Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean //

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Sam Winchester
Hunter.

Posts: 958

Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 21, 2015 14:25:23 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Aug 21, 2015 14:25:23 GMT -5

ooc; SEASON FOUR. EPISODE FIFTEEN.

Sam poked at his salad with a plastic fork while listening to Bobby fill him in on a potential job. "I don't know Bobby" he hedged, not certain it sounded like much of a case. "What, not weird enough for you" Bobby asked sarcastically. "No, no, no, you're right, it's definitely weird" Sam agreed, glancing up as Dean came wandering back over from the jukebox. "Okay, Bobby, we'll take a look. Thanks." Dean took his seat and pulled the plate of burger and fries closer. "What's up?" Sam pushed aside his salad plate and pulled out his computer instead. "Bobby found something in Wyoming." "A job" Dean questioned, taking a bite of his burger and chewing slowly, enjoying the taste. "Maybe." Sam pulled up the town's newspaper, looking for the articles Bobby had mentioned while simultaneously filling Dean in. "Small town, no one's died in the past week and a half."

Dean looked up from his burger, unimpressed. "Is that so unusual?" "Well, it's HOW they're not dying" Sam explained, pulling the three articles up side by side on his screen. "One guy with terminal cancer strolls right out of hospice...another guy gets capped by a mugger and walks away without a scratch." Dean swallowed his next bite, frowning. "Capped in the ass?" "Police say Mr. Jenkins was shot in the heart at point-blank range by a nine-millimeter" Sam recited straight from the article. Dean didn't bother swallowing this time, speaking incredulously through a mouthful of meat. "And he's not a donut??" Sam shrugged, continuing to read from the article. "Locals are saying it's a miracle." Dean shrugged. "Ok." "It's got to be something nasty, right?" Sam wrinkled his brow in thought, running all this information through his mind on a loop. "I mean, people making deals or something." Dean considered this for a minute, tilting his head to one side. "You think?" Sam scanned the articles a final time. "Well what else would it be?" "I don't know" Dean admitted. "Alright." Sam packed up his computer and stood. He gestured to the remaining half of Dean's burger. "Get that to go."

It may or may not be a case but it was definitely weird enough to check out.

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 22, 2015 9:04:23 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Aug 22, 2015 9:04:23 GMT -5

Dean didn't move. He stared somewhat moodily at his burger until Sam, who'd slung his computer bag over one shoulder and taken a step towards the exit, doubled back. "Come on." Dean chewed his burger, still not moving. Sam stared at him, baffled. "What is up with you??" "Sure you want me going with you" Dean asked, finally looking up. Sam furrowed his brow, not following. "Why wouldn't I?" "I don't want to be holding you back or nothing" Dean returned in a monotone. Sam's face fell. NOW he was following. "Dude, I've told you a hundred times, that was the siren talking, not me" he insisted tightly. "Can we get past this?" Dean sighed heavily, dropped the remainder of his burger onto the plate and dusted off his hands, rising. "Yeah, we're past it." But he wasn't sure if he meant it or not.
~~~

"Now, you two said you were bloggers?" Jim Jenkins sat across from the brothers at his kitchen table. "Yes, sir" Sam confirmed. "Floored by the Lord dot com." "All of God's glory fit to blog" Dean added, grinning. Sam gave him a look before returning his focus to Jim. "Um. Some of the people around town are saying what happened to you was a miracle." Jim nodded with confidence. "It was. Plain as day." "How can you be so sure" Sam wanted to know with genuine curiosity. Jim shrugged. "How else do you explain it? The doctors can't. There's a bullet in my heart and it's pumping like a piston." Dean crossed one hand over the other, resting them on the table and watching Jim closely. "Well, how do YOU explain it?" Jim hesitated, glancing over one shoulder into the adjoining kitchen where three little kids were seated on stools at the counter, coloring. "Look...honestly, I was nobody's saint" he admitted, looking back to the boys. "Not exactly father of the year, either." "Ok." Dean nodded, keeping it simple, inviting Jim to continue. Which he did. "But when that guy shot me and I didn't bleed a drop? I just knew the Lord was giving me a second chance." He glanced skywards in reverence, finishing with, "it's like angels are watching over me, you know?" Dean kept his expression neutral, despite every instinct telling him to make a face at the mention of angels. "That so" was all he said with a mild amount of interest, knowing...or having a pretty good idea anyway...that angels were not at the bottom of Jim's "miracle".

"I wouldn't expect you guys to understand" Jim informed them both with a rueful smile. "Well we'll just have to try" Dean assured him with a tight smile. Sam straightened in his chair, done with the small talk. "You wouldn't have happened to have swung by a crossroads in the past week or so?" "Um...no." Jim looked confused. Sam tried again. "Maybe you met someone somewhere...with red eyes? Or black?" Jim's confusion was now mingled with a little suspicion. He leaned forward. "Who'd you guys say you were again?" "Never mind" Dean was quick to say, rising to his feet and giving Sam a look that implied he should do the same. "Thank you for your time."
~~~

Back at the motel, Dean combed through online obituaries, trying to determine when the not dying phenomenon had begun. He'd just determined who appeared to be the last person to have died in town when Sam stepped through the motel room door, pocketing the Impala's keys. "Hey." Dean nodded his head in greeting. "Anything?" Sam half-smiled. "That cancer survivor? He was clinically dead." Sam made his way towards Dean, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over a chair. "His wife pulled the plug, and now he's taking her out for their twentieth anniversary." Dean looked up from his computer screen. "You talk to her? Any sign of a deal?" Sam shook his head. "No. What about you? Found anyone dying around here?" "Not since Cole Griffith" Dean remarked, clicking on the picture in Cole's obituary to enlarge it. "He dropped ten days ago. It was the last death I could find." Sam took the seat opposite Dean, running this new information through his mind and still coming up dry. "So what are you thinking" he asked his brother finally, stumped. Dean closed his laptop and stood, stretching. "Maybe it is what the people say it is" he suggested, fresh out of any other ideas. "Miracles" Sam scoffed in disbelief. "Dean, in our experience, when do miracles just happen?" Dean headed for the small kitchenette where a pot of coffee was brewing, remembering the time when Sam had been 100% sure miracles happened. It was a little sad to see how much of a 180 degree turn that faith had taken.

