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Post by Alex Sutherland on Feb 10, 2006 1:56:13 GMT -5
Lips pursed once more. What she could have used was about four aspirin and to just ignore anything happened and crawl back in bed. Of course it didn’t seem as if that would be happening. She was cranky, with a lack of sleep only adding to fuel the fire. Alex’s weight shifted again as she looked over the mess. Dean’s arousal caused her to glance back. Stepping forward Alex gave a slight nod of her head to the blonde who’d stalked past her. Sure, he had every right to be cranky waking up like that couldn’t be the most pleasant. Head shook as tresses of dark brown fell down around her shoulders.
“Right.” Moving into the hall she reached for the door. When it wouldn’t open she scowled. Shaking the handle vigorously it wouldn’t budge. Locked, but how, it was an old fashioned key hole in the lock. “Come on!” Her hands pulled the door as lips pursed. It seemed as if she was locked out. Hands rested on her hips for a moment before she took a step back. Allowing the sheets that covered her to drop to the ground, Alex took a step back. Heel connected with the door just under the lock and handle. Old wood cracked and the door pushed open, though bare heel now stung. Grabbing her still wet and washed jeans, she pulled them on, along with her boots and the other tank top and shirt.
Crossing back to the other room she looked over the brothers, then picked up the discarded keys to the Impala. “Maybe you should let, Sam or myself drive.” She could tell that it hurt him to have to agree to the terms. That Impala must have been one of his prized possessions. Sam had commented that there was another motel down the road. Slightly more affordable, and less filled with spirits. Boots pounded down the stairs as she left, finding the Impala parked outside. Slipping the key in she slid in against the leather seats. Engine roared to life as she revved the old muscle car. Finger depressed the radio knob, and the ride was in silence. Black car pulled into the dark parking lot. Eyes looked over the motel as she exited the Impala walking towards the small lobby with the front desk. She just hoped there were two rooms still open.
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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 12, 2006 20:03:53 GMT -5
They procured the only room the hotel had left, the trio being forced to share the two beds. Dean was in a foul mood. He wasn’t thrilled about Alex driving the Impala, and this latest incarnation was just icing on the cake. As they entered the room, Dean slammed the door shut, and tossed his bag against the closeted wall. “You can stay tonight. But that’s it. Tomorrow we get your truck towed, and then Sam and I are on our way, understand?” His eyes took in the room’s contents. Two narrow beds, a television, and a shared bedside table. “Oh, this is just keeps getting better and better…” he complained, eyeing Sam and then Alex.
He stalked to the bathroom, running cold water over his hands and them over his face and the back of his neck. The elder Winchester brother found himself staring at his own reflection for the second time in the same night. This time he didn’t need the monosyllabic pep talk to know what he had to do. Dean didn’t bother kicking off his boots or even looking for a pillow. Shrugging off his flannel over shirt, he balled it up and lay down in the bathtub.
It was pure murder on his ribs, but dean had, had just about enough dealings with women for one night and he wasn’t about to let this one take the moral high ground. Temper aside, he still had his sense of chivalry… even if at times it was masked in stubborn moves like this. “If anyone needs to use the toilet, speak now or forever hold your piece. If not…I will see you in the morning.” Dean called out toward the bedroom. His eyes caught the twin sets that stared back and then he shifted against the hard surface and tried to nod out.
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Feb 13, 2006 20:21:41 GMT -5
“You can stay tonight. But that’s it. Tomorrow we get your truck towed, and then Sam and I are on our way, understand?” “I am capable of taking care of myself. I didn’t ask for your help.” At the same time it didn’t mean she wasn’t grateful for it. Sometimes you took the help when you could, because every time else you were on your own. She knew that almost better than anyone. Eyes scanned over the meager room then towards the blonde brother as he walked around the room. Tossing his stuff aside and heading straight into the bathroom. Brow quirked skywards as she stepped closer to the small room.
Hands rested on curved hip as she saw him climbing into the bathtub. Eyes rolled slightly as she moved closer to the door jam. “You’re not honestly going to sleep in the bathtub are you?” Alex stiffened as Dean got himself comfortable in the porcelain tub. Acting as if it didn’t bug him. Hand gripped the pillow from the nearest bed and chucked it at him. “Stubborn ass.” Blue eyes glanced up towards Sam who’d been watching just behind her in the doorway. Fingers ran into her tresses as she glanced from the second brother to the first. “Is he always like this?” Head just shook as she silently gave up. Climbing into the bed she’d stolen the pillow from. If he wanted to have the sense of chivalry, let him. Until that point they had been even. He saved her from the bridge; she helped save him from the bedroom.
