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Post by Alex Sutherland on Jan 24, 2006 2:36:57 GMT -5
Index and thumb pressed softly against the bridge of her nose. How long had she been up, almost two days at least. Of course by this time, she’d decided that the great state of Pennsylvania was nothing but, raining gloom. Not that she really minded it, it was a change from the blistering heat of New Mexico. It had been five years since her fathers death, and she was taking up where he left off. Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus” played from the speakers of the old truck, while windshield wipers swished intermitted. The bench seat was loaded with books, maps and a leather bound book, and a large black duffle bag. On the floorboards, empty foam cups from gas station coffee, crumpled cigarette packages, candy bar wrappers and beef jerky packages.
Alex had gotten used to driving across country, documenting para-normal activates. Stopping them was more like in. Her father had done it years before her, as did her grandfather and any male descendent of the Sutherland line. However Frank Sutherland Jr, never received a son instead he ended up with a daughter. When she was ten her mother had been possessed, and despite her fathers efforts, JoAnne ended up mentally unstable. But that was all history this was present. An audible sigh drained from her lips as she rested one hand on the wheel searching for the half folded map with the other. It was said Pennsylvania had plenty of haunts, and looked as if for a while at least this would be home.
Torn on one corner and obviously having been folded incorrectly, the map splayed across the wheel. Eyes glanced up to the empty two lane then back down. Fingertip trailing over the route she’d been taking. There was supposed to be a bridge coming up ahead. Lifting her eyes again Alex gasped. A woman in white was standing in the middle of the wet ground. “Holy hell!” Boot covered foot slammed on the breaks as slender hands gripped the wheel swerving to miss. Tires squealed for a moment before sliding across the slicked ground. The front end of the truck headed down the muddy ravine. Water splashed up against the hood as her forehead hit the horn. For a moment there was a blare of sound as she sat up. Radio had gone of and the only sound was left from her engine and the swish of wipers.
Opening the diver side door, Alex dropped down into the cold water and looked back up to the road. There wasn’t any sign of a woman. Instead she thought for a moment she saw a man. Turning back to the truck she leaned over the bench seat into the glove compartment for the flashlight. Walking towards the bank under the bridge her thumb moved to flick on the light. Nothing. Once again she tried with the same results. “Damn it all.” Came the huffed mutter of the woman, as she shifted. The air seemed a lot colder. The rain had let up so it was now a fine mist. Form shivered for a moment. It wasn’t one from the cold of the weather or the water, this was something else. Shaking the flashlight vigorously she decided to give it one more shot.
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Dean Winchester
Threat
"That fabric softener teddy bear... Ooh. I wanna hunt that little bitch down."
Posts: 35
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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 24, 2006 3:14:54 GMT -5
The headlights cut through the dense fog and intermittent rain as the Winchester brothers drove toward the mouth of the covered bridge. The hunt had led them to the backwater town of New Hope, in the heart of Bucks County Pennsylvania. Their destination was damned near unknown, and they’d been driving for close to six hours. Dean looked over to his brother Sam who was asleep in the passenger seat, and then back to the road. Lights from the dashboard barely illuminated his face, but it was enough to reveal the five o’clock shadow on his jaw, and the hollow tired of his eyes.
Those same eyes widened in surprise as a deer jumped out in the middle of the country road. He swerved to avoid it hitting the brakes hard, curious as to what had spooked the animal. He pulled the Impala to the outcropping at the left side of the road and got out. Dean neared the opening of the bridge, he could see a wash of red light and as his footfalls echoed against the wooden floorboards of the enclosure, he began to feel a sense of dread. Shaking the feeling off he came to the other side, his brow furrowed with concern.
Twin taillights from an old pickup truck washed out from the underside of the bridge, and after rounding the stone wall, closer inspection noted the severity of the incident. As he walked closer, the air around him seemed colder. His breath puffed out in small clouds. He called out to the driver, his voice didn’t’ seem to carry very far. The all too familiar prickle on the back of his neck again nagged at his instincts, and he wondered if this was something more than just a vehicular mishap. “You ok down there?” Dean called out again, carefully walking down the wet hill toward the figure by the driver’s side.
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Jan 24, 2006 3:33:32 GMT -5
Shoving the non working flashlight into her back pocket Alex shifted. Jeans clung to her legs, soak through from the creek. Hands pushed back slightly curled dark hair as her eyes surveyed the damage. Her truck was going no where fast, if anywhere. The side she’d come down had plenty of vegetation most of which was already turning. Extra chill in the air was starting to bother her. Fine hairs against the nape of her neck began to stand as hands rested upon her hips. Stepping back into the water she paused.
