uh, a thing that, that people do. Is introduce themselves. And I get that - we're all looking for a way out.

[Auspicious beginnings. Who knows if anyone's even getting this? Nevertheless, he continues.]

Okay. So. No promises, but there's something I can try. Kinda like a ward, or a spell. [Magic exists, surprise. The few people he's already talked to have expressed a kind of varied interest in this sort of thing, so caution be damned.] Anyone wants to help, I'll need a couple things.

First is - salt. Table salt, any kind will do. Second? Matches, a lighter, anything that can make sparks, even for a few seconds. And then I'll need something to write with, marker, pen, spray paint - I don't care. Anything along those lines.

[He looks at something off-screen, mouth briefly twisting in what might best be categorized as 'disgust'.]

I have food to trade for it. Heard that's kind of a limited resource these days. Food and, uh. [He squints at something.] Neosporin. If anyone, y'know, needs that.

[Yeah, he doesn't get it either. He jerks off frame for a moment, face buried in his elbow. It's not enough to fully stifle the ragged, fierce coughs that leave his shoulders shuddering. Finally, signs of life trickle back through the feed, albeit muffled and with their subject mostly lurched off camera as he mutters in his more characteristic deadpan, wearily sardonic, 'so-done-with-this-shit' tone.]

Also. If anyone happens to have some aspirin on them, that'd be great.

[There's the rattling of trembling, uncoordinated fingertips trying to navigate the tablet, and the feed snaps off.]

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[He nods in agreement with that. The man has pretty much hit the nail squarely upon its head.]

I suspect it's capable of removing the ability to use it entirely if it so desires. I have been experimenting with mine this last month, most of what I've managed to actually accomplish is rather disappointing. Anything that might be useful in escaping has been snuffed out, or rendered useless for such purposes.

[There's a small gesture of the hand he'd conjured fire in as he says the last bit as a nod toward just how useless his ability to summon fire has become.]

[Been here a month with a talent for literal sparks? Sounds like someone who would know if this is going to work at all - and yeah, yeah, he knows it was doomed from the start. Sam Winchester makes 'doomed from the start' happen before breakfast. Usually. Sometimes. Maybe every once in a while.

He's trying okay.]

Unless we use it for something else. Like sending a message to someone who can get us out. We wouldn't be using it to escape, per se. Just - making it easier for anyone out there to come help.

I dunno, I have no idea how much this place is - aware, or whatever, of what happens inside it.

[Again, the thought of sentience crosses his mind. Which, n o . No, he does not want to think about sentient buildings.]

[Gold's rather good at spotting desperation. He should be, given his history. Takes one to know one and all of that. Despite already shooting the idea down once, he's still considering its merits.

He's not too fond of the idea of sentient buildings himself, if anything, he's more apt to blame certain things that happen here on magic. Just one that was considerably stronger than anything he's ever encountered previous, that possibly worked and behaved in ways he was rather unfamiliar with.

He'd study it if possible, but it's rather hard to study something you can't observe taking place.]

I'm willing to attempt to help you with your spell. Magic can't be destroyed, it merely changes forms. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage. Should you manage to get the spell cast, the magic that is created might be useful in another form.

[Of course, the key part of that is: actually getting the spell cast and creating the magic in the first place.]

Well, assuming it works. Which is, like you said - no guarantee.

[This might solve his fire problem, actually, since the hotel seems to have a profound and deep-seated philosophical objection to giving anyone matches or lighters or anything remotely handy in the fire-making department. He feels like he should be offended on like, the behalf of the human race or something. Depriving people of fire? That's practically prehistoric.]

If it does, you think you could do anything with it? The magic?

[Since this guy obviously knows what he's talking about. And if it means railroading Gabriel out of the equation, Sam won't complain.]

[He considers the question for a minute. Mulling the idea over silently before replying to it.]

I could try. I'm rather well versed in it. There must be something we'd capable of achieving with it that might gain outside attention.

[Studying it and working with it for over three hundred years, one does become become rather capable in the subject. The only thing that might hold him back was just how different it would be to the magic he was used to working. Hopefully, he'd be capable of getting around that barrier with a bit of practical study.]

However, have you given thought that the attention we might gain, may end up not being--ah, friendly toward us?

