Something Wicked. // Dean //

Sam Winchester
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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jun 23, 2014 19:48:50 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jun 23, 2014 19:48:50 GMT -5

ooc; SEASON ONE. EPISODE EIGHTEEN.

Sam let out an annoyed huff of breath. "I'm telling you Dean, there's nothing to find. I triple checked Lexis-Nexis, missing persons, every single state and fed record I could get my hands on...nothing." "You missed something" Dean insisted flatly. "Dad wouldn't have sent us these coordinates unless it meant something." "Are you sure you got the coordinates right?" Dean looked offended at the insinuation. "Of course I'm sure. Fitchburg Wisconsin." Sam shook his head and stared out the window in mute frustration. He and John had had a sort of semi-break through back in Chicago but since they hadn't seen him since, some of Sam's old feelings of resentment were creeping in. Dean continuing to follow orders blindly wasn't helping things. But he had sworn to himself he wasn't going to let petty things like this bother him anymore so as they passed into Fitchburg, he tried to leave it all behind. "Don't worry" Dean was saying. "I'm sure there's something in Fitchburg worth killing." Which wasn't an all that comforting thing to hear, to be honest.

They stopped at a local coffee shop in the middle of town. Sam stayed by the car and Dean went to get them drinks. Sam perched up against the side of the car, studying the scene across from him. The Impala was parked along side a curb and this particular curb was the barrier between the street and a local playground. He was still staring at it when Dean arrived with their coffees ten minutes later. "Well the barista at the coffee shop hasn't noticed anything weird going on" Dean reported, holding out one of the two Styrofoam cups. Sam tilted his head to one side. "Dean, do you have the time?" The elder Winchester frowned in confusion for a minute before glancing down at his wristwatch. "About ten after four. Why?" Sam finally accepted the offered coffee before nodding with his head towards the playground. "What's wrong with this picture?"

Dean swept the area with his eyes. "School's out isn't it" he asked after a minute. Sam nodded slowly, his eyes traveling from the one little girl on the slide to her waiting mother. "This place should be crawling with kids right now. So where are they?" Something wasn't right here. Maybe their father and Dean were right.

Maybe there wasn't something in this town worth killing after all.

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Something Wicked. // Dean // Jun 30, 2014 10:46:34 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 30, 2014 10:46:34 GMT -5

Dean didn't waste a lot of time wondering what was going on like Sam. He was a man of action, not words. He made his way over to the lone parent on the bench who was breezing through a magazine while every once and a while looking up to make sure her daughter was still there. Dean waited a minute before throwing out casually, "nice day." The woman didn't look up. "Uh huh." Dean tried again. "Not many kids out though." This time she looked up and shook her head sadly. "Yeah. It's such a shame." Dean took a step closer, his interest peaked. "What's a shame?" "All those kids getting sick" she replied at once, turning a page in her magazine. Dean took yet another closer step. "How many?" He tried to sound concerned rather than interested. She closed her magazine and stood up, waving to her daughter. "Oh, just five or six so far but it's real serious. Parents are getting concerned." She caught up her daughter's hand as the little girl approached and led her off.

Dean made his way back over to Sam to relay what he had learned. "We need to take a trip to the hospital" he informed the younger Winchester.

"Pediatric Ward."

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Sam Winchester
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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 1, 2014 13:03:07 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 1, 2014 13:03:07 GMT -5

Sam had been afraid of something like this from the moment he had laid eyes on the vacant playground. "What's our cover" he wanted to know as they walked with authority and purpose through the front doors of the hospital twenty minutes later, heading for the reception desk. "CDC" was Dean's quick reply, reaching into an inner pocket and surfacing with a laminated plastic ID card that he passed over to Sam. The younger Winchester looked at it and balked. "Dean, I can't use this card." "Why not?" Dean was barely paying attention to the complaint, his eyes on the attractive nurse that had just passed. Sam sighed, grabbed his brother's head and twisted it back around so that he was focusing on the proper situation. "Because it says bikini inspector on it" he whisper-hissed, waving it in his brother's face.