"Well, there's no deals" Dean pointed out, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "There's no skeevy faith healers. I mean, these souls just ain't getting dragged into the light." This seemed to make something click for Sam, who straightened in his seat. "Maybe 'cause there's no one around to carry them" he theorized. Dean wasn't quite sure he followed this line of thinking. "What are you talking about?" "Well, grim reapers—that's what they do, right" Sam pointed out. "Schlep souls? So, if death ain't in town..." "No one's dying" Dean finished, catching up. "So what? The local reaper's on strike? Playing the back nine?" He wasn't sure how realistic this was. "I don't know, Sam" he hedged uncertainly. Sam rose to his feet with purpose. "Well, then, let's talk to somebody who might." "Well, last I checked, huggy bear ain't available" Dean wisecracked. Sam rolled his eyes. "No, dude, the kid." "The kid's a doornail" Dean reminded him. "Exactly." Sam gave an eager nod. "Look, if he was the last person to die around here, then maybe he's seen something. We should talk to him." Dean's lips twitched in amusement. "I love how matter-of-fact you are about that." He gave his head a bemused shake, pouring the rest of the coffee down the drain.

"Strange lives."

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

Sam Winchester
Hunter.

Posts: 958

Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 22, 2015 20:19:35 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Aug 22, 2015 20:19:35 GMT -5

So late that night the boys packed up the necessary items and took a little field trip to the local cemetery where Cole's body was buried. Dean perched on top of the next tombstone over, holding John's journal while Sam set about lining the grave with a circle of five lit candles. In the center of the circle, he laid out a bundle of sticks and an empty bowl. "You sure this is gonna work" Dean wanted to know, flipping idly through their dad's journal. "No" Sam admitted honestly, pouring a measured amount of crushed herbs into the bowl. "But if his spirit's around, this should smoke him out." He reached for a matchbox next but stopped at the sight of Dean closing the journal, his expression twisted. "What?" "This job is jacked, that's what" Dean complained irritably. Sam tilted his head to one side. "How so?"

"You want me to gank a monster or torch a corpse, hey, let's light it up, right?" Dean nodded eagerly for a split second before his face fell again. "But this? If we fix whatever this is, people are gonna start dropping dead. Good people." Sam sighed gently. "Look, I don't want them to die, either, Dean, but there's a natural order here" he pointed out which only caused Dean to stare at him in disbelief and rebut flatly, "you're kidding right?" Sam raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What?" Dean laughed bitterly. "You don't see the irony in that? I mean, you and me, we're like the poster boys of the unnatural order. All we do is ditch death." That was a good point, Sam realized, but so was what he came back with. "Yeah...but the normal rules don't really apply to us, do they?" "We're no different than anybody else" Dean exclaimed incredulously, looking almost insulted by this insinuation. Sam straightened up. "I'm infected with demon blood" he pointed out, the words feeling acidic in his mouth. "You've been to hell." Dean looked off to one side. Sam pressed on remorselessly. "Look, I know you want to think of yourself as Joe the Plumber, Dean, but you're not. Neither am I. The sooner you accept that, the better off you're gonna be." It was funny, him being the one to say this. He could still vividly remember how hard he had fought to be normal his entire life...up until about a year or so ago anyway. "Joe the Plumber was a douche" Dean muttered. "You gonna help me finish this" Sam asked after a brief pause.

Dean sighed and reluctantly rose to lend a hand. However, no sooner had he done so than a commanding voice was echoing throughout the cemetery. "Hey!" A middle aged man carrying a flashlight was stumping towards them looking both grumpy and suspicious. "What are you doing here?" "Um..." Sam held up his hands, trying to diffuse the situation. "Just take it easy." "What the hell is all this" the man blustered, gesturing at their circle of candles. "Okay, this—this—this is not what it looks like" Dean promised, flustered. "Really?" The man narrowed his eyes at them. "'Cause it looks like devil worship." "What" Dean yelped, shaking his head briskly. "No! No, this is not devil worship. This—This is—this—this is, uh..." He looked to Sam desperately but all Sam could do was shrug in utter helplessness, unable to come up with a good reason for their actions. Finally Dean gave up. "I don't have a good answer." "Look, it's fine, we're leaving" Sam promised, not wanting to start any trouble. "You're not going anywhere" the man countered, his voice suddenly dark, taking a menacing step towards them. "Ever again. Sam."

Sam's stomach lurched. The man's eyes rolled back into his head, going solid white. "Alastair" Dean growled and Sam felt his fists clench at his sides in fury. Alastair's eyes returned to normal as he turned to face Dean, seeing as he'd been the one to address him. "I thought you got deep fried, extra-crispy" Dean added, his jaw clenched equally as strong as Sam's fists. Alistair waved this off dismissively. "Nah. Just the pediatrician I was riding." His lip curled into a delighted sneer. "His wife's still looking for him. It's hilarious. Anyway..." Lifting one hand, he looked directly at Sam, who was staring back with unmasked hatred. "No time to chat. Got a hot date with death." Then suddenly, without warning, he flicked that raised hand, sending Dean flying through the air. "Dean" Sam shouted in alarm as the older Winchester collided face first with one of the marble tombstones and crumpled to the ground, unmoving. Even from where he stood, Sam could see the bleeding gash on his brother's forehead. He took a step in that direction but Alistair blocked his path, watching him with interest as though he was a speck of dirt under a microscope. Sam felt his heart pumping with furious rage. Alistair flicked his hand again, but this time nothing happened. He looked from his hand to Sam, then back to Sam and tried again with the same result. Sam simply smirked.

