don't stop, don't stop, don't stop giving me things

[unburden]

The thing about trying to root out spirits before they become Hollows is that it's akin to combing through sand. The world is a place that looks calm from a distance, the actions of any given person most likely falling into a regular pattern that never varies by much. Ghosts tend to be earth-bound, tend to cling to those parts of their lives which remained constant before, and the ability to blend in is as seamless as the chains are strong. Sometimes, Rukia has to literally walk through a building before a ghost rears its head.

Naturally, scanning across the whole of Darrow becomes a near impossibility, and the howls of Hollows are starting to surface with greater frequency, each feeling like a failure to Rukia. Each spirit that falls prey to its inner emptiness is a spirit in pain, and every spirit in pain becomes a danger to the living.

Rukia does her best to quickly find them all, but it isn't always easy, nor is it always perfect. And that's what has her by the beach tonight, having chased a Hollow to the ocean in hopes of avoiding damage done to private property. The Hollow is no great threat, taking up the shape of a snake with an almost reptilian bone-like mask covering its face, but the streams of poison that it shoots from its teeth are enough to wear through her robes, Rukia hissing in pain as she raises her sword, preparing to try and strike again.

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[theprodigalson]

If pressed, Sam wouldn't be able to really say why it is he's wandering the beach right now. Boredom, possibly. A simple lack of anything better to do. Or he could say he's surveying, still studying the city's now thriving population, and that wouldn't entirely be a lie.

Except that there really aren't that many people at the beach this time of night and it's more difficult to watch anyone with any accuracy while half drunk on cheap whiskey.

At least he's had a lot of practice with that, though.

When he sees the figure standing at the edge of the waves, Sam actually pauses to stare for a long moment, suddenly wondering just how drunk he really is. After all, it's not often he sees a person in flowing black robes lifting a sword against a spitting reptile. Not here anyway. Not in a long, long time.

Immediately, Sam drops his bottle of booze into the sand and grabs the gun he keeps tucked in the back of his jeans, cocking it as he stumbles into a jog. "Hey!" Sam shouts, stopping long enough to take aim at the writhing creature.

[unburden]

The problem with Darrow always seems to be predictability. Monsters are starting to slip out of the woodwork, monsters of a sort that Rukia can't even begin to fully fathom — and with them, perhaps even more problematic, come the hunters. Far from being the only person trying to solve for an entire city's problems with violent, supernatural creatures, it seems like there might be a good half dozen people tracking an amount of ground that Rukia's accustomed to having completely to herself. The sting of venom against her shoulder is nothing much to worry about, but when a person steps forward with a gun in his hands, Rukia finds panic teasing about her skin at once.

"That won't work!" she calls out to him, although if he's anything like that other guy she came across some time ago, he'll shoot anyway. "You'll only make it angrier."

Indeed, the Hollow does turn its head at the shout, tail lashing about on the beach and driving both sand and water every which way. About twice the size of Rukia, the Hollow doesn't have quite as much size on the newcomer, but still it surges forward towards the man, seemingly unafraid.

[theprodigalson]

It isn't until the figure speaks that Sam realizes she's a woman, but it isn't that so much as what she says that actually makes him pause. He sure as hell doesn't lower his gun though, keeping it trained on the creature as it turns toward him, tail lashing in the sand.

There isn't any reason to trust this woman, he knows, but still he finds himself listening.

"Then what do I do?" Sam shouts back, gun still raised as something a lot like panic begins to twist low and sharp in his belly, finger itching on the trigger.

[unburden]

"Stay out of the way!" Rukia tells him with greater urgency. The issue being, of course, that people like this tall man, people who have taken upon themselves the task of keeping the general populace safe, people who carry weapons around as though it's the most natural thing in the world, they don't tend to be the kind who enjoy cut and running. Her lips momentarily thin with the thought that Rukia has, that Rukia's impulse has been that before, more than once; sometimes, it makes her wonder what she's honestly still doing shouldering the burden. Not because she's unwilling to.

But because she hopes her strength continues to hold out.

"It's a Hollow. An angry spirit which must be purified," she continues to yell, easily raising her sword in spite of the injury and cleaving off a piece of the Hollow's skull-like mask, but she's off-center enough that the Hollow doesn't completely dissipate. Not yet. "You don't want to destroy it. That might upset the balance."

A second launch of her sword, and she manages to hit the Hollow squarely in its nonexistent nose, and with a chilling scream, the Hollow immediately bursts into dust that settles around the vicinity like ash.