Dean's grin was a little too amused for Sam's liking. But then he sobered up and countered with, "Relax would you? She's not going to look that close at it. She probably won't even ask to see it." Sam gave a reluctant, resigned sigh, slid the card out of sight within an inner pocket and made his way over to the reception desk, trying to keep up the airs of confidence and authority that they had oozed when first entering the building. "Excuse me ma'am, my name is Jerry Caplan. I'm from the CDC and I was looking for"- "May I see some ID please" she interrupted pleasantly. Sam's smile was strained. He could practically hear Dean snorting. "Of course." He reached into his pocket and brought out the fake badge Dean had thrust upon him. He flashed it as briefly as he possibly could while still remaining professional, then tucked it away again with baited breath, praying she wouldn't press matters. She gave him a long stare before smiling again. "Now where were you looking for Mr. Caplan?"

Sam's smile lost all traces of tight anxiety, reverting to his usual calm and inviting one that made people trust him instantly. "Pediatric Ward." She directed him with her finger, pointing around the corner and then adding, "second floor." Sam nodded gratefully, returning to where Dean was waiting with a wide grin in the corner. "Follow me, it's around the corner and up the stairs" he muttered in an undertone. Dean nodded with a broad grin, really enjoying himself.

"By the way, I hate you."

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 2, 2014 10:48:57 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 10:48:57 GMT -5

Dean grinned and clapped his brother on the shoulder on the way past. "Sure you do." They made their way up the stairs to the pediatric ward and questioned the first doctor they came across. He was very helpful with all sorts of medical answers but the person that helped them the most with a direction to take was a passing nurse who spoke about the oddity of this particular illness moving through families. One sibling after another until all the kids in that family were sick and then the next family would get hit. "Who was your latest admission" Dean wanted to know. Both the doctor and nurse pointed them in the direction of a very distraught looking man, peering miserably through a glass window into one of the ICU rooms. Sam and Dean looked at each other briefly, neither wanting to be the one to pull this man away from his suffering children, but knowing it had to be done.

Finally, Sam, the gentler brother, approached him, clearing his throat. "Excuse me...I'm very sorry to interrupt you, but we're from the CDC and we're working on trying to find a cure for this outbreak. It would be very helpful if we could talk to you for a few minutes." The man ran a hand through his thinning hair and backed a fraction of an inch away from the window, giving silent consent to start asking. Dean dove right in. "How many children do you have?" "Two." "And have they both contracted the illness?" "Yes. Mary, she's 13, she came down with it two nights ago and then Bethany, she's 9, last night." "Within 24 hours" Sam piped up curiously. He shrugged and nodded. "I guess, yeah." Dean took control of the questions again. "Do you have any idea how they might have gotten pneumonia?" "We think it was an open window" the girls' father replied morosely. "I know I closed it before bed but..." "You think she opened it again" Sam wanted to know. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "It's a second story window with the latch on the inside. No one else could have."

The brothers shared a look.

Last Edit: Sept 30, 2014 14:57:37 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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

Sam Winchester
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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 2, 2014 10:56:48 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 10:56:48 GMT -5

"You know Dean, this might not be our kind of thing afterall. It might just be pneumonia" Sam pointed out as they exited the hospital. He was back to doubting the sincerity of this case but Dean was still fiercely loyal as was obvious by his flat return of, "or maybe something opened that window." Sam tried again. "Dean, I just don't know if"- "Sam, Dad sent us here for a reason." Sam thought about it. Their father was rarely wrong when it came to hunting. And the children not responding to typical pneumonia medication as they were informed by the helpful doctor was a little odd, he had to admit that. And working its way through the family without a single kid going unscathed despite parents precautions...AND a second story window maybe mysteriously opening without help from the room's occupant...It was at least worth checking out. They just needed a place to start. So he nudged his brother on the shoulder.

"Hey. I can tell you one thing. That guy we just talked to...I'm betting it will be awhile until he goes home again."