There was a sound, not a sound she expected to hear around that area. It sounded almost as if a baby was crying. Brows knitted together as she searched the darkness. Only the haunting glow of her tail lights illuminated the area, while headlamps caused the water around the front of the truck to glow a dim color. Turning around she looked up to the covered bridge behind her. Craning her neck to try and see, was that the bottom of a white dress? “Hello?” Voice didn’t carry very far, but the crying had stopped. Maybe the night wasn’t turning into a total loss. She could have found one of the places she was looking for. Cold water splashed against her thighs as she moved towards the truck, reaching in to grab what she could, shoving other things into the pack.
Shifting the pack over her shoulder, she pulled the keys from the ignition. The glow that had been there died down. No use wasting the battery in the water. Shoving the keychain into her front pocket she moved. There was a sound coming from the bank, rustling of branches. Eyes lifted in the darkness, a pale light was just beyond the ridge she’d gone over. Then she heard a voice, a male voice. “You ok down there?” “Yeah, I'm super...” Alex sloshed in the water a step to where she’d heard the voice and stopped. The crying sound she’d heard was back. Eyes scanned the banks for the shadowed figure. Question was, was he real or a ghost? It wasn’t taking her long to figure that the woman who’d caused her to end up down the ravine, wasn’t breathing. So instead she questioned the voice on the banks. “Do you hear that?”
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Dean Winchester
Threat
"That fabric softener teddy bear... Ooh. I wanna hunt that little bitch down."
Posts: 35
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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 24, 2006 14:13:08 GMT -5
Dean’s look of concern faded from high alert at the sound of a female voice and the air of annoyance rather than panic. He walked to the edge of the embankment extending a hand to the waterlogged girl. Even in her current condition, the dimness of the night and fog, he could see her for the true beauty she was. This was the kind of girl that didn’t need makeup. It would only serve to diminish her. His eyes took a quick study; near incandescent skin, thick hair, and a limber frame. She was something alright. As she passed him by, questioning if he heard something, he couldn’t help but notice the way her hip bone was exposed above the waistband of her jeans, or small hint of flesh on the flat stomach. Blinking away the direction his mind was going, his brow wrinkled again, this time with an expression of skepticism.
“…hear what?” Dean followed her to the side of the road and then back onto the asphalt. He leaned up against the lip of the stone wall, peering into the darkness of the covered bridge. The small bit of light that illuminated the interior came from either end, as well as the smallish hole in the side. The hole overlooked the side the girl’s truck had gone over, and although the night was darker than that of a new moon, a beam of what he supposed was moonlight shone though the gap. That light cast a small semi circle on the smooth wooden boards of the floor, and for the briefest of seconds he thought he saw a woman holding a small bundle out of the hole.
Slowly the older Winchester sibling walked in her direction wondering if the brunette beside him saw it too. "What the hell?" But questioning soon turned into terror as he saw the chubby leg protrude from the bundle. It all hit home. “NO!” he shouted hoarsely, running toward the figure. The woman glanced back at him, and then back to the squirming baby as if she didn’t hear. She released the infant just before Dean was able to reach her, his fingers slipping against the fabric of her dress before he was knocked from his feet. Sliding against the floorboards, Dean hit the other wall, his head swimming heavily as he smashed it hard against the bridge. As his vision faded in and out, he saw a pair of shiny boots turn and walk away from him. His hand reached into the front pocket of his jeans. He fished out a small pouch of sea salt and tossed the contents desperately. It wasn’t hard to recognize the sensations that went along with a ghost, especially an angry one. And the one that had touched him was unequivocally pissed off.
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Jan 24, 2006 15:50:53 GMT -5
It seemed he was real and in the dim light of the night she could make out his features. The guy wasn’t bad. Actually, he was fairly attractive, strong jaw line. Decent build under the leather jacket. Expressive brow and eyes. However Alex was never one of the damsel in distress types. Right about now she could have used a cell phone to call a tow and that was about it. Her phone had been damaged from the dip in the water. Casually she brushed by his extended hand to the muddy slope. Water dripped from her jeans and still filled the inside of her boots. The white button down she wore over two different tank tops had water splashes round the bottom. While the tanks stuck against the flat of her stomach.
