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 27, 2006 2:59:51 GMT -5
“Yeah my old man was the first of us. Although I can’t say I’ve ever really met anyone who would choose this sort of life, unless they were born into it. In his absence he left us a journal of all his findings, newspaper clipping, the works; literally a million places where we could start digging. I’m sorry to hear about your loss. Did you ever find what did it?” Dean leaned in a little closer, his vice lowering a bit. Sometimes things didn’t pan out too kindly when bar folk starting hearing kooky stuff like demon or poltergeist. If she said he died on the job and that the wounds were deemed self inflicted, there was only a handful of things it could have been. “When I was younger my mother was possessed. Emily Rose and all that. I didn’t know until I was older.”
“Do you think maybe it was the same thing that got your mother?” He winced, realizing that he’d gone and said something that was likely really painful for her to even consider. “Welp, I’ve obviously said something wrong.” He sighed heavily, lifting the beer to his lips and finishing the contents. Hopping off of the swivel stool, Dean grabbed up her empty bottle. “If you’ll excuse me I have to see a man about a dog.” His head nodded briefly in the direction of the bathroom and with that he walked away. Internally Dean felt terrible about digging up her past, or implying that somehow her double loss was linked.
Crossing the bullpen surrounding the pool table, Dean overheard one of the larger guys complaining about the girl who had just taken him for a hundred large, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He was a fair player, but he’d caught a little bit of the game in question. The girl was a hustler; he’d spotted that from a mile away. She had the practiced stance of a snooker player; not something that you could just learn from local tournaments at the pub. His eyes pulled away slowing as he bumped past and into the facilities. Florescent Lights flickered overhead, casting the room with a sour glow. He ran water over his hands and then over his face. Water dripped from his jaw as he stared at his reflection.
“Just drink your drink. Drink your drink, and walk her home. Cut her loose. She’s not ready for this… hell you’re not ready for this. Last thing you want is another ghost following you around. You can do this. Just cut her loose.” The impatient pounding on the door stirred him from the mantra-pep talk. “Hold your friggin’ horses!” he shouted angrily. He bumped shoulders with the sizable biker upon exiting, flagging down the bartender for another beer before he returned to the table. “Ya miss me?” he smirked in a very schoolboy fashion, hiding his true intentions behind the inhibitions of drunkenness and double entendre humor.
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Jan 27, 2006 3:06:09 GMT -5
“No they never did. Cops just sort of dismissed it. He’d been stabbed through the throat with a silver cross. To them it was just some freak case.” Alex cast her eyes away as Dean leaned in slightly closer across the table top. It seemed he had more to go on then she did. His father was still alive. Left them a book with clippings, information, facts things they needed. She had her fathers journal, which had been her grandfathers. But everything in the leather bound book was personal entries. Just as the entries that followed from her hand. Anything she knew had been passed down by word of mouth.
It had only been a few years before her fathers death that she learned of her other culture. The life her mother had lived before she was born, or even married her father. Now she was trying to find out more. Learn the ways of the of the native American heritage she never knew about. That her mother, had practiced their beliefs and broke their laws when she married her Frank Sutherland. Eyes looked back up to Dean as he spoke. She thought it could have been the same thing. Her mothers, father blamed Frank for his daughters condition. That if she’d married in the tribe, she would not have had evil cast upon her. Alex wasn’t sure if she was ready to tell him just yet about her mother’s institutionalization. That after she’d been exercised of the evil spirit she lost mental capacity and went insane. “Dean…”
She paused as he stood up and took her empty bottle. Nodding his head to the mens room. Exhaling she rubbed tired eyes. Tonight sleep would find her easy. Head tipped back allowing the kink in her neck to stretch. Her grandmother, Orenda had been the only one she could turn to when her father died. So in speaking with Dean it was an unusual feeling. Simple, yet complicated at the same time. ‘Don’t look to deep into things. Keep him at an arms distance.’ mentally she spoke to herself. Orbs opened and glanced to the girl who was moving away. She’d seen what she’d done at the pool table. It was as if she recognized it for what it was. Magic. Alex rose pausing when the biker who’d been beat at pool stepped up to the girl. Lips pursed as she watched the interaction then heard Dean’s voice besides her. “Ya miss me?” “Am I that transparent?”
