Post by Sam Winchester on Feb 19, 2015 10:32:32 GMT -5
ooc; SEASON THREE. EPISODE SIX.
Sam sat in the Impala's passenger-side seat as usual, staring out the window. The car's interior had been relatively quiet for awhile now, each brother lost in their own thoughts. Dean finally broke the silence. "So, I've been waiting since Maple Springs. You got something to tell me?" Sam flashed back upon the burst of yellow light emitting from the dying crossroads demon as a bullet from the colt had hit her square between the eyes. But rather than admitting what he'd done, he played dumb. "It's not your birthday." Dean shook his head once, unamused. "No." "... Happy Purim?" Sam tried to laugh it off. "Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking abou—" "There's a bullet missing from the Colt" Dean interrupted stiffly. "You want to tell me how that happened? 'Cause I know it wasn't me. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans..." Sam exhaled shortly. "Dean..." Dean's grip on the steering wheel tightened considerably. "You went after her, didn't you? The Crossroads Demon. After I told you not to." Sam shrugged defensively. "Yeah, well..."
"You could have gotten yourself killed!" "Well I didn't" Sam pointed out reasonably. "And you shot her" Dean went on, to which Sam retorted flatly, "she was a smartass." There was a beat of silence, followed by Dean asking in a measured tone, "so, what? Does that, does that mean I'm out of my deal?" Sam shook his head in exasperation. Did Dean really think if he'd managed to break the deal, he would let Dean walk around for a year still thinking he was going to die??!! "Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean? No. Someone else holds the contract." Dean flicked his eyes sideways from the road and then back again. "Who?" "She wouldn't say" Sam admitted begrudgingly.
"Well, we should find out who. Of course, our best lead would be the Crossroads Demon." Dean's voice was heavily laden with sarcasm. "Oh, wait a minute..." "That's not funny" Sam insisted woodenly. "No, it's not" Dean agreed vehemently. "It was a stupid freaking risk, and you shouldn't have done it." "I shouldn't have done it" Sam repeated in disbelief, straightening in his seat with resolve. "You're my brother, Dean. And no matter what you do or say, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, all right."
It wasn't a question.
~~~
The rest of the ride to Sea Pines, Massachusetts passed in tense silence. A woman had supposedly drowned in her shower and they were there to investigate. And while neither was ready to give up their side of the constant crossroads deal argument, they were able to put it aside and work like professionals.
"But I don't understand. I already went over all this with the other detectives." The young woman's aunt, Gertrude, was looking between the brothers in confusion as they flashed their badges. "Right, yes" Dean acknowledged. "But, see, we're with the Sheriff's Department, not the police department – different departments." "So, Mrs. Case" Sam began formally, only to be stopped by Gert who placed a hand on his forearm. "Please. MS. Case." Sam looked down at her hand, which she removed, but not before winking. Sam tried to take it in stride. Maybe she was just one of those old ladies who felt comfort in physical connection. Maybe she acted like this with everyone. "Okay. Um, Ms. Case, um... you were the one who found your niece, correct?" Gert nodded. "I came home, and she was in the shower. The coroner says she drowned. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?" It was a good question.
Seeing as how he didn't have an answer, Sam simply kept going with his own questions. "How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or ...?" Gert's eyes lit up. "Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?" Sam glanced over at Dean who quickly jumped in with, "Yep. Absolutely. Alex and us, we're like this." He held up two intertwined fingers. Gert nodded enthusiastically. "Why didn't you say so? Alex has been such a comfort." Her smile dimmed slightly. "But I’m sorry. I thought the case was solved." Sam shook his head slowly. "Uh... Well, no. No, not yet. So, anyways, we were talking about your niece." Gert nodded in recognition of this fact. "Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. You think it could be a ... ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship." She was addressing both boys but her eyes were honing in on Sam, who was quickly coming to the realization that she was NOT like this with everyone. Semi-thrown off by her intense regard, Sam gave a little shrug. "Well, um ... Could be." He took a step back, having reached the end of his questions. Gert moved with him, trailing a finger up his arm. "Well. You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you. Anything." Sam smiled uncomfortably. Dean smirked broadly.