Of course it hadn’t stopped her from looking over her shoulder to him. Noticing the way his jacket fell just right against his back, the fitting yet loose style of his jeans, and that general area. Grabbing a branch she pulled herself higher hearing him following behind her to the road. “…hear what?” Alex raised her hand to shush him. She was listening for the crying, trying to pinpoint the location it had been coming from. Duffle bag dropped to the asphalt as she glanced towards the bridge. There was the dim aura of headlamps across the other side, she figured it must have been his car. And then in the limited light she saw her. The woman in white who’d appeared in the middle of the road. Now she was holding a bundle.
His almost husky voice reached her ears again with the same question that had been coming to her mind. Brows arched skyward as eyes winded and her voice echoed his cry of ‘no’. The blonde beside her took off into action running down the planks of the covered bridge. He was too late. There wasn’t a sound of a splash nor was there any crying. This was a haunt, there were spirits connected her, Alex was sure of it now if she’d questioned it before. Turning she rummaged into the duffle bag pulling out a flare gun, loading it with one round keeping a few others in her hand and one in her front pocket.
Running forwards she watched as the blonde got knocked from his feet. Then his form went sliding across the planks into the wooden wall hit by something else. There wasn’t just the woman in white here; there was another one, a malevolent one. As Alex got closer she saw what it was. Brilliant red light flashed as she fired her shot though it didn’t do anything to phase the ghost. Instead it drew his attention to her. Wincing, her back hit the siding and slid down the wall, near the hole where the phantom baby had been dropped out of. Flare gun spun against the ground near the entrance. The rounds that once were in her hand clunked against the wood. While one fell through the hole into the water below with a faint sound. Head throbbed as she focused up then sought to gain a visual on her flare gun.
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Dean Winchester
Threat
"That fabric softener teddy bear... Ooh. I wanna hunt that little bitch down."
Posts: 35
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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 24, 2006 20:16:03 GMT -5
As the ghost hissed and cowered away from him he felt an unnatural cold leave his bones. Grey eyes widened as he found the focus he needed to remain conscious and to get his wits back. With a heavy languid sigh Dean pushed up to his feet. A foggy night with a stranded motorist was turning into the least of his worries, now on top of a feminist Nazi he has Casper the not too friendly ghost and his baby drowning girlfriend to contend with. Shuffling toward the malevolent entity, Dean took it upon himself to do what was necessary. Sure, maybe the girl didn’t want him to hold any doors for her, but he wasn’t about to let her sensitivity to chivalry get her killed.
He winced at the flash from the flare gun, his eyes squinting against the glare. Alright so she’d come prepared, that he didn’t expect. But despite her efforts, the uniformed man didn’t slow down. It seemed he just grew angrier. The woman in white faded into nothingness, while the angry spirit solidified into something more tangible. Now he could see the cracks and imperfections in his face where the grave had begun to mar away at his remains. Teeth had worn through the side of his jaw, and his nose was rotted away. Dean supposed that if he were starting into his face, his eyes would look like twin cavities of dark that threatening to swallow you whole.
He watched her gun spin in his direction and without breaking stride, he scooped it up. In the next step he found one of the discarded flares, and loaded the weapon with a snap of his wrist. The barrel hit home with a hollow ‘thoomp’ as Dean’s arm rose in a straight line. With a dark expression he quoted his favorite horror movie. “Come get some…” And then he pulled the trigger. The gun exploded with light and additional sparks as the salt he’d palmed into the barrel took to the flame. As the explosion hit the spirit Dean took the brief respite to grab a hold of the girl’s wrist and drag her toward the Impala. “Move, MOVE!” This wasn’t time for questions, her weapons were just pissing it off and he was fresh out of sea salt. It was time to get to the Impala’s trunk.
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Jan 24, 2006 20:31:06 GMT -5
With a groan Alex scrambled forwards to her hands and feet. Alright so the flare wasn’t working on deterring the spirit. White woman had faded away and all that seemed to be left was the uniformed ghost, now taking a more corporeal form. Jaw dropped slightly as the guy grabbed her gun and fired a shot. Not without quoting first. Alex raised to her feet as he came running her direction grabbing her wrist and pulling her out of the bridge. “Come get some? Do you enjoy pissing evil spirits off?” The winds had picked up, this was turning into more than an ordinary hunt. Then again hunting unnatural things like ghosts it was never ordinary. Bridge seemed to creak with life. It seemed as if they’d been successful in pissing off this already temperamental spirit even more. Winds whipped up and there was more creaking. Water splashed about under the bridge as it shook. Alex made a run for it following after the guy who’d been there with her.
