Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean //

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Sam Winchester
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Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean // Apr 16, 2015 8:38:19 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Apr 16, 2015 8:38:19 GMT -5

ooc; SEASON FOUR. EPISODE TWO.

"Well, then tell me what else it could be" Sam argued from his seat in Bobby's kitchen, watching as Dean paced in front of him restlessly. "I don't know" Dean snapped irritably without slowing. "Look, all I know is I was not groped by an angel." "Okay, look, Dean. Why do you think this Castiel would lie to you about it" Sam asked patiently, trying not to let his inner excitement elevate too fast. He remembered all too well the last time he'd thought they'd been dealing with angels and it had turned out to just be a reverend ghost. But this time was different already. "Maybe he's some kind of demon" Dean was theorizing, having finally stopped his pacing to lean up against the kitchen counter facing Sam. "Demons lie." Sam glanced over at Bobby who was sitting behind his desk in the library, buried in a pile of books, but clearly at least half listening to their conversation. Sam returned his focus to Dean with a raised eyebrow. "A demon who's immune to salt rounds and devil's traps... and Ruby's knife?!" He gave the older Winchester a pointed look. "Dean, Lilith is scared of that thing!"

Dean was looking more and more flustered by the minute. "Ok, but don't you think that if angels were real, that some hunter somewhere would have seen one... at some point... ever?" "Yeah." Sam nodded somberly.

"You just did."

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Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean // Apr 16, 2015 9:31:23 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Apr 16, 2015 9:31:23 GMT -5

"I'm trying to come up with a theory here, ok" Dean griped, annoyed by Sam's upbeat attitude about this whole thing. "Work with me." Sam smiled patiently. "Dean, we have a theory." "Yeah, one with a little less fairy dust on it, please" Dean snapped, crossing his arms stubbornly. Sam relented slightly. "Okay, look. I'm not saying we know for sure. I'm just saying that I think we --" Dean saw an opportunity to make his point clearer and jumped on it, interrupting Sam mid-sentence. "Okay, okay. That's the point. We don't know for sure, so I'm not gonna believe that this thing is a freaking "Angel of the Lord" because it says so!" He put air-quotes around the phrase Castiel had used. Sam opened his mouth to retort but Bobby beat him to it, calling out from the library gruffly, "You two chuckleheads want to keep arguing religion, or do you want to come take a look at this?" The boys looked briefly at each other and then Sam got to his feet, Dean pushed off of the counter and they meandered over to Bobby's desk. "I got stacks of lore -- Biblical, pre-Biblical. Some of it's in damn cuneiform" Bobby explained, gesturing at the clutter of books that practically swallowed him. "It all says an angel can snatch a soul from the pit." "What else" Dean asked immediately, ignoring the hopeful grin that spread out all over Sam's entire face. Bobby looked confused. "What else, what?" "What else could do it" Dean clarified, waiting for an answer and unsatisfied with the one he got. "Airlift your ass out of the hot box? As far as I can tell, nothing. It's angel or bust."

Sam's smile got even wider though Dean wasn't sure how that was possible. "Dean, this is good news" he insisted. Dean wasn't so sure he was on the same page with that conclusion. "How?" "Because for once, this isn't just another round of demon crap" Sam explained joyfully. "I mean, maybe you were saved by one of the good guys, you know?" Dean looked at Bobby who tipped his head in half a nod of agreement. Dean ran a hand over his face wearily. "Okay. Say it's true. Say there are angels. Then what? There's a God?" Bobby shrugged, closing the book in front of him and settling back in his chair. "At this point, Vegas money's on yeah." Dean looked back and forth between Bobby and Sam, both of whom seemed all gung-ho on diving into this angels business head first. No hesitations. No doubts. He shook his head with a frown full of the hesitations and doubts that the other two were lacking. "I don't know, guys."

Sam looked like he was mentally counting to five before piping up with, "Okay, look Dean. I know you're not all choirboy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof." "Proof" Dean echoed. "Yes." Sam nodded firmly. "Proof that there's a God out there that actually gives a crap about me personally" Dean went on, feeling overwhelmed and outnumbered. "I'm sorry, but I'm not buying it." Sam and Bobby exchanged a look, obviously unsure where Dean was headed with this. Sam was the one to finally ask cautiously, "why not?" Dean eyed the floor briefly and then lifted his eyes, his voice cracking lamely. "Because why me?" He looked between the other two again, swallowing hard. "If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?" He bit his lip, feeling worthless. He wasn't exactly the most stand up guy in the world. Which he went on in further detail about next, ignoring Sam's sympathetic expression and the "Dean" that went with it. "I mean, I've saved some people, okay? I figured that made up for the stealing and lying and the ditching chicks" he reasoned. "But why do I deserve to get saved? I'm just a regular guy." Sam shrugged, unconcerned. "Apparently, you're a regular guy that's important to the man upstairs." Dean's eyes darted over to Bobby who again, unhelpfully, simply inclined his head in agreement. Dean made a face. "Well, that creeps me out." He shuddered. "I mean, I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties, much less by... God."

