Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean //

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Sam Winchester
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Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Dec 22, 2014 21:36:42 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Dec 22, 2014 21:36:42 GMT -5

ooc; SEASON TWO. EPISODE FOURTEEN.

The demon that had possessed Meg Masters was back from hell. And she was pissed.

All she cared about was seeking revenge on each and every single hunter she could find.

Especially Sam and Dean Winchester.

It was showtime.

Last Edit: Dec 22, 2014 23:42:28 GMT -5 by Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester
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Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Dec 22, 2014 23:37:01 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Dec 22, 2014 23:37:01 GMT -5

Dean was panicking. He'd passed worried about five days ago, and anxious about three days ago. Sam had never been gone this long before without so much as a text message or note or communication of some kind. Out of other options, he dialed a very familiar number on his cell. "Ellen...it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him yet?" "Sorry Dean" she apologized. "I swear, it's like looking for my Dad all over again" he complained, running a hand over his face in defeat. "I'm losing my mind over here." "Well have you tried calling him recently" Ellen wanted to know reasonably, obviously trying to keep her tone calming for Dean's benefit. "I've called him a thousand times. Straight to voice mail. I don't know where he went or why. Sam's just gone." He tried to keep the notes of hysteria from suffocating his words.

And then his phone was alerting him to the fact that he had another call. Lowering it from his ear to check the screen for caller ID, his heart leapt into his throat. Without bothering to say goodbye to Ellen, he jabbed one finger against the 'talk' button and pressed the phone back to his ear. "Sammy?? Where the hell are you? Are you ok?" "Dean..." Sam's voice cracked. "I don't know what's going on. I don't know what happened or"- "Hey, hey, hey" Dean interrupted with authority, feeling beginning to return to his once numb limbs. "Calm down. Just tell me where you are." "Twin lakes Minnesota. Motel 6." "Alright. Don't move. I'm on my way." He snapped the phone shut, stuffed it into his jacket pocket, and hopped into the Impala.

It took him a couple of hours to reach his destination but only a couple of minutes to relay an accurate description of Sam to the manager and receive a room number and name for his efforts. "Sam, it's me." He knocked on the door a few times. "Sammy?" After another knock and no response, Dean tried the doorknob and discovered it wasn't locked. Pushing on the door with two fingers, he peered inside. Sam was slumped against the backboard of one of the two beds numbly, staring off into space. "Sam?" Dean moved to his side and knelt down. "Hey Dean." The younger Winchester's voice was monotonous. He didn't remove his eyes from the far wall. Dean's eyes were drawn to the backs of his knuckles on both hands, covered in sticky, red, substance that looked alarmingly like blood. "Are you bleeding" he asked warily. "I tried to wash it off." Sam was still speaking in one monotonous tone which was adding to Dean's uneasiness. "Oh my god." His eyes had moved up from Sam's hands to his blood-soaked shirt. He immediately went to work groping at the fabric, trying to find a hole to see if Sam had been shot or stabbed but Sam brushed Dean's hands away. "I don't think it's my blood." Dean blinked. "Then whose is it? Sam, what the hell happened here?" Sam finally looked straight at Dean, a catch in his voice. "I don't know. Dean, I don't remember. I don't remember anything."

"Ok. It's ok" Dean assured his brother, despite feeling very much the opposite of these words. "We'll figure this out Sam. Let's see...the manager said you checked in three days ago under the name Richard Sambora..." Dean, in an effort to lighten the mood, couldn't resist throwing in, "of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is that you're a closet bon jovi fan..." "Dean." Sam stared hard at him, obviously not appreciating the comedic relief. Dean moved past it quickly. "Your room has been quiet. No one's noticed anything strange." He'd asked this question up front when getting the room number and name. With Sam having been gone as long as he had been, it was a pretty good question to ask. "Oh you mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood" Sam asked sarcastically, grabbing a clean shirt from the duffel bag Dean had brought in with him and stalking over to the bathroom to change. "Yeah. That's what I mean" Dean told the closed bathroom door, which flung open again seconds later, revealing an agitated, no-longer bloody, Sam. "Then how the hell did I get here Dean? And what is happening to me??" "I don't know" Dean admitted, surprised at how level his voice was remaining. "But you're ok, and that's what matters. Everything else, we can deal with." Sam bunched up his dirty shirt and tossed it at the trash can. "What if I hurt someone Dean? Or worse?"

Dean felt his heart beat begin to increase erratically. He could tell you what was coming next and tried to head it off warningly. "Sam..." But Sam kept going. "What if this is what Dad warned you about?" WHY did this keep coming up? He was seriously wishing he'd never told Sam about it in the first place. Putting up his hands like a traffic cop, he tried to get Sam to slow down and back up. "Hey, whoa, whoa, come on man, let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened. We've just got to treat this like...like any other job. So what's the last thing you remember?" Sam shook his head vaguely. "Just you and me in that motel in west texas...going out to get some burgers and"- "West Texas" Dean repeated, startled. "That was over a week ago." "Well that's it. That's the last thing I remember. Next thing I know, I'm waking up here, bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month." Dean let out a slow breath, thinking it over. "Okay. We'll just have to retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so..." He trailed off, having noticed a splash of dried blood on the window sill. "Hey." He pointed it out to Sam and the two of them climbed through the open window, landing in the back parking lot of the motel. It bordered a parking garage. As the boys walked along side the row of metal-grated doors, Sam suddenly stopped. "Wait. I think I was here." Dean paused. "How do you know? Do you remember it?" Sam eyed the garage. "No, it just feels familiar. Try that one." He pointed to the second door. Dean shrugged and walked over to it, tugging on the padlock. Before he could even reach for his lock pick, Sam was digging around in his pocket, surfacing with a key which he handed over. Dean was doing his damndest to stay cool and level headed despite the overwhelming urge to throw up. He took the key from Sam, inserted it into the base of the padlock, and turned. With a click the lock sprung open and together, the boys heaved up the metal door. The parking unit was home to a very filthy, beat-up VW beetle. Dean blinked.

"Please tell me you didn't steal this."