"You're stronger, Sam" Alistair observed. "You've been soloflexing with your little slut?" Sam set his jaw with determination. "You have no idea." Lifting his own hand, he tossed Alistair effortlessly across the graveyard, where he hit a tree. Sam closed his eyes in preparation to exorcize the demon, but with a loud gust of wind, Alistair fled the meatsuit's body in a typical mass of black smoke. Sam continued to stare lividly at the unconscious corpse for a minute, upset he'd missed his chance. But when he heard Dean groan while starting to stir, everything else left his mind as he rushed to help his brother.
~~~

After helping Dean back to the motel and laying him on the bed with an icepack for his head, Sam made tracks for the cemetery with the goal of finishing what they'd started. But halfway there, he got a phone call from Bobby that caused him to turn around.

"How you doing" he wanted to know, re-entering the motel. "I'm in pain, that's how I'm doing" Dean groaned from under the ice pack without moving. "I think I have a concussion." Sam closed the door behind him. "You want some aspirin?" "No thanks House" Dean deadpanned, slowly sitting up, still clutching the ice to his skull with one hand. "So...demons, huh?" "Yeah." Sam shook his head sadly. "So much for miracles." Dean winced slightly, squinting out at Sam from behind his ice pack. "And what the hell happened with Alastair again?" Sam felt his insides clench at the question. He forced both his tone and expression to remain neutral. "I told you, he tried to fling me or whatever..." Sam waved one hand dismissively in demonstration, moving over to the coffee pot. "And it didn't work so he bailed." "Well, how come he couldn't fling you" Dean questioned after another wince. "He chucked you pretty good last time." Sam could practically feel the extra demon blood pumping away through his veins. He could practically taste it leaving Ruby's veins, coating his tongue. "Got no idea" he lied after a split second's pause, turning away from Dean to pour himself a cup of coffee.

He could hear Dean sigh heavily behind him. "Sam, do me a favor" came his voice, tired and resigned. "If you're gonna keep your little secrets, I can't really stop you, but just don't treat me like an idiot, okay?" Sam turned quickly to find Dean had lowered the ice pack and was watching him intensely. "What? Dean, I'm not keeping secrets" he insisted, swallowing hard. Dean rolled his eyes, obviously not buying it. "Mm-hm. Whatever. So, did you go back and q-and-a the dead kid?" "Didn't have to" Sam explained, holding up a yellow legal pad which he'd scrawled several notes on during the chat with Bobby. "Bobby called. He did some digging and he thinks I'm right. Local reaper's gone." He paused for dramatic effect and then added, "But not just gone — kidnapped." Dean furrowed his brow, processing all this. "By demons? Why?" "Listen to this." Sam flipped the page on his notepad and recited, "And he bloodied death under the newborn sky — sweet to taste, but bitter when once devoured." Dean stared at him for a minute before saying dryly, "swanky. What the hell's that mean?" Sam set the pad aside. "Well, it's from a very obscure, very arcane version of Revelations." Dean's face fell. "Which means what I think it means?" Sam gave a grim nod of confirmation while verbally piling onto it. "Basically, you kill a reaper under the solstice moon — tomorrow night, by the way — you got yourself a broken seal."

"How do you ice a reaper" Dean wondered aloud with a baffled look. "You can't kill death." "I don't know." Sam shrugged uncertainly. "Maybe demons can." He set the barely touched cup of coffee down on the counter and wandered back towards Dean. "Where the hell are the angels is what I want to know. We could use their help for once." Dean was actually in relative agreement with that fact but clearly they weren't going to get any of that needed help so it was up to them. Again. "It looks like we're gonna have to take care of this one ourselves" he commented with far more confidence than Sam felt. "What are we gonna do, just swing in and save the friendly neighborhood reaper" he wisecracked, pulling a seat from the kitchen table over to sit on across from Dean's position on the bed. "You got a better idea, I'm all ears" Dean challenged. "Dean, reapers are invisible" Sam reminded him. "The only people that can see them are the dead and the dying." "Well, if ghosts are the only ones that can see them" Dean began slowly, finishing with perhaps the most bizarre thing Sam had ever heard come out of his mouth. "Then we become ghosts." Sam stared at him. "You do have a concussion."

Dean placed the ice pack back to his head, smirking. "It sounds crazy, I know" he admitted. "It IS crazy" Sam corrected but Dean just went right on smirking. The more Sam thought about it however, despite the whole being crazy thing, the idea was actually growing on him. He nodded his agreement at Dean. "How?"

Maybe he had a concussion too.

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 22, 2015 20:57:55 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Aug 22, 2015 20:57:55 GMT -5

Dean chucked the mostly melted ice-pack on his way out the door, leaving to go retrieve Pamela, who was their best shot at getting this plan of his to work. She, unfortunately, was not all that enthusiastic about it. However, she thankfully did agree to go with Dean back to the motel where Sam was waiting for them. "I can't even begin to tell you how crazy you two are" she announced the minute Sam opened the door to allow her and Dean entrance. Pamela felt her way inside, touching first the door frame, then the counter. Sam closed the door once Dean had also stepped through the threshold, and half-smiled at the greeting. "Well, Pamela, you're a sight for sore eyes" he commented without thinking. "Aww that's sweet grumpy" Pamela wisecracked, lowering her sunglasses to reveal the white plastic orbs in place of both eyes. "What do you say to deaf people?" Sam looked down, uncomfortable, as Pamela lifted the sunglasses again and asked dryly, "So which one of you brainiacs came up with astral projection?" Dean raised one hand, accompanying it with a swift and somewhat sheepish, "yo."

"Of course" Pamela returned, sounding as though she should have predicted that outcome. "Chachi." Dean glanced at Sam over Pamela's head and mouthed "chachi" with a baffled frown. Sam shrugged. Meanwhile, Pamela was making her way slowly towards a chair in the center of the room and had begun speaking again, still in a rather clipped tone. "So, let's be clear. You want to rip your souls out of your bodies and take a little stroll through the spirit world?" "That's the general idea, yeah" Dean confirmed, earning an incredulous, "do you have any idea how heavy-duty insane that is?" "Maybe" Dean allowed. "But that's where the reaper is, so..." "So it's nuts" Pamela repeated. "Not if you know what you're doing" Dean pointed out, to which Pamela countered flatly, "you don't know what you're doing." "No, but YOU do" Dean reminded her. Pamela crossed her arms sourly. "Yeah, I do. And guess what? I'm sick of being hauled back into your angel-demon, Soc-Greaser crap." Dean was getting a little sick of the attitude. "Look, I'd love to be kicking back with a cold one, watching Judge Judy, too" he snapped, cut off from saying anything else by Pamela's derisive, "oh nice, more blind jokes." "You know what I mean" Dean insisted, forcing himself to calm down so he could get his point across better. "Look, we're talking the end of the world here, okay? No more tasseled leather pants, no more Ramones CDs, no more nothing." He paused and then added sincerely, "we need your help."

It took another second but finally she gave a relenting nod of acceptance and sat down in the chair she'd been standing next to for awhile. Sam set about closing every window shade while Dean used his favorite lighter to light a few candles around the room so they'd still have some sort of visual aid even with the curtains drawn. "Tell me something, geniuses" Pamela piped up with during their little tasks. "Even if you do break into the veil and you find the reaper, how you gonna save it?" "With style and class" Dean deadpanned, moving one of the burning candles over to the shared nightstand between the two beds. "You're gonna be two walking pieces of fog who can't touch or move anything" Pamela pointed out dryly. "You'll be defenseless, hotshot." "I seem to recall a bunch of ghosts beating the crap out of us" Sam pointed out, turning away from the final window. Pamela adjusted her glasses. "Well they had plenty of time to practice." Dean shrugged. "Then, I guess we got to start cramming."

"Alright" Pamela sighed, giving up on trying to change their minds and gesturing to the beds. "Lie down and close your eyes." Dean got comfy, listening to Pamela's voice as she chanted in latin. "Animum vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. Vis, vis, vis." There was a second's pause and then she finished with, "okay, guys. That's it. Showtime." Not feeling any different, Dean sat up on his bed, disappointed. "Well, nothing like shooting blanks." He scratched the back of his neck absently. "What's plan B?" Pamela didn't answer him. And after a minute, he became aware of Sam standing by the foot of his bed, looking down at him. But Sam was also still in the bed across from him. The standing Sam gave him a small smile. Slowly, with anticipation, Dean twisted around so that he could look behind him and found himself staring straight at his own unconscious form that looked very similar to Sam's. So it had worked after all. Dean exhaled with a slightly awed chuckle.

"Oh, I'm so feeling up Demi Moore."

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

Sam Winchester
Hunter.

Posts: 958

Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 23, 2015 10:54:29 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Aug 23, 2015 10:54:29 GMT -5

"All right, so, I'm assuming you're somewhere over the rainbow" Pamela announced, addressing them both. "Remember I have to bring you back. I'll whisper the incantation in your ear when it's time. Good luck." She wrapped a strand of hair around one finger and tugged absently. "You're gonna need it."
~~~