Taking the beer he brought back she took a drink and slightly leaned. The bottle lowered as she nodded her head the direction of the pool area. Alex had a slight thing about witches. Maybe it was more because of the social view of them. Or the flashy aspect some tried to pull. Unlike the healing side, cleansing. “Personal gain…” She muttered slightly. Still the situation wasn’t sitting right with her. On either end of those involved. She’d used magic to cheat. Biker Bob was getting to rough with a girl. Taking another drink Alex watched. If it started getting rougher she would stand up. Eyes looked back over towards Dean. Her selection had faded another song started to play. “Ballroom Blitz” by the Clash.
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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 27, 2006 3:07:15 GMT -5
“Am I that transparent?” He smirked at this, sizing her up and down briefly before answering. “Not at the moment, but if you wanna hose down that t-shirt...” he grinned wickedly. A light chuckle came forth, easing over the tension that had been set between them from the conversation before. He couldn’t help but enjoy her company. She wasn’t the typical girl by any respects, and it made for his flirtatious side to run a little higher than usual. Dean snapped the lid off of his beer, flicking the cap across the room in a casual, practiced arc. He easily slipped back into the role of a simple, somewhat egotistical guy who was in his natural element.
He caught Alex’s nod in the direction of the pool table. He’d seen some bar fights happen over a friendly game of darts or a stiffed bill, but this guy had some nerve. The grab was more than enough for him to again leave his chair. He casually walked to the pair sauntering up behind the biker. A quick tap on his shoulder gave enough of a sign for the guy to crane his neck back. "Is this guy bothering you?" Dean looked at Jen, waiting for a reply, but the big guy interrupted. "No, now why don't you get outta here and mind your own businesses before I break my foot off in your ass." Dean’s lips parted to say something else, just as his friend stood up from his seat at the bar. The height difference was noteworthy, and Dean’s expression dropped. "...Whoa!" he exclaimed, trying quickly to quell the situation. “Look, why don't I buy you and your friend here a beer? ...clear this whole misunderstanding up?” At that the second man reached out a meaty paw and grabbed the collar of Dean’s flannel jacket. “I don’t think you heard right. Mind your own business.”
The punch to the jaw was expected, the toss across the pool table wasn’t. Dean went sprawling over the green felt, feeling the dig of a few billiard balls against his kidneys. He groaned, landing on the hard unforgiving floor with a thud. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. At that the three others in the pack of bikers lunged toward Dean, grabbing him at the back of his light jacket. Fleetingly, Dean looked back to Alex, “You think maybe I should'a offered shots too?” he joked as he was being dragged off toward the back door and the parking lot.
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Jan 27, 2006 14:50:22 GMT -5
Sculpted brows arched skywards. Hand rested against the curve of her hip. Watching Dean sizing her up. No differently than she’d figure he’d size up a spook. Lips couldn’t help pull into a feigned O of shock, before becoming a smirk. Eyes looked over her wear then back up to Dean. “What covered in mud isn’t good enough for you?” Weight shifted as struck a slight pose then shook her head. This had to be the first time in a long while she’d eased up about a situation. There was a casualness to him. That was refreshing as well as intoxicating. Hand move to push back dark curls of hair.
Dean seemed to take more notice of the situation that looked to get out of hand with the pool sharks. Biting her lower lip Alex watched as he walked towards them. Another hero moment for him perhaps, well if it made him feel good, what was the harm right. Then again beefcakes with pea brains and alcohol were never a good mix. There was a few spoken words, offers made and a second man stood up. Eyes rolled, he was good at getting himself into some kind of trouble. Cringing slightly she watched as Dean was slammed back against the pool table.
Taking a long pull from the bottle she moved. The Hells Angels wannabes had gathered together in a bit of a group. The eldest brother was roughed up onto his feet. Biker Bob and his gang aimed to take him outside, where less public damage would have been made. Eyes caught Dean’s look as they were trying to force him back out the door. “You think maybe I should’a offered shots too?” “Dean.” Boots thudded against the ground as she moved. Eyes shot to the girl for a moment then to the back of one of the biker’s head. Beer bottle lifted and came down with an arched motion. As soon as it connected it shattered sending shards of glass and liquor all over the place. Especially the back of the biker who’s jacket said “Tiny Tim”, of course she highly doubted that.
“Now look what you made me do, you made me spill…” Came her voice as the man stopped and started turning her direction. A firm scowl was placed against his lips, as she finished. Right fist had been balled up and came thrusting forwards. Colliding with meaty cheek, she followed the punch through. “…my beer!” Air puffed from her lips blowing a strand of loose hair out of the way as the man staggered back. Turning her chin over her shoulder she looked to the witch who’d now been left alone. “Haven’t you ever heard of Personal Gain before. Maybe you should have just given back the money you swindled from him.”