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

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Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Dec 23, 2014 0:07:58 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Dec 23, 2014 0:07:58 GMT -5

Meg was enjoying playing clueless, lost sheep Sammy, dragging Dean along for the ride. Watching him try to keep it together. And it was only going to get worse. As the boys walked towards the car, she arranged his face into one of concern and trepidation. Unsure of what they would find, although she herself knew exactly what lay in wait. "Dean look." Meg/Sam touched the steering wheel, then showed their blood-stained index finger to Dean. "More blood." The older Winchester jerked his head towards the back seat of the car. "Sam." Meg/Sam followed the direction of Dean's gaze, taking in the blood-soaked knife lying there. Meg/Sam picked it up with a look of horror. "You think I used that on someone?" Dean's tone was careful. "I'm not thinking anything." Meg was eager to move things along. She had Sam pick up a receipt from the car floor and show it to Dean. "Gas receipt. Two towns over."

And they were off.

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Our lives are weird, man.

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Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Dec 23, 2014 0:40:03 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Dec 23, 2014 0:40:03 GMT -5

Dean parked the Impala at the gas station listed on Sam's receipt. "Well this is the place. Receipt says you filled the tank at pump number two. Are you getting any goosebumps? Any deja vu tingles yet?" He glanced to Sam, who was staring somberly out the car window. He shook his head without saying a word. Dean mentally counted to five, then opened the driver's side door and stepped out of the car. "Come on. Let's see if anyone inside recognizes you." It took a minute but Sam finally got out of the car as well, trailing behind Dean as they pushed through the jangling door of the gas station. "Excuse me" Dean began politely but the clerk had gone pale with anger. "Get out of here now" he demanded, pointing at Sam. "Out. I'm calling the cops." He reached for the phone. Dean frowned in bafflement. "You talking to him?" He wondered if maybe there was another guy who'd entered behind them. One quick peek over his shoulder confirmed there wasn't.

"Yeah, I'm talking about him" the clerk confirmed darkly. "Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging." "This guy" Dean repeated in disbelief, turning to Sam briefly. "You're drinking malt liquor now?" Sam shrugged, looking just as confused. The clerk gripped the phone tightly in one hand. "Not after he whipped the friggin' bottle at my head, he wasn't." Dean's jaw unhinged. He hooked a thumb at his brother. "THIS guy???" The clerk rolled his eyes. "What, am I speaking Urdu or something???" "Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything" Sam piped up with an injured expression but the clerk cut him off with a derisive chuckle. "Tell your story walking pal. The popo will be here in five." One finger hovered dangerously near the number 9. "Wait, wait, wait, just put the phone down. He's leaving" Dean promised, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Sam, go wait in the car." "Dean" Sam began in protest but Dean was hearing none of it. "Sam. In the car." Sam gave a huffy sigh and stepped back outside. Dean gave the clerk a pointed "are you happy now" look, accompanied by a politely desperate, "I just want to talk to you. Please."

The clerk sighed heavily and replaced the phone on its base. Dean nodded thankfully. "Ok, now, when he left here, which way did he go?" The clerk raised an eyebrow curiously. "Why don't you ask him?" "Because I'm asking you" Dean returned at once, flatly. And then, with a great deal of effort, he forced his tone back into the polite, mild-mannered one he'd been using earlier. "Please. You'd be doing me a huge favor." "Oh and doing you favors is just what I live for." The clerk rolled his eyes sarcastically. If Dean hadn't been so worked up over what was going on with Sam, he might have even appreciated this snide comment. It was almost right up there with his own abilities. "Please" he repeated with genuine sincerity. The clerk frowned sourly. "You know...your buddy didn't pay for the booze. Okay? Or the smokes, which he also illegally lit up." Dean was having trouble processing all this new information about Sam. "Wait. You saw him smoking??" "Yeah" the clerk snorted. "Guy's a chimney." Dean could see where this was going. He cleared his throat, pulled out his wallet, fished three crumpled five dollar bills from it and tossed them down onto the counter. "That should cover it." The clerk pretended to be recalling something else. "You know what? It's coming back to me now. He took two packs." Dean, unamused, rolled his eyes and tossed a ten down as well. "Of course he did."

Snatching up the money, the clerk finally gave Dean the information he wanted. "He went north. Route 71. Straight out of town." Secure in this knowledge, and with a new trail to follow on the hunt to figure out what was going on with Sam, Dean nodded once, then helped himself to a handful of candy bars from the rack below the counter. Enough to compensate himself for all the money the clerk had just extorted from him. He saluted the clerk with a satisfied smirk on his way out.

"Thanks."

Last Edit: Dec 29, 2014 23:43:46 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Dec 30, 2014 11:16:03 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Dec 30, 2014 11:16:03 GMT -5

Meg/Sam stepped outside. Meg made absolutely certain to keep Sam's expression perturbed. Baffled and overwhelmed by everything going on. Which was completely opposite of her own feelings of delightful malice, watching Dean fall apart while trying so hard not to. Feeling Sam struggling inside of his own body, unable to control it. "Time to kick it up a notch Sammy" she informed him gleefully before catching sight of Dean exiting the gas station. Showtime.

Again.
~~~

The road was dark. Even the moon barely gave them much aid in vision, but fortunately it was a straight path. Not too hard for Dean to stay on. As he drove, he kept shooting little covert glances at Meg/Sam. Meg would have just kept ignoring them, but after about the eighth or ninth, she knew the real Sam would react so she sighed heavily. "What?" "Nothing" Dean rushed to say before immediately throwing this obvious lie out the window and verbally expanding on the skeptical glances. "It's just...what's going on with you? Cause I mean, smoking, throwing bottles at people...that sounds more like me than you." Meg/Sam did not answer the question. Instead, Meg had Sam point down the approaching side road and say in a rushed tone, "Dean, wait, right here. Turn down that road." Dean threw him another skeptically baffled look. "What? Why?" Keeping Sam's tone panicky and fast, she had him reply with, "I don't know how I know, I just do. " So Dean spun the wheel hard, squealing wheels and all, bringing them straight down a dirt path driveway that ended at a large white house. As they got out of the car and approached the front door, a blinding floodlight hit them both right in the eyes. Meg/Sam put up one hand to shield their eyes, pretending to notice all the security cameras for the first time. "Well...whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises."

"Should we knock" hedged Dean uncertainly. "Yeah, I guess" was Meg/Sam's just as uncertain answer before they began patrolling the porch, looking for what Meg already knew was there, despite her convincingly alarmed, "Hey Dean" upon discovering it. Broken glass on a window sill, the window wide open, easy access to the house. "Surprised the cops didn't show" Dean mused. "You'd think a place like this would have an alarm." Meg let Sam's eyes wander upwards to the disabled alarm box on the wall overhead. "Yeah. You would."
~~~

