Post by Dean Winchester on Dec 12, 2013 15:16:19 GMT -5
ooc; SEASON ONE. EPISODE FIVE.
Dean parked the Impala outside of the very typical suburban house and cut the engine. "This is it, right?" Sam looked down at the obituary in his lap. "125 Crescent Street, Toledo Ohio. Residence of the late Steven Shoemaker who died of...melted eyes essentially." He tossed the folded paper at Dean who caught it with one hand and unfolded it on his lap, scanning the article. "And what did the coroner say when you went and visited him?"
"They're saying stroke." Sam made a face, clearly showing what he thought of that diagnosis. Dean folded up the paper again and chucked it carelessly into the Impala's back seat which was already cluttered with fast food wrappers and outdated papers. "Well let's go see if we can get the real story." He yawned, pushed open the door and stepped out into a light drizzle. Sam got out on the other side and stretched his long legs.
It was a very intense, somber atmosphere inside the house. All three counters in the spacious kitchen were laiden with platters of "condolance" food. Sam had to swat Dean's hand away from one of the plumper pies as they passed. "What? I'm hungry" Dean had griped. "It's not for you" Sam had hissed back as they had moved through the kitchen, past the open back door and onto the back patio. An older gentleman directed them to the deceased's two daughters who were sitting under a large umbrella at a picnic table in the middle of the backyard, surrounded by sympathetic friends.
Unabashed by walking right into the middle of this little gathering on what was probably the worst day in the two girls' lives, Dean sauntered right over, clicking on an automatic expression of believable grief. Sam hung back a smidge. "Hi. Donna and Lilly Shoemaker?" The older of the two nodded. "I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam. We just wanted to say how sorry we are for your loss. We, uh...we worked with your Dad. A stroke...it's terrible."
The tall blonde on Donna's other side narrowed her eyes. "Yes it was. And I'm sure they don't want to talk about it" she began in a somewhat hostile tone, but Donna shook her head with a watery smile. "It's ok, Charlie. I don't mind. Besides, it WAS terrible." "But it wasn't a stroke" the younger daughter blurted out, her whole body trembling. "And it's all my fault!"
"Shh, Lilly, no it's not." Donna hugged her sister closer. This declaration brought Sam closer. "What are you talking about Lilly?" "My friends and I...it was just a game..." Lilly broke down crying and couldn't continue. Donna shook her head and insisted, "Lilly, you did not kill Dad. For the last time, bloody mary is a stupid game. She's not a real person."
"Bloody Mary" Dean repeated, swapping a look of dawning comprehension with Sam.
Well that would explain a lot.
Dean parked the Impala outside of the very typical suburban house and cut the engine. "This is it, right?" Sam looked down at the obituary in his lap. "125 Crescent Street, Toledo Ohio. Residence of the late Steven Shoemaker who died of...melted eyes essentially." He tossed the folded paper at Dean who caught it with one hand and unfolded it on his lap, scanning the article. "And what did the coroner say when you went and visited him?"
"They're saying stroke." Sam made a face, clearly showing what he thought of that diagnosis. Dean folded up the paper again and chucked it carelessly into the Impala's back seat which was already cluttered with fast food wrappers and outdated papers. "Well let's go see if we can get the real story." He yawned, pushed open the door and stepped out into a light drizzle. Sam got out on the other side and stretched his long legs.
It was a very intense, somber atmosphere inside the house. All three counters in the spacious kitchen were laiden with platters of "condolance" food. Sam had to swat Dean's hand away from one of the plumper pies as they passed. "What? I'm hungry" Dean had griped. "It's not for you" Sam had hissed back as they had moved through the kitchen, past the open back door and onto the back patio. An older gentleman directed them to the deceased's two daughters who were sitting under a large umbrella at a picnic table in the middle of the backyard, surrounded by sympathetic friends.
Unabashed by walking right into the middle of this little gathering on what was probably the worst day in the two girls' lives, Dean sauntered right over, clicking on an automatic expression of believable grief. Sam hung back a smidge. "Hi. Donna and Lilly Shoemaker?" The older of the two nodded. "I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam. We just wanted to say how sorry we are for your loss. We, uh...we worked with your Dad. A stroke...it's terrible."
The tall blonde on Donna's other side narrowed her eyes. "Yes it was. And I'm sure they don't want to talk about it" she began in a somewhat hostile tone, but Donna shook her head with a watery smile. "It's ok, Charlie. I don't mind. Besides, it WAS terrible." "But it wasn't a stroke" the younger daughter blurted out, her whole body trembling. "And it's all my fault!"
"Shh, Lilly, no it's not." Donna hugged her sister closer. This declaration brought Sam closer. "What are you talking about Lilly?" "My friends and I...it was just a game..." Lilly broke down crying and couldn't continue. Donna shook her head and insisted, "Lilly, you did not kill Dad. For the last time, bloody mary is a stupid game. She's not a real person."
"Bloody Mary" Dean repeated, swapping a look of dawning comprehension with Sam.
Well that would explain a lot.