Hand shook off the slight tingle from the punch. Turning around again she pushed through the bars door to the parking lot. Dean had been shoved forwards and one of the bikers was slumped against the wall. Brows narrowed slightly trying to asses the situation. It seemed as if someone else had now joined the party. There was a series of remarks, one of which caused Alex to wrinkle her nose stepping slowly forwards. Drawing a breath she wrapped an arm around Dean. Fingertips stroked down his cheek as she looked up. Pulling him slightly closer she looked towards the Bikers. “He didn’t mean anything. Poor guy suffers from “Split Personality Disorder”. Sometimes he thinks he can take on the world. You’re not really going to fight a guy in his condition or some girl are you? You’re mothers would be so ashamed of you. And I’m sure she didn’t raise you like that.” Lashes closed over her eyes, then opened as she looked to the bike boys still standing there. Lips even pouted looking slightly fuller. Shifting she moved to take Dean’s hand and stand once again. Eyes looked down towards him with, then casually towards the other men. She just hoped the act worked. “Come on sweetie, I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
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Sam Winchester
Threat
Sammy is a chubby 12-year-old- it's Sam
Posts: 20
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Post by Sam Winchester on Jan 30, 2006 21:33:11 GMT -5
The dream- or rather, nightmare- was the same. Jessica was pinned to the ceiling, blood dripping from her abdomen and onto his face. "No!" he screamed and sat up in bed. Sam looked around wildly, sleep having completely disoriented him. The shabby furnishings told him they were in another motel, just one more in an endless string of small town dives.
Letting out a breath, Sam gave the water stained ceiling a cursory glance before getting out of bed and pulling his jeans on. After splashing some water on his face, he pulled on a long-sleeved T-shirt and went in search of his brother and the beautiful stranger.
Sam didn't have far to go when he stepped outside the motel's front doors. The stranger was helping a battered and bruised Dean across the street. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, stepping off the curb and going to the pair. He was getting used to playing the reluctant cavalry or clean-up crew to his older brother's antics.
"Who'd you piss off this time, Dean? Someone's boyfriend? A football team?"
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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 31, 2006 22:40:46 GMT -5
Dean is hit hard in the face, “Do you hear me now?” “No I didn't quite catch that.” He's hit again, but he remains stubborn. Childishly, Dean continues to bait the man. “…still not getting it.” The fist flew a few more times, Dean’s body sagged as his assailant held tight to the edge of his jacket, keeping him on his feet. “Ok, I got it… Shit I lost it.” Dean groaned as the biker put some more effort into the next few hits. There was a fist to his side, and then the follow up to his already injured kidney. He heard the sickening crack as his ribs gave way. Landing against the pavement, was more than enough to make him groan again.
If he hadn’t gone and tried to be the bigger man he wouldn’t be in this predicament. Had he swung first and left honor on the sidelines he wouldn’t now be wishing for a few shots of bourbon to numb his body. His hand slapped against the ground as he struggled to push up, only to feel the slam of a boot at the back of his neck. His mouth was filled with the taste of coppery blood, and he braced himself for another hit when all of a sudden the pressure was released. “Hey…” he complained groggily, “I paid for an hour!”
The sound of Alex's voice intermingled with the shouting of men. Groggily, with unsure footing the eldest Winchester brother stood up. Blood was pouring from his mouth. Absently mindedly, he made a face, as if realizing for the first time he’d been struck. His fingers touched his mouth and then he examined the red stained digits as if surprised. Coughing brought him a little more awake, and the feel of a warm hand on his shoulder was even better. It gave him a sort of anchor to latch onto until his head stopped spinning.
“Come on sweetie, I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night.” “Smartest thing you’ve said all night,” he grinned lopsidedly, looking over to the blonde haired girl who was breathing hard, then the trio of men all nursing one injury or another. He winced at the police siren and the flashing blue and red as a police cruiser double parked in front of the establishment. The uniformed man walked confidently toward the scene, sizing up the situation. He took their statements and then hauled the drunken men away, but not before offering to call an ambulance for Dean. Sitting on the wooden steps to the backdoor, Dean looked up to Alex and the other two girls. “No, I’ll manage…”
He stretched the truth a little, but a trip to the hospital was the last thing he needed. More bills he wouldn’t be able to afford, when at least in this case he knew what they would do; wrap up his side with an ace bandage and tell him not to move that much, maybe do a head CT to see about the concussion. That alone would likely run around 11K and hunting wasn’t exactly a six-figure career. Shrugging his leather jacket back on, Dean walked toward the hotel.