The boys headed down Main street, keeping their eyes and ears alert for any sign of the missing reaper. Suddenly, a passing jogger ran straight through Sam and kept going. "Whoa! That was wild" Dean exclaimed, taking his own hand and thrusting it into Sam's torso, wiggling it around for a bit. Sam stared back at him with a stony expression. "Am I making you uncomfortable" Dean asked after a minute. Sam went right on staring. "Get out of me." Dean made a face. "You're such a prude." Removing his hand, he used it to gesture down the street. "Come on." Sam refrained from making a return jab. Barely.
~~~

"Come on man, we've been spooking this town for hours" Dean complained. "No demons, no reaper, no black smoke. I say we hit Victoria's Secret and get our peep on, huh?" He raised a suggestive eyebrow. Sam, in the process of rolling his eyes, noticed someone staring at them from the upstairs window of a nearby house. "Hey. Three o'clock. Kid in the window." He inclined his head. "Am I crazy or is he looking at us?" Dean's eyes followed Sam's and his expression grew serious. "It's 'cause we've seen him before." Sam furrowed his brow. "We have?" "Newspaper" Dean stated simply, starting for the house. "Cole Griffith, the last person to die in this town." The boys were only halfway up the front walkway when Cole flickered and vanished. The boys swapped a look and increased their pace.

By the time they'd reached Cole's room, his mother was standing in the doorway, crying. A flying soccer ball nearly hit her in the head, and from Mrs. Griffith's perspective, the ball had simply moved on its own accord, but she couldn't see what Sam and Dean could, which was Cole's small hand had thrown it. He reached for another one as his mother fled the scene, sobbing. "How are you doing that" Dean demanded, ducking to miss the latest ball. Cole froze, a third soccer ball hoisted in one hand. "Who are you" he demanded back. Sam held up his hands. "Relax, Cole. It's okay." Instead of relaxing him, this just seemed to have the opposite effect. "How do you know my name??" Sam took a deep breath, keeping his tone calm and soothing. "Look, this isn't gonna be easy to hear, but...you're—dead. You're a spirit." He gestured between himself and Dean. "Us too."

There was a brief pause and then Cole shook his head, unimpressed. "Yeah, thanks, Haley Joel. I know I'm dead" he quipped. "What do you want?" "We just want to talk" Sam assured him patiently. Cole looked between the pair of them suspiciously. "About what" he finally asked. The simple answer was delivered by both of them at the same time. "You."
~~~

"I was outside all morning." Cole had been talking to them for about fifteen minutes about his death and was now finishing up. They were standing in the kitchen doorway, watching Mrs. Griffith go through multiple baby pictures of Cole, tears still streaming down her face. Cole looked away from his mother, focusing on the brothers instead. "They tell you to be careful when it's cold." "Cold air can cause an asthma attack" Dean asked, trying to piece together what had happened from this new information plus what they'd already learned. Cole nodded, sadly returning his gaze to his mother while continuing to explain. "Then I was in my room. It happened so fast. I called out for my mom, but nothing came out. Everything started spinning, and then I was just standing there, looking down at my body." Sam could relate to the weirdness of staring down at your own body. So could Dean.

"And that's when you saw the man" Sam prompted. Cole nodded again. "Creepy old guy in a black suit. He wanted me to go with him, but..." Cole's focus was dragged back to his mother once more, watching her with sorrow. "I didn't want to go." "Reaper" Sam muttered to Dean, who nodded. "How'd you get rid of him" Sam wanted to know. Cole turned away from his mother, shuddering as he remembered. "I didn't. The black smoke did." "Black smoke" Dean echoed, glancing at Sam, who shrugged subtly. They both had a pretty good idea of what it was but wanted to let Cole finish his explanation. Which he did in a quiet voice. "It was everywhere. I hid in the closet, and when I came out, it was gone, and so was he." "Do you know where the smoke went" Dean asked anxiously. "No." Cole shook his head in denial of this question. "But I know where it is." Before he could say anything else, however, the lights began flickering. Mrs. Griffith looked up from the pictures, startled. Cole, Sam and Dean all snapped their heads around in a whip-lash fashion, trying to find whoever...or whatever...was making the lights go haywire. "They're back" Cole whispered, terrified. "Who" Dean demanded but Cole simply vanished. A sort of bright white shadowy figure brushed past them towards the stairs. Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Another reaper."

Last Edit: Aug 24, 2015 13:26:57 GMT -5 by Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 23, 2015 19:17:34 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Aug 23, 2015 19:17:34 GMT -5

Dean sprinted for the stairs, calling, "Hey! Hey! Wait! We need to talk to you!" There was a small gust of wind that shimmied all the curtains in the foyer. Then a woman about their age with shoulder-length black hair came strolling down the stairs elegantly. Her eyes landed on Dean and she smiled. "Dean." Dean studied the reaper intensely, his brow furrowed. "Do I know you??" She didn't look familiar in the slightest. Her smile widened. "We go way back." She watched him for another minute before asking gently, "you don't remember me?" "Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a girl say that..." He trailed off with a wry smile. "You're gonna have to freshen my memory." The reaper stepped closer to him and, without warning, pressed her lips against his. As though this was a trigger, several images flashed across his vision, like a short movie. A short horror movie. Clips of him in the hospital. Talking with her. Being given a chance to go. And not taking that chance.