Sky lit slightly with aura, winds whipped causing a howl through the trees, and the hollow of the covered bridge. Boots pounded the pavement as she ran. Eyes looked down into the ravine to a sight she wasn’t expecting. It was as if her truck had never been there. Brows quirked as she paused breathing in. “Where’s my truck?” There was a moan from the area as Alex turned around. The ’87 Jeep Comanche 4x4 fell from the skies with a roar. Landing with a crunch on it’s passenger side. With whatever contents had been in the bed of the truck scattered against the ground. Shovels and picks and other things of the like lying on the open road from the beat up truck bed. “There it is.”
One of the large mud tires broke free of its axel and came to a rolling stop against the front bumper of the slick black Impala. Her voice almost held a non-chalet air to it. As if weird things like that hadn’t happened to her before. Biting her lower lip she pushed wind whipped hair from her face and looked at the truck. It wasn’t going to be driving anywhere soon. But what had caught her off guard was this guy as if he knew something about what they were dealing with. Skeptics and believers she’d met before, never another hunter. Eyes looked over to her truck then to the man running for the trunk of the Impala. Looking over her contents scattered along the ground she grumbled. Her main pack was on the opposite side of the bridge where she'd first gone off the road. There wasn't much inside the truck that could be of use, save for maybe the bag of salt.
Hand gripped the roll bars in the truck bed and used them to climb up. Pulling open the driver side door with some effort. Dropping in with a crunch of glass where the window had been shattered. Fingertips fumbled for the contents of the glove compartment and the black sea salt filled bag. “Was that part of your plan, Ash?” Alex sat against the side of the truck frame looking over towards the black car. Jumping down she moved, passing along the side of the car. Expression quirked again as she got closer to the blonde extending the velvet bag to him.
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Dean Winchester
Threat
"That fabric softener teddy bear... Ooh. I wanna hunt that little bitch down."
Posts: 35
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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 24, 2006 23:54:05 GMT -5
“Come get some? Do you enjoy pissing evil spirits off?” “Only when they piss me off first!” he breathed. Reaching into the leather jacket’s pocket, Dean felt his fingers hit cold metal, just as Alex’s hand left his and she questioned aloud about the whereabouts of the truck. He paused, thinking she was out of her gourd but looked back anyway. His eyes glanced to the ravine, seeing the broken earth, the still rippling water and the fog that had been momentarily been lifted away. It was as if the entire thing was just sucked up into the sky, leaving a cavity of freshly disturbed water. His mouth dropped open in surprise. If this place was the sort of blips on the paranormal radar he was coming to expect of their town then he had no doubt that his Dad was right to send them here.
The crash didn’t seem to faze her, but he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of all that glass and debris shattering across the road. He was sure that it was more than adequate to wake his brother. He turned to the side, tossing the keys though the open window. He pointed at his wide-eyed sibling and shouted an order. “Sammy, move the car away from the bridge!” Pivoting back he was literally stunned at the girl’s foolishness. That kind of reckless abandonment for her safety was going to get her killed. Grey eyes rolled and a heavy sigh puffed out.
“Was that part of your plan, Ash?” Catching the bag, Dean couldn’t help but make a face of mockery back at her. “It might have gone a little smoother yes. But lady, you just remember who saved your ass back there.” Quickly he drew a thick line of salt across the ground, glad that at least for the moment the girl had him covered. After the line was drawn he breathed easy. The feeling of the malicious presence ebbed back into the ether and at least for the moment the three of them had the makings of a clean getaway. Walking back to the car, his lips curled into a slight smile. It wasn’t a total victory, but for now he was content that they’d made a dent on the thing’s power base. “My, name’s Dean, nice to meet you. I have a cell phone is in the car but I doubt you’ll get a tow this late at night. Can I give you a lift somewhere?”
Getting into the car, he thanked Sam for climbing into the back and letting him drive. He was still really exhausted from their last hunt and although he was sure there were a lot of questions to come, Sam wisely kept it to himself. “Now where are my manners? This is my brother Sam.” he thumbed toward the back and waited for her to get in. “Sam this is umm… You know I didn’t quite catch your name.” He snapped his fingers mocking that somehow in all this “talkativeness” between them he’d forgotten. It was hard not to notice the cynicism.