Sam chuckled. "Okay, well, too bad, Dean, because I think he wants you to strap on your party hat." Dean was unamused. "Fine" he relented at last. "What do we know about angels?" Bobby lifted one of the tallest stacks of books and placed it in front of Dean with a loud thud. "Start reading." Dean's eyes widened. With a grouchy sigh, he grabbed the top book in one hand, pointing the index finger of his other hand at Sam.

"You're going to get me some pie."

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Sam Winchester
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Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean // Apr 16, 2015 10:07:45 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Apr 16, 2015 10:07:45 GMT -5

Sam pulled the Impala up to a halt outside the local gas station and cut the engine. "Yes, Dean, I'll get chips too" he was saying into the phone balanced between one shoulder and ear. "Don't forget the pie" Dean instructed. Sam could hear pages being flipped in the background. He rolled his eyes. "Dude. When have I ever forgotten the pie?" Dean had no answer for that. He nodded confidently into the silence. "Exactly." Dean may or may not have said something else after this but Sam's eyes had landed on a figure hovering by the gas station's emergency exit, peering around the wall and watching Sam intently. "I gotta go." He hung up and approached Ruby. "What are you doing here?" "Is it true" she wanted to know, without answering his question. He shook his head, confused. "Is what true?" "Did an angel rescue Dean?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "You heard?" Ruby waited until a passing customer was out of earshot before coming back with a serious, "who hasn't." Sam nodded optimistically. "We're not 100% sure, but I think so." "Okay." Ruby nodded slowly, considering this. Then she pivoted on one heel and began to walk away. "Bye, Sam."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait." Sam grabbed her arm, which was pointless seeing as how she could just vanish into thin air if she really wanted to get away. Fortunately she stuck around long enough for him to ask, "What's going on?" "Sam, they're angels. I'm a demon" she stressed. "They're not gonna care if I'm being helpful. They smite first, and then they ask questions later." Sam released her arm and took a step back, frowning curiously. "What do you know about them?" Ruby shook her head with a dark expression. "Not much. I've never met one, and I don't really want to." Her tough outer shell cracked slightly, her brow knitting in worry. "All I know is that they scare the holy hell out of me. Watch yourself, Sam." "I'm not scared of angels" Sam scoffed. Ruby looked at him like he was an idiot, shook her head, and walked away, leaving him alone.
~~~

"Keep the engine running." Bobby approached the Impala as Sam pulled it back into the back lot of Bobby's place. He shifted it into park, letting it idle. "Why? What's going on?" "I got a friend one state over -- Olivia Lowry" Bobby explained as Dean came out of the house, a duffel bag in each hand. He tossed one through the open back window of Bobby's car. "I've been trying to reach her for three days on this angel thing" Bobby went on. "It's not like her to ignore this many calls." Dean tossed the second duffel bag in through the open back window of the Impala as he rounded the car, heading for the driver's side. The name sounded vaguely familiar to Sam. "Olivia Lowry -- a hunter, right?" Bobby nodded in confirmation. "Yeah. We're gonna go check on her. You guys follow me." Dean wrapped on the driver's side window with his knuckles before pulling open the door. "Scoot over." Sam did as instructed without objection, un-buckling, edging sideways into the passenger seat, and re-buckling. Dean snatched up the plastic bag of food between them and began rifling through it. "Dude" he said after a minute, looking up. "Where's the pie?" "Oops." He shrugged sheepishly. Ruby's presence had completely distracted him. He'd forgotten.

"My bad."

Last Edit: Apr 16, 2015 12:33:52 GMT -5 by Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester
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Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean // Apr 16, 2015 12:54:20 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Apr 16, 2015 12:54:20 GMT -5

"Olivia?" Bobby used the tip of his shotgun to push Olivia's front door open gently. He was followed into the house by Sam and Dean, both of whom were also armed. It only took them another few steps to find Olivia, lying dead in a pool of her own blood in the middle of her living room, her chest cracked wide open. Bobby stared for a minute and then turned and left the house. "Bobby" Dean called after him in concern but was distracted from Bobby's exit by Sam's voice. "Salt line." The younger Winchester was squatting by the doorway that separated the living room from the kitchen, a broken salt barrier evident. Dean crossed to pick up an abandoned EMF detector on the counter and showed it to Sam. "Olivia was rocking the EMF meter." Sam straightened up, nodding grimly. "Spirit activity." Dean stared down at Olivia's corpse, tilting his head to one side. "Yeah -- on steroids. I've never seen a ghost do this to a person before."

Before either brother could comment further, Bobby was returning from outside, his phone in one hand, looking dazed. Dean frowned in concern. "Bobby, you alright?" "I called some hunters nearby..." He twitched his phone. "Good." Dean sighed in relief. "We can use their help." This case sure was a headscratcher so far. "...except they ain't answering their phones either" Bobby finished gravely. "Something's up, huh" Sam asked, earning a highly sarcastic "ya think" from Bobby, who then spun around and exited again, looking to be deep in thought. The boys exchanged a long look.
~~~

"We're in Jackson. Jed's house" Dean announced into his phone three hours later as he and Sam descended the front steps. "It's not pretty. He looks even worse than Olivia. What about you?" "I checked on Carl Bates and R.C. Adams" Bobby informed him without much enthusiasm. "They've redecorated... in red." Dean gave Sam a subtle shake of the head as they climbed back into the Impala. "What the hell is going on here, Bobby? Why did a bunch of ghosts suddenly want to gank off-duty hunters?" "I don't know" Bobby admitted. "But until we find out, you guys better get your asses to my place pronto." Dean revved the engine.