[It was a valid concern. They had equal chances of attracting help or danger, if by some miracle this endeavor did succeed.]

I've - considered the risk, yeah. And I figure it's worth it. Even if it's not someone friendly, it'd be a way out. It'd be something.

[Of course, he doesn't know what kind of enemies this guy has. Sam's pissed off a lot of powerful folks on high and on low, and it might be prudent to get a reality check. Figure just how much they're dealing with here.]

I mean, but that's if it even works. [And that's kind of a massive hurdle in and of itself.]

[Well, he can't argue with that. If something manages to break in, then it'll show them a weakness in the place they can exploit. Provided whatever nastiness didn't kill them, they might even be capable of using the break in to break themselves out.]

I'm not above taking calculated risks. Should it blow up in our faces, perhaps we'll have learned something useful in the process.

[Oh, he has plenty of enemies, though fortunately only two people here would count themselves among that number. One of whom it still stings that she saw him as one, her last words to him here still burned in his memory. They served as a reinforcement of his own dark thoughts some nights.]

Yes, best to take things one step at a time, hm?

That's the idea, anyway. Even if it draws the wrong crowd, it'll have some sort of impact. Maybe the kind that can get us outta here, who knows.

[He thinks it's worth the gamble. And if this guy does too, maybe that's a good sign.]

You've been here for how long, then? A month?

[He nods in agreement to that. If nothing else, their failure will even be informative. Who knows. One can hope.]

Yes.

[A month of life that he really hadn't expected to be granted. Though given what he learned upon arrival, it would seem he's to be given a second chance no matter what. Not that he thinks that second chance is worth its cost.]

[Geez. This place is losing points in Sam's favor by the second.]

Then I guess you'd know if anyone's tried something like this before.

[At least he knows that if they have, it hasn't worked.]

[Well, there was the week that he'd pretty much ignored the tablet and anything outside of his room after his son had vanished, but he suspects he can safely say that Sam is the first to attempt something like this.]

You're the first I've heard suggesting such a thing, yes. As far as I'm aware of, people have suggested banding together and pooling our resources together, but nothing quite like your idea. Certainly nothing involving magic of any kind.

Really?

[...Huh. That's a bit alarming. Everyone here seems pretty well used to the idea of magic, which led him to believe it was something that people have already tried. Maybe it pays to have it be easier to access and implement in his world. No 'gift' required, not for the small fry like summonings or exorcisms.]

Well, if it means there's the slightest chance this might work, then I'll go through with it. Magic's not really complicated where I'm from. Just need the right ingredients, and what I'm gonna try is pretty bare-bones.

It's not all that much an intellectual endeavor where I come from either. Though I am aware that magic can and does differ from world to world. In some worlds it's rather weak and in some it's rather strong. With any luck, should we succeed, we'll be in luck and this world is one of the ones in which it is strong.

[Given the magic that had to be involved in bringing them here and keeping them here. Not to mention the fact it was capable of subduing magic, or stripping the ability to tap into it from people...he wouldn't be at all surprised if this world was rather strong in magic.]

[Whatever kinda world this is. Does the make of this place even extend beyond the hotel? Is it just its own isolated little thing? Ugh, no, Sam doesn't want an answer to that. He just wants out. Out and away, and back to his brother and the mess they've made.]

Luck's not really something that comes to mind in a place like this.

[And yet. He's only human, and he can't resist putting some stock in silly concepts like that.]

I'm mostly just used to summoning, exorcisms, warding, stuff like that. Nothing really fancy.

[Except the Apocalypse.

Sam is not talking about the Apocalypse.]

Yes, it wouldn't be would it.

[He's certainly not had much in the way of luck here, though he guessed one could debate that given Belle's recent arrival. Though that could just be another way to hurt him through her. It's not a concept that's foreign to him sad to say.]

I've done a little of those myself, as well as some rather more advanced stuff.

[Like creating one hell of a curse that ripped quite a number of people out of one world to deposit them into another.

All for the sake of allowing him to find his son.]

If you don't mind me asking, how does your magic work? I have a feeling that it might be different than mine.

It doesn't have a lot of rules. Most of it's, uh. Blood-based.

[This with a slight cough. Not really the most elegant, he knows. His arms are a patchwork of scars from how many angel-banishing sigils he's had to draw from his own blood, and that's not starting on his attempts to cure a demon.