The inside of the house was a disaster. Broken glass, overturned furniture, scattered objects. Together, the boys moved steadily through the house until they'd reached a back office. Its door was partially open and the smell of blood wasn't hard to miss. Meg/Sam hung back, letting Dean push the door the rest of the way open. The blood smell's source was immediately apparent. A middle-aged man lay in the center of the room in a pool of blood. His throat was deeply slit, his eyes wide and unseeing. "Dean..." Meg made sure to make Sam's voice tremble in anxiety. "I did this." "We don't know that" was Dean's immediately fierce counter. Meg had to hand it to him for being so loyal even when all the signs pointed elsewhere. He was a true sap. Pathetic the way he tried to cling to protecting that baby brother with everything he had. "Dean, what else do you need? I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood"- "I don't know, man, why don't you tell me?!" Dean stared hard at Sam and for a minute it looked as though he might be finally allowing himself to believe Sam had done this. To believe Sam was turning evil. But then, the minute passed. "Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a reason, you know; self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something!" Dean was clearly desperate for an explanation. So Meg decided to help. Or rather, she decided to have Sam help.

"I need your lockpick." Dean looked confused and uneasy, but he didn't argue. Simply reached into his pocket, pulled it out and handed it over. Meg/Sam then used it to open a double-doored closet in the back of the room. Inside the closet, one wall was covered in firearms, the others in charts and clippings. All things very familiar to both boys. Dean rose to his feet with an awed expression. "Holy.... Either this guy's a Unabomber...or..." "Or a hunter" Meg/Sam finished in a strangled whisper.

"Dean, I think I killed a hunter."

Last Edit: Dec 30, 2014 11:17:25 GMT -5 by Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester
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Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Jan 1, 2015 0:02:22 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 1, 2015 0:02:22 GMT -5

Dean's head was spinning. Things were spiraling out of control at the speed of light. His father's last words kept radiating inside his head, piercing the inside of his skull like a jackhammer run wild. Shaking his head slightly to clear it of the mess of thoughts up there, his eyes caught sight of a security camera much like the ones out front. It was pointed almost directly at the space where the supposed hunter had bit the dust. A perfect vantage point to see who had done the killing. Dean pointed sharply, bringing it to Sam's attention as well. "Let's find out."
~~~

A few minutes later, they had managed to get the camera unmounted from the wall, and hooked up to the office laptop. Dean pressed a few keys, bringing up the video to the correct timing and then let it go. And sure enough, barging into the room, straight for the victim, was Sam. His expression was murderous right from the get-go, and after a brief struggle with the victim, he drew a razor sharp knife, pinned the man down, and slit his throat. Then he simply got up and walked out.

Both Winchesters stared blankly at the screen even though the video had stopped playing. Dean closed his eyes momentarily, trying to calm down and focus on what needed to be done. The first and biggest step was getting rid of any evidence they had been there at all. Dean stood. "Ok." He exhaled slowly, grabbing up a rag from the desk and beginning to wipe down their prints on every surface of the room. The second concern was the video evidence. "How do you erase this?" He gestured with the rag towards the computer. Sam hadn't moved. He was still sitting at the desk, staring at a piece of paper in his hands despondently. "Hey!" Dean snapped the rag against Sam's shoulder to get his attention. "I need your help. How do we"- "I killed him Dean" Sam interrupted. "I just....I just broke right in and killed him." Dean exhaled again, sharply this time. He got right in Sam's face to make sure he heard. "Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?" "His name is Steve Wandell" Sam informed his brother in a monotone, tossing the piece of paper onto the desktop. "That's a letter from his daughter. It was in the drawer."

Dean, reaching the limit of what he could take...at least at the current moment...grabbed the computer from the desk, lifted it high above his head and let it drop. The crash was loud and jarring, causing even the zoned out Sam to jump. Dean brought his heavily booted foot down on the machine for good measure, crushing it into the ground. "Wipe your prints" Dean instructed, tossing Sam the rag. "Then we're out of here."
~~~

Dean followed Sam back into the motel room ten minutes later. He closed the door in their wake, resting his forehead on the doorframe for a moment with closed eyes, before pulling himself together and turning around, heading for his bed. He snatched up the duffel bag that was stashed under it and began tossing clothes halfhazardly into it. "All right, we get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror." Sam said nothing. Dean counted to five mentally before continuing. "Look, I know this is bad, okay? But you gotta snap out of it." Silence. "Sam, say something!" Sam tilted his head to one side with a strange expression. "Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? That's your plan? Murder, Dean. That's what I did." Dean clenched his jaw, really wishing Sam would stop using words like murder and kill. "Maybe." He would not admit that his brother had done something like that. It just wasn't Sam. Sam scoffed, throwing up his hands at Dean's hesitation. "We don't know what happened Sam" Dean argued irately. "It wasn't you! I mean, maybe it was you, but it wasn't YOU. It could have been a shapeshifter!" "Come on Dean, you know it wasn't" Sam countered flatly. "We both saw the camera. No eye flare." "It wasn't you" Dean insisted once more just as flatly.

Sam sank down onto his bed, the fight draining from him. "Well I think it was. I think maybe more than you know." Dean blinked. "What the hell does that mean?" Sam looked at the ceiling. "These last few weeks...I've been having these...these feelings." Dean moved to the bed opposite Sam, sitting down as well. "What kind of feelings?" Sam lowered his gaze from the ceiling to meet Dean's curious stare. "Rage. Hate. Violence" he explained. "And I can't stop it. Day by day it just gets worse. Stronger." Dean furrowed his brow. "Why didn't you tell me??" Sam shrugged simply. "I didn't want to scare you." Dean stared. After a minute, he nodded and stood. "Well bang up job on that." He couldn't hold back the sarcasm that slipped through the cracks. Sam remained seated. "Dean, the yellow-eyed demon, you know he has plans for me. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too. What if"- Dean pointed one finger at Sam sharply, interrupting. "No one can control you but you." Sam gave his head a tired shake. "It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean, it feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely I'm, I'm just becoming..." "What?" "Who I'm meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself, Dean. I gotta face up to who I am" Sam finished. "Yeah well I didn't mean this" Dean snapped, flustered, starting to lose control. This conversation was headed in a very bad way.