When their lips parted, Dean took a step back, sucking in air as though he'd been drowning. Locking eyes with the reaper, he spoke one word. "Tessa." "That's one of my names" she confirmed. Sam had been watching all of this in baffled silence. But now he spoke up. "So you DO know her?" "From the hospital after the accident" Dean explained, without taking his eyes off of Tessa. "The accident with Dad" Sam clarified in shock and Dean nodded mutely. Sam's expression lost a fair bit of pleasantness as he remarked, "so, this is the reaper that came after you." Dean nodded again. "Yeah."

Tessa waited a beat and then spoke again briskly. "Well this was fun. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She turned to climb the stairs again but Dean reached out to grab her arm desperately. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, you can't—you can't take the kid." Tessa looked down at his hand which he quickly removed. Then she looked up, meeting his eyes curiously. "Why?" "Demons are in town, that's why" was his simple, blunt answer. "They've already snatched your reaper pal and the kid knows where." Tessa blinked. "So?" "So, you should shag ass" Sam countered in exasperation before Dean could say anything. "For all we know, they could try and snatch you, too." "Except that this town is off the rails" Tessa pointed out calmly. "And someone has to set it straight." "Yeah, we understand that" Dean assured her. "But these are special circumstances." "What? Your whole angel-demon dance-off?" Tessa scoffed and shook her head. "I could care less. I just want to do my job." "Right, yeah, and, look, we want to help you do your job" Sam promised hastily. "So, if you would just bail town"- "No." Tessa cut him off stubbornly. Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, then, could you hold off until we fix this" he begged, locking eyes with her.

"Please."

Last Edit: Aug 23, 2015 19:18:07 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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

Sam Winchester
Hunter.

Posts: 958

Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 24, 2015 9:38:23 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Aug 24, 2015 9:38:23 GMT -5

Tessa hesitated, looking from Dean to Sam and then back to Dean. Finally she sighed and held up her hands in surrender. "All right fine, but just so we're clear, when I start reaping again, I'm starting with the kid." Sam nodded, relieved. "Understood. I'll go find him." He'd only taken two steps in the opposite direction when Dean's voice made him pause. "What are you going to say to him?" Sam took a deep breath and let it out, his expression gravely serious. "Whatever I have to."
~~~

It wasn't too hard to find Cole. He was hiding in his bedroom closet, knees drawn up to his chest, hugging them. He was plainly scared out of his mind at everything that had been going on since he died. So Sam slid down into a cross-legged seated position just outside the closet, addressing Cole quietly. "This all must be pretty overwhelming, huh? Pretty scary, too." Cole slowly unclenched the grip on his knees, lowering them. "The worst is my mom" he whispered, looking at Sam overtop of his legs. "Must be hard seeing her like this" Sam acknowledged with a saddened smile. Cole nodded, his eyes tearing up a little. "She's always coming in here, talking to me, telling me how sad she is. I knock some stuff over to let her know I'm here, but...she only gets sadder." "Well, you might want to ease up on the flying soccer balls" Sam advised with a small chuckle. "I'm not telling you where the smoke is" Cole refused. Sam glanced at him over one shoulder. "Hey. What if I told you that if you helped me, you wouldn't have to leave here" he threw out casually. "Ever."

Cole considered this. "What about the one downstairs?" "Tessa?" Sam gave one hand a dismissive wave. "Oh, she wouldn't bother you. No reaper would. You could just stay here with your family for as long as you wanted." Cole's eyes lit up hopefully. "You can do that?" "Yeah, you bet I can do that" Sam lied smoothly with a small smile. Cole locked eyes with Sam. "You swear?" Sam hesitated for the space of a heartbeat. There was a time, not so long ago, that he'd had big qualms over something like this. That Sam would have been horrified to know how easily this new Sam was throwing those qualms and morals to one side. But this Sam knew that there was a bigger picture than just lying to a dead kid. This was about saving the world. So he stared calmly and confidently back into Cole's eyes.

"I swear."

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 24, 2015 10:31:32 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Aug 24, 2015 10:31:32 GMT -5

While Sam looked for Cole, Dean and Tessa were left in the kitchen. For a few minutes there was nothing but silence. Then, Tessa spoke. "I'll tell you, life is funny." Dean tilted his head to one side. "What do you mean?" "You and me, together again" she observed with a smile. Dean took a step back, giving her a once over. "Are you—are you making a move on me?" Tessa laughed good-naturedly and shook her head. "You're the one that got away Dean" she reminded him. "You'd be surprised how little that happens to me." Dean supposed he could believe that. After all, most dying people didn't have a dad out there making a deal with a demon to bring them back to life. He moved closer again. "Can I tell you something between you and me?" Tessa raised an eyebrow, looking around as if to prove a point. "Who am I going to tell?" She was invisible to all except the dead and dying. Point taken.

"After our little, uh, experience...for that whole year, I felt like I had this...hole in my gut...like I was missing something" Dean explained woodenly, remembering. "I didn't know what. But now I do. Do you know what it was?" Tessa seemed to understand that was a rhetorical question and simply kept her mouth shut, listening. "It was you" he admitted. "The pain of losing my father and Sammy. I just...I wish I had gone with you for good." He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. "But I guess things are different now." Tessa raised an almost mocking eyebrow. "What? The angels on your shoulder?" "So, you know about that, huh?" He shouldn't have been surprised. Word seemed to travel fast in the supernatural realm. "Well, hey, don't get me wrong, I mean, most the ones I've met are dicks with wings" he remarked bluntly. "But still... You know, I've done things. Horrible things." His expression took on a somewhat distant quality as he remembered just a small fraction of that list. After a few seconds of this, he shook his head to focus again and finished the thought. "And someone upstairs still decided to give me a second chance. It just makes me feel...I don't know."

"Uh huh..." Tessa gave a skeptical nod but before she could elaborate on that or Dean could question it, there was the sound of Sam clearing his throat from behind them. "Hey guys." Dean turned to find his brother and Cole in the doorway. Tessa moved towards them both with a welcoming smile. "Hey, Cole. I'm Tessa. I'm not going to hurt you." "It's okay, Cole" Sam encouraged. "Just tell them what you told me." Cole hesitated another second and then announced, "I saw the black smoke at my funeral." "At the cemetery" Dean questioned, and Cole corrected him with, "at the funeral home. It was everywhere."

Suddenly, the lights began to flicker wildly. Dean looked to Tessa in concern. "You doing that?" Tessa had barely shaken her head no when the front door burst open with so much force it was nearly ripped from its hinges and a mass of black smoke charged them. Dean ducked instinctively and could feel Sam and Cole doing the same on either side of him. The smoke did a full circle of the room and then left the way it had come, through the front door. The lights stopped flickering and the howling wind ceased. As Dean straightened and looked around, it became very apparent that a member of their group was missing. "Tessa!!" Dean scanned the room again without much hope, waiting for her to appear. But nothing happened.

"Well, how the hell are we supposed to fight that" he wanted to know, looking worriedly to Sam, who shrugged uncertainly. "I don't know...learn some ghost moves I guess." "By tonight" Dean snapped in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "Yeah sure, I'll meet you back at Mr. Miyagi's." Cole looked between the brothers, confused. "Who's Mr. Miyagi?" The brothers looked at each other. And then at Cole.
~~~