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 2, 2014 11:15:46 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 11:15:46 GMT -5

The house wasn't hard to find and was even easier to break into. When fleeing for the hospital with your little girl, locking things was probably the farthest thing on your mind. Since Bethany had been the most recent victim of whatever this was, they started in her room. Dean pulled out his trusty EMF detector, Sam pulled out a blacklight scanner, and they combed that room for anything the least bit supernatural looking. "Got anything" Sam called over at one point. Dean was forced to grudgingly admit, "nothing" to which Sam came back with his own, "same here." But a second later, Sam was speaking again. "Wait. I found something. You were right" he finished somberly. "This is not pneumonia."

Dean approached the window sill that Sam was staring at with deep thought and concentration. Staring up at them, rotted into the wood, was a handprint. Dean's whole body froze. All of a sudden it was like he was being transported back in time to when he was 12. His father had shown him pictures of that very handprint and explained all about the creature who left it. He very vividly remembered everything about that particular case but would not allow himself to think about it anymore. He didn't want to get to the worst part and feel that guilt and horror all over again. So he brought himself back to the present moment with a great deal of effort. He looked sideways at Sam and swallowed hard.

"I know what it is."

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

Sam Winchester
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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 2, 2014 15:43:34 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 15:43:34 GMT -5

Dean's reaction was intriguing to say the least. But all Sam could get out of him was that whatever they were hunting was called a shtriga and that their father had hunted one several years ago. "What the hell is a shtriga" Sam wanted to know as they pulled the car into the parking lot of a cozy looking motel on the outskirts of town. Dean cut the engine. "Some kind of witch. I don't know too much about them." Sam knew his brother well enough to know the evasiveness was a shield. He just didn't know against what. So he kept pushing. "Well I've never heard of one. And it's not in Dad's journal." He'd combed through that thing twice on the drive. "Dad hunted one about 17 years ago in Fort Douglas Wisconsin. Not too far from here. I guess he caught wind it changed locations and kicked us the coordinates." He started pulling things from the hidden trunk's arsenal, stuffing them into a duffel bag. This sparked a new question in Sam's mind. "Wait...changed locations? You mean it's the same one Dad was hunting?" That didn't make any sense.

Dean slammed the trunk closed and locked it, shouldering the duffel bag carelessly. "Yeah, maybe." He started for the entrance, stepping around a puddle. Sam walked right through it, too preoccupied with the bizarreness of this situation. Which was saying quite a lot since bizarre was sort of their main thing. "But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air" he prodded. John Winchester was an exceptional hunter. Dean gave an exasperated sigh. "It got away. It happens." "Not very often" Sam returned at once. He waited half a second and then asked what he really wanted to know. Had wanted to know since Dean had first laid eyes on the handprint and admitted to having seen it before. "What else do you remember?" Dean pulled open the motel's front door, his expression giving away nothing. "That's it. I was a kid, Sam." He disappeared into the motel. Sam stayed outside for another minute, despite the heavy rain that was starting to fall.

Something about this case was striking a nerve with Dean and he was going to find out what it was.

Dean Winchester
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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 2, 2014 16:02:16 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 16:02:16 GMT -5

The instant he stepped inside that motel, Dean's expression sagged momentarily. He let out a long, slow breath, collecting himself. He knew Sam would keep asking but he was equally as determined to keep dodging those questions. Playing it off like nothing out of the ordinary had happened those seventeen years ago. Sam would never have to know what had gone on. After the moment passed, Dean pulled himself together and approached the counter. A middle aged woman was telling a young boy, most likely her son, to go give his brother some dinner. The boy looked annoyed at this concept but after a stern look from his mother slouched off to do so. She turned her focus to Dean next, asking with a tired smile, "checking in?" Dean, with his eyes still on the pair of young boys in the back room, nodded. "Yes. Two queen sized beds please." She started typing away at her keyboard, asking for a credit card. Dean passed over one of his many fake ones, making sure to glance at which one it was so the signature would match. But his attention never strayed far from the brothers.