~~~
"What a crazy old broad" Dean chuckled as they walked along the marina's docks, glancing idly at the boats they passed. "Why? Because she believes in ghosts?" Sam gave Dean a pointed look, clearly indicating many would say they were just as crazy. Dean laughed in enjoyment. "Look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound." Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Bite me." Dean held up his hands in mocking surrender. "Hey, not if she bites you first." Lowering his hands, he grew serious. "So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?" Sam shrugged indifferently. "Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change our job." Dean glanced out at the water and then back to Sam. "So you think cougartown back there and this mysterious Alex are right? Ghost ship?" Sam nodded, confirming the theory with facts from his research. "Yeah. It's not the first one sighted around here, either. Every 37 years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every 37 years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings." Dean frowned in worry. "So, whatever's happening is just getting started. What's the next step?" "I gotta I.D. the boat" Sam informed him. Dean considered this with a slight shrug. "That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?" Sam made a face. "I checked that too, actually. Over one hundred and fifty." Dean whistled. "Wow." "Yeah."
At this point in their conversation they'd reached the parking space that they'd left the Impala in. The one minor set back? The Impala was no longer in it. Sam's eyes widened. "This is where we parked the car, right" Dean asked from beside him and Sam could hear the panic starting to wrap itself around his words. "I thought so" he agreed, looking around to make sure they weren't just a few spaces off or something. "Where's my car" Dean demanded. "Sam, where's my car? Someone stole my CAR!" His voice was starting to rise. Sam was just as flummoxed as to how a car, whose keys were still in Dean's pocket, could just up and vanish, but his main concern right now was keeping Dean from collapsing because he looked physically ill. His complexion was nearing a sickly green color. Moving to his side as the older Winchester bent over to place both hands on his knees, hyperventilating, Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, half comforting and half to keep him from face planting into the cement. "Hey, hey, hey! Take it easy. Calm down. Dea—" "I am calmed down" Dean snapped, his breathing shallow and his tone far from the calmness he claimed to be. "Somebody stole my ca"- "The '67 Impala" a third voice interrupted casually from behind them. "Was that yours?" The british accent wasn't hard to place.
Dean straightened. Sam removed his hand from Dean's shoulder, narrowing his eyes. "Bela." She sauntered closer, looking pleased with herself. "I'm sorry. I had that car towed." Dean's eyes widened murderously. "You what?!" "Well, it was in a tow-away zone" she pointed out reasonably. "No it wasn't" Dean shot back as Sam quickly glanced around just to double check. Bela smirked. "It was when I finished with it." "What the hell are you even doing here" Dean snarled. Bela's answering smile was flippant. "A little yachting." Sam had put it together. "You're Alex. You're working with that old lady." Bela gave Sam an appraising look. "Gert's a dear old friend." "Yeah, right" Dean snorted. "What's your angle?" Bela swung her gaze around to Dean. "There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats or whatever." Dean stared at her shrewdly. "And let me guess, it's all a con, none of it's real." "The comfort I provide them is very real" Bela insisted, saying nothing about the actual seances. "How do you sleep at night" Sam chastised in disgust.
"On silk sheets, rolling naked in money" Bela supplied sarcastically with pride. Then she tipped her head at Dean. "Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him, but you?" Sam's jaw unhinged. "You SHOT me." "I barely grazed you" she countered breezily. Dean crossed his arms. "You do know what's going on around here, right? This ghost-ship thing is real." Bela smiled tightly. "I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way." "It isn't" Dean pointed out. Bela sighed and rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Yes, but SHE didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers." The boys looked at each other, clearly not feeling sorry about that. Bela glared at them. "Look... just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble." Her glare melted into a mischievous smirk. "Oh and I'd get to that car if I were you... before they find the arsenal in the trunk." She winked and strolled in the opposite direction, calling "ciao" over one shoulder. The boys watched her go with matching looks of contempt. Dean scowled. "Can I shoot her?" A muscle ticked in Sam's jaw.