Sam got to his feet slowly. "But it's still true. You know that. Dad knew that too. That's why he told you, if it ever came to this..." And there it was again. Dean's spine stiffened. "Shut up Sam." Sam set his jaw. "Dean you promised him. You promised ME." Dean set his own jaw. "No. Listen to me. We're gonna figure this out. Okay? I mean, there's gotta be a way, right? There always is." "Yeah. There is." Sam reached into his duffel bag and surfaced with his favorite handgun, which he shoved at Dean. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt you." Dean glanced resolutely at the gun, which he refused to take. "You won't." He moved his eyes from the gun to Sam's face. "Look, whatever this is, Sammy...you can fight it. I know you." Sam shook his head, tearing up. "No. I can't. At least...not forever. Here. You gotta do it." There was a long, heavy silence in which they simply stared at each other, both with glassy eyes, and then Sam, getting irritated and antsy by how long it was taking Dean to grab the gun, helped him along by shoving it right into his hand, pressing his fingers around the handle to keep it in place and then took a step back. Dean looked down at the gun now in his hand. "You know...I've tried so damn hard to keep you safe." Sam nodded vigorously. "I know." He closed his eyes, ready for the shot.

Dean's trigger-finger remained where it was rather than travel to the trigger and pull. He just couldn't move it. It wasn't him. He would never hurt his brother no matter what. In a choked voice, he refused. "I can't. I'd rather die." He dropped the gun on the bed and shouldered past Sam. He stared out of the motel room window, his emotions swirling away inside of him rapidly. "No. You'll live" Sam was saying in a strangely dark voice that caused Dean to turn back around, wondering what was going on now. Sam was holding the handgun Dean had discarded. "You'll live to regret this." The butt of the gun came crashing down into Dean's left temple.

And everything went black.

Last Edit: Jan 4, 2015 12:51:14 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Jan 4, 2015 17:40:27 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jan 4, 2015 17:40:27 GMT -5

Meg/Sam slipped the gun into Sam's jacket pocket and strolled out of the motel room casually. The Impala was just where the boys had left it and Meg/Sam started it up, making tracks for Duluth Minnesota where Meg knew she could find another hunter. One with a lot of history with the Winchester family.

Jo was wiping down the counter when Meg/Sam entered. "Sorry, we're closed" she called over one shoulder as she heard the door squeak open. Meg made sure to keep Sam's voice light and friendly. "How about just one for the road then?" Jo spun around, recognizing the voice. "Sam. Hi." She didn't look too happy to see him. "You're about the last person I'd expect to see" she admitted honestly. Meg/Sam took a step forward, Sam's voice gaining a somewhat mysterious edge. "Well I guess I'm just full of surprises tonight." Jo eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want Sam?" "Just one beer" he wheedled and she relented. "Fine. One beer." Jo moved off around the counter to acquire the bottled beverage. "How'd you find me anyway?" Meg/Sam grinned sheepishly. "Well, it's kind of what we do you know?" "Right." Jo twisted off the beer's lid and placed it on the counter between them. "Speaking of 'we', where's Dean?" "Couldn't make it" was the very simple, evasive answer.

"So what're you doing here Sam?" Jo returned to wiping down the countertops. "I mean we didn't exactly part on the best of terms." "That's why I'm here" Meg/Sam lied smoothly. "I wanted to see if we could maybe square things, you know?" Meg/Sam removed their jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before reaching for the beer. Jo's eyes fell upon the branded symbol on Sam's forearm and she winced. "That looks like it hurts." "Nah...just had a run in with a hot stove" Meg/Sam lied again. Jo set down the rag and gave her full attention to Meg/Sam. "You were saying something about squaring things?" Meg/Sam smiled genuinely and nodded. "Yeah. Um ... Look, I know how you feel about my dad. And I can't say I blame you. He was obsessed -- consumed with hunting. And he didn't care who got caught in the cross-fire. And I guess that included your dad. But that was my father. That's not me." Jo rested her palms on the counter, asking in a forced casual tone, "what about Dean?" That was now twice she'd mentioned Dean in less than five minutes. "Well, Dean's more like my father than I am, but h--" Meg/Sam stopped mid-sentence, Sam's eyes getting wide in phony recognition of something Meg had known for awhile. "Boy. You're really carrying a torch for him, aren't you?" Jo scoffed uncomfortably, but didn't deny it. Meg/Sam chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes. It's too bad." Smiling tightly, Meg/Sam continued to mess with Jo's head. "'Cause see, Dean, he likes you, sure, but not in the way you'd want. I mean, maybe as kind of a . . . a little sister, you know? But -- romance, that's just out of the question, he kind of thinks you're a schoolgirl, you know?" There was a short pause. Jo was looking off to one side, clearly upset. Meg/Sam tried to look apologetic. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Jo, I -- I'm telling you 'cause I care."