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Jan 25, 2006 13:18:28 GMT -5
“Brilliant.” Night was defiantly not going as she’d planned. New Mexico native figured she’d be able to scope the area first before any encounters. Fat chance of that now. Eyes shot over to the blonde. Obviously he pegged her as something she wasn’t or just didn’t have people skills. Then again, hers could have used some work. The sight of the red painted old truck had irked her and put another sour note on the evening. Boot covered toe pushed a shovel out of the way as he shouted to the figure in the front seat.
Slender brow quirked as she moved, he was just full of surprises. Head tipped as cascades of dark brunette hair fell against her shoulders. He didn’t have the walk of a local, let alone the presence of one. One more thing they had in common thus far. For Alex it was a part of life, it was what she knew. Something inside her had a feeling it was the same for Mister Mysterious. “My ass wouldn’t have been knocked down if you hadn’t gone all John Wayne. Thanks for being a big damn hero.” Once again she sighed, hand running through her hair to twist it behind the nape of her neck. Pride in her wasn’t ready to admit it could have been worse.
Standing besides him in the middle of the country lane she could feel the difference of the salt. The barrier it brought about. Winds, moans and creaks died down until it was nearly silent once again. Heavy chill that had loomed in the air ebbed. Head lulled back as she ran a slender hand down her face. Her pack was still on the other side of the bridge now blocked by her side lying truck. And the uniformed, angry ghost. “My stuffs on the other side…” Came muttered voice as she turned finding that he was already walking to the Impala, and she followed. “My name’s Dean, nice to meet you. I have a cell phone in the car but I doubt you’ll get a tow this late at night. Can I give you a lift somewhere?” “My cell was damaged… but a lift would be…great. I’m staying in the-” She pulled a soggy and crumpled paper from her pocket. Slowly bending forward to read the running ink words, scribbled on the small piece of paper in front of the head light. “ Logan Inn. You know it?”
Orbs looked back towards Dean as he shifted to get into the drivers seat, the second male figure scooted to the back. With a silent nod Alex stepped up to the passenger side and slid in. Glancing behind her at the dark haired young man. Dean introduce him as his brother Sam. Then brought up the fact he didn’t know her name with a snap. Lips pursed as she glanced out the window then towards the brothers. “It’s Alex.”
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Dean Winchester
Threat
"That fabric softener teddy bear... Ooh. I wanna hunt that little bitch down."
Posts: 35
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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 25, 2006 19:30:17 GMT -5
… if you hadn’t gone all John Wayne… “Hey!” Dean pointed back, looking offended for the first time during their conversation. “John Wayne is hardcore.” He said defensively, turning the engine over. ‘Great, just great. So when did I change my name to Dean Winchester’s roadside assistance? Still, she is beautiful, even covered in all that mud… She might even cool that tough girl exterior long enough for-’ “Huh? Oh your stuff? Yea… I’m not thinking you wanna go back there anytime soon sweetheart. That freak-show just threw your truck at us. Besides, you ain’t exactly prepared for another knockdown drag out over a lipstick and a designer purse.”
He nodded with a grumble which faintly resembled a ‘yes’ at her question about the hotel. Sure he’d heard about it, it was one of the places marked off in his father’s journal. “This really must be your lucky day.” He quipped, turning off the small lane and onto northbound 232. The drive was quicker than he’d expected, and before long he was pulling down the cleverly dubbed “Main Street” and then onto the hotel’s lot on Ferry. It was larger than he expected. Most of these old converted colonial buildings still housed low ceilings and narrow stairwells. The Logan wasn’t much different, but he could see that there had been more than few updates to modern living.
Once inside he approached the counter, dinging the small bell for service. Before long a middle aged man came out from the backroom, smiling broadly at the trio. “Can I help you?” “Yeah you have a reservation for a Frank Banister.” The man ruffled though his paperwork nodded as he spotted the name. “That’s right I do, but it says here that you wanted a room for two… did you need me to change your reservation?” Dean held up his hand his eyes widening a little. “Oh no, she isn’t staying with us…” he paused, rubbing his chin and glancing back at Alex, “are you?”
He pushed the thought away at her posturing and the roll of his brother’s eyes, before signing the register and handing over the 120$ fee for the room. After handing Sammy the room key he spoke low. “Look I’m gonna take our new friend here to the bar, see how much she knows about our little poltergeist action tonight.” He turned back to the manager, “Hey you know of any good bars round here, preferably one with a pool table?” “Only bar with a table is Fran’s, can’t miss it. Big porch on the left, across the street from. Mystical Tymes.”