He remembered always having to make some kind of dinner for Sam. Their father would always leave a little bit of "food money" for them when he went on a hunt and it was Dean's responsibility to go to the nearest market and buy enough supplies for the next few nights. And it was Dean's responsibility to make whatever they bought with that money last until their dad returned. He remembered getting frustrated with Sam for complaining about the lack of variety. About not wanting to eat the same thing five nights in a row.

He swallowed hard and blinked back these memories. They were getting too close to the one he was desperately trying to avoid thinking about. The woman was waving his credit card and a room key in his face. "Sir?" He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Thank you." He spared a final glance for her sons and then waved at Sam through the front window. Once in their room, Sam opened his laptop to do some research and Dean pretended to be looking through their dad's journal even though he knew nothing was there. "Got it" Sam announced after maybe half an hour of silence. "You were right. A shtriga is a type of witch. They feed off of life essentially. Which explains why they like kids. Strongest life forces out there." He slapped his computer lid closed. "Unfortunately, they seem to be immune to all weapons created by man and god."

Yet another memory stirred in Dean's subconscious. "No, that's not true." He closed John's journal and tucked it out of sight in his open duffel bag. "She's vulnerable when she's feeding. Then you can shoot her with consecrated buckshot rounds and she'll die." "And you know this how?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Dad told me." Sam stared with his mouth partially open for a minute. "Well ok...is there anything else Dad might have mentioned that would be helpful here? Anything else you remember even though an hour ago you didn't remember anything?" Dean gave his head a vague shake, avoiding direct eye contact.

"No."

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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 2, 2014 16:31:24 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 16:31:24 GMT -5

Sam was starting to get frustrated. Dean clearly knew something about this case. Something he didn't want to share. And this whole dropping little nuggets of information one piece at a time when it most suited him was incredibly annoying. Normally, Sam was a wear your feelings on your sleeve kind of guy and he knew that Dean wasn't. But with kids lives at risk here, he figured maybe the older Winchester might feel inclined to look past that and just spill whatever was eating at him. But apparently that was too much to ask. So Sam just exhaled slowly and got to his feet, putting the emotional things on hold and spouting off some more facts. "Well, she's not going to be easy to find. Shtrigas take on a human disguise whenever they aren't feeding." Dean looked up from the map he was studying. "What kind of disguise?" Sam shrugged. "Anything really. But the most common seems to be an old fragile woman that no one would suspect. That might be how the whole witches as old crones thing got started." Dean jabbed a finger at the map in excitement. "Check this out. I put a red X on all the houses where the kids who got sick live. And right in the center is the hospital." Sam frowned curiously. "So?"

