Post by Sam Winchester on Jun 28, 2015 14:32:44 GMT -5
ooc; SEASON FOUR. EPISODE ELEVEN.
Sam woke with a start, blinking groggily and looking around. He was in the back seat of the Impala, where he'd passed out two hours ago after they'd finished up their latest job. He'd assumed Dean had also fallen asleep, but the older Winchester was wide awake in the driver's seat, studying the top sheet of a pile of papers with the aide of his flashlight. "What are you doing" Sam asked wearily, rubbing his eyes to try and alleviate some of his exhaustion. "What's it look like I'm doing" Dean returned without looking up. "Like you're looking for a job" Sam yawned. Dean nodded once, moving the paper he was currently looking at to one side and scanning another. "Yahtzee." Sam straightened in his seat, twisting slightly to crack his stiff back from sleeping at an odd angle in the car. "Dude, we just finished a job like two hours ago" he pointed out. Dean still hadn't glanced in Sam's direction. "Adrenaline's still pumping, I guess" he countered in a monotone. "So, what do you think...Cedar Rapids, Tulsa, or Chi-Town?" Sam closed his eyes, counted to five, and then opened them again. "I am all for working" he promised sincerely. "I really am. But you got us chasing cases nonstop for like a month now. We need sleep. YOU need sleep."
"Yeah, well we can sleep when we're dead" Dean deadpanned, squinting down at the latest piece of paper on top of the pile in his lap. "You're exhausted Dean" Sam argued, seeing all the signs. Dean shook his head stubbornly. "I'm good." Sam heaved a heavy sigh. "No, you're not. You're running on fumes, and you can't run forever." Dean finally twisted in his seat to look directly at Sam, raising one eyebrow. "And, uh, what exactly am I supposedly running from?" "From what you told me" Sam answered quietly, locking eyes with his brother. He saw the muscle twitch in his brother's stiff jaw. Saw the flash of pain in his eyes. So he reluctantly gave him a way out. "Or are we pretending that never happened?" They stared at each other for a few more seconds before Dean turned away, picking up the top sheet of paper and reading from it. "Stratton, Nebraska. Farm town. A man gets hacked to death in a locked room inside a locked house. No signs of forced entry." So yes. Yes they were pretending it had never happened.
Sam really wanted to offer comfort to his brother. To talk more about hell and try and get through to him that what he'd done hadn't been his fault. But maybe now just wasn't the right time. Maybe it was still too soon. So he played along with Dean's diversion. "Sounds like a ghost." "Yes it does" Dean replied in relief. Sam sighed and flopped backwards.
~~~
"Boy, three bedrooms, two baths, and one homicide" Dean announced as they moved through the house. "This place is gonna sell like hotcakes." Sam gave a little smile at that, continuing to move through the different rooms, looking things over. "Hey check this out" Dean called from the kitchen where he was prodding a certain piece of the wall. It looked as though the plaster had covered up some kind of rectangular hole that had once been open. "Probably a dumbwaiter" Sam theorized wisely. "All these old houses had one." As he wandered away, he could have sworn he heard Dean mutter something that sounded strangely like "know-it-all." He turned with a furrowed brow to face his brother. "What?" "What" Dean echoed quickly with an innocent smile. "You just said..." Sam trailed off and then sighed and shook his head. "Never mind." He pulled out his EMF detector and flipped its switch. "Needle's all over the place" he announced, watching it. "Power lines" Dean piped up, gesturing towards the window, causing Sam to sigh and turn off the detector, slipping it back into his pocket. "Great." Whatever reading they got wouldn't be reliable enough now.
Turning away from the window and his brother, Sam nudged open the door to the room's only closet and stared. "Uh..." Sitting on the floor of the closet was a severed doll's head. His noise had alerted Dean who moved over to join him. "Well that is super disturbing" he remarked. "Maybe it got left behind" Sam hypothesized, trying to convince not only Dean, but himself as well, though it was a feeble attempt. "By who" Dean snorted. "Unless Bill Gibson liked playing with doll heads..." Sam had to agree it didn't seem very logical. Before he could think of anything else to say however, a sudden rumbling noise from outside was distracting them both. Sam crossed to stand at the window once more and felt his stomach drop. A moving truck was trundling up the front path, followed by a mini-van. "Uh-oh." Dean stepped up beside him to take in the sight with a mirrored amount of concern. "I thought you said this place was still for sale" he accused, though he didn't actually sound too mad. More worried. Sam shrugged, making a face.