Which only leaves Rukia with a bloody sword and a burned shoulder to contend with, panting heavily with the effort.

[theprodigalson]

It goes against absolutely every instinct Sam has to not pull the trigger. Killing off angry spirits is what he does, it's almost all he knows how to do anymore regardless of the blood running through his veins. He may be no better than them, but he can't just... ignore that they're there. He doesn't know how.

The thing continues to lash and writhe toward him, faster than Sam would expect and he stumbles backwards, gun still raised and at the ready as the woman swings her sword, hacking at the mask that seems to cover its face, making it scream. The sound of it chills Sam to the bone and he darts a glance at the woman with the sword, half wondering if maybe he should be arming himself against her, too.

And then the thing is exploding, bursting into a cloud of dust right before his eyes.

"Holy shit," he breathes, eyes wide and adrenaline still pumping. It's not like anything he's ever seen and, suddenly, he remembers Dean mentioning something similar to this a few days ago. Though it doesn't quite match the mumbled tirade he'd been subjected to. There's no kid here with "Carrot Top" hair for one thing.

And then he remembers where he's seen this girl before. And the strange feeling he'd gotten in her presence.

Swallowing, he frowns at her. "I've met you, haven't I? That first day."

[unburden]

The furrow of her brow doesn't manage to quite smooth away as Rukia sheathes her sword, the motion swift and practiced as she turns her attention to the young man, more anchored somehow than he wants only moments ago. It's the rush that comes with needing to protect people, Rukia thinks. It's capable of tossing a person off balance, but equally capable of narrowing their focus, all depending on timing and circumstance.

But his words remind her of the reservations she had some time ago, mostly surrounding the woman that the young man kept around him. Gaze breaking free for a second, Rukia glances around, tries to scan for the same sensation she got from that woman. But all she feels seems to be coming from the man himself.

"...that was me, yes," Rukia nods, shifting her feet so that she's standing fully on the ground again, rather than hovering that invisible amount of distance above, normally done to avoid the limitations of friction. "Is your friend around?" Subconsciously, she tightens her grip around the handle of her sword at the thought.

[theprodigalson]

"Friend?" Sam asks, frowning in confusion for a moment before he remembers. Oh. Ruby. His stomach twists uncomfortably then, too many warring emotions rising up inside him before he can shove them aside with a shake of his head, lips pressed in a thin line. "No, she's gone."

For whatever reason, he doesn't argue the friend comment. Maybe because there's no point in doing so. Maybe because it might only damn him further, impossible as that may seem.

Maybe because, at one point, Sam had really thought it to be true.

Clearing his throat a little, he pulls himself up straighter and adds, as though in challenge, "She's dead. But she's not... one of those," he adds, gesturing vaguely at the air between them where moments ago some being had exploded before his eyes. "I don't think."

[unburden]

The particular type of recognition which flickers across his face tells Rukia that the connection to that other woman has since been severed. A good thing, to be sure — while Rukia had held her tongue on things she ultimately couldn't be sure of, and things she didn't want to dive into so soon after arriving, it had seemed pretty clear that the brunette was nothing good. Not for this man, not for the city.

Rukia just hasn't been watching closely enough to know exactly what happened.

"She felt... empty," Rukia says, brow knitting as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, wondering how that woman might have fed on this man. She tries to get a better reading of his energy, of the color of his soul. It's difficult at the moment, no doubt made harder by the fact that her senses are slightly muffled by this false body. "In a way that's similar to the Hollows. A hole in the soul that they seek some way to fill."

[theprodigalson]

"She was a demon," Sam says bluntly. His stomach twists yet again with that uncomfortable feeling of betrayal, the sensation laced with a humiliation Sam is almost positive he'll never really be able to shake.

But it's curiosity now that at least keeps his mind distracted, focusing intently on the woman before him. That's the second time now she's said that word and, though Sam thinks he maybe has an idea of what it might be, he's still not entirely sure. Not even close.

Sam has done a lot of research on nearly every kind of demon and spirit and monster known around the world, but he's fairly sure he's never heard of a Hollow.

"What are they?" he asks, lips curled in an inquisitive frown. "Just angry spirits? Ghosts?"

[unburden]

"Ghosts that have gone too long without passing over," Rukia says, eyes carefully searching his expression for any reaction that comes, gaze carefully brushing along the thin and even press of his lips. He's had experience with ghosts, clearly, in the way that Don Kanonji's had experience, not necessarily knowing what's best for them.