"SO. When we were there earlier, I saw an old woman" Dean explained. Sam couldn't help it. His lips twitched, trying to hide his amusement. "An old person? In the hospital? Wow. Better call the coast guard." Dean scowled. "Listen smartass, she had an inverted cross on her wall. Still think it's funny?" Sam's smile dimmed. "Oh."
~~~

The hospital was quiet when they returned. Everyone had gone home for the night with the exception of the on call doctors who were there in case of emergencies. Slipping past them was easy enough and although it was a little trickier, they eventually located the right room. Sam tested the doorknob. It was unlocked. He nodded silently to his brother and they both pulled out their fully loaded guns. Not that it was going to do much unless they miraculously walked in on her feeding on a child. The old woman was sitting in her wheelchair on the far side of the dark room, staring off into space. Sam stayed by the door as Dean approached her. Sam's heart was in his throat. If the woman turned on Dean and tried to attack him without actually feeding off of his life force then what exactly was he supposed to do to help?

And just as he was starting to worry that maybe the old woman was just an old woman and was dead, she turned her head in Dean's direction, barking, "who are you? who's there? Trying to steal my jewelry again???" Dean had backed up so fast he was against the wall, his eyes wide with panic. Sam took a calming breath and replied to the old lady who was indeed just an old lady and was not dead, but blind, "sorry ma'am. We are with maintenance. No one is trying to steal anything. We thought you were asleep." "Maintenance, huh? Well then fix my damn cross! I've asked four bloody times already" she grumbled, settling back in her chair. Sam's eyes swiveled to the inverted cross which Dean tapped with one finger. It righted itself on the crooked nail instantly. Sam started laughing.

And he didn't stop for the entire car ride back to the motel.

Last Edit: Jul 2, 2014 16:32:54 GMT -5 by Sam Winchester

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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 12, 2014 10:00:20 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 12, 2014 10:00:20 GMT -5

"Shut up" Dean informed his brother crossly as they got out of the Impala back at the motel, though there was the faintest trace of a smile on his face. He did have to admit it was pretty funny. However, the smiles were wiped from both boys' faces when they noticed the older of the motel owner's two boys slumped on a bench by the front door, swinging his legs and looking miserable. They approached. Dean offered him a small smile, remembering from check-in that his mother had called him Michael. "Hey Michael, what's up?" Michael stopped swinging his legs. "Asher's sick." "Is that your little brother" Dean wanted to know gently, confirmed by a somber nod from Michael. The nod was followed by, "pneumonia. And it's all my fault." Dean furrowed his brow, glancing at Sam and then back to Michael. "How is it your fault?"

Michael looked back to his feet. "I should have checked to make sure the window was closed. It's my job to keep him safe." The phrase struck an intensely large nerve in Dean who knelt in front of Michael with a serious expression. "Listen to me Michael. This is not your fault." There was a heavy pause, broken only by the sound of the door being opened behind them. "Michael" his mother was saying in a very frazzled manner as she hastened to throw a pillow and some stuffed animals into the back seat of her car. "Turn on the no vacancy sign while I'm gone. And Denise is going to watch you and take care of housekeeping so"- "I'm going with you" Michael interrupted. She countered in exhaustion with, "not this time Michael." "But I gotta see Asher" he cried desperately. His mother looked on the verge of either collapsing or crying so Dean stepped in with, "Look, Michael, I know how you feel. I'm a big brother too. But you have to go easy on your mom." Michael reluctantly backed off. Dean offered a sympathetic smile to Michael's mother. "You are in no condition to drive. Let me give you a ride to the hospital." She looked for a minute like she might refuse but then nodded gratefully and handed over the keys. On his way past Sam around the car, Dean muttered, "we are going to kill this thing." His expression was grim and murderous.

"I want it dead."

Last Edit: Jul 19, 2014 10:24:08 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 19, 2014 10:20:57 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 19, 2014 10:20:57 GMT -5

There was something in Dean's face that made Sam think that maybe he knew more about this Shtriga than he was letting on. Maybe there was more to that story from when he was a kid. He kept letting little tidbits of information slip out and then claim to not know, or remember, anymore...until the next time he let slip with a fact about the case from 17 years ago. But Sam said nothing about it. Now wasn't the time, but he made a mental note to find a time. He wanted to know what had happened. And he wasn't buying Dean's "I was a kid: I don't remember" spiel.

As soon as the car was out of sight and Michael was safely with Denise, Sam hightailed it to the library. He found a table in the back corner where no one would bother him and began browsing the internet. While he was flicking his eyes over picture after picture of sick kids from other towns where this thing had hit over the centuries, he picked up his phone and dialed Dean's number. "How's the kid" he wanted to know. Dean's response was a grim sigh and, "not good", followed by, "what have you found out?" Sam's tone was just as grim as his brother's. "This thing is just getting started here if it's following the same pattern it's used over and over again. It drains whole towns of kids Dean. We have to"- He stopped short, his eyes zeroing in on the most recent picture in front of him.