Alex struggled to fall asleep. Once she did it was a still, solid sleep, until the early morning hours. With the sun starting to rise, the female hunter did too. Silently and very quietly she slid from the comforts of the bed, eyes watching the lump that was Sam the next bed over, to make sure she hadn’t awoken him. Slipping on her boots, she softly crossed the small room, creeping out into the early morning. For a moments alone Alex found herself in the slightly wooded area near the motel, a morning ritual in a sense, prayer. Standing, with hands shoved deeply in her pockets she began to walk. She didn’t know what the morning rituals of the boys were or if they would have even bothered to wake as early as she did. Just down the way she found a 24 hour diner, The Eagle, pushing through the door she took a seat. Removing the paper, envelope and pen she took from the small bedside table in the room.
Dear Mom, I know it’s been awhile since my last letter, though I can’t be sure you can even understand half of what I write you. But, it’s the only way I still feel connected to anything real. Currently I’m in Pennsylvania, I remember coming here with Dad, before I knew the truth. Before I became more and more like him. It’s part of me, just like you’re a part of me. I miss you. I love you. –Alex
“What’ll it be hon.?” Alex drew her eyes away from the letter as the waitress appeared next to her. Running her fingertips back behind her ear she glance at the woman. “It’s to go actually…if possible. Three coffees and some of those muffins.” “Be right up.” Turning back to the letter, she folded the paper gently stuffing it into the envelope. By the time she had it addressed the woman had come back. Pulling a few crumpled bills from her pocket she paid and headed back towards the motel. Making one other stop into the front desk to mail the letter, before heading to the room. The man behind the counter smelt of smoke and her brow arched. “Could I bum one of those off you?”
With a nod the guy handed her a cigarette and she tucked it against her ear with a nod. Just as silently as she’d left, Alex reentered the room. Setting the coffee cups and bag down on top of the tv. Taking one for herself she backed out of the room. Fishing in her back pocket she pulled out the small book of matches, hoping one of them would be dry enough to light the cigarette. Form slumped against the wall until she was seated on the concrete ground. Knees bent up, and coffee cup sitting between her legs. With lit cigarette now between her lips, dark head dipped back, and then she exhaled.
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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 14, 2006 22:13:39 GMT -5
Sam shot his brother an annoyed look. "Dude, you're being ridiculous." When Dean made a point of getting comfortable in the tub and shut his eyes, Sam sighed and flopped back on his bed. "Fine. Good night, Dean."
Looking over at Alex, he saw her looking disgustedly at the bathroom, the look on her face reflecting his own feelings. He opened his mouth to say something to her in Dean's defense, but closed it instead. He was tired of always having to mop up for his older sibling; let him do it himself for a change.
"Look, let's just get some sleep. We'll talk more in the morning," Sam said softly. Alex nodded and snapped off the lamp on the shared bedside table.
The younger Winchester immediately fell into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep. It seemed like only seconds later when he was awakened by the slight aroma of brewed coffee. Sitting up, he saw the tray with two steaming cups in it atop the TV and he smiled. As he walked past, he glanced in the bathroom and saw Dean sound asleep. He was snoring slightly and Sam knew he was going to be in a lot of pain, the price he had to pay for him being his usual pig-headed, stubborn self. The other bed was empty, so he could only assume it was Alex who had gotten the coffee.
Sam took a sip of his coffee and looked around the dim room. The door was open slightly and he went to it, opening it. Leaning out, he saw Alex sitting with her back against the wall of the inn. "Thanks for the coffee," he said.
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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 17, 2006 2:19:41 GMT -5
Utter exhaustion was the only thing that allowed Dean to drift into tormented sleep. The occasional groan would echo against the tiled walls of the bathroom as his weight shifted against the agony in his side. His dreams were littered with dark imagery. Visions of Samuel getting one of his infamous visions, his eyes shifting from familiar brown to a pair of glazed over beads of solid black. The dream shifted to that of their father, turning his back on Dean as he stood in the middle of a rain drenched alleyway with Alex’s mutilated corpse at his feet … John spoke words as he walked away, resonating a hard blow to his pride. “You shouldn’t have told her anything. This is your fault.”