“You know, I’m starting to think you might be a bad influence on me,” he coughed a few times after trying to laugh off the intense feeling of embarrassment and stupidity. Twice now this poor girl had seen him at his worst. He blamed fatigue for about eighty percent of it, the other bit on his hard-on for doing the right thing instead of the easy solution. As they walked the narrow tree-lined sidewalk his eyes glanced up here and there at the scenery. For a small backwater town, this place seemed pretty happening. Already they’d passed an occult shop, a store that sold medieval weaponry, and a high end tobacco shop.
Passing over a paved bridge, he caught the sound of water on a mill wheel, and adjacent that an old time playhouse. His eyes read over some of the faded flyers. One in particular made his forehead wrinkle, as he’d not anticipated that the Rocky Horror Picture Show would be something a little town like this would feature. The place butted up against the Delaware River, and aside from the freshly painted booth in the parking lot, it had a sense of old worldliness about it. Think Sam is going to be wondering where you’ve been?”
Her words stirred him from his inner thoughts, and study of the area. “If I know my brother, he’s probably under the impression that I’ve become… distracted.” Dean glanced at Alex from the corner of his eye, but didn’t say anything more. The implications were more than clear. Stepping down off of the curb, Dean couldn’t help but wince and cradle his side. The jarring sent a fresh reawakening of pain across his torso as ribs clawed against his lungs. It was significantly harder to play the tough guy card this round, but he did his best to be the good solider and not overtax Alex’s worry, if she had any.
The rain had long stopped, but in its wake it had left the streets slick with moisture. The old fashioned street lamps cast a waxy glow across the street’s dull shine. As Dean crossed over toward the Logan Inn, he was nearly transfixed. The town was small and quaint, probably no more than a mile and a half of commerce and densely packed population. Here on the side street of Ferry, he could see a few historic homes, and a place that looked as though it had been separated into several studio apartments. But the antique structures weren’t what had him riveted, it was the girl. He found it a struggle not to stop and look up at her. This was clearly a problem.
“How long do you plan to keep pulling the tough guy bullshit?” He didn’t answer, or make any outward sign that he’d heard. And he felt increasingly pained as she rushed on to offer herbal remedies. The tone of her voice made it clear that she was trying to break down some of the walls of mistrust. Dean just muttered a laconic retort. “…Yeah” Part of him hated his mean streak side, part of him needed it. It was the easiest way to keep a clear head regarding his duty. Push them all away, keep yourself at an arms length so when something happens the guilt of it doesn’t haunt you. Unlike his brother, Dean’s loss was self inflicted. It was he who’d shoved in the proverbial knife, twisted, broke it off.
"Who'd you piss off this time, Dean? Someone's boyfriend? A football team?" His brother’s voice startled him from the internalized vexing and he looked up. The easy answer was right there waiting to come out but he refrained. Instead he smirked and looked over toward Alex then slowly back to Sam as he lied. “I wouldn’t say I pissed her off… but there was screaming involved. Ok maybe we did get a little overzealous. You sure you’re gonna be ok baby?” The lie hurt, but he knew how hard he could fall for a girl like this. If she hated him it would be all the easier to walk away. Dean rolled his eyes and made a tight grimace. Eyes of jaded grey shifted away from the trio of accusatory stares and then flashed back with renewed anger. He was bullshitting, that much was unmistakable, but Dean wasn’t about to give in and let the chivalrous side come out again “what no applause?” Dean’s smile was near devilish; the kind that almost begged for a slap across the face. He winked at his brother and walked past and inside.
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Feb 1, 2006 12:31:13 GMT -5
By the time she’d gotten outside, Dean had taken a beating. Half of it was more than likely, his, own doing. Orbs rolled as weight shifted. That had been twice now she’d seen him go into action. Twice, he tried to be the hero of a situation. Twice, that it didn’t go over as smoothly as it could have. Hands back on the arm of the biker who’d knocked Dean down, her eyes flashed up to him before back to the injured blonde. “Hey…I paid for an hour.” “Nice going slick.”
Adjusting herself, Alex tried to help Dean support himself. Part of it was all part of the act, but part of trying to be helpful. After all he had helped her out back near the bridge. Grumbling could be heard through out the men still circled around. Eyes glanced towards the blonde once more. Flash of red and blue caught her attention, while a slender hand raised to block the obnoxious light. After simple statements and notes for the report the Police drew away. Not before offering medical assistance for Dean.