"I know" Dean was saying, apparently under the impression Sam had simply stopped because it was unnecessary to say exactly what they had to do. They both knew it. "Dean" Sam began slowly. "I'm looking at a picture of a bunch of doctors standing around a sick kid right now." "So?" Dean was unimpressed. Doctors stood around sick kids all the time. "So...one of the doctors is Hydecker." Sam paused for dramatic effect and then finished with, "and this picture was taken in 1853." There was a beat of startled silence. Then, "are you sure?" Sam studied the familiar face of the man who was in charge of all these sick kids and whom they had spoken to a mere 12 or so hours ago.

"Absolutely."

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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 19, 2014 10:57:17 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 19, 2014 10:57:17 GMT -5

Dean hung up and got out of that hospital as fast as possible. He had been feet from Dr. Hydecker and the urge to strangle him (not that it would have had any effect) had been so strong, it was a miracle he had been able to divert his energy away from that desire. "I'm surprised you didn't shoot him on the spot" Sam commented when they met back up at the motel. Dean started pacing, fueled by his anger and guilt. "First of all, it wouldn't have done any good. The bastard's bullet proof unless he's chowing down on someone. And second of all, I wasn't packing." He'd left his gun behind. Bringing it into a pediatrics ward didn't seem like the smartest thing to do. "Which" he went on sourly, "is probably for the best because if I was, I probably would have burned a clip in him just for principle."

Sam nodded his approval. "You're getting wise in your old age Dean" he teased, but Dean didn't react, except to say flatly, "Yes, I am, because now I know how we're going to get it." Sam raised a curious eyebrow. "How?" Dean stopped pacing. "Shtrigas work through families, right? Last night it went after Asher. So tonight, it's a fair bet to say it'll go after Michael." Sam hadn't put that together yet but was glad Dean had. "We've got to get him out of here then." "No." Sam blinked. "What do you mean, 'no'? He's in danger." Dean rested his palms on the island counter between them. "If we get him out of here that will blow the whole deal. And if the shtriga vanishes, it could be another 17 years before it reappears." "I'm not using him as bait to dangle in front of the shtriga" Sam snapped. "It's not happening. Too many things could go wrong." Dean's jaw tightened. "Dad didn't send me here to walk away Sam."

"Dad didn't send YOU here" Sam countered instantly, taking a step around the counter towards Dean. "He sent US here." "This isn't about you Sam!" Dean's voice was rough. He turned away from his younger brother. "You aren't the one who messed up. You aren't the one whose fault all this is. There's no telling how many kids got hurt because of me." With each new line, his voice got softer and less callous until he was basically mouthing words at the window. Sam came up behind him, all animosity gone. Replaced by a curious concern. "What's your fault Dean? Talk to me." He knew that whatever it was, it was the reason behind Dean's evasiveness about the case from when he was a kid. The reason behind why their father had bailed on a hunt, something he never did.

Dean's eyes went sort of foggy and unfocused, as if recalling the memory from the depths of his mind where it had been locked away for 17 years. "Fort Douglas Wisconsin" he recited in a monotone. "It was the third night we were there. Some crappy motel room...Dad was out, you were asleep. I had to get some air." He went on to explain how he had played about an hour of video games in the tavern across the way and by the time he came back to the room, the shtriga was poised to attack. "I just stood in the doorway and watched. I was frozen. It would have killed you if Dad didn't burst in at that moment. He tried to shoot it, but it had been startled by the sound of his entrance and wasn't feeding on you so the bullets did nothing but scare it away." Dean swallowed hard. "Dad grabbed us and ran. He dropped us off at Pastor Jim's, only about three hours away, but still...by the time he made it back to Fort Douglas, the thing was gone. Vanished." He remembered the harsh way his father had yelled at him for leaving Sam alone. The disappointment radiating in his expression whenever he looked at him for a long time after that moment.

"Dean, you were just a kid" Sam started, trying hard not to resent their father for making Dean feel guilty about something like that, but Dean just shook his head crisply. "Don't." He didn't need to be made feel better about something that had happened years ago. He didn't need sympathy from Sam. He needed to kill this son of a bitch. And he would. "Dad knew this was unfinished business for me." He stood up, locking eyes with Sam.

"He sent me here to finish it."

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

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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 19, 2014 11:16:10 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 19, 2014 11:16:10 GMT -5