"That's real kind of you Sam." Jo's voice was tight. Flat. Obviously not meaning a word she'd just said. "I mean it." Meg had Sam place one hand over Jo's on top of the bar that separated them in a suggestively possessive manner. "I care about you a lot." Jo gave her hand a tug, trying to free it, but Meg/Sam held on tightly. "Sam, what's going on?" Jo looked not quite frightened, but definitely uneasy. "I can be more to you." "Maybe you should leave" Jo suggested, breathing deeply with nerves. Meg/Sam shoved her hand away from his, pretending to back off. "Ok. If that's what you want." He took two steps towards the exit, then spun and came right up behind Jo, who had turned her back to him, gripping the edge of the bar and still breathing deeply, trying to sort through what had just happened. Meg, while feeling Sam struggling to regain control, and failing, forced him to grab Jo by the waist, spinning her around to face him once more. "Sam get off me" she yelped in fear as Sam's hands began travelling all over her body lecherously. He pressed his mouth to her neck, kissing and biting. "Sam no, please!" Tears streamed down Jo's face as she struggled. Sick of the screams, Meg/Sam grabbed a fistful of Jo's hair and slammed her head backwards into the countertop, knocking her unconscious. "That's better."
~~~

Jo didn't stir again until after Meg/Sam had bound her securely to a wooden beam in the middle of the room. "What's going on" she demanded, thrashing against the rope bindings. Meg/Sam pulled a long sharp knife from Sam's belt, inspecting its tip. Ignoring Jo's question they fired one of their own back at her. "So what exactly did your mom tell you about how your dad died?" "You're not Sam" Jo spat, continuing to struggle. Meg/Sam placed the blade to Jo's throat. "Don't be so sure about that. Just answer the question." A muscle twitched in Jo's jaw. "Fine." Meg/Sam lowered the knife approvingly and waited. Jo looked straight ahead as she recited the story. "Our dads were in California: Devil's Gate Reservoir. They were setting a trap for some kind of hellspawn. John was hiding, waiting, and my dad was bait." Meg/Sam laughed uproariously in enjoyment. "That's just like John. Oh, I'll bet he dangled Bill like meat on a hook." Meg/Sam stood and moved to stand behind Jo, placing his face within inches of hers eagerly. "Then what?" Jo continued staring straight ahead. Her voice was choked up as she recounted the next bit. "The thing showed up. John got too eager, jumped out too soon, got my dad exposed, out in the open. The thing turned around ... and killed him." "Hmmm..." Meg/Sam used their knife-free hand to hold onto the beam above Jo's head and swung around so that they were in front of her again. "Not quite." Jo's head whipped around to stare straight at Meg/Sam. "What?" Meg/Sam straddled a chair opposite the beam, grinning widely and clearly enjoying themselves. "It hurt him. Didn't kill him. You really don't know this do you? I bet your mom doesn't either." Meg/Sam scoot the chair closer. "See, Bill was all clawed up. Was holding his insides in his hands. He was gurgling and ... praying to see you and Ellen one more time. So my dad ... killed him. Put him out of his misery like a sick dog." Jo's breathing was shallow, her eyes glassy. "You're lying." "I'm not" Meg/Sam promised before adding in a sing-song whisper, "my daddy shot your daddy in the head." "How do you even know that" Jo demanded, a flood of tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. Meg/Sam rose to their feet. "I hear things."

Taking a knotted piece of rope from an inner jacket pocket, Meg/Sam approached Jo once more. "Why are you doing this to me" she wailed, unable to stop the shakiness of her voice or the buildup of tears. "Like Daddy like daughter sweetheart" Meg/Sam announced bluntly, shoving the gag into Jo's mouth and securing it behind her head.

"You're bait."

Last Edit: Jan 4, 2015 17:40:50 GMT -5 by Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester
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Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Jan 4, 2015 22:28:51 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 4, 2015 22:28:51 GMT -5

Dean opened one eye. And then the other. There was a loud hammering going on that at first he thought was just inside his pounding head, but then he came to the realization that someone was knocking on the motel room door incessantly. Dean touched where the gun had collided with his left temple, feeling the blossoming bruise, and winced, before slowly getting to his feet and crossing the room. The grouchy manager informed him that it was past the allotted check out time so he was going to have to charge Dean for another night's stay. As money was not really an issue, that didn't bother him. And it wasn't his main concern. Tracking down Sam was. Or whoever was possessing him. Because he was now 100% certain that the thing he'd been walking and talking with for the last day was not his brother. It couldn't be. And since they knew from the camera, as Sam had so helpfully pointed out, that it wasn't a shapeshifter, demon was the next suspect on Dean's list.

Groggily, Dean handed over a stack of crisp bills that would cover the extra night, and blinked a few times, the hallway light hurting his eyes. "The guy I came in with...have you seen him?" "Took off around dawn in your car" the manager announced, counting the money. "Son of a..." Dean muttered under his breath without finishing the common insult. Blinking a few more times and putting a hand to his head, Dean tried to come up with a game plan. Despite his disorientation due to the pistol-whipping he'd received, it only took a few seconds. He addressed the manager once more. "I need to use your computer." The still grumpy manager rolled his eyes. "And why on earth would I let you do that?" Dean raised an eyebrow.
~~~