"Not in public."
Sam sat in the Impala's passenger-side seat as usual, staring out the window. The car's interior had been relatively quiet for awhile now, each brother lost in their own thoughts. Dean finally broke the silence. "So, I've been waiting since Maple Springs. You got something to tell me?" Sam flashed back upon the burst of yellow light emitting from the dying crossroads demon as a bullet from the colt had hit her square between the eyes. But rather than admitting what he'd done, he played dumb. "It's not your birthday." Dean shook his head once, unamused. "No." "... Happy Purim?" Sam tried to laugh it off. "Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking abou—" "There's a bullet missing from the Colt" Dean interrupted stiffly. "You want to tell me how that happened? 'Cause I know it wasn't me. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans..." Sam exhaled shortly. "Dean..." Dean's grip on the steering wheel tightened considerably. "You went after her, didn't you? The Crossroads Demon. After I told you not to." Sam shrugged defensively. "Yeah, well..."
"You could have gotten yourself killed!" "Well I didn't" Sam pointed out reasonably. "And you shot her" Dean went on, to which Sam retorted flatly, "she was a smartass." There was a beat of silence, followed by Dean asking in a measured tone, "so, what? Does that, does that mean I'm out of my deal?" Sam shook his head in exasperation. Did Dean really think if he'd managed to break the deal, he would let Dean walk around for a year still thinking he was going to die??!! "Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean? No. Someone else holds the contract." Dean flicked his eyes sideways from the road and then back again. "Who?" "She wouldn't say" Sam admitted begrudgingly.
"Well, we should find out who. Of course, our best lead would be the Crossroads Demon." Dean's voice was heavily laden with sarcasm. "Oh, wait a minute..." "That's not funny" Sam insisted woodenly. "No, it's not" Dean agreed vehemently. "It was a stupid freaking risk, and you shouldn't have done it." "I shouldn't have done it" Sam repeated in disbelief, straightening in his seat with resolve. "You're my brother, Dean. And no matter what you do or say, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, all right."
It wasn't a question.
~~~
The rest of the ride to Sea Pines, Massachusetts passed in tense silence. A woman had supposedly drowned in her shower and they were there to investigate. And while neither was ready to give up their side of the constant crossroads deal argument, they were able to put it aside and work like professionals.
"But I don't understand. I already went over all this with the other detectives." The young woman's aunt, Gertrude, was looking between the brothers in confusion as they flashed their badges. "Right, yes" Dean acknowledged. "But, see, we're with the Sheriff's Department, not the police department – different departments." "So, Mrs. Case" Sam began formally, only to be stopped by Gert who placed a hand on his forearm. "Please. MS. Case." Sam looked down at her hand, which she removed, but not before winking. Sam tried to take it in stride. Maybe she was just one of those old ladies who felt comfort in physical connection. Maybe she acted like this with everyone. "Okay. Um, Ms. Case, um... you were the one who found your niece, correct?" Gert nodded. "I came home, and she was in the shower. The coroner says she drowned. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?" It was a good question.
Seeing as how he didn't have an answer, Sam simply kept going with his own questions. "How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or ...?" Gert's eyes lit up. "Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?" Sam glanced over at Dean who quickly jumped in with, "Yep. Absolutely. Alex and us, we're like this." He held up two intertwined fingers. Gert nodded enthusiastically. "Why didn't you say so? Alex has been such a comfort." Her smile dimmed slightly. "But I’m sorry. I thought the case was solved." Sam shook his head slowly. "Uh... Well, no. No, not yet. So, anyways, we were talking about your niece." Gert nodded in recognition of this fact. "Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. You think it could be a ... ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship." She was addressing both boys but her eyes were honing in on Sam, who was quickly coming to the realization that she was NOT like this with everyone. Semi-thrown off by her intense regard, Sam gave a little shrug. "Well, um ... Could be." He took a step back, having reached the end of his questions. Gert moved with him, trailing a finger up his arm. "Well. You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you. Anything." Sam smiled uncomfortably. Dean smirked broadly.