Dean nodded, looking over to the raven haired ghosthunter. “So what do you say you let me buy you a drink and apologize for all that Alpha-male nonsense back there? Come on, one drink. Ain’t gonna kill ya.” He nodded in the direction of the door, shooting Sam a sage expression as they parted ways. This wasn’t just about him hitting on a girl and they both knew it. She was more than just a pair of legs, and if they played their cards right with her she might just give them the insight they needed to find some more clues as to why their father sent these coordinates.
Once inside, Dean felt like a puzzle piece finding its place. This was his kind of bar. From the Johnny Winter tune playing on the jukebox, to the felt worn pool table and the line of leather jacketed biker types at the bar it was clear that he was going to blend in. Saddling up to the counter, he paddled his hands on the counter and ordered them a round of beer, his eyes casting about to survey the faces. No one here seemed to be paying attention to them and for the conversation he was about to start that suited him just fine. After a long pull, he leaned his elbow on the bar top and just came out with it. “You usually carry around a bag of sea salt? Or was that just a lucky chance?”
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Jan 25, 2006 21:04:02 GMT -5
“And I’ve got nothing against the cowboy.” Came her quip back to the blonde. Lips pursed once again, some how it had the makings of a pissing contest between them. Eyes scanned him up and down once again. Pushing her hair back once again she stepped closer as he commented about her pack being on the other side. Looking back across the bridge she knew he was right. But it had everything in it. Well it was tucked away enough that someone else would notice is, come sun up she’d be back to claim it. “You’re the one who pissed Col. Sanders off first. And there’s not any lipstick in that sack. There are more uh, personal things...like dry clothing.” “What would you call an unlucky day?” Her voice sassed back towards him. The mud on her jeans had started to dry but they were still damp and cold against her flesh. Eyes rolled slightly as she remained silent for the rest of the ride. Elbow resting against the side of the passenger door and window. While forehead rested against knuckles. Licking her lips again she watched the city passing them by. Old like she’d come to expect of the area thus far. The Inn came up before them as Alex shifted her attention forwards. His brother Sam had been fairly quite though the tip, maybe he figured it was better not to say anything at all. Closing the black painted door behind her she stayed a few paces behind Dean studying the interior lobby.
Corners of her lips twitched into a slight smirk at the drop of a fake name as eyes turned towards her. Picking up the tail end of the conversation at the counter. “...Did you need me to change your reservation?” “Oh no, she isn’t staying with us...are you?” “No, no I’m not. I have my own reservation.” Alex stepped forwards to the counter and smiled at the middle aged man. “Can I get you’re name miss?” “ Shellie Austin.” “Ah, yes here you are. Well it looks like I’ve got you across the hall from each other.” Facial features remained pleasant as brows perked up at the little tid-bit. Eyes looked up the stairs then to the boys who were whispering to each other. With nothing with her it didn’t make sense to go up to her room, so the keys were shoved into her pocket.
Form stopped as Dean neared her once again. Turning she looked into the face of the demon hunter. Able to see him much better now in the light. The slight cleft in his chin, strong lines in his neck and the cord of some kind of necklace. “So what do you say you let me buy you a drink and apologize for all that Alpha-male nonsense back there? Come on, one drink. Ain’t gonna kill ya.” “Might take the edge off the situation I’ve found myself in. And since you’re such a smooth talking charmer. Alright.” There was more than met the eye here, with her, with him and the situation on the bridge. But there was more that brought her back there. Her mother had once been institutionalized in a Rehabilitation Unit in Philadelphia. The Logan Inn had been a place she stayed as a child with her father before they continued on. Of course back then she didn’t know why her mother had gone crazy and why her father was so weird.
Fran’s bar was a small place, not unlike one of the ones back home. A jukebox in the corner playing a tune. Bar that ran across the back wall. Few tables and chairs. The occasional clank of pool balls hitting against each other. After taking in the area she adjusted herself at the bar next to Dean. A round had already been ordered as she nursed the long neck. Eyes lifted towards the man next to her as he leaned against the bar. “You usually carry around a bag of sea salt? Or was that just a lucky chance?” “Yes.” Alex looked around her as she lifted the bottle to her lips again. Swallowing she shifted leaning closer to Dean, turning to face him. Voice hushed near his ear. “There’s a small table near that back wall and jukebox, lets take it.” Fingers grazed against his free as she took it pulling away from the bar. Still holding his hand she navigated around the few inhabitant and empty tables until she came to a stop. Dropping in a few quarters to the machine and programing another song to play after the Johnny Winter tune. Sitting she glanced up at Dean. “You always carry a small bag of salt in your chest pocket? Or palm it into the barrel of a gun?”
