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Who: Sam, Mirror!Sam and You!
Where: Both sides of the Mirror
When: Duration of the event
Rating: PG-13 to R I imagine
Summary: Catch-all event post for Sam Yao and his mirror.
The Story:

Real Sam
He thought he'd be able to stay out of things, but that's never really been Sam's style. It's difficult to stay out of things when the last year of your life has involved very definitely getting involved in everything. Everything important anyway.

He starts with the familiar; caches of food and other supplies hidden at various points around the mansion and gardens for anyone to find. A few for himself. He'd rather not get caught short this time, not when that dream and had left a feeling of dread that pooled at the base of his neck and refused to leave.

And then came the messages on the mirrors and people vanishing.

The other side of the mirrors is as cool and alien and familiar as he remembers it being but this time the Mirrors aren't hunting them and there's terror everywhere.

He scrawls a note across a mirror as close to his room as he can, to warn them of where he is.

Mirror!Sam
The sword is gone. They've been tricked! Lied to. Betrayed. And if there's one thing that Sam hates, it's traitors. Monsters like that don't deserve the life the Queen gives them. But first the Jabberwocky has to be brought down. It's strong and fast and Sam sees other mirrors cut down and devoured until there's nothing left. And the sword sure as hell isn't here. So why not let the real thing fight instead while there's still work to be done.

[OOC: Both of them can be found in various places for the duration of the event! Let me know which side you'd like them on!]

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"Believe me, I've thought about it." She and Maxine have spoken before, but only briefly-- never about anything serious, nothing that happened back in Abel. "But if it's just a campaign to get me to change my mind and write Simon off as a hopeless case, we won't be talking for long. Maybe the fact that you think he's so unrepentantly bad is the reason why he needs me to stick around and be his friend. I've steered worse people back onto the right track-- and you don't change people by abandoning them. You leave them to fester and become the worst versions of themselves. If nobody else wants to give him a chance to try and get it right, then that's fine, but it might be exactly why I have to."

Everyone needs someone in their corner, especially those who want to make the change and set themselves straight. Simon wishes he could undo it, wants to find a way to make things right-- she believes that. She has to, because letting herself come to trust someone again after so long only to find out that she really can't-- no. That's just not an option.

She won't accept it.

She purses her lips slightly as she listens, letting Sam say his piece. He's not wrong. They can't afford to trust easily, not when survival is so touch and go, and she won't argue that. She never would-- but her eyes narrow slightly as something about his explanation touches her somehow, causes her to stiffen, become more guarded.

"Trust me," she says quietly, "I know all about betrayal and how deep it cuts. It's rarely ever black and white-- but I can respect that you're close enough to the situation that it just looks black. I'm not saying you're wrong. I just don't think you're one-hundred-percent right, either." A pause. "There's more to what happened than just seeing people as collateral. He's not heartless."

"No," Sam snapped, although it was, just a bit. "Maxine knows what happened. She's been there, lived through it. Shouldn't you listen to that before making up your mind?" All she'd heard was from Simon after all. Maxine was much more trustworthy. He would have said that even before finding out. "I don't see how there's a right track after this. It's done already."

He folds his arms stubbornly over his chest, every inch of him is stubborn, his mind made up by anger and grief. "We're not going to agree. All I can see is that he decided his own life was worth all of ours, even the live of people he loved. Doesn't that worry you?"

"I'll talk to her," Jo starts, though there's a certain edge to her voice that suggests there's a 'but' coming, which it does. "And if she can respect that I'd like to try and see it from both sides, then maybe it'll do us both some good."

But she's not interested in anyone trying to coerce her to take back what she's already promised, just like she can't tell anyone else that they have no right to be angry. They're coming from different places, that's all.

"No, we're not," she tells him, cementing that as the one thing they can agree on. "But maybe just like you don't think you can afford to be anything but angry, maybe I can't afford to believe that someone can't change." She gives him a rueful look, and for all her determination, there's something bitter there. Hope has no place in this conversation, not really-- but she's lost too many friends already. Maybe she's just too stubborn to admit she could lose another, or maybe her expectations aren't all that high anymore. Maybe she's just been let down too many times to care. She's not sure she knows which it is.

"You could be right, but a big part of me really, really wants to keep believing that you're wrong. I want to believe he knows better now. I think he does."