"It's not going to move if you don't concentrate" Cole pointed out twenty minutes later as Dean stared with all his might at the small wooden windmill on the front porch. "I AM concentrating" he griped through ground teeth. Taking a deep breath, he glared at that windmill and exhaled sharply. The windmill went around about a quarter of the way and stopped. But it had moved. "There we go baby" Dean cheered, proud of himself. Cole smirked. "You pull a muscle" he teased. Dean took a step back and gestured in annoyance. "Alright Yoda, let's see what you got." Cole stepped up to the windmill. With a single look, it began to spin rapidly. Then, from behind them, the porch swing started rocking. And the windchimes overhead began to sound. Dean laughed, impressed. "Dude! Way to go!" Cole grinned. "This isn't even the good stuff."

He led the brothers back inside, then, without warning, turned and punched Sam in the stomach, causing him to double over with a gasp. "See" Cole laughed. "If you want to hit something, you just got to get mad." "Yeah" Sam groaned, straightening up. "Got it." Cole faced Dean next. "Now you try. Hit me." "Uh, I think I'll stick to just picking on somebody my own size." Dean gestured at Sam. Cole punched him in the face. As Dean rubbed his bruised jaw, Sam laughed appreciatively, which brought Cole's attention back over to him. "Hit me as hard as you can" he challenged. "Dude, I'm not gonna do Fight Club with a twelve-year-old" Sam argued, earning another punch from Cole, this time to the face like Dean's had been. "Alright, knock it off" Sam warned, getting annoyed. Cole grinned, having fun. "Make me." He went to punch Sam for a third time but Sam was ready. He blocked the attack with one arm and then swung his other fist at Cole. But Cole vanished, only to reappear a few feet away, out of reach. The brothers exchanged an awed look. Dean pointed at Cole.

"You have to teach us that."

Last Edit: Aug 28, 2015 10:49:32 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 24, 2015 10:44:49 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Sam Winchester on Aug 24, 2015 10:44:49 GMT -5

The boys worked with Cole for the rest of the afternoon, practicing as hard as they could. But eventually, night began to fall, and they had to make their way to the funeral home in order to stop the demons, ready or not. The aforementioned funeral home was only a few blocks from Cole's house. And it was covered in glowing blue diagrams, mostly six-sided figures, some in circles and some in squares, all with lines through them. "What the..." Sam trailed off, frowning in confusion. "This looks like New Jack City" Dean muttered, watching as passing pedestrians rushed by, ignoring both the brothers and the symbols. "Can nobody can see this?" "Maybe it's demon invisible ink" Sam suggested. "Only see it in the veil."

Dean considered this, tilting his head slightly as he studied the diagrams. "Any idea what it's for" he wanted to know next. Sam set his jaw.

"Let's go find out."

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 24, 2015 13:26:33 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Aug 24, 2015 13:26:33 GMT -5

Inside the funeral home the boys could see some kind of trap painted in white on the floor, with Tessa and another reaper lying in the center of it, out cold. A demon guard was standing a few feet away, his back to both the trap and Winchesters. Dean grinned smugly. "Dude, check me out." With a flicker, he vanished, then reappeared right behind the demon and tapped him on the shoulder. The demon, surprised, turned around and was greeted by Dean's fist to the face. The demon took a furious swing of his own, but Dean simply vanished.

Sam took a turn next, appearing on the flustered demon's other side and tapping his shoulder, then slugging him in the stomach. Dean reappeared and flattened the demon with another punch to the face, followed by a kick to the stomach. The demon crawled away, trying to hide behind a coffin which set up on a pedestal a few feet away. The boys advanced on him. "You know, this ghost thing, it's, it's kind of rad" Dean observed, enjoying himself.

Then, suddenly, another demon came to the rescue, rushing up with some kind of chain in his hands, which he quickly began pulling across the pedestal, trapping the boys behind it. When he released the chain, his hands were smoking and he was grunting in pain, which gave the Winchesters a pretty good idea of what the chain was made out of. "Iron" Sam declared, looking worried. The two demons were looking pretty pleased with themselves. And it was then that a third demon entered the room and approached the boys with a look that passed pleased and went straight to smug. "Boys" he greeted them, his eyes rolling up into his skull, turning solid white. "Find the place ok?"

Dean felt his whole body radiating with fury at the sight of Alistair. Beside him, Sam's expression showed the same emotions. There was silence in the funeral home as Alistair wandered closer to the chain. Silence other than the sound of Dean's beating heart in his ears. He clenched his fists, trying to bring that down before anyone else could become aware of it. One of the other two demons handed Alistair a shot gun. And before Dean could even begin to wonder what it was for, Alistair was cocking it and firing. Dean felt something pierce his torso and, in a blast of excruciating pain, he disintegrated. A few seconds passed, and he reappeared back in the church, gasping and clutching his ribs where the throbbing pain was the worst. "Rock salt's not so much fun anymore, is it" Alistair mocked. "Alastair" Dean growled. "You bastard." Ignoring Dean, Alistair turned to Sam instead. "Well, go on" he taunted. "Why don't you try some of your mojo on me now, hotshot?" Dean glanced sideways at his fuming brother, half wanting an explanation for those words and half not wanting one, as he was pretty sure he already knew what the implication was.

"It's hard to get it up when you're not wearing your meat, huh" Alistair continued, chuckling. "Go to hell" Sam spat, livid. "Oh if only I could" Alistair sighed glumly. "But they just keep sending me back up to this arctic craphole." "To kill death" Dean asked sarcastically. "No, to kill death twice" Alistair corrected, gesturing to the imprisoned reapers. "It takes two to break a seal. I figured another one would show up, eventually. They're like lemmings." Pumping the shotgun, Alistair fired again, hitting Dean in the chest about a foot north of where the last salt-round had gotten him. When he reappeared this time, breathing deeply and wincing, Alistair got as close as he could without touching the iron barrier. "By the way...it's good to see you again Dean." Dean took a very deep breath, continuing to hold onto his throbbing ribs, and locked eyes with Alistair, his jaw set. "You can shoot us all you want, but you can't kill us." He was 100% confident of this fact. Until Alistair's lip curled into a sly smirk. "Is that so?"