Ten minutes later, the very happy manager was counting his considerably larger stack of crisp bills behind his desk and Dean was logging onto the computer while propping his phone between one ear and his shoulder, speaking to the representative he'd finally gotten ahold of. "I'm sorry to bother you but my son snuck out last night to see a Justin Timberlake concert and he's not back yet so I"- Dean rolled his eyes impatiently as the woman gushed about Justin's abilities. "I agree...quite the triple threat. Anyway, I was just hoping to get the GPS on his phone turned on...yes, I'm on the account right now." He rattled off several digits in a row and watched as the enlarged map shrunk down until a labeled dot appeared, pointing to a bar in Duluth Minnesota. "That's it right there. Thank you." Dean scribbled down the address. "What? Yes...that is a long way to go for a concert."
~~~

Dean drove as fast as he could from Twin Lakes to Duluth. The bar was just a few miles off of the interstate and he skid to a halt in the empty parking lot. After a brief rummage through his duffel bag for a flask of holy water and a quick double check to make sure his gun was loaded, Dean burst through the front doors by ramming his shoulder into them. Gun drawn and pointed at Sam, he slowly approached. Sam was holding a knife to Jo's throat with a look of desperate panic. "I begged you to stop me Dean!" "Put the knife down Sam" Dean ordered sharply, his voice and hands steady, training the gun on Sam's heart. Sam shook his head with a strangled reply of, "I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right?! Dean. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her." His grip on the knife tightened. "Please. You'd be doing me a favor. Shoot me." He turned to Dean, arms spread wide. "Shoot me!!" Dean glanced at Jo out of the corner of one eye while keeping his main focus on Sam. "No. Sammy, come on." Turning away with a downcast expression, he was waiting for the right moment to attack with his holy water. However, Sam took this as a sign of weakness and advanced on him, shouting furiously, "What the hell's wrong with you, Dean? Are you that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Jo die??!" Jo, still struggling against the rope, had a terrified expression on her face that was not missed by Dean. Who, instead of letting the remark about being scared to be alone sting as much as it would have if he really thought about it, switched the gun in his hand for the flask. Spinning rapidly, he emptied half the flask in one movement, splashing Sam in the face and torso with it. Sam's skin began smoking and hissing at the first contact with the holy water. And Sam threw back his head against the burning. Dean glared harshly. "That's holy water, you demonic son of a bitch!"

Sam lowered his head, his eyes the solid black of a demon's, snarling at Dean, who went to fling more holy water at him, but he wasn't fast enough. Sam turned and sprinted to a floor-length window along the back wall, which he jumped through, shattering it. "Dammit" Dean swore, pocketing the holy water, snatching up the knife and cutting Jo free of the post before heading for the window himself. "He was possessed" Jo cried in disbelief at Dean's retreating back after having yanked the gag from her mouth. Dean paused by the broken window, glanced over one shoulder at Jo for a millisecond, and then jumped through it. Landing on the sidewalk outside and rolling twice before springing to his feet, Dean could hear Jo's anguished shout of his name. "Dean!" But he kept going.

There was a crowded warehouse full of boxes and machinery at the end of the street. Dean chased Sam there, losing him once they were inside. Reaching into his jacket, Dean pulled out his gun, pushing down on the hammer, cocking it in readiness. Assuming the demon could hear him, as it wasn't a large warehouse to begin with, and he was pretty sure it wanted him dead anyway so it wasn't going to stray too far, Dean called out, "so who are you?" And sure enough, Sam's voice, though much chillier and nastier than Sam's own tone, rang out. "I got lots of names." Dean inched around the box he had been hiding behind, then ducked and darted his way behind another, keeping both eyes peeled for Sam. "You've been in Sam since he disappeared haven't you." It wasn't a question. "You should have seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy" laughed the demon from wherever it was hiding. "Pathetic." Dean pressed his back to the box, peering around it, keeping his gun at eye level. "Why didn't you kill me? You had a dozen chances." "Too easy. Besides, this was a test" the demon explained, its voice growing louder. Dean made his way to another box, keeping his gun raised and steady. "A test to see how far I could push you. To see if you'd waste Sam. Should have known you wouldn't have the sack" it went on mockingly, its voice the loudest yet. "Anyway, fun's over now." Dean, remaining low, inched his way around the box, practically sprinting to the next one. Each time, he was drawing the demon farther and farther from the depths of the warehouse, heading for the dock outside. It would give him a much easier chance of being able to see if the demon was coming for him. Less things for it to hide behind. Of course that also meant less things for him to hide behind.

"Yeah well I hope you got your kicks" Dean announced roughly. "Because you're going to pay hell for this. I'll make sure of it." The demon's returning laugh was highly amused. "How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your precious baby brother. See...I think you're going to die Dean. You and every other hunter I can find." Dean glanced around the warehouse on high alert, his heart beating much faster than usual. "One look at Sam's dewy, sensitive eyes...they'll let me right in the front door" the demon finished manically. Dean's eyes landed on the silhouette of his brother's form standing and exiting the warehouse. Dean pushed up on the hammer of his pistol, returning it to the un-cocked position, pocketed it, and followed.

Suddenly, without warning, Sam stepped out from behind a pillar with his gun raised, took aim, and fired, hitting Dean in the shoulder. He tumbled backwards, over the pier and into the water.

Splash!

Last Edit: Jul 26, 2015 17:17:23 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
Hunter.

Posts: 958

Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Jan 4, 2015 23:06:24 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jan 4, 2015 23:06:24 GMT -5

Meg crossed the dock in three strides and peered down into the gloomy water below. There was no sign of Dean. Satisfied that he was dead and enjoying the panicked struggles of Sam, trapped deep within his own meat-suit, Meg holstered the weapon, and fled. She had another hunter to visit.
~~~

Bobby Singer opened the door with a surprised smile. "Sam! Good to see you." Meg/Sam returned the smile. "Hey Bobby." "What brings you by" Bobby wanted to know, opening the door wider and gesturing to allow Meg/Sam inside. "Working a job in the area, thought I'd swing by" Meg/Sam lied. Bobby looked momentarily confused, glancing over Meg/Sam's shoulder as if expecting to see someone else. "Well then where's Dean?" Meg was getting rather annoyed with how everyone just kept asking about the older Winchester. Even though she wasn't actually Sam she still felt slighted. But she made sure to keep Sam's tone light and amused. "Holed up somewhere with a girl and a six pack probably." Bobby chuckled understandingly and retreated into the kitchen for a moment before returning with a beer in each hand. He held one out and Meg/Sam accepted it with a nod of thanks. "To John" Bobby proposed for the toast. Meg/Sam tried to adapt a glassy eyed response. "To Dad." They took a sip.

And burning pain seared through Meg. She began spluttering and doubling over in agony. "What did you do" she gasped. "A little holy water in the beer." Bobby smirked. "Sam never would have noticed. But then again...you're not Sam. Don't try to con a con man." He raised one fist and brought it down, slamming into Sam's face.

And everything went black.

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Jan 5, 2015 11:36:45 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 5, 2015 11:36:45 GMT -5

For the second time in under 24 hours, Dean opened his eyes in a hazy disorientation. He was soaking wet, coughing up water, and felt as though he had been run over by a truck. His cell phone, lying just out of his reach at the edge of the water that had spit him out onto the dock, was ringing consistently. Dean groaned loudly, clutching his injured shoulder, and trying to sit up. The world began spinning and he ceased his efforts immediately. His phone quieted, and then started up again, as though whoever was calling him wasn't calling simply for a social reason but was trying to pinpoint his location through the ring tone.

And sure enough, a few seconds later, the sound of hurried footsteps rounded the corner, coupled with Jo's panicked voice. "Dean!" She hurried to his side, kneeling down. "Take it easy, you're going to be ok." Her tone was plainly relieved as she slid both his cell phone and hers into a pocket and helped him into a standing position. Leaning heavily on Jo, Dean winced and groaned, still clutching his shoulder. "Where's Sam" he managed to grunt. Jo shrugged dismissively, wrapping Dean's good arm around her shoulders, preparing to help him return to the bar. "I don't know. I was looking for you. Come on." With a lot of effort, they managed to shuffle Dean along until Jo was able to lower him into a chair at one of the bar's many tables. "Stay there" she commanded before bustling off to gather medical supplies.

