Post by Sam Winchester on Feb 11, 2015 14:03:27 GMT -5
ooc; SEASON THREE. EPISODE FOUR.
Sam stepped into Bobby's library where Bobby was fiddling with the inner workings of the colt which had been taken apart after the last of its bullets had been used on yellow-eyes, and Dean was melting different silvers and metals into bullets. He leaned up against the entryway arch, crossed his arms comfortably, and nodded his head in greeting. "Hey." "Hey, what's up" Dean wanted to know without lifting his head. "Might've found some omens in Ohio" Sam announced. "Dry lightning, barometric-pressure drop..." "Well, that's thrilling." Dean still hadn't lifted his head. He was focusing hard on the bullet making process in front of him. "Plus, some guy blows his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop before the cops take him out" Sam finished. "Might be demonic omens." Dean finally looked up, not impressed. "Or it could just be a suicide and a psycho scrapbooker." Sam shrugged indifferently. "Yeah, but it's our best lead since Lincoln." Dean gave a reluctant nod of agreement. "Where in Ohio?" "Elizabethville. It's a half-dead factory town in the rust belt." Dean leaned back in his chair, making a face. "There's got to be a demon or two in South Beach." Sam chuckled. "Sorry. Maybe next time."
Turning his attention to the room's other occupant, he tilted his head to one side inquisitively. "How's it going Bobby?" "Slow" was the grumpy response. Dean leaned forward in his chair again, taking in the scattered pieces of gun in front of Bobby. "I gotta tell you, it's a little sad seeing the Colt like that." Bobby held one of the aforementioned pieces up to the light to inspect it. "Well, the original bullets are gone. The only thing it's good for now is figuring out what makes it tick." Sam pushed off of the wall and moved closer. "So what makes it tick?" Bobby looked up, not amused. Bad question. Sam held up his hands in amused surrender. Dean got to his feet. "So, if we want to go check out these omens in Ohio... you think you can have that thing ready by this afternoon?" His face was completely straight but his eyes gave away the fact he was teasing. Sam chuckled and shook his head. Bobby stared at him incredulously for a minute before picking up the tip of the disassembled gun and pointing it at Dean. "Well, it won't kill demons by then, but I can promise you it'll kill you." Dean grinned at Bobby, then clapped Sam on the shoulder. "All right, come on, we're wasting daylight." Sam inclined his head at Bobby, who was smiling gruffly by this point. "See ya Bobby."
Bobby stopped them before they'd made it to the door. "Hey! You boys run into anything — anything — you call me." The boys both nodded firmly before heading out. Time to go to work.
~~~
"There's not much left for the insurance company. It was a suicide - I saw it myself." The minister wrung out his hands sadly, leading Sam and Dean through his church. "Well,this shouldn't take long, then" Dean promised as the minister stopped walking and pointed to a balcony at the front of the church. "That's where Andy did it. It was the first time I'd seen him in weeks. He used to come every Sunday." Sam dragged his eyes from the balcony to Father Gil's tortured expression. "When did he stop?" Father Gil was silent for a minute, thinking this over. Then, "Probably about ... two months ago? Right around the time everything else started to change." Sam's ears perked up. "Change how?" Father Gil gave a watery smile. "Oh, let's just say this used to be a town ... you could be proud of. People ... cared about each other. Then people started changing. Andy, for example...he sang in the choir, baked cookies for neighbors...and then one day, he just ... wasn't Andy anymore. It was like he was"- "Possessed" Sam finished knowingly.
Of course Sam knew that the good father assumed he was speaking metaphorically which is why he nodded along with the assessment so readily. "You could say that. Gambled away his money, cheated on his wife, destroyed his business. Yes, like a switch had flipped." "Father, did you know the man who killed those folks in the hobby shop" Sam wanted to know next. It was a small town, so he had pretty good money on the fact that he would receive a positive answer to this question. And sure enough, Father Gil nodded in affirmation. "Sure, Tony Perkins. Good man." Sam glanced over at Dean who nodded, encouraging him to press further. So he did. "Would you say that his personality suddenly changed one day, too?" Father Gil hesitated, his expression suddenly filled with a dawning comprehension. "You know, I never thought about it that way, but... yes. The same time as Andy — about two months ago." Sam and Dean exchanged knowing looks. Dean nodded and reached out to shake the minister's hand professionally. "Well, thank you, Father. We appreciate your time." Heading back down the steps of the church, Sam muttered in an undertone to Dean, "Two months ago, we open up the devil's gate, all of a sudden this town turns into Margaritaville?" He shook his head grimly.