Dean awoke with a start, his hand slapping against the tub’s edge. A guttural groan worked out of him as she pushed up and out of the thing. His voice shuddered sigh of pain mixed with a tired yawn but he was quiet about it. The last think Dean wanted was to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in complaint. By boy howdy was he feeling it. Stripping free of his clothes, Dean examined his injuries. He counted himself lucky. The bruising up his side meant that the ribs weren’t as broken as they could have been. His fingers prodded against the bones noting that the break he’d heard was likely a hairline. Hot, near scalding water was turned on and he stepped back into what had served as a bed.
For a long blissful twenty minutes he just stood under the stream allowing the flow of lava-like water to relax his tired and aching muscles into something that would serve as functional for the day. Hands pressed against the tiled walls of the shower as he let water run down between his muscular shoulder blades. Another heavy sigh worked out of him as he saw the last of the soapy residue slip down the drain. With much reluctance to leave the blessed white noise and solace the shower offered he turned off the stream and got out. Wrapping a towel about his middle, Dean exited the bathroom noting the aroma of coffee and the twin vacant beds. There were voices coming from outside and after procuring his own Styrofoam cup of java he walked to the door, leaning in the frame as he listened and drank. "Well ain't this just a nice little Kodak moment..."
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Feb 18, 2006 20:12:00 GMT -5
Alex took another drag and exhaled deeply. She knew it was a bad habit but that didn’t mean it didn’t help take away the edge. While the coffee served as more of a pick me up. Lifting the foam cup to her lips, Alex too a sip, eyes closing as she did so. Cigarette was placed back between her lips as eyes reopened.
Glancing up she watched as the door of the motel room opened. Lanky Sam leaned out to say thanks. Brunette hunter smiled slightly against the bad habit. It was clear that out of the two, he was the more sensitive of them. Taking one final drag from the near gone cancer stick, Alex let it drop to the ground, snuffing it with the toe of her boot. Bending forwards she took hold of the to-go coffee cup. "Least I could do. Thank's for the help, Sam."
There were sounds from inside, seems Dean was awake. With a long drawn sigh, and fingers running through her mess of deep brown she turned to the partly open door. Hand slid across the taller mans shoulder while pushing the door open just a bit more, so she could slip in past Sam. Eyes lifted as the figure of a coffee sipping Dean stood before her. "Well ain't this a nice little Kodak moment..." Eyes rolled slightly brushing past him she moved to the phone. Seating herself on the twin bed she’d slept on. Fingertip trailed down the yellow book page in attempts to find a tow and a mechanic. Eyes glanced back towards towel clad Dean and his brother at the door. Receiver of the phone placed against her ear.
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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 23, 2006 19:10:39 GMT -5
Sam gave Dean a side-long glance as he crossed the room and hit the cut off button on the phone. He got matching scowls from Alex and Dean both as he sat down on the edge of his bed.
"I think we should see what she knows," he said to Dean before turning his attention to Alex. "Now, I know you didn't end up here because you wanted to check out the scenary. That thing with the bridge...you weren't scared about what happened with Casper the Unfriendly Ghost. No offense, but most women would have been screaming their heads off and running for the hills. You stayed. You helped me get that thing off of Dean last night and you didn't bat an eye.
"Now, you don't owe us much at all, but I think the least you can do is explain what you know. We might be able to help each other out."
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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 28, 2006 22:38:28 GMT -5
Dean crossed the room, not bothering with boxers as he pulled on a pair of jeans. For the barest of seconds his backside was visible, but was then covered up with denim. He took the towel off from his middle, absently tossing it toward the bathroom. His face winced, Dean he felt his side send a fresh pang of pain though his body. Turning to size up Alex, he caught the words of his brother his face dropping its casual look of smarminess to clear uncut annoyance. “Sam, if you think I’m gonna sit here and swap cautionary tales about the things that go bump in the night… well… then you’re right, cause well I wanna know certain things. Like how you “happened” to bump into us and how you knew exactly what to do inside that hotel room.”
Dean stooped, picking up his duffel bag and rummaging through it. As he moved, the pendant about his neck swung back and forth and water droplets dripped from his spiky blonde locks. Eventually he produced a white thermal undershirt and button-down. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking to Alex she spoke and trying his best to put some clothes on without making it outwardly apparent that he was in a huge amount of pain. Gingerly he pulled the white shirt over his head and fished his good arm through the sleeve. His jaw clenched tight as he took in a sharp breath and pulled the other through. As the shirt was shifted down his side, it covered the scars that he carried as well as the fresh bruises from the previous night.