Blue-green orbs watched Dean limping away slightly. Commenting something to the blonde who’d been standing there and possibly helped. Pushing digits into her dark tresses she sighed. Welcome to New Hope, Pennsylvania she thought to herself. It seemed as if the night had done a complete one eighty from where it’d started from. Straightening her figure some, the brunette hunter watched as the blonde young woman entered the bar.
Turning on her heals Alex caught stride with Dean. Clouded sky had cleared slightly. Beam of pale moon glow washed over the ground. Arms folded across her chest as she walked besides him. “So it’s not only spirits you piss off. Its also big biker guys with huge arms. That guy was like a refrigerator Dean. I think he did more than Col. Mustard did back at the bridge.” Warm breath rose from her lips as she spoke. Drifting into the cold night sky as vapors of warmth. The small town shops had been closed up for the night. From, leather shops, chocolates stores, and art studios. She noticed, a Tarot Reader, pottery, then something else a local theater. Eyes scanned up at the Bucks County Playhouse. Lettering on the marquee and a sun faded poster in one of the front cases. The ticket boot was old fashioned. A velvet curtain closing off the window, a hanging sign that said closed and a circular speaker. There was almost an aura coming from the old place and eyes looked back towards Dean. “Think Sam is going to be wondering where you’ve been?”
“Me, a bad influence on you? No, surely not, no.” Hand rubbed her bicep as she kept her arms around her. The turn of the season must have been pretty during the daylight. Some of the trees along the sidewalk still clung to their leaves, while their feet crunched the dry ones that had already fallen to the ground. It wasn’t much bigger than some of the towns back home. However it had a much different feel. Quaint, old English, rather than the old Western feel in New Mexico. For a few paces their discussion had dwindled down. Alex figured more than anything that hurt him it was his ego that had to have been bruised the most.
Arms uncrossed, while slender hands shoved into back pockets. She was feeling ready to get out of these jeans. Maybe she’d wash them in the shower of her room and let them dry over night. Back arched for a moment as their walk slowed. There was the sound of trickling water near by, but it seemed as if the old theater had caught both of their attentions. “If I know my brother, he’s probably under the impression that I’ve become…distracted.” Alex gave a sidelong glance towards Dean. Then she turned her eyes back up to the marquee of the theater house. Her mother would have loved a place like this. “Well I guess having ones ass handed to them by Meatloaf is a big distraction.” Of course she knew exactly what he’d meant. The distraction meant her. He was a guy, she was a girl, how much more simple could it be?
“How long do you plan to keep pulling the tough guy B.S?” Dark brows arched over her eyes as she looked towards him. Pain was something she knew. Something she figured he knew as well. Alex could hear her father’s voice in her head. The many different lectures about watching her back, being careful, not being so stubborn. Following him off the sidewalk she glanced away. “You should take a warm bath. See if the Inn has any Epson salt, it will relax the muscles around the swelling and pressure on your ribs. And have a cup of Thyme tea it’s an herbal pain reliever. Though, I’d add some sugar and honey for taste. Witch Hazel and Eucalyptus would be better; I’m sure that little occult shop probably had some.” Eyes glanced back over to Dean as the Logan Inn came up closer to view. Mix of no sleep, dull aches and alcohol on an empty stomach was starting to give her a bit of a headache.
Brows knitted against the headache threatening to start in on her. Stepping off the curb she glanced at Dean then towards the inn. Head shook slightly, she shouldn’t have gone in with the herbal remedies. Let herself even have a glimpse of caring. It was a dangerous path. Alex had to keep reminding herself, that after she was done here they would be splitting ways, going their own routes. There was no denying the attraction but that was part of the problem. After her fathers death, it’s why she did it on her own. A means of protecting herself, and the others around her. Alone. It’s what she needed to be. It’s what she kept telling herself over and over. But it was the hardest thing to believe.
Exhaling the brunette hunter pushed away any thoughts of the blonde next to her. That was until a voice caught her off guard. There coming out of the Logan Inn was his younger brother, Sam. Eyes lifted to the dark haired brother as she paused her steps. “ Who’d you piss off this time, Dean? Someone’s boyfriend? A football team?” Eyes studied both brother’s then shot back do Dean. As he started in on the events. Color rushed to her cheeks, but it would have easily been passed off from the brisk walk in the cold night air.
Alex’s weight shifted. Ready to lay into Dean until she stopped herself. Fine. If he wanted to play along that way, let him. Her elbow caught Dean in the ribs as lips pulled into a tight smile. “Hope the rest of you’re night is magical.” Then she looked up towards Sam and patted him on the arm as she passed. Her tone had changed from the sarcasm laced tone she held with Dean. It was almost sweet. “Goodnight, Sam.”