Dean felt an icy block of dread settle in his stomach, wondering if maybe Alistair knew something they didn't. If maybe he really did have a way to keep them from re-entering their bodies, effectively "killing them" He exchanged a look with Sam, who was still looking a little on edge ever since Alistair's "mojo" comment. But before either of them could say anything else, Alistair was tossing aside the shotgun and pulling something else out from an inner jacket pocket while announcing grandly, "anyhoo...moon's in the right spot. The board is set. Let's get started, shall we?" He turned slightly and Dean could now make out what he was holding. A scythe. Dean made a face. "You're gonna kill a reaper with that? It's little on the nose, don't you think?" Alistair turned the scythe over in his hands, studying it with a smirk. "Is it? Well, an old friend lent it to me." Alistair began a slow trek over to the reapers. "You know, he doesn't really ride a pale horse? But he does have three amigos. And they're just jonesing for the apocalypse!" With that said, he knelt next to the male reaper and gripped him by the collar of the jacket, pulling him upwards slightly and placing the scythe hook around his neck. "It pays to have friends in low places."

The reaper's eyes flew open in a panic as Alistair began chanting in latin. "Hic cruor messorius, illud sigillum, quod luciferem reverendum obstringit, aperiat ut resurgat!" The final word shouted with a flourish, Alistair pulled up on the scythe, slicing through the reaper's throat and killing him instantly with a blast of white-blue light. Dean flinched, his eyes jumping in alarm to Tessa, who Alistair was approaching next. Her eyes, like the male reaper's had, flew open upon the first words of the incantation. "Hic cruor messorius-" "No, stop" Tessa begged, struggling. Dean glanced skyward. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he was subconsciously looking for help from the angels. Maybe he just didn't want to see the panic and fear in Tessa's eyes. But either way, it was glancing skyward that drew his attention to the very large, heavy, crystal chandelier hanging almost directly above the reaper trap. Dean nudged his brother subtly and pointed with his eyes. The two of them stared for all they were worth in quiet concentration at the chandelier, urging it to fall.

"Illud sigillum" Alistair continued. "Quod luciferem reverendum obstringit." The chandelier began to shake. "Aperiat ut"- The force of the shaking increased. "Resurgat!" The final word of the incantation had been delivered, but before Alistair could pull up on the scythe, the wildly swinging chandelier came crashing to the ground, landing on the edge of the reaper trap, smearing the paint and breaking the spell, allowing Tessa to simply vanish out from under Alistair's grip. She reappeared mere seconds later in front of the chain, which she unhooked and let drop to the ground. Reapers were one of the few creatures unbothered by iron. Dean waved. "Bye."

And the three of them vanished.

Last Edit: Aug 28, 2015 10:11:57 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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

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Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 24, 2015 13:37:27 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Sam Winchester on Aug 24, 2015 13:37:27 GMT -5

Rather than vanishing from the funeral home and reappearing with Dean and Tessa elsewhere, Sam suddenly found himself in his own body back on the bed in the motel room, sitting up. Across the room, Pamela was being stabbed in the stomach by a demon and Sam's heart leapt into his throat. "Pamela!" Jumping up, Sam flicked one hand forcefully, sending the demon flying through the air, where it collided with the far wall and slumped to the ground. The demon tried to scramble back to its feet but Sam was too fast. And too strong. In a mass of black smoke that was sucked down through a burning orange ring of flames on the floor, he exorcised it, barely straining himself at all. He and Ruby had been practicing more than ever before. That, coupled with the blood he was drinking, made him pretty much feel invincible all the time. It was a good feeling.

Pamela was chuckling weakly as he approached her in concern and knelt down to her level on the floor. "What's so funny?" "I can't die" she reminded him, removing her hand from the stab, showing not a drop of blood. "Not in this town." Sam could see that the wound was deep. "Pamela" he began, unsure of what to say. Fortunately, she cut him off before he had to figure that out. "Quit your worrying, grumpy." She held out one hand, allowing Sam to help her up and lead her over to the bed. "How about you make me a drink, huh?" "You need a doctor" he insisted, fluffing up the pillows and helping her lean back against them. "Make me a drink, Sam" she ordered, ignoring the doctor comment. Sam swallowed hard.

This was not going to end well.

Last Edit: Aug 24, 2015 15:14:18 GMT -5 by Sam Winchester

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Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 24, 2015 15:13:06 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Aug 24, 2015 15:13:06 GMT -5

Dean and Tessa appeared out of nowhere on the sidewalk outside of the funeral home. Tessa looked around curiously. "Where's your brother?" "I'll go find him" Dean assured her. "You get out of here." He didn't want her to get captured again. Understanding this reasoning, Tessa bestowed a small grateful smile upon him and vanished. Dean, keeping his eyes peeled for Sam, took off in the other direction. "You can't run Dean." The sudden appearance of Alistair up ahead of him made his blood run cold. He froze mid-step. "Not from me" Alistair went on with a dark sneer, advancing. "I'm inside that angsty little noggin of yours." Dean took a step backwards, retreating.

Suddenly, there was a flash of blueish-white lightening overhead, so bright that Dean had to throw up one arm to shield his eyes. And when he lowered that arm, both the light and Alistair were gone. "What the hell" he mused in open bafflement. A voice from behind him spoke with mild amusement. "Guess again."

Dean turned to find Castiel standing behind him with both hands in the pockets of his trench coat, his hair more tussled than ever before, looking pleased. "What just happened? You and Sam just saved a seal" he praised. "We captured Alastair. Dean, this was a victory." "Yeah, no thanks to you" Dean muttered, earning a tilted head and curious look from Castiel. "What makes you say that?" "You were here the whole time" Dean blustered in annoyance. That was even worse than them just not caring enough to help out. "Enough of it" the angel confirmed with a nod. Dean rolled his eyes. "Well thanks for your help with the rock salt" he deadpanned, rubbing at his ribcage which had only just started twinging less.

"That script on the funeral home—we couldn't penetrate it" Castiel explained patiently, making Dean feel slightly guilty for having jumped down the guy's throat. "That was angel proofing" he concluded. Castiel nodded affirmatively, taking both hands out of his pockets, his stance relaxing a little more. "Why do you think I recruited you and Sam in the first place?" Dean blinked, doing a double take. "You recruited us?" "That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, Dean" Castiel explained. "It wasn't Bobby who told Sam about the seal either." Dean frowned. "That was you??" Castiel looked down by way of an answer. Dean's shoulders stiffened in annoyance. He did not like being manipulated. "If you wanted our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?" Castiel looked up, looking almost amused. "Because whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite" he pointed out, which Dean couldn't exactly argue with so instead he simply asked, "so, what now, huh? The people in this town, they just gonna start dying again?" Castiel didn't bother to sugar-coat it. "Yes." "These are good people." Dean frowned sadly. "You think you can make a few exceptions?" "To everything there is a season" Castiel recited promptly, which Dean took to mean 'no'. "But you made an exception for me" he argued, swallowing hard and locking eyes with the angel, feeling a swirling mixture of emotions. Castiel was quiet for a minute and then returned a simple, "you're different."