“Sam, I’m not looking this little gift horse in the mouth. Far be it for me to begrudge the extra help, but why. You’d think you would have learned your lesson about trusting people since that crazy ass blonde you were so hung up on tried to eviscerate us.” Again his face winced up as he pulled on the blue flannel and worked the buttons. Standing up he retrieved his coffee and took a long swallow. It has nearly cold but that didn’t bother him, motor fuel was motor fuel. “Alex, don’t get me wrong I like you. You have…” His eyes wandered across her figure as he deliberately paused, adding the distinctive crude factor to his words. “...very nice qualities, but if you are what you say you are, you can’t blame me for being just a tad bit on the apprehensive side can you?”
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Mar 3, 2006 14:54:46 GMT -5
Eyes watched the younger dark haired brother move. Looking away from the pair she glanced towards the still near naked Dean who was working up a pair of jeans, then back down to the book. The phone started to ring for the nearest garage. If they wanted to help that was fine, when Sam came closer it seemed that situations were going to be changing. Lips scowled as Sam pressed the phones disconnection button on the cradle. “Hey.” It was clear as day by the look on Sam’s face and what he’d said that she wasn’t going to be getting out as easily as she’d thought. Hanging up the phone she shifted in the bed she sat upon. Hands placing down against the comforter covered mattress as she leaned back slightly. Blue orbs looking from one brother to the other. Slender brows arched up. Then soft rounded shoulders shrugged as she rebalanced her self on both hands.
“No offense, but most women would have been screaming their heads off and running for the hills. You stayed. You helped me get that thing off of Dean last night and you didn’t bat an eye.” “No girls exactly like me.” Gaze went back to focus on the younger brother. He didn’t know what had been said in the bar. But he had a point. They were in essence doing the same thing. Eyes studied Sam before turning her head up slightly to let a tress of hair fall away from her forehead. Then Dean’s voice cut in. The comment was directed more towards Sam then it was her. Brows narrowed together slightly as he paused eyeing her over. “You found me remember, not the other way around.”
Shifting forwards she ran her hand through her dark hair. Lips pursed for a brief moment as she thought about what to say. “ I’m out here for personal reasons. And, I’ve got things left on the side of some backwater road, some of them irreplaceable I’d like to get them and my truck.” There were only a few items she was really worried about. Personal effects and the leather bound diary from her father and grandfather, as well as her own. Those items that were harder to come by. She was out there because of the Byberry. Alex wanted answers for herself. Sam had been right though, maybe they could help each other, at the same time it could become a weakness for them all.
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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 Mar 7, 2006 22:27:32 GMT -5
Once they were checked out the hotel, they silently got into the Impala and headed out into the boonies in search of Alex's truck. A classic rock station from Philly played on the radio and Sam was grateful Dean had by-passed his mullet rock collection. He was as big a classic and 80's rock fan as the next person, but he could handle listening to Metallica's Black Album only so many times.
Turning slightly in the seat, Sam watched Alex as she gazed out the window. Maybe she was a liability to them and them to her. However, Sam couldn't shake the feeling she'd be a powerful ally to have. He wondered how a beautiful woman such as Alex had fallen into their line of work. She had given her reasons, a little stiffly, as being personal before clamming up.
"From what I could see last night, your truck won't be very drivable," Sam said finally. He ignored Dean's glare. "Why not stick with us for a bit longer?"
"Sammy," Dean said, his voice low and threatening.
Sam barely paid any attention to his older brother before giving Alex his sweetest smile, the same one that Jessica had said stole her heart. "What could be so personal that would push you into this line of work?"
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The Wanderer
Threat
Why, my little party's just starting!
Posts: 15
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Post by The Wanderer on Mar 8, 2006 22:09:46 GMT -5
She was known simply as the Wanderer, a name her kind had been called for centuries. She had once been a mortal woman who answered to the name of Serah Hart. She had shed the simple human name as she had shed her mortality years before. A little house fire had covered her tracks convincingly enough; the others that perished in that fire was just a little more icing on the proverbial cake.
The Wanderer had come to America from England a few years before after unleashing her own brand of havoc on London. The newspapers there had been calling her the new Jack the Ripper, alarming the public with the brutal similarities in the crimes. Just the thought made a small smile curl her lips. She was a master of black magic, maybe even tapping into Satan himself to draw her strength. It coursed through her body so strongly that some people swore she radiated energy when they were near her. Of course, those people didn't end up living very long afterward.