Dean's story wasn't anything Sam was expecting it to be. He hadn't had the faintest inkling that the story would involve him or that he had almost died as a kid and had no recollection of it. He wondered how many other times he had experienced the supernatural before knowing it existed around 8 years old when he was finally told. The expressions on Dean's face as he recounted the events of that night were hard to watch. And even though he understood a little better where Dean was coming from with this whole thing, using Michael as bait still didn't sit well with him.

Still, he saw no other option at this point, and followed along after Dean who found Michael at the check-in desk of the main building. He listened as Dean tried to explain what was going on with the kids in this town, including his brother. Michael seemed open to the idea that something other than pneumonia had harmed Asher, but he was adamantly against being used as bait.

"What did you expect Dean" Sam asked as they sat on their beds a little while later. "You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a twelve year old kid." But no sooner had the words exited his mouth, then a knock on the door sounded. And standing on the other side of it was Michael. "You said you're a big brother right" he asked Dean, who nodded without saying anything. "You'd do anything to help your little brother? No matter what?" "I would." Sam watched as Dean nodded again, knowing without a doubt that it was true. Knowing Dean would do anything for him, and the feeling was mutual. "Well so would I." Michael stood to his full height, straight and proud.

"I'll help."

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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 19, 2014 11:32:10 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 19, 2014 11:32:10 GMT -5

Dean was incredibly proud of Michael for stepping up and changing his mind about helping. It was incredibly brave and a loving big brother-type gesture. He swapped a look with his own brother and they nodded. Night had already started to fall so they had to work fast. Michael's own room would be the best place, since the shtriga might get suspicious if it found Michael in a different room. So the three of them trooped over to his room in the main building and set up. Michael changed into pajamas and crawled into bed. Sam and Dean positioned the nightvision camera so that it had a perfect view of the whole room, including the window.

Dean sat on the edge of Michael's bed. "We'll be in the next room over" he explained. "We will see everything that happens and as soon as it shows up, we'll come in with guns. When you see us, I want you to roll of the bed and hide under it until we say to come out." Michael looked worried. Dean felt a pinch of guilt. "Are you sure you want to do this Michael? I won't be mad if you change your mind" he promised. Michael shook his head firmly. "I'm fine. Just don't shoot me." Dean's expression relaxed into a smile. "We won't. I promise. We're good shots and we won't fire until you're clear. Nothing's going to happen to you Michael." He gave the boy a final smile of encouragement before exiting and joining Sam in the next room.

"Nothing's going to happen to him" he repeated.

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

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Something Wicked. // Dean // Jul 19, 2014 12:14:42 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 19, 2014 12:14:42 GMT -5

The night seemed to drag on forever. The Winchesters sat silently side by side for nearly four hours before Dean asked blearily, "what time is it?" Sam checked the time stamp on the computer in front of them. "Three." "Where is this thing" Dean grumbled agitatedly. Sam watched the swing of emotions on his face. "Hey Dean...I'm sorry" he threw out there, having wanted to say it ever since he heard Dean's story earlier. Dean swung his gaze around to find Sam's. "For what?" Sam tilted his head to one side, trying to figure out how best to word what he wanted to say.

"Well, I just...I've given you a lot of crap over the years for always following Dad's orders over the years but...well, I understand why you do it." He saw a flash of gratitude for the statement before typical, shy-away-from-real-emotion Dean made his usual appearance with a sarcastic, "oh god, kill me now." Sam chuckled to himself, trying to think up something witty to say in return, but before he could, Dean was sitting up straight in his chair with a stiff spine, staring intensely at the camera screen. Sam's attention snapped to it as well.

A long, thin, bony hand was reaching out to open the window.

Post by Sam Winchester on Jun 23, 2014 19:48:50 GMT -5

Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 30, 2014 10:46:34 GMT -5

Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 1, 2014 13:03:07 GMT -5

Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 10:48:57 GMT -5

Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 10:56:48 GMT -5

Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 11:15:46 GMT -5

Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 15:43:34 GMT -5

Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 16:02:16 GMT -5

Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 2, 2014 16:31:24 GMT -5

Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 12, 2014 10:00:20 GMT -5

Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 19, 2014 10:20:57 GMT -5

Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 19, 2014 10:57:17 GMT -5

Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 19, 2014 11:16:10 GMT -5

Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 19, 2014 11:32:10 GMT -5

Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 19, 2014 12:14:42 GMT -5

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