That was twice in two days he'd been told he was different. First by Sam and now by Cas. Being singled out as different by your demon-blood-infected brother was one thing. Being singled out as different by God and his angels was another thing entirely. And it was still creeping him out. But before he could say anything along these lines, another voice was interrupting. "Dean? I could use your help." Tessa was back. Dean gave her a one-minute signal, then turned to tell Castiel he was leaving but the angel was already gone.
~~~

"Hey Cole." Tessa and Dean approached the young boy, who was back to standing in his kitchen doorway, watching his mother grieve. Even though Tessa had only said two words and neither of them were very threatening, Cole could obviously pick up on the fact that she was there to take him. "Tell your brother thanks for nothing" he sighed, addressing Dean. "Look at her Cole." Tessa gestured to Mrs. Griffith who was pouring over the photo albums with tears streaking down both cheeks. "Do you see how unhappy she is?" "That's why I want to stay with her" Cole insisted. Tessa smiled gently. "As long as she can feel you, she'll be in pain, because she can't let go. Because you won't let go of her." Cole looked over one shoulder at his mother again and then back to Tessa, a single tear leaking down his cheek. "Why won't anybody tell me what's on the other side?" "Maybe nobody wants to ruin the surprise" Tessa suggested but this didn't satisfy Cole who shook his head with a scoff. "That's not an answer." "She won't answer you, Cole" Dean pitched in. "Reapers never do. But trust me. Staying here is a whole lot worse than anything over there."

Cole frowned, considering this. "Why?" "Because one day, your family will be gone, and there'll be nothing left here for you" Dean explained somberly. "It's okay to be scared" he added with an encouraging expression. "I'm not scared" Cole countered instantly but his fists were clenched and it was clearly a lie. "We're all scared" Dean promised. "That's the big secret. We're all scared." Cole seemed to be relenting. "Are you coming" he wanted to know hopefully. Tessa looked off to one side. Dean gave a rueful smile. "Oh, I'm sure I'll be there sooner than you think." Cole drew in a deep, calming breath, and then walked straight up to Tessa, who enveloped him in a hug. He vanished into a ball of soft white light, leaving just Tessa and Dean alone with Mrs. Griffith, who looked up from the pictures, a somewhat peaceful expression taking hold.

"Look out for that boy" Dean instructed Tessa with a fond smile. He'd liked Cole. "Look out for yourself Dean" was Tessa's immediate counter. Dean blinked, caught off-guard. "What do you mean?" "I've been around death from the get-go" she started slow, watching him with intensity. "You know what I see most? Lies. "He's in a better place." "At least they're together now." You all lie to yourselves, Dean, 'cause like you said, deep down, you're all scared." She locked eyes with him. "Stop lying to yourself, Dean." Dean felt his heart-rate increase. "What?" Tessa smiled gently at him in sympathy. "The angels have something good in store for you. A second chance." She gave him a doubtful look. "Really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure, deep down, you know something nasty's coming down the road." Dean felt his stomach lurch as she put words to what he'd been feeling for awhile. "Trust your instincts, Dean" Tessa finished gravely, touching his shoulder. "There's no such thing as miracles." Dean tried to breathe normally through his mounting panic. "What are you saying?"

But she was gone.

Last Edit: Aug 28, 2015 10:52:11 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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

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Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean // Aug 24, 2015 15:36:46 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Sam Winchester on Aug 24, 2015 15:36:46 GMT -5

Sam fixed Pamela a drink, which she downed quickly, and then made her way over to Dean's bed. Holding onto her stomach with one hand, she leaned down on the other near Dean's ear and whispered, "Imum vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. Vis, vis, vis." With the incantation chanted, she stumbled back over to the other bed with a little help from Sam who then perched on the edge of it, saying encouragingly, "hey, we just got to talk to Tessa, that's all. Get her to hold off reaping till we get you better." "I'm pretty sure she's started up again" Pamela managed to gasp out, pools of blood leaking through her fingers. On the other bed, Dean took a giant gulp of air and sat up like a fired bullet. It took him a minute to realize what was going on. "What happened" he wanted to know urgently upon seeing Pamela's state. Sam ignored this, asking instead: "Dean where's Tessa?" Without taking his eyes off of the amount of blood Pamela was losing, Dean gave a disheartened shake of the head. "She's..." "Gone" was the implied end of that sentence though it was never spoken aloud.

Pamela began coughing roughly, spitting up some blood and tipping her head back in pain. Sam felt something hot blocking his throat. "Pamela, I'm so sorry" he apologized sincerely. "You don't deserve this." "Yeah, I don't" she snapped, using most of her energy to display how peeved she was. "I told you I didn't want anything to do with this!" Clutching the bleeding wound tighter in red-coated fingers, she gave a shaky exhale, followed by a bitter laugh. "Do me a favor? Tell that bastard Bobby Singer—to go to hell for ever introducing me to you two in the first place." Sam couldn't tell if she was serious or not but it didn't much matter. Pamela's coughs became more rough, raking through her whole body. "Take it easy, Pamela" Dean coaxed, his expression twisted with guilt and grief, though Pamela could see none of it. "If it's any consolation, you're going to a better place." "You're lying" Pamela rasped, turning her blank eyes on Dean. After another second she laughed weakly. "But what the hell, right? Everybody's got to go sometime."

"Come here." Her anger with the boys apparently gone, she gestured for Sam to come closer for a hug. Sam swallowed back his tears, staying strong, and wrapped her up in his arms. Pamela placed her mouth next to his ear and whispered, "I know what you did to that demon, Sam." Sam's eyes widened dramatically, his heart-rate speeding up. He tried to pull out of the hug but she wouldn't let him. "I can feel what's inside of you" she continued raggedly. "If you think you have good intentions, think again." Each word was labored, dragged out, taking the remainder of her energy. As soon as she finished speaking, she slumped back against the headboard, going still. "Pamela??" Sam felt tears start to threaten again and beat them back with a few shallow breaths. Dean was staring at his brother rather than Pamela's corpse. "What did she say to you" he wanted to know anxiously.

Sam didn't answer.

[THE END.]

Death Takes A Holiday. // Dean //

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