His arms still hurt from that too. Because, ow.]

You need the right symbols, the right ingredients, the right incantation, and usually you gotta set something on fire. Sometimes you don't even need that. Drawing something in blood can be enough if you wanna, say - banish something.

Mostly it's simple stuff. Exorcisms are just recitations, and ghosts just need a line of salt to keep 'em out.

[Because this place apparently has ghosts. Which just makes his day so much better.]

[That certainly caught his attention as might be obvious by the sudden rise of his eyebrows and the fact that he's reached to pick the tablet up so as to bring it closer. He's worked with blood magic before himself. Not overly often, but enough to get the feeling that his definition of blood magic and Sam's is likely considerably different.

The thumb and forefinger of the hand not holding the device absently rub together, the memory of the needle prick required for the globe to work coming and going through his mind briefly.]

Interesting. Do emotions have any place within your magic? Or is it all symbolism, words and material things?

[He nods with a wiggly, noncommittal wave of a hand.]

Mostly the latter. Never got into the real dark stuff, though I was on the receiving end of it a couple times. Stuff like hex bags, curses. Those have a little more to them.

[The particulars of magic aren't something Sam's taken a lot of time to examine, largely preferring to take the Dean Winchester route of 'if it works, that's good enough for me.' The rules are buried deep in runes and shapes, but he's usually been on the bad side of witchcraft and has never had any true incentive to study it short of 'what is a hex bag and how do I make it stop killing people.']

Not sure that kinda thing's even possible here. Takes more ingredients, and probably more power than this place'll allow.

[Whatever...that means.]

[He considered that. It's interesting in a sense how different it seems their respective forms of magic were. Perhaps if they could manage to get both types to work in tandem, they might be able to achieve what just one brand of magic could not.]

Perhaps if we combine our talents, we might have more success than if you were to attempt this spell alone?

[It isn't as if they have much in the way to lose right now.]

My magic is powered by emotion, symbolism, words, material things are more of an afterthought. Sometimes necessary depending on what you desire to do, but usually not needed.

[He shrugs, and the tiredness of the motion doesn't veil the desperation buried beneath.] I'm ready to try just about anything. If there's any way we can mix the two and it might work, then hey.

[Magic's sticky business, particularly here in this bizarro no-man's-land of a hotel. Sam's ready to pull out all the stops. Whatever it takes.]

Maybe both will be enough.

One can hope.

[Because really that's all they have currently. Hope. Though given how things have gone for him since his arrival, sans Belle's own arrival, it's entirely possible the hotel will crush that hope and land him back in the position of being capable of doing nothing when it came to getting out of here.]

Should you like to speak further in person, I'm in room 218.

I'm in 112. The, uh, sick thing's not catching, no worries.

[He doubts the guy would be. Magic has its perks, probably. And the high fever sustained by the Trials is pretty completely specific to him and his terrible idea to go ahead with the damn Trials in the first place.]

Didn't catch your name?

I might be capable of helping you with that.

[He's not really had much cause or chance to test how his ability to heal has been subdued here, this could be a good opportunity to test that particular ability.]

I never gave it, forgive my lapse in manners. It's Mr. Gold.

Sam Winchester.

[People here sure do love their surnames. Whatever; it's not like Sam's not dealt with that before. Crowley. Ruby. People with one name, wielding that nebulous power and intent.

But hey, this guy's offering to help. Sam was just thinking of attacking the bug with copious painkillers and frequent siestas. Before they never had a reason to try to quash it with magic or anything, since it was the Trials and they were purging him, or purifying him, or cleansing him, or whatever it was they were meant to do. But the Trials - they're kind of beyond his reach now. Out of the scope of his insight and depth.]

I hadn't thought of using magic. Before I got here I - couldn't really afford to. Long story. But you, uh - think it might work?

[Well, it's better that he introduce himself as Gold. Saves him having to hear people mangle his actual name when they attempted to pronounce it. Mr. Gold was indefinitely easier on the tongue than Rumpelstiltskin. Not to mention it came with less skepticism. He didn't have to explains his origins as well as his name.]

Worth the attempt? It's not as if either of us have much to lose should it fail, and you have the most to gain if it succeeds.

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