Continuing past the trio she could feel the mix of the night’s events draining her. Hand reached into her pocket pulling out the room key. Pushing into the lobby, she voted for the stairs rather waiting for the elevator and getting stuck inside it with Dean. Boots pounded up the stairs as she came to her room. Fumbling with the door lock until she could get it open, and inside. With the door closed firmly behind her she sighed. Crossing the room she headed into the bathroom. Stripping down to the bikini cut underwear and bottom most tank top, Alex started to wash the mud covered jeans. The clear water turned brown as she rang the article of clothing out. Hanging it over the shower curtain to dry over night. With a short shower for herself out of the way too, she headed towards the bed and welcome rest.
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Sam Winchester
Threat
Sammy is a chubby 12-year-old- it's Sam
Posts: 20
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Post by Sam Winchester on Feb 1, 2006 22:25:34 GMT -5
Sam watched the exchange between Alex and Dean with raised eyebrows, a slightly amused smile on his lips. It was the Dean Winchester show alright, same Bat Time, same Bat Channel. He suppressed the widening of his smile as Alex elbowed Dean in some obviously injured ribs as she walked past. Her touch was light as she passed by him and he found himself briefly reminded of Jessica. Quickly, he suppressed any memories before they could surface.
"So did you find anything else out besides how to be a punching bag?" Sam asked, stepping to the side to allow Dean inside. His older brother's scowl brought the smile back to Sam's face. "How about letting the Geek Squad take a crack at it?"
Once Dean had disappeared inside, Sam set off in the direction Dean and Alex had come from. He found the bar, only there were police cars in front and a pair of uniformed officers were settling things down on the sidewalk. Sliding his hands in his pockets, Sam hunched his shoulders a bit as he watched the crowd, trying to pinpoint someone who looked chatty.
Most of the crowd were leather-clad biker types and their boozed up girlfriends. Dean did know how to make a great impression. Sam sighed, realizing he wasn't going to get much out of anybody in that area. Turning, he headed off in the other direction, going back toward the hotel. He passed by it, glancing here and there into darkened store front windows as he got a feel for the town.
Sam let his mind wander, thinking of nothing and everything at once. The town seemed like a nice little place, with a tourist trade by day and a decent scene at night for the locals. When he reached the end of the main street, Sam paused and suddenly felt the creeping sensation of being watched.
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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 Feb 1, 2006 23:15:31 GMT -5
Boots thudded heavily against the floorboards, the second key was fished out of his pocket and the door slammed unforgiving behind the eldest Winchester brother. He was in a royally livid mood, and dealing with a lecture from his kid brother was not number one on his list of things to do this late in the evening. Boots were kicked off, his shirt and pants removed with some difficultly and tossed onto the overstuffed chaise lounge adjacent the bay window. He entered the bathroom, turning on the showerhead and stepping into the antique claw foot basin. The scalding water felt good on his tired skin, and he lingered under the veil of the water for a long time.
After emerging the bathroom, Dean walked past his brother ignoring anything he had to say before laying down. For a long while he just lay on the top of the coverlet and stared at the ceiling. He watched as periodically the occasional car would drive down main street and cast a glow of headlights through the window, lengthening and a shortening the shadows. He was drunk, hurt, and far from tired, but eventually he felt his body let go and his eyes drift shut. Dean dreamt of dark things, things that he never spoke of to even his brother. There were so many years when Sammy wasn’t there to see the things he had, so many horrors that Dean carried in his mind, only to be revisited when he could not escape the confines of his psyche.
“Dean?” “Yeah Dad?” “Come over here and help me with this…” Dean pushed though the mildew encrusted doorway, following the sound of his father’s voice. The flashlight cut a beam of white crisp revelation across things that he would have rather stayed in the dark. Again he heard his father call out, and he rushed forward not wanting to keep the man waiting. Boots tripped over a moldering box, and Dean went sprawling. The side of the cardboard box split open and hundreds of old photographs and a few marbleized composition books spoiled out. The flashlight rolled hollowly across the floor, and his eyes followed the beam of light. He caught the glimpse of white chemise skirts billowing around a corner. He stood to follow, but the dream shifted as soon as he exited the room. Now instead he was standing in a bedroom. The walls and furniture were clean, and all of a sudden she was there. He could smell her perfume, and as they began to kiss he became caught up in the moment, allowing her to push him down on the bed.