It took ten agonizingly long minutes, a lot of groaning, and a chastising, "don't be a baby" from Jo before the bullet was cleanly dislodged from his shoulder and deposited in a glass of clear alcohol on the bar. Dean hoisted a bottle of whiskey and downed a few healthy swigs to try and numb the pain shooting down his arm. "God, you're a butcher" he complained. "You're welcome." Jo rolled her eyes sarcastically, beginning to apply a generous amount of gauze and tape over the wound. Dean was itching to get out of there and catch up with Sam. More specifically, catch up to the demon possessing him. "Alright, are we done" he asked impatiently, trying to escape from his chair. Jo placed a palm on his chest, keeping him in place. "Would you give me two minutes to patch you up? You can't help Sam if you're bleeding to death." Dean sighed heavily and took another swig of whiskey.

"So, how did you know" Jo asked finally in a quiet voice, placing a final piece of tape on the patch of gauze. "That he was possessed?" Dean slid from the chair, reaching for his jacket, which had been draped over the next chair and was mostly dried out by now. "Well...I didn't" he confessed. "Not for sure. I just knew it couldn't be him." Jo began boxing up the supplies methodically, keeping her eyes down. "Hey Dean..." Dean shrugged into his jacket carefully, keeping his injured shoulder as still as possible. "What?" Jo lifted her eyes. "I know demons lie, but ... do they ever tell the truth too?" Dean considered this for a minute. "Uh, yeah, sometimes, I guess. Especially if they know it'll mess with your head more than the lie would. Why do you ask?" Jo's "no reason" came a little too quickly for Dean's liking, but she didn't give him time to call her on it before posing her next question. "So do you have any idea where he's headed to next?" Dean took his phone from the bar where Jo had laid it, and slipped it into an outer jacket pocket. "Well, so far he's been going after the nearest hunter, and the closest one I know lives in South Dakota." Jo got to her feet. "Great. Let's go." "Yeah. You're not coming" Dean corrected immediately. "The hell I'm not" Jo snapped defensively. "I'm a part of this now." "I can't say it more plain than this. You try to follow me and I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here" Dean countered bluntly. "This is my fight. I'm not getting your blood on my hands. That's just how it's gonna be."

He'd taken three steps towards the door when Jo called out. "Hey." Turning, Dean tensed up, ready for her to argue about coming with him again, but instead she simply held out a bottle of prescription pills. "Take these. They'll help with the pain." Dean accepted them with a grateful smile. "Thanks." The silence that fell between them was so awkward that he felt he had to say something else before bailing. All he could come up with, as he was pushing open the door, was, "I'll call you later ok?"