"We're on our way."

Last Edit: Apr 16, 2015 13:20:12 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean // Apr 16, 2015 15:33:50 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Apr 16, 2015 15:33:50 GMT -5

Halfway back to Bobby's, Sam took over at the wheel so Dean could rest. Noticing they were low on gas, he pulled into a station about a few miles outside of Sioux Falls. And after filling the tank, he detoured to the restroom for a much needed splash of cold water in the face so he himself would stay awake the rest of the drive.

And it was while he was patting his face dry with a handful of papertowels that the restroom's temperature dropped about twenty degrees at once, causing his sharp exhale of breath to become visible even in the dim lighting. His spine stiffened apprehensively as he raised his head from the sink and, with a jolt, found Special Agent Victor Henriksen staring at him through the mirror's reflection. Spinning around to face him head on, he swallowed hard. "Hi Sam" Henriksen greeted him with a thin smile. "It's been awhile." "Henriksen" Sam breathed nervously. "Are you -- Did you..." He'd seen the news report claiming Henriksen was dead but then again the news report had also claimed he and Dean were dead. So he couldn't be 100% sure, though all signs pointed that way. And then Henriksen sealed the deal by fritzing in a ghostly manner, vanishing for half a second and then reappearing, his smile gone. "I didn't survive... if that's what you're asking." Sam's expression crumbled. "I'm sorry." Henriksen nodded once. "I know you are." "Look, if we'd known Lilith was coming" Sam hastened to try and explain but Henriksen cut him off, finishing the sentence in a different direction than the one Sam had been taking. "You wouldn't have left over a dozen innocent people in that police station to die in your place?" His expression darkened. "You did this to me. It was your fault. She was after you, and I paid the price. You left us there to die!" Apparently done talking, Henriksen charged forward, grabbing Sam by the shoulders and slamming him face first into the sink. Hard.

Sam crumpled to the floor, wincing. Henriksen reached down to haul him back up again and Sam noticed some kind of odd marking on one hand just before he was thrown into the far wall, landing on the ground once again, the breath knocked from his lungs. As he lay there, groaning, trying to breathe normally again, Henriksen vanished in a cloud of grey smoke, accompanied by a loud gunshot.

Dean had woken up.

Dean Winchester
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Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean // Apr 16, 2015 16:00:37 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Apr 16, 2015 16:00:37 GMT -5

Glad he woke when he did, Dean wasted no time in hustling his dazed and bruised brother back out to the car to put some distance between them and that gas station, though that wasn't really much of a solution. Something was going on here and it wasn't anything good. They needed to get to the bottom of it before Henriksen made another surprise appearance. Or someone worse. Trying to call Bobby from the road, his anxiety increased when no one answered. "Damn it, Bobby" he growled, snapping the phone shut, then open and trying again with the same result. "Pick up!" Dropping his phone into his lap and slapping the steering wheel, he changed objectives, checking in on Sam. "How you feeling, huh? How many fingers am I holding up?"