Deep in sleep Dean’s figure stirred a little, the room was ever so cold. His breath came out in clouded puffs, and the coverlet (now over him) was pressed hard across his chest, as if something was holding it down. A pair of depressions were clear in the mattress and as the blonde haired Winchester stirred again, he groaned a little, as if in protest of something. Despite the temperature of the room, and the cold breath from Dean, he was pouring with sweat. A voice echoed out from the ether, calling his name softly on an unfelt wind. His lips parted, form shifted, and then all at once he could not breathe. Eyes flashed open, he fought to move, but could not. And that is when he saw her.
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Sam Winchester
Threat
Sammy is a chubby 12-year-old- it's Sam
Posts: 20
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Post by Sam Winchester on Feb 2, 2006 21:05:44 GMT -5
Made uneasy by the creepy feeling, Sam started heading back to the hotel. As he walked, his pace picked up considerably until he was almost running. Something was up and it wasn't good. Maybe this sleepy Pennsylvania burg had a lot more happening than biker bar fights.
By the time he hit the front doors of the hotel, Sam sprinted past the elevator and pounded up the stairs. If something was indeed going down- and not just his sleep deprived, paranoid brain going into overdrive- Sam figured it would only be a matter of time before Dean ended up in it up to his eyeballs.
The unyielding doorknob that greeted Sam made the feeling knotting his stomach even worse. "Dean!" he yelled, hammering his fist against the flimsy wood. Even if his older sibling was in the shower, he would have heard the pounding.
Ignoring the opening doors up and down the hallway, the bewildered guests, Sam rammed his shoulder against the door. It took two tries before the latch gave and he staggered into his freezing cold room.
Dean was on his bed, the coverlet pulled up to his shoulders. From the scant light coming in from outside, Sam could see his features contorted in something like pain. His breath came in sharp pants and as Sam neared, he could see that his brother was trying to struggle against something.
Moving carefully, Sam inched toward the bed, praying in Latin. He raised his voice as he went, watching as Dean began to have an easier time of breathing. By the time he reached Dean's side, the elder Winchester was starting to wake up.
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Feb 3, 2006 2:05:39 GMT -5
Sleep had been exactly what she needed. Ached body seemed to sink into the warm comforts of the bed. Even though the room held a slight chill in the air, it caused her to bring the blankets higher upon her bare shoulders. Form lie on her left side, face buried against the pillow, blanket and comforter pulled high under her chin. Brows of chestnut knitted in her slumber. Maybe it was the mix of alcohol on an empty stomach that brought about the dream.
Images flashed in her mind. Some of the images visions of the nights events, happenings from the bridge, the woman in white and the Colonel. Intermingled were visions of her past and perhaps further back. Images from the spirits collective from her mother’s tribe. Cries of pain, were mixed with cries of warriors and drums in her vision. A fire roared and there was dancing. In the dream things seemed to fade to black, the only thing coming into focus was a wooden carved mask. The mask had meaning, traditional with healers of the Iroquois tribes, the False Face Society. She couldn’t have been sick could she, or was the mask meant for someone else? Sounds roused the slumber as she shifted. Groggily she opened her eyes, while the sting of the headache manifested. It seemed to have gotten worse with the short nap than better. The noise was coming from outside the hall. It had sounded like Sam calling Dean’s name. Questions caused her brow to quirk, perhaps a little brotherly trouble. Still the sound of it seemed rather desperate. Perhaps he’d just been locked out and Dean refused to let him in. Pulling the sheet of her bed, Alex wrapped it around her much like a toga. Bare feet padded against the ground as she neared her door. With a twist of her wrist it was unlocked and opening. Other doors along the hallway were slamming shut and the door to the dark room across from her was slightly ajar. “Sam?”
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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 Feb 4, 2006 3:19:20 GMT -5
Invisible hands worked over his flesh, caressing across his neck and into his hair. In all accounts this part of his interaction with the succubus was more than enjoyable. He could feel a pull on his loins unlike any lustful encounter in his life. It it weren’t for the crushing sensation in his lungs, as his breath, his life force was drawn out of him, Dean would have become lost within this passion. His chest arched skyward. His hand clenched at the fitted sheet, balling up the cotton in tight fistfuls.
His eyes craned to the side at the sound of Sam’s voice. The tendons on his neck stood out prominently as he strained against the pull of the ethereal entity. Latin words were drowned out by the roar of his pulse in his ears. As the icy hands made contact with his flesh he felt a fresh pang of fear before he was again pulled under by the tide of lust. A moan escaped him as the succubus’ touch trailed down to the building heat between his legs.