The Wanderer had been drawn to a sleepy tourist town in eastern Pennsylvania by the story of two brothers, hell bent on destroying the nasty things that went bump in the night. She was intrigued by their mission and more than a little curious about them. Since she was one of the particularly nasty things that went bump in the dark, she wanted to know what she was up against.
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Post by Hannibal King on Mar 10, 2006 18:23:37 GMT -5
He gripped the door handle and opened it up slowly, not aware of someone coming up behind him. He didn't think twice to catch it. He heard a low mumble of harsh words; all he could do was smile. His exhausted feet led the way to the cold clear doors of the freezer section. Leaning forward his head found a cool resting spot as he stared in on the rows of bottles. Slowly the door opened and he leaned in. The cold air felt nice against his face, so there he stood for a few minutes. Snapping out of the frozen trance he leaned in and grabbed a six-pack, shutting the door on the only true escape that night. He made his way down the aisle to the counter. The beer hit the counter hard, followed by a box of cheez-its, some gummy bears, and a bag of cool ranch Doritos.
"Rough night?" the sales clerk said as she eyed the man before her. His shirt was a little ripped and torn not to mention the paint stains, or at least what she thought was paint. So far he looked decent and she smiled sweetly. "Is this all for you?" she asked as she saw out of the corner of her eyes saw a few men come in. She smiled back at him thinking none of it.
Hannibal's face was tight. His jaw was clenched. His hands hanging from his sides as he heard rustling in the back of the store. He looked at the store clerk, down to her nametag. "Lisa is it? Well Lisa can you do me a huge favor sweets, can you please duck under the counter?"
She stared at him blankly confused at first. "Excuse me?" she asked, but just as suddenly as the confusion came it was gone. She screamed as the two men from earlier stepped forward, only they were far from men. Their faces were twisted and contorted; their eyes were a piercing yellow. One last look over the two men was too much for her and she fainted to the cold tile of the gas station.
"You boy's otta know better, making ladies faint, far from being gentlemen." King smirked as he went for his gun managing to get a shot off, hitting one straight in the head. Before a victory speech could be made, the second ghoul attacked. It jumped forward, one hand latching on to the gun tossing it off, the other reached for Hannibal's flesh. The claws dug deep into Hannibal's arm, squeezing hard as if it wanted to rip out the veins, the life wires of a foolish human. King bit down on his teeth, his jaw line tight as he held back the scream of pain. Bored with the rag doll toy it was playing with, the demon threw Hannibal over the counter. His back hit the cigarette case and he fell hard to his stomach.
The cold tile was inviting to the wound, almost soothing. His eyes looked up as he saw a shotgun under the counter. Bingo. With his good arm he grabbed it. He checked, with luck it was loaded. An evil grin came across Hannibal's face as he slowly got up. Staring at a demon only a few feet away. The sound of him cocking the gun echoed through the silence.
Minutes later the store clerk came too. She got up quickly, as she realized what happened was real. Her eyes stared over the empty station. A few black puddles stained the floor, along with a mess from an obvious fight. No sign of anyone. Panic ran through her, she wondered where he went, where they went.
All secede as she saw a note next to a wad of cash and the bag of cool ranch Doritos. Franticly grabbing it she read:
"Tried to clean up mess, but couldn't find the mop. Hope this covers the food and damage.
p.s. I think I'm more of a Nacho Cheese kinda guy."
The door to the hotel swung open as Hannibal shuffled in. He shut it and turned setting everything down. He slowly took of his shirt trying not to hit his bandaged arm. Grabbing a beer he opened it and quickly took a swig, He placed it on the table and slowly made his way to a mirror. Staring blankly at the figure before him he sighed. The wound on his bicep was already wrapped and cleaned but it still hurt like a bitch. However, he thought to himself he could have another story to impress chicks with. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and then down his jaw line. His tired body ached as it made its way to a chair. He leaned back rubbing his temple as he stared off into nothing. A few moments of silence passed when it was broke by an outspoken thought.
"This is getting old.,” he said with a tone of incompletion. He leaned over and shut off the light. As the room grew dark he dragged his body to the stale bed. Slowly finding his way under the covers, he laid his head back on the soft white pillows. His eyes locked on the ceiling as he re accounted the whole day in his mind. At least he'd be paid for his service. An that's all that mattered. He finally closed his eyes giving his body what it truly desired. Rest.