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Dean Winchester
Threat
"That fabric softener teddy bear... Ooh. I wanna hunt that little bitch down."
Posts: 35
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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 25, 2006 23:07:21 GMT -5
Dean tried to maintain a cool and collected exterior, but it was difficult not to immediately start grilling her with questions. She sure as hell knew a lot more than she was saying and from his perspective that was just plain stupid. Even if she was a fellow hunter wouldn’t she welcome the extra help? Sometimes Dean just didn’t understand women. ‘Well alright, most of the time,’ his inner monologue corrected. Sure the bridge wasn’t something he’d expected, but logic told him that he was missing the bigger picture. Surely his father hadn’t sent them here to investigate a minor haunting. The bridge was in all respects, a cakewalk by comparison to the usual gig. However after paging though the journal on the area, he’d seen a plethora of hotspots to look into. It seemed he found the needles, just not the haystack.
Dean pounded the bar again, nodding to the tender that he wanted the next round to get sent over to the table adjacent the rack of pool cues. Lips pursed as he shot Alex one of his signature looks; a kind of mixture of indifference and annoyance but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. Really the only thing on his mind right now was admiring the few lovely ladies and getting down to brass tax with what “Lara Croft” here knew about the local spooks. He waited to see what song she put on, singing along to the tail end of “Still Alive and Well” until her choice came up.
“Still alive and well… still alive and well Every now and then I know it’s kinda hard to tell But I’m still alive and well.” The boy grooved down a little, mocking the blues riff as he ‘air guitared' the riff, his eyes watching her with a sort of schoolboy glimmer as she departed from the box. A smirk of contentment washed over his lips. For the first time all night they seemed to agree about something. Classic Rock.
Dean regained composure, perking up at the counter question about his own stash of emergency salt. “You want the foreplay or should we just get right down to it?” he asked, his eyes glancing away from her and onto one of the girls at the pool table. Something in the way she moved or felt wasn’t just right. Without meaning to he gave her a long hard stare before breaking his glance to return to the beer and conversation. “…because my old man didn’t raise a fool. When beautiful woman asks to hear your tale you best give her exactly what she asks for.” He tipped the beer empty, nodding thanks to the waitress who arrived and departed with the next round.
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Jan 25, 2006 23:46:01 GMT -5
Just like him Alex wanted to know what she was dealing with. Her fathers notes weren’t always clear, especially when it came to locations. A lot of it was talk of his wife, how it had been his fault. Part of her thought it was why he did what he did. Eyes studied Dean’s she could almost see him wanted to just shoot of questions. Likewise as she did. What it was going to come down to is who knew what. Question was what did he know, and what did he think she knew. Hunting hadn’t at first come naturally for her. It was different from when he’d take her out quail hunting. A lot different. Before his death she’d been learning everything she could about what her father did. The history her family had with it.
He was very much a guy, and she would bet anyone that the whole “Sly Stallone” didn’t go too far skin deep. There were brief moments where he had a bit of character, personality. Thus she kept her guard up. For now at least it seemed the wisest choice. The song that had been playing was coming to an end as she walked towards the table. Her choice fading up the almost bluesy beat came up along with a rasphed voice of Dr. John’s “Right Place Wrong Time.”
I been in the right place but it must have been the wrong time I'd have said the right thing but I must have used the wrong line I been in the right trip but I must have used the wrong car My head was in a bad place and I'm wondering what it's good for I been the right place but it must have been the wrong time My head was in a bad place but I'm having such a good time
I been running trying to get hung up in my mind Got to give myself a good talking-to this time…
Catching the smirk she flashed one of her own until his features changed again. After she’d questioned him back. Slender brows arched upwards as he shifted in the chair across from her. “You want the foreplay or should we just get right down to it? Because my old man didn’t raise a fool. When a beautiful woman asks to hear your tale you best give her exactly what she asks for.” Alex watched his eyes drift over to a girl near the pool table, taking on one of the few bikers that had entered the bar, to a game. Then his attentions came back to her. Placing the empty bottle on the waitress tray she took the fresh beer. “Smart man. Cause, hun, I like it straight up.”