The succubus’s scream ripped through the room, shattering the antique mirror and the glass of water on the bathroom sink. The armoire rattled against the floral wall dressing, and the bed shuddered as Dean and the entity fought against each other. Raggedly he pulled a breath as she gave him a moment of respite. Lungs burned for more air as the want for release consumed him. In the next instant it looked as though Dean was going to be lost from this world… until a second voice joined his brother’s chanting.
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Sam Winchester
Threat
Sammy is a chubby 12-year-old- it's Sam
Posts: 20
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Post by Sam Winchester on Feb 4, 2006 15:06:23 GMT -5
Sam was surprised and relieved at the stream of Latin as it poured out of his mouth. He had started the prayer without being certain if he could remember it all. Kind of like riding a bike, he thought as he crossed the room. Behind him, he was aware they had drawn an audience.
Dean had started to sit up, but was forced back down onto the creaky mattress by whatever was perched on his chest. Sam kept praying, raising his voice in hopes that the volume would do something to help his cause. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Alex standing in the doorway, dressed in a tank top and some kind of toga thing, her hair sticking out at odd angles around her head.
Helplessly, he gestured and nodded toward the bed. He wasn't surprised when Alex joined him with Latin and started in his direction. Finally, Dean drew in a deep, shuddering breath and sat up, his eyes wide.
Relieved, Sam gave him a half-assed smile. "Dude, welcome back."
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Feb 4, 2006 22:45:42 GMT -5
Having gone to bed with damp hair hadn’t helped matters. There she stood in the hallway looking rather disheveled. Dark chestnut hair fell down around her bare shoulders in a slightly curled and tangled mess. While hand gripped tightly against the blanket toga around her form. When it seemed as if most prying eyes and lookie loo’s had gone back into their respectful room, she stepped forward. Turning her attentions back she moved closer to the door, fingertips pushing until she could work herself in through the space made, rather than opening it fully.
If it was something, other-worldly or along those lines, she didn’t need to freak anyone out about it. Less people knew the better. As eyes adjusted to the lack of light in the room, she padded forwards on bare feet. Dean was defiantly struggling against something. But glimpses of fear melted into ones that looked almost of pure pleasure. Lips parted but she said nothing. The chill in their room was far different than it was in her room. As Sam took notice of her and waved her closer she stepped beside the dark haired man. Sam’s Latin prayer had done something. Attention turned towards the bathroom and the sound of breaking glass there, followed by the mirror.
The prayer chant beside her got louder, then for a moment things had stilled. But it wasn’t over. Dean still looked as if he was struggling against something. Then he shifted in ways that seemed more, risqué. Alex diverted her glance towards the ceiling from Dean’s moving form on the bed. His breathed seemed to become more and more shallow, Sam continued and she joined in. Her voice carried in unison with the younger brothers. Fingers that had balled up against her own cotton sheets pulled higher up her chest, free hand taking Sam’s, until Dean finally woke.
“Dude, welcome back.” Releasing the hand of the younger hunter, Alex shifted. Hip jutted against the sheets as she glanced back to the door that was still ever so slightly ajar, then to Dean. Clearing her throat slightly she motioned that he should probably adjust his blankets. Glancing away from the bothers she moved, stepping towards the mirror, picking up a shard. Broken reflection looked back at her and slightly over her shoulder. Turning around arm crossed neath her chest holding up the piece of mirror using it almost as a pointer towards Dean and Sam. “Think it will be back?”
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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 Feb 10, 2006 0:35:52 GMT -5
He awoke from the spellbound state covered in a cold sweat. Breath was raw and it burned his throat and lungs as he hungrily pulled in desperate gasps. For the first few minutes he was only aware that he was no longer on the brink of death, but after a moment, Dean realized he was not alone. At first he assumed it was just his brother in the room, but as he sat up and looked around, he saw that his hotel room was littered with every girl he’d encountered that evening. His eyes shot from face to face with a mixture of amazement and disbelief, but neither of these emotions took the foreground.
Dean coughed hard for a long stretch, his body aching all over each time. The broken ribs on his side gouged at his lungs, poking and prodding his insides. “Thanks…” he finally managed his voice raw and weak. He shuffled his weight a little, waiting to stand until the embarrassing state of his lower half returned to normal. In the meanwhile he, looked aside attempting to mask his embarrassment. At the question from Alex, his brow darkened. He stalked past her. “I dunno. But I sure as hell don’t wanna be around when she does.” He grabbed up a pair of pants from the floor and put them on as he spoke. “Sam, pack your stuff.”
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