Sam rolled his eyes wearily. "None. I'll be fine, Dean." Dean gave a heavy sigh, recapping what he'd just seen, looking for some more insight. "So...Henriksen?" Sam rolled out his stiff shoulders, nodding. "Yeah." Dean frowned. "Why? What did he want?" "Revenge, 'cause we got him killed" Sam explained miserably. Dean stared. "Sam." Sam shrugged simply. "Well, we did, Dean." Dean held up one hand like a traffic cop, keeping the other safely on the wheel. "All right. Stop right there" he commanded sharply. "Whatever the hell is going on, it's happening to us now, okay? I can't get ahold of Bobby, so if you're not thinking answers, don't think at all."
~~~

"Bobby" Dean whisper-called frantically as the boys entered his house twenty minutes later, loaded guns at the ready. They searched the first floor quickly, finding an abandoned fireplace poker at the foot of the stairs. Dean gestured to the stairs with his gun. "I'll go. You check outside." He and Sam parted ways and he crept up the narrow staircase, every muscle on high alert. Every once and awhile he'd call out, "Bobby", and get no answer.

At the top of the stairs was a long hallway with closed doors on either side. "Bobby" he tried again, a little louder, and, seemingly in response to his words, two things happened at once. The temperature dropped twenty degrees and the door at the very end of the hallway creaked open an inch. Dean raised his gun, approaching the door slowly, with baited breath. "Come out, come out, whoever you are." "Dean Winchester" a voice from behind him spoke. He whipped around to discover a young woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a somewhat familiar face that he just couldn't place quiet yet. "Still so bossy" she went on, narrowing her eyes at him. "What? You don't recognize me? This is what I looked like before that demon cut off my hair and dressed me like a slut." It took another second but suddenly it clicked. The voice and the face were enough to override the fact that her hair was longer now and no longer blond. "Meg." Her face settled into a satisfied smirk. "Hi."

As Meg took a step closer, Dean reciprocated with a step back, holding up his gun again. Meg raised her hands. "It's okay, I'm not a demon" she promised. "You're the girl the demon possessed" Dean concluded. Meg gave a thin smile. "Meg Masters. Nice to finally talk to you when I'm not, you know, choking on my own blood." She advanced again and again, Dean retreated, holding the gun steady. She lifted her hands again. "It's okay. Seriously, I'm just a college girl." She paused and then amended her comment. "Sorry -- WAS just a college girl. I was walking home one night and got jumped by all this smoke. Next thing you know, I'm a prisoner..." She tapped her temple with two fingers. "In here. You know...I was awake" she went on bitterly. "I had to watch while she murdered people." Dean swallowed hard. "I'm sorry." "Oh, yeah?" Meg snorted, crossing her arms. "So sorry you had me thrown off a building?" Dean flinched at the memory. To be fair, they hadn't known what was going on. Which he tried to explain. "Well, we thought"- "No, you didn't think" Meg shouted, on the verge of tears. "I kept waiting, praying! I was trapped in there screaming at you! "Just help me, please!" You're supposed to help people, Dean" she finished, her voice shaking. "Why didn't you help me?" Dean searched his brain for something to say. "I'm sorry" he finally landed on lamely, earning a scowl from Meg. "Stop saying you're sorry!" She reared back and delivered a solid right hook to his jaw, catching him by surprise, knocking the gun from his hands, and sending him staggering back a few feet in the process. "Meg"- Without listening, she advanced, punching him again. This time he ended up on the ground on all fours, holding up a hand to try and stop her from coming closer. "We didn't know."

Meg squat beside him, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and pulling him closer. Dean noticed a weird sort of marking on her hand. "No" she sneered. "You just attacked. Did you ever think there was a girl in here? No. You just charged in, slashing and burning." She glared at him. "You think you're some kind of hero?" "No, I don't" Dean answered honestly. "You're damn right you aren't" Meg glowered, tightening her grip, getting right in Dean's face. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be ridden for months by pure evil... while your family has no idea what happened to you?" Well he certainly knew what it was like to be tortured for months by pure evil but he figured her question was more of a rhetorical one so instead of answering it, he set his jaw and came back with, "We did the best we could." Disgusted by this answer, Meg shoved Dean back to the ground, straightened up and kicked him hard in the stomach. Twice. Dean tried to crawl away but she caught up easily, kicking him a third time. "Meg" he groaned, holding up his hand again weakly, the other clutching at his bruised ribcage. Meg stood over him. "It wasn't just me, Dean" she finally said miserably. "I had a sister. A little sister. She worshipped me." She gave Dean a pointed look. "You know how little siblings are, right? How they'll do anything for you." Dean didn't have a good feeling about where this story was going. He lay there on the ground, winded and wincing as Meg finished speaking, her tone bitter, her eyes teary. "She was never the same after I disappeared. She just... she just got lost. And when my body was lying in the morgue beat-up and broken...Do you know what that did to her?" Her voice hardened. "She killed herself!!" She kicked Dean, who'd managed to make it back to all fours by this point, in the stomach even more violently than the first three times, flattening him again. "Because of you, Dean! Because all you were thinking about was your family, your revenge, and your demons! 50 words of Latin a little sooner, and I'd still be alive. My baby sister would still be alive. That blood is on your hands, Dean!" "You're right" Dean groaned, still breathing deeply and clutching at his ribs while crawling at a snail's pace towards that last open door. Furious, Meg slammed her foot into his stomach once more and the momentum sent him rolling the rest of the way down the hall into the room he'd been heading for.

Meg followed him into the room, smirking. Using the last bit of strength he possessed, Dean flipped over onto his back, and drew his gun in one seamless movement, aiming it at Meg. She chuckled condescendingly. "Come on, Dean, did your brain get french-fried in Hell? You can't shoot me with bullets. I'm already dead." Dean raised an eyebrow confidently. "I'm not shooting you." With that being said, he lifted the tip of his gun so that it was no longer pointing at Meg but at the chandelier directly above her. With a loud bang from the shot, it crashed towards earth. As soon as it made contact with Meg, she vanished in the same sort of grey smoke Henriksen had when he'd shot him at the gas station. "Iron" he announced smugly before dropping his gun and laying his head back, taking in measured breaths to test the strength of his lungs and bruised ribs. It smarted a little but wasn't too bad. He'd definitely live.

You know, provided the ghosts didn't kill him.

Last Edit: Apr 17, 2015 16:26:00 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean // Apr 18, 2015 20:44:25 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Apr 18, 2015 20:44:25 GMT -5

Sam had fortunately managed to find Bobby in the nick of time before these two creepy looking ghost girls (whom Sam assumed Bobby knew since that seemed to be the theme of their ghostly friends) could suffocate him. And now, the two of them had reunited with Dean in the library to try and hash this thing out. "So, they're all people we know" Sam theorized curiously. "Not just know" Dean corrected from his perched position against the arm of the couch under the window. "People we couldn't save." He paused, thinking it over, and then added, "hey, I saw something on Meg. Did she have a tattoo when she was alive?" Sam thought back to the few times he'd been around her and shook his head. "No. At least, I don't think so." Dean crossed his arms lazily. "It was like a-a mark on her hand -- almost like a brand." The word branded triggered Sam's memory of what he'd seen on Henriksen's hand in the gas station bathroom and he nodded. "I saw a mark, too, on Henriksen." Bobby looked between the two of them. "What did it look like?" Sam moved over to his desk with one hand out. "Paper?" When he received a scrap page from Bobby along with a pen, he spared a brief, "thanks" before going to work drawing what he remembered and then holding it up for Dean to see. Dean let his arms drop to his sides as he straightened up, pushing off the couch. "Yeah, that's it."

Bobby squinted at the drawing. "I may have seen this before." He grabbed up two heavy books from his desk, passing them to Sam and then picking up a nearby shot gun. "We gotta move. Follow me." Sam let out a little "oof" of surprise, caught off guard by the books suddenly thrust into his arms. "Okay, where are we going" he wanted to know. Bobby glanced at him over one shoulder as though he was a moron. "Someplace safe ya idgit." Sam shrugged.

That made sense.

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Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean // Apr 21, 2015 11:43:02 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Apr 21, 2015 11:43:02 GMT -5

Dean followed Bobby and his brother down into the basement, which was a place that, despite their numerous trips to Bobby's house over the years, they had never set foot in until today. Taking up half of the basement was an odd circular room which Bobby unlocked and ushered them both inside of before closing the door and spinning a heavy metal locking device into place. Dean looked around curiously while Sam had meandered his way over to one of the walls and touched it with two fingers. "Bobby, is this..." Bobby lay his gun down on one of the room's three desks. "Solid iron" he declared. "Completely coated in salt. 100% ghost-proof." Of course it was also demon proof and probably other types of monster proof as well since iron was a common monster problem. But ghosts were their issue right now.

Sam and Dean swapped an impressed look. Sam removed his fingers from the wall and lay the two books Bobby had given him upstairs down next to the discarded gun. "You built a panic room?" Bobby shrugged indifferently. "I had a weekend off." "Bobby." Dean shook his head in amazement, scanning the room in its entirety, taking in all its different amenities. "What?" For a minute Bobby looked skeptical, like he thought Dean might chastise him. Dean grinned. "You're awesome." Bobby's expression relaxed into a half smile of his own as he settled down at the desk in front of him to start researching the brand.

The boys meanwhile sat side by side at another of the room's desks, working in silent teamwork to create a few dozen salt bullets. As they worked, Dean's thoughts strayed back to this Castiel angel and God nonsense. And even though discussing it with Sam, who had pretty much always been Mr. Faith, was not really something high on his priority list, he wanted to make his point. So after a few attempts, in which he simply opened his mouth and then closed it again, he finally put down the funnel he'd been using to transfer salt and dusted off his hands. "See, this is why I can't get behind God." Sam blinked a few times, obviously not following the train of thought that had gotten them to this topic. "What are you talking about?" "If he doesn't exist, fine. Bad crap happens to good people. That's how it is. There's no rhyme or reason -- just random, horrible, evil -- I get it, okay. I can roll with that." Dean nodded understandingly before narrowing his eyes in disgust. "But if he is out there, what's wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds? How does he live with himself? You know, why doesn't he help?" Sam looked stumped as to how to answer. He bit his lip and glanced over at Bobby who had glanced up from his book to listen in on their conversation. He shook his head and snorted. "I ain't touching this one with at 10-foot pole." Sam gave a little twitch of his shoulders indicating his answer was pretty much word for word the same. Dean sighed heavily, not expecting much else. "Yeah."