"Maxine's the best person I know. You can trust what she says." More than anyone else, he trusted Maxine. Even when she slipped away from him on a mission, he'd known that she would tell him the truth when it came to the big things. And he trusted her opinion more than anyone else's.

He took a breath, the words sticking in his throat. "I want to. I'd love to believe that people are good, that they can change. But I just- I can't. Not anymore." That had died with the apocalypse.

"Yeah. She seems trustworthy." They didn't know each other well, but there was no denying that. Jo would hear her out, so long as it was reasonable-- but that's something to take care of when they're back on their own side of the glass, not here. If she makes it back at all.

She frowns, a moment of understanding. "When there's not much left, it's hard to hold onto any kind of hope. I know."

Her apocalypse hadn't involved zombies, but it had still damn near been the end of the world-- and she hadn't experienced it for herself, but Dean had told her a little about the future where things went wrong. Where Sam said yes. It sounded even worse than Abel, and she imagines that if she'd survived that long, she might have felt the same way Sam did now.

"Wonderland's not perfect," she says after a moment, "But it can be better, for a lot people. Maybe even someday make you believe in things again, given enough time."

"I've seen too many people lie. Entire settlements were turned because just one person wouldn't admit that they were bitten. It's horrible and I can't keep just... just hoping that this time it's different. And sometimes I- sometimes I think the people who died, who went grey, they're the lucky ones because they don't have to see it or try to rebuild something that's broken anyway."

He took a shuddering breath, his chest painfully tight and aching.

"I like it here. If I could bring everyone from home here, I would."

"It is horrible." And she understands. She sees how that could be enough to make anyone want to stop hoping. You can only be disappointed so many times before you have to stop believing things could possibly turn out any different. She presses her lips together, frowning. "For what it's worth, I could just-- try to do enough hoping for the both of us."

It's not much, maybe, but it's what she has to offer. After a moment, she nods.

"I like it here, too. If I had things my way, I'd never leave. Bring my whole family here, or what's left of them."

That makes him laugh, a soft, watery sound, that is more miserable than humourous. "If you want. I- you know how I feel. I don't want anyone else to get hurt." He was sick of seeing his friends die, of seeing people he cared for get hurt or become monsters that he had to kill. He wondered if eventually it got better, or if it was when it got better that you took a gun to yourself.

"Glad it's not jut me. I know most people want to get out of here."

"Yeah, I do. And you know how I feel."

Maybe they didn't agree, but that didn't mean they couldn't come to understand each other.

She smiles wryly, thin and tight-lipped. He's not wrong, most people wanted to get home-- but home wasn't an option for everyone. It wasn't for her, and she knows it's not for anyone from Abel, even if the reasoning is different. "No, it's not just you. There are a lot of us who feel that way. Life is better for us here. Whether it's the people, or something else-- it happens."

"Yeah, I do." He doesn't like it. He thinks she's making a mistake, but she's determined and he can respect that even if he thinks it's dumb.

"Do you ever worry that if they find a way to send people back home, then they'll just kind of... of throw you back too? Some of them get kind of made when you say you like it here."

At least they can agree to disagree. That's more than she's come to expect from some people.

She worries at her lower lip for a moment as she considers that. Early on, she might have been concerned about it, but now? She's not sure. She pauses before offering a shrug, followed by a shake of her head. "Yeah, you're right, some people do get mad, but-- if you explain your situation, if you tell them your reasons and they really care about you? I'd like to think they'd understand."

Her Sam had understood when she'd told him. In fact, he felt much the same way, even though their situations were different.

"You'd hope," Sam says. Most people so far have been decent about it when he's explained, but that doesn't mean that if it ever came to it, they wouldn't think of themselves. It doesn't mean that everyone will understand. "You just hope it never comes to making a choice for everyone."

"Yeah. Here's hoping," she agrees with a grim look, before she glances over her shoulder and down the hallway again, shifting the weight of her gun in her hands.

"Look, I should probably be moving. We're sitting ducks like this. You don't have to come with me, but if you want to stick close, I can help keep you safe until we get back-- or you could go take your chances with the rabbit hole, see if you can force your Mirror back to this side."

"That is probably a good idea," Sam agreed. "And I- I can't go back. There are still people here. I can't just leave them." Billy was still over here and Sam wasn't about to go until he was safe.

"Alright then."

That made things incredibly simple. She grimaces, fighting the urge to heave a sigh as she nods towards the opposite end of the hallway.

"Then let's move out."

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