"That's not a coincidence."
Sam stepped into Bobby's library where Bobby was fiddling with the inner workings of the colt which had been taken apart after the last of its bullets had been used on yellow-eyes, and Dean was melting different silvers and metals into bullets. He leaned up against the entryway arch, crossed his arms comfortably, and nodded his head in greeting. "Hey." "Hey, what's up" Dean wanted to know without lifting his head. "Might've found some omens in Ohio" Sam announced. "Dry lightning, barometric-pressure drop..." "Well, that's thrilling." Dean still hadn't lifted his head. He was focusing hard on the bullet making process in front of him. "Plus, some guy blows his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop before the cops take him out" Sam finished. "Might be demonic omens." Dean finally looked up, not impressed. "Or it could just be a suicide and a psycho scrapbooker." Sam shrugged indifferently. "Yeah, but it's our best lead since Lincoln." Dean gave a reluctant nod of agreement. "Where in Ohio?" "Elizabethville. It's a half-dead factory town in the rust belt." Dean leaned back in his chair, making a face. "There's got to be a demon or two in South Beach." Sam chuckled. "Sorry. Maybe next time."
Turning his attention to the room's other occupant, he tilted his head to one side inquisitively. "How's it going Bobby?" "Slow" was the grumpy response. Dean leaned forward in his chair again, taking in the scattered pieces of gun in front of Bobby. "I gotta tell you, it's a little sad seeing the Colt like that." Bobby held one of the aforementioned pieces up to the light to inspect it. "Well, the original bullets are gone. The only thing it's good for now is figuring out what makes it tick." Sam pushed off of the wall and moved closer. "So what makes it tick?" Bobby looked up, not amused. Bad question. Sam held up his hands in amused surrender. Dean got to his feet. "So, if we want to go check out these omens in Ohio... you think you can have that thing ready by this afternoon?" His face was completely straight but his eyes gave away the fact he was teasing. Sam chuckled and shook his head. Bobby stared at him incredulously for a minute before picking up the tip of the disassembled gun and pointing it at Dean. "Well, it won't kill demons by then, but I can promise you it'll kill you." Dean grinned at Bobby, then clapped Sam on the shoulder. "All right, come on, we're wasting daylight." Sam inclined his head at Bobby, who was smiling gruffly by this point. "See ya Bobby."
Bobby stopped them before they'd made it to the door. "Hey! You boys run into anything — anything — you call me." The boys both nodded firmly before heading out. Time to go to work.
~~~
"There's not much left for the insurance company. It was a suicide - I saw it myself." The minister wrung out his hands sadly, leading Sam and Dean through his church. "Well,this shouldn't take long, then" Dean promised as the minister stopped walking and pointed to a balcony at the front of the church. "That's where Andy did it. It was the first time I'd seen him in weeks. He used to come every Sunday." Sam dragged his eyes from the balcony to Father Gil's tortured expression. "When did he stop?" Father Gil was silent for a minute, thinking this over. Then, "Probably about ... two months ago? Right around the time everything else started to change." Sam's ears perked up. "Change how?" Father Gil gave a watery smile. "Oh, let's just say this used to be a town ... you could be proud of. People ... cared about each other. Then people started changing. Andy, for example...he sang in the choir, baked cookies for neighbors...and then one day, he just ... wasn't Andy anymore. It was like he was"- "Possessed" Sam finished knowingly.
Of course Sam knew that the good father assumed he was speaking metaphorically which is why he nodded along with the assessment so readily. "You could say that. Gambled away his money, cheated on his wife, destroyed his business. Yes, like a switch had flipped." "Father, did you know the man who killed those folks in the hobby shop" Sam wanted to know next. It was a small town, so he had pretty good money on the fact that he would receive a positive answer to this question. And sure enough, Father Gil nodded in affirmation. "Sure, Tony Perkins. Good man." Sam glanced over at Dean who nodded, encouraging him to press further. So he did. "Would you say that his personality suddenly changed one day, too?" Father Gil hesitated, his expression suddenly filled with a dawning comprehension. "You know, I never thought about it that way, but... yes. The same time as Andy — about two months ago." Sam and Dean exchanged knowing looks. Dean nodded and reached out to shake the minister's hand professionally. "Well, thank you, Father. We appreciate your time." Heading back down the steps of the church, Sam muttered in an undertone to Dean, "Two months ago, we open up the devil's gate, all of a sudden this town turns into Margaritaville?" He shook his head grimly.
"That's not a coincidence."