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Dean Winchester
Threat
"That fabric softener teddy bear... Ooh. I wanna hunt that little bitch down."
Posts: 35
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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 26, 2006 18:22:38 GMT -5
“See now here I though you liked the mysterious types. Guess a boy learns something new everyday.” Shrugging off his jacket he slung it across the back of his chair. Dean was wearing a faded blue and grey baseball jersey and there were glimpses at his collar and cuffs, hinting to the thermal underneath. It wasn’t hard to see that given a different line of work, Dean might have been a sports jock or a X-Games fanatic. That sort of cocky, somewhat egotistical side of him was easy to spot. It exuded from him on an unconscious level. Most had it; he was just cocky enough to wear it on the outside.
Again his eyes glanced over to the girl. Whether or not she was listening in really didn’t make too much of a difference to him. What happened to his mother and what he did for a living made him an outcast no matter how you sliced it. What was one more upturned nose or hex sign made in his direction anyway? Lifting the fresh beer to his lip, Dean drank 2/3rd of it before setting it back down. It had been some time since he’d dragged up the actual story for anyone, and he wasn’t about to take a walk down memory lane without a little liquid courage.
“Ordinarily I’d start with the old classic, “Do you believe in ghosts” BS, but I think we’re beyond euphemisms at this point.” Dean smiled a little the expression twisting to a tight grimace. “It’s all I’ve ever known. Mom died when I was just old enough to start remembering things. Dad says, it had her pinned to the ceiling… and then boom.” Dean made an expressive gesture with his hands, his fingers splaying to give a visual on the explosion. “The house lit up like a dead Christmas tree. He’s been hunting for it ever since. Guess you can say it’s all I’ve ever known.”
Dean eyes twitched toward the beer as he wanted to take another draught but refrained. His head was already spinning from how quickly he’d drunk the other, and from the mild concussion he was sure he’d gotten from the ghost. “Sammy took the other route. Actually graduated high school, top of his class at Stanford Law...” He paused again, realizing he was glossing over a lot, but this wasn’t exactly the place and the time for the gory details. “And, well Dad went out on a hunt a few months back. And Sammy was the only one I could even explain half of this too without getting locked in some psycho ward.”
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Jan 27, 2006 2:58:34 GMT -5
“Naturally one would hope so.” Getting a little bit more comfortable she pressed her back against the back of the chair. A slight ache rippled up her spine from the prior hit she’d taken. Save for the mud coating her jeans from the shin down the clothing fit her personality. As well as the job she did. Eyes looked over Dean once more as she sipped the beer, listing to the music in their moment of silence. Studying one another. Sure there was an air about him. Of course she had her own persona. Tried to protect herself.
It wasn’t hard to notice the eyes on them. A pair from the girl who faked looking at something interesting on the wall when ever she glanced over. Guys near the back of the bar. Have been a sight, at least from the waist up she looked clean, normal. They were in the same boat. Following and believe things others shunned, ignored and dismissed. Pulling a long drink from the bottle she set the glass down on the small table. He’d nearly finished his, she had about half way to go. It in part relaxed the tension she felt. Ebbed the stress that had been building. “Ordinarily I’d start with the old classic, “Do you believe in ghosts” BS, but I think we’re beyond euphemisms at this point.”
Eyes cast down to her bottle before back up as he retold his childhood. His history. How he came about doing what he did. “So it was you’re dad who got you into it? Mine too. Turns out it’s part of the family. Of course after reading his stuff, it seemed it was always the guys, he got me instead.” Digits closed around the bottle as she lifted it to her lips taking another drink of the liquid inside. “He died doing it. Seven years ago. Like him with his father, I naturally took his place. I’d been going with him for a while. Learning what I could. But it’s hard to explain a murder when the murder weapon had no prints. Deemed it a suicide.”
Alex shook her head. Dark tresses fell against her shoulders as she gave a slight breath of air. It seemed interesting to her that they both shared some tragedy in their lives. Shifting again she looked back to the guy across the table from her. “When I was younger my mother was possessed. Emily Rose and all that. I didn’t know until I was older.” When Dean started talking about his brother Sam, she figured he must have been the younger of the two. Then something he said stopped her. Lifting the bottle she drained it of it’s contents, then raised her hand for another. Orbs danced away from his look, lashes fluttered close for a moment as she looked towards the door. Maybe it was just the word but deep down it bothered her. By now she’d more or less accepted the fact that her mother had been institutionalized. That never again would she be able to have a normal conversation with her mother.
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