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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 Mar 10, 2006 23:26:35 GMT -5
Strong hands grabbed up his jacket, throwing it on with a tightening of his features. As the trio walked and then piled into the car he couldn’t help but look at his brother with an expression of incredulity. "Why not stick with us for a bit longer?" "Sammy," Dean said, his voice low and threatening. His brother cut him off continuing to talk to Alex and ignore the warning look. ”What could be so personal that would push you into this line of work?" Dean’s eyes widened a little, his brow furrowing as he sighed and rubbed his forehead. This was looking to be a very long ride, especially if he had to sit here and play chuffer to his brother and Alex while Sammy turned up the Winchester charm.
The Impala came to a halt at the intersection; Dean admired the idle of the engine as thudded heavily. The sound was as distinctive as a Harley Davidson and it was due to his determination to bring the classic back from the dead that was to blame. His eyes scanned to and fro, glancing about the colorful stores and inhabitants of the town as he waited for traffic to clear. Just before turning onto River Rd. he noticed a beautiful brunette standing at the corner of the one-lane bridge that lead into Lambertville NJ; New Hope’s sister town. The beep from behind him stirred his eyes back up to the long-green traffic signal. He glanced to the rearview and shot the driver behind him dirty look. Still trying to ignore the Sam and Alex flirt fest, he turned in the direction of the haunted bridge.
His denim coat flapped in the crisp October air, and pressed his shirt against his torso as wind from the open driver’s side window washed over him. His elbow was propped in the opening and the radio was perhaps a bit too loud. As he traversed through town his eyes hovered on such oddities as a antique retro store called “Love Saves the Day”, a horse and buggy, and a shop across the street selling medieval weapons and garb. The sidewalks were moderately crowded with a mix-mash of antiquers, New Yorkers who’d trickled down for the season, and high-class men who were all dressed way too metro-sexual to be read as anything but gay. Dean could only assume that the teenaged wasteland would trickle in when school let out; it was just that sort of eclectic town. Almost like Bourbon Street, had given birth to a bastard child here in the ass end of Bucks County.
Finally the town gave way for the surrounding woods and farmland and he found himself once again driving down Rt. 232 on his way to the infamous covered bridge that marked a very memorable first impression. As the sleek black car bumbled down the road toward the bridge he could alredy see the tow truck had Alex’s vehicle up onto the flatbed. ‘Thank god for small favors,’ he thought. “I know Sammy means well and all but I don’t’ agree. I hate to point out the obvious, but in the short time I’ve known you I’ve been attacked by a ghost, a succubus, and a gang of bikers. No offense Alex, you’ve got a few... very nice qualities, but-” His hands came up in a pair of twin claws. “-I think you’re cursed.” He cut the engine and got out, leaning against the hood as he waited for Alex to gather what was left behind of her belongings.
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Post by Alex Sutherland on Mar 10, 2006 23:47:06 GMT -5
Trio piled into the Impala as it started down the road, silence from them until Sam perked up once again. Alex had been watching the landscaping pass her by. Eyes flickered in the faint reflection off the glass to the back of Sam’s head in the passenger seat. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have too. It was a nice offer but she knew better, better than to get too involved. But she couldn’t help but remember the words her grandmother had once spoken too her.
“All our destinies intertwined. While they may not be the same as we have known them in the past, they are meant to be in our life. As we, are meant to be in theirs. Incarnations of those dear as well as those deadly. For each soul you come in contact with child, in this never ending story, changes your life. Some for the better others for the worse.”
Sam’s next question brought her out of her thoughts. Now chin turned the direction of the small headrest. “What could be so personal that would push you into this line of work?” “Because I lost someone I loved. It runs in my veins. Death. Take your pick.” Weight shifted against the leather covered seat of the Impala as Dean pulled to a stop. Alex saw what the boys must have. The brunette that seemed to stare at the car, until a horn behind them sounded, clearly the elder brother had focused more on the woman than traffic.
Blue eyes caught the sight of her truck already being pulled up on the flatbed of a tow truck. Someone must have passed it by and called it in. Staring out before her a hand ran through her slightly curled dark hair. Eyes rolled once more as he spoke of qualities. “You know I think it’s more your hero act than my qualities…and you should get a new word.” Her hand gripped the handle as she exited, muttering slightly under her breath. “Good qualities… yeah, wonder if he’s referring to my ass or my rack.” It seemed that her duffle was left, though rummaged through. Gathering anything left from the bed of her truck still on the road, she placed it in the trunk of the Impala.