~~~
"What a crazy old broad" Dean chuckled as they walked along the marina's docks, glancing idly at the boats they passed. "Why? Because she believes in ghosts?" Sam gave Dean a pointed look, clearly indicating many would say they were just as crazy. Dean laughed in enjoyment. "Look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound." Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Bite me." Dean held up his hands in mocking surrender. "Hey, not if she bites you first." Lowering his hands, he grew serious. "So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?" Sam shrugged indifferently. "Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change our job." Dean glanced out at the water and then back to Sam. "So you think cougartown back there and this mysterious Alex are right? Ghost ship?" Sam nodded, confirming the theory with facts from his research. "Yeah. It's not the first one sighted around here, either. Every 37 years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every 37 years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings." Dean frowned in worry. "So, whatever's happening is just getting started. What's the next step?" "I gotta I.D. the boat" Sam informed him. Dean considered this with a slight shrug. "That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?" Sam made a face. "I checked that too, actually. Over one hundred and fifty." Dean whistled. "Wow." "Yeah."
At this point in their conversation they'd reached the parking space that they'd left the Impala in. The one minor set back? The Impala was no longer in it. Sam's eyes widened. "This is where we parked the car, right" Dean asked from beside him and Sam could hear the panic starting to wrap itself around his words. "I thought so" he agreed, looking around to make sure they weren't just a few spaces off or something. "Where's my car" Dean demanded. "Sam, where's my car? Someone stole my CAR!" His voice was starting to rise. Sam was just as flummoxed as to how a car, whose keys were still in Dean's pocket, could just up and vanish, but his main concern right now was keeping Dean from collapsing because he looked physically ill. His complexion was nearing a sickly green color. Moving to his side as the older Winchester bent over to place both hands on his knees, hyperventilating, Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, half comforting and half to keep him from face planting into the cement. "Hey, hey, hey! Take it easy. Calm down. Dea—" "I am calmed down" Dean snapped, his breathing shallow and his tone far from the calmness he claimed to be. "Somebody stole my ca"- "The '67 Impala" a third voice interrupted casually from behind them. "Was that yours?" The british accent wasn't hard to place.
Dean straightened. Sam removed his hand from Dean's shoulder, narrowing his eyes. "Bela." She sauntered closer, looking pleased with herself. "I'm sorry. I had that car towed." Dean's eyes widened murderously. "You what?!" "Well, it was in a tow-away zone" she pointed out reasonably. "No it wasn't" Dean shot back as Sam quickly glanced around just to double check. Bela smirked. "It was when I finished with it." "What the hell are you even doing here" Dean snarled. Bela's answering smile was flippant. "A little yachting." Sam had put it together. "You're Alex. You're working with that old lady." Bela gave Sam an appraising look. "Gert's a dear old friend." "Yeah, right" Dean snorted. "What's your angle?" Bela swung her gaze around to Dean. "There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats or whatever." Dean stared at her shrewdly. "And let me guess, it's all a con, none of it's real." "The comfort I provide them is very real" Bela insisted, saying nothing about the actual seances. "How do you sleep at night" Sam chastised in disgust.
"On silk sheets, rolling naked in money" Bela supplied sarcastically with pride. Then she tipped her head at Dean. "Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him, but you?" Sam's jaw unhinged. "You SHOT me." "I barely grazed you" she countered breezily. Dean crossed his arms. "You do know what's going on around here, right? This ghost-ship thing is real." Bela smiled tightly. "I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way." "It isn't" Dean pointed out. Bela sighed and rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Yes, but SHE didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers." The boys looked at each other, clearly not feeling sorry about that. Bela glared at them. "Look... just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble." Her glare melted into a mischievous smirk. "Oh and I'd get to that car if I were you... before they find the arsenal in the trunk." She winked and strolled in the opposite direction, calling "ciao" over one shoulder. The boys watched her go with matching looks of contempt. Dean scowled. "Can I shoot her?" A muscle ticked in Sam's jaw.
"Not in public."