"Found it." Bobby tapped his pencil's eraser against the page his book was currently open to. The boys stood as one, moving closer. "Found what" Sam wanted to know. "The symbol you saw -- the brand on the ghosts..." Bobby held up the book so they could see the image printed there. They both nodded simultaneously, agreeing it was the same thing they'd seen on Henriksen and Meg. "Mark of the Witness" Bobby finished. Sam raised an eyebrow. "Witness to what?" Bobby lowered his chosen book back onto the desk. "The unnatural. None of them died what you'd call ordinary deaths" Bobby explained. "See, these ghosts -- they were forced to rise. They woke up in agony. They were like rabid dogs. It ain't their fault. Someone rose them... on purpose." The boys exchanged a look, obviously wondering the same thing. It was Sam who finally asked it. "Who?" Bobby rolled his eyes. "Do I look like I know?" He flipped the page in his book before continuing to talk. "But whoever it was used a spell so powerful it left a mark, a brand on their souls. And whoever did this had big plans. It's called "the rising of the witnesses." It figures into an ancient prophecy." Now it was Dean's turn to voice the shared question. "Wait, wait. What -- what book is that prophecy from?" Bobby closed the top book that he'd been reading from and pulled out a second, smaller one. "Well, the widely distributed version's just for tourists, you know. But long story short -- Revelations." He tapped the cover of the smaller book with one finger. "This is a sign, boys." Sam and Dean swapped another long look before asking together grimly, "A sign of what?" Bobby hesitated and then delivered the blow. "The apocalypse."

The silence following Bobby's little announcement was probably only a minute but it seemed to drag on forever until Dean finally broke it. "Apocalypse" he echoed faintly. "Like the apocalypse, apocalypse? The four horsemen, pestilence, $5-a-gallon-gas apocalypse?" "That's the one" Bobby deadpanned seriously. "The rise of the witnesses is a -- a mile marker." Sam ran a hand over his face wearily. "Okay, so, what do we do now?" Dean clapped his hands together as if gearing up for a big race. "Road trip. Grand Canyon, Star Trek Experience. Bunny Ranch." Bobby set the Revelations book aside and re-opened the larger volume. "First things first. How about we survive our friends out there?" "Great." With a sarcastic smile, Dean dragged a chair over and straddled it backwards. "Any ideas aside from staying in this room until Judgment Day?" Bobby tapped the once again open book with his pencil. "It's a spell. To send the witnesses back to rest. Should work." Sam gave a humorless laugh. "Should. Great." "If I translate it correctly" Bobby went on, ignoring Sam. "I think I got everything we need here at the house." Dean raised a hopeful eyebrow. "Any chance you got everything we need here in this room?" Bobby made a face. "So, you thought our luck was gonna start NOW all of a sudden?" He rose to his feet, gathering the book and his gun. "Spell's got to be cast over an open fire." "The fireplace in the library" Sam concluded. Bobby pointed at him with his gun since both hands were full. "Bingo." Dean glanced around at their surroundings, reluctant to leave. "That's just not as appealing as a, uh, ghost-proof panic room, you know?" But he heaved a begrudging sigh of acceptance, rising to his feet as well.

Bobby tucked his gun under one arm, freeing up his a hand to spin the metal locking mechanism of the door. "Cover each other" he instructed. "And aim careful. Don't run out of ammo until I'm done, or they'll shred you. Ready?" All three of them exchanged a silent look before Bobby spun the lock and they filed back out into the basement. Rounding the corner to head up the stairs, Dean nearly jumped a foot out of his skin. Sitting on the top step where no one had been two seconds ago was now the form of another familiar person, Ronald Resnik. He lifted his head and aimed a half smile in Dean's direction. "Hey, Dean. You remember me?" "Ronald, huh? With the laser eyes?" Dean's own smile was strained. "I wish I could say it's good to see you man." Ronald rose to his feet, his smile morphing into a scowl. "I am dead because of you. You were supposed to help me!" Dean opened his mouth, could think of nothing to say, and closed it again weakly. Ronald appeared ready to lunge for the throat when he vanished in a cloud of grey smoke, accompanied by the loud bang of Bobby's gun. "If you're gonna shoot, shoot" he ordered crossly. "Don't talk." Dean exhaled sharply, nodding in agreement as the three of them hurried upstairs, towards the library, all five senses on red alert.

"Upstairs, linen closet -- red hex box" Bobby instructed Sam while Dean lit the fireplace with a match. "It'll be heavy." Sam tossed Dean a bag of salt before booking it towards the stairs. Dean got to work drawing a large protective circle around Bobby, the desk, and the fireplace. The temperature in the room, even with the roaring fire, dropped twenty degrees. The ghosts were getting closer. Bobby swept everything on the desk's surface to one side, clearing a space in which he began to draw chalk symbols. "Kitchen" he informed Dean. "Cutlery drawer. It's got a false bottom. Hemlock, opium, wormwood." Dean took a step towards the kitchen and then paused, glancing over one shoulder. What on earth was Bobby doing with opium in his house? "Opium?" Bobby pointed at the kitchen. "Go!" For a second Dean had forgotten this was a rush job. "Right." He sped into the kitchen, making a bee-line for the cutlery drawer. He'd barely laid a finger on it when the doors separating the kitchen from the library slammed closed with a gust of wind. "Dean" came Bobby's concerned call. Dean exhaled calmly, despite the jump of his heart. "I'm all right, Bobby" he called loudly towards the door. "Keep working!" He turned back to the cutlery drawer.

And found Victor Henriksen waiting for him.

Last Edit: Apr 21, 2015 16:17:30 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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

Sam Winchester
Hunter.

Posts: 958

Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean // Apr 21, 2015 14:11:19 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Sam Winchester on Apr 21, 2015 14:11:19 GMT -5

Sam rummaged through the linen closet upstairs as fast as he could. His fingers had just made contact with the cool metal of the box when a voice at his elbow made him jump. "You know what really pisses me off, Sam?" It didn't take him as long to place her as it had for Dean. Well, he'd already know it would be her since Dean had filled him in but still. He would have remembered much quicker even if that wasn't the case. Probably. "Meg." "You saw how I suffered for months" Meg went on, her eyes sparkling with un-shed tears. "I thought you must have learned something. I thought I died for something." Sam's grip on his gun tightened. Meg took a step closer, her voice beginning to shake ominously. "But what you're doing with that demon, Ruby..." Sam swallowed hard. "How many innocent bodies has Ruby burned through for kicks? How many girls just like me? And you don't send HER back to Hell?" Meg's voice was at its loudest yet. "You're a monster!" Sam set his jaw. Lifted his gun.

And fired.

Last Edit: Apr 21, 2015 14:13:07 GMT -5 by Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean // Apr 21, 2015 16:22:59 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Dean Winchester on Apr 21, 2015 16:22:59 GMT -5

Dean exhaled slowly. "Victor." Henriksen eyed him calmly. "Dean." Dean nodded miserably. "I know." A muscle ticked in Henriksen's set jaw. "No. You don't." "It's my fault you're dead." Dean shook his head, swallowing hard. "I left you behind. And the minute I heard about that explosion, I thought, "I should have known." I should have stayed. I should have protected you." He glanced subtly towards where he'd left his gun on the counter when first reaching for the cutlery drawer. No sooner had the thought entered his mind than Henriksen simply glanced at it and sent it flying across the room, far out of Dean's reach. "Unh-unh. Not so fast." He advanced on Dean who stood rooted to the spot. "You think you left and Lilith came and we all died in a beautiful blast of... white light? If only." Henriksen's lip curled. "45 minutes." Dean blinked. "What?"

Henriksen advanced again, both speaking and walking slowly. "Over 45 minutes. Lilith said she wanted to have some fun. The secretary was first. Remember her? Nancy, the virgin. Lilith filleted Nancy's skin off piece by piece. Right in front of us, made us watch. Nancy never stopped screaming." He'd backed Dean into the counter by this point. "No" Dean whispered hoarsely, feeling numb. "I was the last" Henriksen finished gravely. Dean bit his lip. "Victor..." Ignoring this, Henriksen thrust one hand forward, reaching inside of Dean's chest to grip his heart viciously. "Tell me how it's fair. You get saved from Hell -- I die. Why do you deserve another chance, Dean?" Dean honestly had no answer for that. But seeing as how he was currently in the process of having his heart dissected from his body, he figured it was ok not to answer whether he had one or not. He ground his teeth together against the dizzying pain and just when he was about to collapse, fainting into oblivion, Henriksen vanished in a puff of grey smoke.

Through his blurry vision as he clutched onto the counter for support, Dean could see Sam lowering his shotgun and hurrying over. "You all right?" "No" Dean complained, breathing deeply as he straightened up. Sam watched him for a minute to make sure he was steady on his feet and then clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go." They gathered up the ingredients from the kitchen drawer and then took them, along with Sam's hex box from upstairs, into the library where Bobby was finishing up with the preparations.

As Bobby began mixing together the proper quantities of ingredients into a large wooden bowl, Ronald appeared out of thin air ten feet from where the salt circle was drawn. Dean's grip on his gun tightened. "Ronald. Hey, come on, man. I thought we were pals." "That's when I was breathing" Ronald pointed out darkly. "Now I'm gonna eat you alive." Dean chuckled weakly. "Well...come on, I'm not a cheeseburger." He glanced to the ground and then cocked his gun and raised it but Ronald had already disappeared.

While Sam and Dean waited, tense, with their guns cocked and ready, Bobby finished mixing the ingredients and began to chant in latin. Henriksen appeared with a flicker, advancing on their circle. Dean wasted no time in firing and then re-loading his gun quickly. Bobby continued chanting. Meg appeared next and it was Sam who shot her. Ronald and Meg appeared together. Sam and Dean fired together. And as Bobby kept reciting his latin, the boys kept firing. A sudden gust of wind scattered their protective salt circle and broke the fast paced cycle they'd been locked in with the ghosts, allowing them to come closer. Henriksen knocked the gun from Dean's hands with one look, advancing on him. Dean backed up a pace, his fingers grasping behind him frantically until they landed on an iron poker from the fireplace which he swung with a vicious uppercut into Henriksen's torso, causing him to disappear in the typical cloud of grey smoke.

From across the room came the sound of Sam's grunt as he was slammed into the far wall, pinned there by a desk Meg had supernaturally flung across the room. Dean took half an alarmed step in that direction. "Sam!" "Cover Bobby" Sam managed to gasp out, struggling with the desk, which the two little girl ghosts were now sitting on top of to help keep it in place. No sooner had the words left Sam's mouth than Bobby, from behind Dean, let out a shout of surprised pain. Dean whipped around to see Meg standing with one hand in Bobby's chest much like Henriksen had done to him, grabbing his heart. Unable to hold onto the bowl of ingredients, it slipped from his grasp. "Dean" he shouted through ground teeth. "Fireplace!" Tossing aside the poker, Dean made a running leap of sorts, diving to the ground and just managing to get his fingers around the falling bowl before it could hit the ground and spill its contents. Springing nimbly to his feet, he emptied said contents into the fireplace. The crackling flames turned bright blue for a split second and in that second, all five ghosts vanished. Permanently.
~~~