She spoke briefly with the Tow truck driver to find out where they were taking it, and how long it would take to be fixed. Gathering her duffle she tossed it into the back seat floorboard before climbing in herself. “Three to four days…You can go ahead and go. By the way keep your eyes on the road.I wouldn’t want my qualities to curse you’re driving ability.” Lying back against the bench seat, fingers worked the button of her jeans, sliding them off to pull on a fresh pair of khaki cargos instead. Hands gripped the bottom of her shirt against flat stomach pulling it back over her head while a simple white cotton tee replaced the tanks. At least it felt good to have clean clothing on again. Finally sitting up she pulled out her small journal and a pen, jotting a few things down, before looking back and previous dates and close calls, as hunter became the hunted.
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Post by Hannibal King on Mar 11, 2006 1:07:26 GMT -5
Light gleamed through the semi open window of the hotel room. The shadows of empty beer cans and a half empty pizza box reached across the surface of the small wooden table. Outside was a different atmosphere from the one inside. There was a slight breeze that sent the tree limbs to sway back and forth. Inside was stale and silent.
Hannibal King lay sprawled out on the bed, the covers not being of any use to him. He was fast asleep; his head nestled in the confines of the pillow. His chest lay flat against the mattress, his back slowly moving up and down as he breathed.The beam of sunlight from the window made it's way slowly to his closed eyes. They twitched a little as the bright light hovered over them. Within seconds they shot open, slightly red from the lack of sleep. He slowly moved his hand out from under him and flipped off the sun.
The stiffness of the body made distinct cracks as Hannibal sat up in the hotel bed. He rubbed his eyes and looked at window and groaned. Slowly he managed to pull himself out of bed and walk to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and inspected his beard, "you look like shit." smiling he winked at himself. After getting his hot morning shower he reached for a clean shirt and pulled it over his head. He stretched slightly as his body hadn't adjusted to the being up, with no time to regenerate, relax. The popping sound from his neck as he moved it side to side was the only sound his tired body could make.
The keys lay on the table by a beer can that was only partly drunk, he grabbed the keys then the can and took a swig. The cool air from outside was a shock to Hannibal as he stepped outside. The truck parked right in front of the room was inviting but a walk would do him better. Give the joints time to wake up, get going.
The town was quiet; a few people were out and about on the sidewalks. Finding their way to stores and to their cars. A smile was across the new comer as he made his way past residents that gave him a wave. The cool handle of the breakfast diner was refreshing to his skin. The place was busy. He thought to himself, "so this is where they all come to gather, ah old people how cute." The only seat open was a booth he hated booths. They made them to make solo people feel like crap. He just knew it.
A cheerful waiter made his was to Hannibal and handed him a menu. "Anything to drink?"
"Beer, do you have beer?" King asked with a look of pure innocence on his face.
The waiter looked at him and frowned a little, "no sir, we don't sell those kind of beverages here."
"Well then, I'll have a coke." His eyes glanced over the menu and looked at the young man, "just give me the special, I don't care what it is, just give me it."
Hannibal King was definitely not a morning person, nor was he a people person. He found that when you get close to a person they either just leave or die. So there was no point in making any "nice" contact with a person. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. 2 missed calls. He erased them, he knew who they were from. Someone he didn't want to deal with right now. His finger ran down to recent calls and clicked okay. He stared at the last call he had made.
He was driving into town when he saw it. The one thing he never would of thought he'd see if he weren’t distinctly looking for it. Her truck. The one girl he thought he'd never see again, the girl that he'd abandoned. Alex Sutherland. He smiled as thought of her. He had called the truck into the local tow truck, telling them about it. Why hadn't he just called her? He went to his contacts and looked at her name, he could call her. He should call her. All he had to do was hit send. Instead he hit back and put his phone back in his pocket. It wasn't time. Besides too many thoughts raced through his mind. Why was she here? Should he confront her? Was she okay? He blocked out the questions as the waiter came with the food and sat it in front of him.
Hannibal quickly got up and handed the kid a few twenties, "thanks for the service."
"But you haven’t even ate yet," the kid managed to stutter out as Hannibal pushed passed him.
King was met by the chill of the crisp wind that continued to blow outside. He knew the time may not be perfect, nor was he ready to face the one person he fell in love with only to later abandon her when she needed him the most. But the time was now, and he knew it.
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