"Apparently, it's not."
Sam woke with a start, blinking groggily and looking around. He was in the back seat of the Impala, where he'd passed out two hours ago after they'd finished up their latest job. He'd assumed Dean had also fallen asleep, but the older Winchester was wide awake in the driver's seat, studying the top sheet of a pile of papers with the aide of his flashlight. "What are you doing" Sam asked wearily, rubbing his eyes to try and alleviate some of his exhaustion. "What's it look like I'm doing" Dean returned without looking up. "Like you're looking for a job" Sam yawned. Dean nodded once, moving the paper he was currently looking at to one side and scanning another. "Yahtzee." Sam straightened in his seat, twisting slightly to crack his stiff back from sleeping at an odd angle in the car. "Dude, we just finished a job like two hours ago" he pointed out. Dean still hadn't glanced in Sam's direction. "Adrenaline's still pumping, I guess" he countered in a monotone. "So, what do you think...Cedar Rapids, Tulsa, or Chi-Town?" Sam closed his eyes, counted to five, and then opened them again. "I am all for working" he promised sincerely. "I really am. But you got us chasing cases nonstop for like a month now. We need sleep. YOU need sleep."
"Yeah, well we can sleep when we're dead" Dean deadpanned, squinting down at the latest piece of paper on top of the pile in his lap. "You're exhausted Dean" Sam argued, seeing all the signs. Dean shook his head stubbornly. "I'm good." Sam heaved a heavy sigh. "No, you're not. You're running on fumes, and you can't run forever." Dean finally twisted in his seat to look directly at Sam, raising one eyebrow. "And, uh, what exactly am I supposedly running from?" "From what you told me" Sam answered quietly, locking eyes with his brother. He saw the muscle twitch in his brother's stiff jaw. Saw the flash of pain in his eyes. So he reluctantly gave him a way out. "Or are we pretending that never happened?" They stared at each other for a few more seconds before Dean turned away, picking up the top sheet of paper and reading from it. "Stratton, Nebraska. Farm town. A man gets hacked to death in a locked room inside a locked house. No signs of forced entry." So yes. Yes they were pretending it had never happened.
Sam really wanted to offer comfort to his brother. To talk more about hell and try and get through to him that what he'd done hadn't been his fault. But maybe now just wasn't the right time. Maybe it was still too soon. So he played along with Dean's diversion. "Sounds like a ghost." "Yes it does" Dean replied in relief. Sam sighed and flopped backwards.
~~~
"Boy, three bedrooms, two baths, and one homicide" Dean announced as they moved through the house. "This place is gonna sell like hotcakes." Sam gave a little smile at that, continuing to move through the different rooms, looking things over. "Hey check this out" Dean called from the kitchen where he was prodding a certain piece of the wall. It looked as though the plaster had covered up some kind of rectangular hole that had once been open. "Probably a dumbwaiter" Sam theorized wisely. "All these old houses had one." As he wandered away, he could have sworn he heard Dean mutter something that sounded strangely like "know-it-all." He turned with a furrowed brow to face his brother. "What?" "What" Dean echoed quickly with an innocent smile. "You just said..." Sam trailed off and then sighed and shook his head. "Never mind." He pulled out his EMF detector and flipped its switch. "Needle's all over the place" he announced, watching it. "Power lines" Dean piped up, gesturing towards the window, causing Sam to sigh and turn off the detector, slipping it back into his pocket. "Great." Whatever reading they got wouldn't be reliable enough now.
Turning away from the window and his brother, Sam nudged open the door to the room's only closet and stared. "Uh..." Sitting on the floor of the closet was a severed doll's head. His noise had alerted Dean who moved over to join him. "Well that is super disturbing" he remarked. "Maybe it got left behind" Sam hypothesized, trying to convince not only Dean, but himself as well, though it was a feeble attempt. "By who" Dean snorted. "Unless Bill Gibson liked playing with doll heads..." Sam had to agree it didn't seem very logical. Before he could think of anything else to say however, a sudden rumbling noise from outside was distracting them both. Sam crossed to stand at the window once more and felt his stomach drop. A moving truck was trundling up the front path, followed by a mini-van. "Uh-oh." Dean stepped up beside him to take in the sight with a mirrored amount of concern. "I thought you said this place was still for sale" he accused, though he didn't actually sound too mad. More worried. Sam shrugged, making a face.
"Apparently, it's not."