Later that night, Dean woke from his sound sleep on the floor of the library. He wasn't sure what made him open his eyes, other than maybe a vaguely paranoid sensation that he was being watched. After checking to make sure both Bobby and Sam were still asleep, he slowly rose into a seated position, rolling out his stiff shoulders and neck. And it was then, as he was getting up to move into the kitchen for a glass of water, that his eyes landed on the trenchcoat-clad form of Castiel, leaning against a kitchen counter, watching him. So his vaguely paranoid sensation hadn't been vague or paranoid at all. Making sure Sam and Bobby were still out, Dean approached the angel with a skeptical expression. "Excellent job with the witnesses" Castiel praised before Dean could say anything. Dean's skeptical expression hardened into one of disbelief. "You were hip to all this?" Castiel glanced off to one side and then back to Dean, saying simply, "I was, uh, made aware." "Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance" Dean hissed furiously. "You know, I almost got my heart ripped out of my chest!" Castiel's expression didn't change. "But you didn't" he pointed out. Dean crossed his arms. "I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos -- you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks." He expected some form of reaction from the insult but Castiel merely went right on watching him with mild interest. "Read the Bible" he finally said. "Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier." "Yeah? Then, why didn't you fight" Dean challenged, slightly irked by the smooth, unchangeable expression on the angel's face no matter what he said.