But at least he seems open to learning, which is more than Rukia could ever say for Kanonji, whose enthusiasm was only exceeded by his lack of sense.

"All people become spirits when they die, but they can't stay forever in the living world. If a reaper does not take them to the next place quickly enough." She glances over her shoulder, even though the dust of the Hollow's long since settled. "Then that happens. They need to consume other people's souls to try and replace the one they lost."

[theprodigalson]

He listens carefully, comparing her explanation to everything Sam's ever known about supernatural forces. Though the terminology isn't all the same, he thinks he has a pretty good idea now of what's going on. Not that it makes him entirely comfortable yet.

"So that's what you are. You're a reaper," he says, still eying her warily. Sam's only had a couple run-ins with reapers in his life, but neither one of them had looked anything like the woman standing in front of him now. For one, she's actually corporeal.

[unburden]

There's a strange and inexplicable desire on Rukia's part to make light of Sam's reaction, the unease clear in his eyes that almost feels ridiculous for a moment, with him towering far above Rukia herself. She knows, of course, that height is very little indication of anything between them. If anything, her abilities are likely to give her an edge.

Or so she'd assume, if not for the fact that his very soul also feels different somehow.

"I'm a reaper," she confirms, pulling her stance together and more sure. "And you sound like you have experience with the word."

[theprodigalson]

"Some," Sam admits, still watching her carefully. "You're a lot better looking than the others I've met."

It's odd, he thinks, the vibe he's getting from her. She's powerful, for sure. But she doesn't seem particularly harmful and certainly not volatile or angry like so many other spirits. But then, she isn't a spirit, Sam's pretty sure. Maybe something in between or something wholly unrelated.

Not for the first time, Sam finds himself desperately wishing Bobby were here.

[unburden]

"I... thank you?" Rukia says, brows furrowing momentarily, although her smile remains on her lips nonetheless. It must take a pretty clueless shinigami, she thinks, not to notice that a living human's actually been able to catch sight of them. Or perhaps there's more to this man than his reaction gives away, perhaps even a desire within to put an end to reapers — there's certainly been no shortage of persecution over the years.

In the end, speculation seems to do Rukia little good. She's never been the most intuitive, she supposes, awkwardly stepping while trying to get a better look at the young man.

"What exactly were you doing for you to have run into reapers before?" she asks, quirking her lips to the side.

[theprodigalson]

Though she's a good deal smaller than him, Sam is under no illusions that her powers couldn't turn him to dust if she so chose and he hesitates accordingly. There seems little reason to lie to her though.

"My brother," he says with a shrug. "He was sick. Both times." That isn't entirely accurate, of course, and Sam is purposefully choosing to leave out quite a lot detail. "He got better, but uh... they were pretty close calls. Got a little too close to the other side of the veil."

[unburden]

"That's... that's interesting," Rukia replies, eyes narrowed in confusion. Why would a shinigami decide to stick around a sick person? They had their hands full already with those who had already passed. Then again, she supposed that the man's brother probably exhibited some similar qualities as he did — namely, a soul that didn't seem quite human. A part of her wanted to ask outright exactly what he was, but if the man indeed had so little knowledge about reapers, it didn't seem too likely that he would know how to answer that question.

"Was he being haunted by a ghost or spirit? Or... is there something different about him?" she tried instead, the tone of her voice laced purely with intellectual curiosity.

Any clue that could help to get her out of the city was welcome.

[theprodigalson]

Sam frowns at the question, not entirely sure he knows what she means.

"What do you mean different?" he asks. "He's human. He wasn't..." He trails off for a second, pausing to take a breath. These are memories Sam doesn't like remembering too often, memories he'd almost rather forget entirely. "No, he wasn't being haunted. It was just- Look, I'm a hunter, okay? We both are, me and my brother. But we don't hunt reapers; we hunt bad things. Evil things."

[unburden]

"Different like you're different," Rukia says quietly, glancing over at Sam and keeping her voice measured and quiet. While it doesn't look like he's about to react too strongly to her words or assessment, there's something to be said for remaining cautious nonetheless. People don't particularly enjoy being singled out.

It might come off like a threat.

Taking a slight step closer, she squints in his direction, rubbing briefly at her forehead. "Wait, when you say your brother's also a hunter, is he someone who would shoot his gun at ghosts? About this tall?" Rukia reached up well over a foot above her own head.