But he knew he didn't mean it.
~~~

Dean hotwired the nearest car, seeing as how that black-eyed bastard riding his brother was still in possession of his baby, and sped towards Sioux Falls South Dakota. On the way, he tried to call and warn Bobby but the phone line had been cut, giving him nothing but an earful of static. "Dammit." Dean slapped the steering wheel hard and accelerated. But he needn't have worried. Bobby had Sam knocked out cold and tied to a chair in the middle of the library beneath a devil's trap by the time Dean arrived. "Nice work" he praised. Bobby held up a leather-bound book of different exorcisms. "Ready to get your brother back?" "More than ready" Dean agreed, moving into the library with Bobby close behind him.

The demon was still unconscious. Dean slapped it in the face to remedy this problem. "Hey." Sam's head jerked backwards from the force of the hit and as he lowered his head again, his eyes shone black momentarily, then flicked back to Sam's natural brown. He looked marginally surprised to see Dean but moved past that quickly with a sneer. "Dean. Back from the dead. Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach." Dean set his jaw. "How about I smack that smartass right out of your mouth?" "Careful now" mocked the demon. "Wouldn't want to bruise this fine packaging." "Oh don't worry, this isn't gonna hurt Sam much" Dean promised, turning to accept a large metal bucket from Bobby, who'd brought it from the kitchen. "You on the other hand..." Dean emptied half the bucket in one toss, soaking Sam with holy water. The demon threw back its head and roared as the water sizzled against its skin. "Sam's still my meat puppet" the demon gloated when the sting had worn off. "I'll make him bite off his tongue." Dean glared. "You won't be in him long enough. Bobby."

Bobby opened the book to the page he'd marked and began reading. "Exorcisamus te, omnes in mundus spiritus omnes satanica potestas, omnes incursio..." As he continued reading in the background, Dean spoke over him, getting right up in the demon's face. "See, whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cooking up? You're not getting Sam. You understand me? 'Cause I'm gonna kill every one of you first." The demon threw back its head and laughed manically, surprising both Dean and Bobby, who stopped the exorcism mid-sentence. "You really think that's what this is about? The master plan" the demon snarled. "I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan." Dean tried to work out what that meant while Bobby had recovered from his hesitation and returned to the chant. But rather than shouting in pain or spazzing like in a usual exorcism, the demon within Sam was still laughing. It was troubling to say the least.

And then it spoke. "Oops. Doesn't seem to be working. See, I learned a few new tricks." Dean took a step back instinctively as the demon lowered its head and began growling in Latin. "Spiritus in mundus, un glorum suarum umitite palatum iram, domine..." The fire behind him flared suddenly and the room began to shake violently. Dean took another step back, glancing to Bobby in alarm. "This isn't going like I pictured! What's going on, Bobby?" Bobby looked just as baffled for a few seconds but then his eyes landed upon the same burn mark that Jo had noticed. "It's a binding link! It's like a lock! He's locked himself inside Sam's body!" Bobby had to shout to be heard over the demon's chants and the roar of wind whipping through the house through the now open windows. Well that was a problem they hadn't seen coming.

"What the hell do we do" Dean shouted hoarsely as the shaking walls and ceilings began to crack. Bobby looked around wildly as though searching for an answer that didn't come. "I don't know!" And suddenly, all the shaking an cracking and howling wind just stopped. "There." Sam lifted his head, flashing black eyes at them both again smugly. "That's better." Dean glanced worriedly upwards and sure enough, the protective devil's trap had been split in half by one long crack. Sam flicked his head to one side, sending Bobby flying through the air, colliding with the far wall and slumping to the ground. "Bobby!" Dean took a step towards him in concerned alarm, but before he'd made it past that one step, he was sailing backwards through the air in the opposite direction, colliding with a different wall. With the breath knocked from his lungs, he didn't have much of a chance to stand or even consider a new plan of attack before Sam, who had easily broken free of the ropes, was stalking over and kneeling in front of him. "You know when people want to describe the worse possible thing? They say it's like hell." The demon grabbed ahold of Dean's shirt with one hand and punching him solidly in the jaw with the other. Dean grabbed Sam's shirt with his right hand, trying to push him away. But the demon was too strong. It continued punching Dean methodically, using each hit as a pause between its sentences. "You know, there's a reason for that." Hit. "Hell is like...Well, it's like hell. Even for demons." Hit. Blood poured steadily from Dean's nose by this point, his grip on Sam's jacket lessening with each whack. "It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear." Three hits in quick succession. "And you sent me back there." After that comment, it wasn't hard to guess the demon's identity. "Meg" Dean sneered through the blood and pain.

"Not anymore" it taunted. "Now I'm Sam." The demon placed one hand on Dean's injured shoulder and squeezed, eliciting a groan of agony from Dean, who let go of Sam's shirt and tried to pry Sam's hand from his bleeding shoulder instead. "By the way" the demon went on maliciously. "I saw your Daddy there...he says howdy." He squeezed harder. Dean tipped his head back against the wall, fighting the urge to pass out. "And while I was stuck in hell...all that I had to hold onto, was that I would climb out one day, and that I was going to torture you. Nice and slow. Like pulling the wings off an insect." He shoved Dean's grasping hand away from the bullet wound he was still digging his fingers into deeply. "But whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it?" The demon forced Dean's head to straighten, locking eyes with him. "I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. And you know it. You couldn't save your Dad, and deep down ... you know that you can't save your brother. They'd have been better off without you." He let Dean's head slam backwards into the wall again, lifting one hand to deliver yet another blow. But it didn't come.

Bobby had finally roused himself from the daze of smashing face first into the far library wall, grabbed a burning hot poker from the fireplace, and snuck up behind the unsuspecting demon who was so intent on making Dean hurt. The demon let out a roar of surprised pain, tossing its head back as the poker made contact with its arm, covering the brand. The binding lock no longer a threat, the demon got out of there pronto, masses of black smoke pouring from Sam's mouth, vanishing through the ventilation system. Sam collapsed. For a second he was out like a light, and then he came to with a start, looking around, trying to orient himself. One hand went to his burned arm immediately with a flinch. Dean, still bleeding and in an excruciating amount of pain, squinted at his brother. "Sammy?" Sam struggled into a seated position, still gripping his forearm, looking dizzy and confused. "Did I miss anything?" Dean wound up and landed a solid right-hook against Sam's cheek.

Then, with a final groan, he collapsed.

Last Edit: Jan 5, 2015 15:35:10 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Jan 5, 2015 16:03:44 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jan 5, 2015 16:03:44 GMT -5

Sam's hand flew from his burned arm to his bruised cheek in surprised confusion. Dean had been pretty beaten up but you wouldn't have known he was lacking in strength from the power behind that punch. Sam, who had been awake for most of the possession, knew he had it coming. He'd watched his own hands kill Steve Wandell. Threaten Jo with a knife. And beat his own brother into near unconsciousness. And yet no matter what he'd done, Dean would not shoot him. They were going to have a conversation about that the first chance he could find a way to bring it up. He would not hurt someone else. He would not turn into a monster. He would just have to make Dean see that the best thing for everyone would be to end his life if he ever even started turning down that path again. Possessed or not.

But first things first. He staggered to his feet, then helped Bobby get Dean up as well. The older Winchester was pretty banged up and groggy, but he was not unconscious. Bobby escorted the two of them over to his desk and helped them both down into chairs on opposite sides. After a brief trip to the kitchen, he returned with two ice-packs and two beers. Sam placed his offered pack on the searing skin of his burned arm and took his beer with the other. Dean held the second ice-pack to his shoulder and the beer to his face, no doubt trying to make the swelling around his nose go down.

There was silence for quite a few minutes, everyone just healing and reflecting on what had happened. Finally, Dean got to his feet. "Well we should be going." Sam agreed wholeheartedly. As much as he enjoyed spending time with Bobby, he just wanted to clean up and get some sleep and he could imagine Dean felt the same way. "Here." Bobby reached into a small drawstring pouch on his desk and held out two metal charms on rope necklaces. Each brother took one. Sam held it up to eye level, inspecting it. "What are they?" "Charms. They'll fend off possession. That demon's still out there. This'll stop it from getting back up in ya." Sam immediately put his on and Dean wasn't far behind. "Thanks Bobby" they chorused together. "You boys be careful" Bobby warned with a tip of his hat. Sam smiled kindly in return. "You too." Bobby eyed him seriously. Sam headed for the door but not before he saw Dean toss his ice-pack back in Bobby's direction and the semi-smile that Bobby offered him. He tried not to feel hurt by this exchange.

But it was hard.

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean // Jan 5, 2015 16:20:56 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 5, 2015 16:20:56 GMT -5

The car ride was quiet. Dean was still hurting. But after a few hours of Sam just staring off into space beside him, Dean couldn't resist. "Sam? You ok? Is that you in there" he half-joked. Sam didn't seem to find this funny. He turned his head to face Dean slowly. "I was awake for some of it, Dean. I watched myself kill Wandell with my own two hands; I saw the light go out in his eyes." Dean immediately felt bad for trying to lighten the mood. "That must have been awful." Sam exhaled slowly, appearing to be trying to gear himself up for what he wanted to say. "That's not my point Dean. I almost carved up Jo too. But no matter what I did, you wouldn't shoot." Dean couldn't believe they were back on this topic AGAIN. He'd just been brutally assaulted physically and now Sam wanted to do the same to him mentally?? "It was the right move Sam" he insisted flatly. "It wasn't you." "Yeah. This time" Sam pointed out stubbornly. "What about next time?" Dean, ignoring the fact that he was driving, closed his eyes briefly, counting to five.

"Sam...when Dad told me...what he told me...about killing you" Dean began, enunciating each word. He really needed Sam to hear him on this one. "...it was only if I couldn't save you." He glanced sideways with conviction, locking eyes with his younger brother. "And if it's the last thing I do I'm gonna save you." This was one thing was 100% certain on and always would be.

"I promise."

[THE END.]

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Born Under A Bad Sign. // Dean //

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