Castiel tilted his head to one side. "I'm not here to perch on your shoulder. We had larger concerns." "Concerns" Dean repeated incredulously. "There were people getting torn to shreds down here! Good people. And, by the way, while all this is going on, where the hell is your boss, huh, if there is a God?" "There's a God" Castiel assured him calmly. Dean shook his head doubtfully with a snort. "I'm not convinced. 'Cause if there's a God, what the hell is he waiting for, huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freaking apocalypse?" He had to struggle not to raise his voice, wanting to let Sam and Bobby continue sleeping, but also wanting to get across his frustrations. "At what point does he lift a damn finger and help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?" "The Lord works" Castiel began but Dean cut him off with a harsh, "If you say "mysterious ways," so help me, I will kick your ass." Castiel held up his hands in surrender, leaving his sentence unfinished. Dean exhaled as calmly as he could manage under the circumstances. "So, Bobby was right... about the witnesses. This is some kind of a... sign of the apocalypse." Castiel nodded once. "That's why we're here. Big things afoot." Dean raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know what kind of things?" Castiel straightened up, pushing off of the counter with a grim expression. "I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know." He paused and then announced, "The rising of the witnesses is one of the 66 seals." Dean's expression remained blank. "Okay. I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld" he deadpanned which was entirely missed by the angel who went right on talking. "Those seals are being broken by Lilith." "She did the spell" Dean realized. "She rose the witnesses."

"Mm-hmm." Castiel nodded. "And not just here. 20 other hunters are dead nationwide." "Of course." Dean nodded understandingly. "She picked victims that the hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us." Castiel gave a thin, bland smile. "Lilith has a certain sense of humor." "But we put those spirits back to rest" Dean pointed out hopefully. Castiel shook his head dismissively. "It doesn't matter. The seal was still broken." Dean frowned, trying to mentally sort through all of this new information. "Why break the seal anyway?" Castiel considered this momentarily before replying. "Think of the seals as locks on a door." "Okay. Last one opens and..." Dean prompted. Castiel locked eyes with Dean seriously. "Lucifer walks free."

Dean stared. "Lucifer" he finally managed to repeat questioningly. "But I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at demon Sunday school. There's no such thing" he protested. "Three days ago, you thought there was no such thing as me" Castiel countered rationally. He leaned back up against the counter casually. "Why do you think we're here walking among you now for the first time in 2,000 years?" "To stop Lucifer" Dean breathed in a barely audible voice, still floored by this turn of events. Castiel nodded firmly. "That's why we've arrived." Well it certainly explained why no hunter had ever seen or heard of them in their lifetime. Dean exhaled slowly, flashing Castiel a thumbs up and sarcastic grin. "Well... bang-up job so far. Stellar work with the witnesses. That's nice."

Castiel straightened up again, advancing on Dean. "We tried. And there are other battles, other seals. Some we'll win, some we'll lose. This one we lost." He stopped about a foot away from where Dean was standing, his expression intense. "Our numbers are not unlimited. Six of my brothers died in the field this week. You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here." He narrowed his eyes, getting right up in Dean's face, for the first time showing actual authority that made Dean's spine stiffen apprehensively. "You should show me some respect" Castiel went on darkly. "I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in." And with that, he was gone.
~~~

Dean's eyes flew open several hours later, the conversation with Castiel still very much forefront in his mind, even though he'd tried to forget about it while he slept. Sam was now awake, sitting on the couch with a mug of coffee in one hand. "You all right" he questioned at the look on his older brother's face. "What's wrong, Dean?" Dean sat up slowly, swallowing hard. "So... You got no problem believing in... God and Angels?" Sam shook his head indifferently. "No, not really." "So, I guess that means that you believe in..." Dean took a deep breath. "...the Devil?" Sam looked puzzled. "Why are you asking me all this?" Dean looked off to one side and then back to Sam with a straight face. "We might have a problem" he summarized Castiel's speech about the seals.

"A big problem."

[THE END.]

Last Edit: Apr 22, 2015 11:11:46 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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

Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester. // Dean //

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