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Post by Sam Winchester on Aug 23, 2009 0:18:57 GMT -5
Continued from Looking For TroubleDean had refused to follow Mapquest's directions, insisting he knew a better way and veering them at least half an hour off-course. Of course, that wasn't his story, but Sam hadn't expected him to own up to the fact that he'd felt threatened by a website and an innocent piece of paper, anyway. The rented car slowed to a stop at the edge of a small town at a little after 4pm, and Sam sighed softly at the cheery white sign by the side of the road and read aloud, "'Welcome to Haven Valley, South Dakota. Population 457.' And after last night we're down to 444." It looked like a nice town, at least from the outside. One of those places small enough that everyone knew each other... and if anything strange was going on, it would be all over town in a heartbeat. At least that should make the interview part of their investigation easier. Tugging open the glove compartment, Sam dug around for a second before pulling out a small metal box, and shook it experimentally, feeling the dozens of slim pieces of plastic sliding around within. "So, what do you think we should go with this time? FBI, DAs, or just good old fashioned cops?"
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Post by Dean Winchester on Aug 27, 2009 15:52:56 GMT -5
Sam had totally gotten them lost. Stupid mapquest or whatever. Had it been up to Dean, they would have been there half an hour earlier. Dean cast a sideways glare at his brother as he pulled the car to a stop outside of town.
"444 people. Now that's..." he paused. "That's somethin'. It could either make this case easier or harder. Depending on how open they are to outsiders..."
Dean leaned over the wheel, looking down at the place as Sam pulled out the box of fake IDs and asked which they should use. Dean crossed his arms, making sure his foot was still planted on the brake.
"FBI might be too top-of-the-food chain for this kinda place. Especially if they're hiding something." Dean looked out the window thoughtfully. "How 'bout detectives? Haven't been detectives in a while. Heh, there was this time actually when I was working on this case with Dad and I almost blew our cover because people thought I was too young-"
Dean faded off sharply, darkness seeping back into his eyes. Where had that come from? His dad was not something he wanted to talk about, whether it was relevant to the case or not.
'Don't be such a child,'part of him scolded. It was relevant. It was ok to bring that stuff up, wasn't it?
'Shut up,' thought the rest of him. He cleared his throat, making sure to keep his gaze from Sam.
"Anyway. Detectives. They don't need uniforms, they're lower in the food chain, and they might not have the natives clam up. If they get inquisitive about us being out of our jurisdiction, we can always say we're from that other town you mentioned that had the same thing happen and that we believe they're connected. That way we can claim we're still on our own case. ...Or somethin'."
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Post by Sam Winchester on Nov 7, 2009 15:56:28 GMT -5
"Detectives, it is."
They didn't have time to put together brand new IDs for the area - not if they were going to get enough information to stop this creature before nightfall - so he dug out a pair of cards they'd put together years ago for a case a few miles south of Bobby's home town. Actually, the cards had originally been for Dean and John, but when Sam had taken back his spot in the "family business" a year ago, he'd spent a lot of time getting his face set onto some of John's old cards in case of emergency. It felt wrong, using it now; like he was flicking on a bright neon light saying "Dad's gone! Here's the lame newer model trying to take his place!"
But then again... maybe in some way he kind of was. Maybe in some way he should be. If John wasn't around to deal out justice, then maybe it was Sam's duty as a son to do it for him.
Flicking the box shut, he passed an ID over to Dean.
"They're for a few counties over. Let's hope these guys don't look too closely."
He slid his own ID into his coat pocket and got out of the car.
"There's not much time left 'til sunset. If we want to get as much information as possible we should probably split up. I could take the station while you try out the locals... or the other way around." Dean had never been the most sensitive when dealing with grieving civilians. Then again, he'd never done well with authority figures like pretentious, small town cops, either. And Dean's temper had already been hanging pretty thin recently...
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Post by Dean Winchester on Dec 3, 2009 0:58:12 GMT -5
"You take the cops. You can use your lawyer talk on 'em if they get picky about us being here or something," Dean replied after a pause. He took the ID handed to him and opened it up to examine it more thoroughly. Everything looked in order for Detective John Bonham.
...He could swear he used that alias on some other form of ID. He'd have to update these.
"And I'll go find some people to chat up- with," he corrected quickly with a smirk. Clearing his throat he asked, "You just goin' to walk down Main Street then?"
In a small town like this, the police station was likely on the busiest road and that seemed to be the one they were on. Dean could easily drop Sam off in front of the station, but then again, it was always a good idea to get a lay of the land. And honestly, Dean couldn't wait to get out of the car himself. This thing was not as comfortable as his Impala and he needed a good stretch.
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Post by Sam Winchester on Dec 3, 2009 18:16:57 GMT -5
Sam smirked a little at Dean's probably-intentional slip, and didn't bother hiding the accompanying eye roll.
"Yeah, we'd probably look more professional if we didn't go driving about in this... this, anyway." He didn't consider the Impala exactly to be another member of the family, like Dean did, but he still felt a little pang as he glanced back at the "family van" they'd driven to town in. Feds could drive around in classic cars, sure, but this? Definitely not the impression they were looking to make here.
"Sure, sounds good." He squinted down the road in search of a police station, and spotted a likely building a few blocks down the road. "Call me if you find anything. Remember, we've only got 'til nightfall."
Which wasn't going to be long away in the dead of winter like this...
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Post by Dean Winchester on Dec 3, 2009 22:13:43 GMT -5
Sam had a point about the car -other than Dean's own very important point that it was uncomfortable. This vehicle did not look like detective material. Maybe a poor detective... He would definitely have to park it, then walk about like Sam. And if anyone caught him with it... he'd blame it on his partner. ...Yes...
Sam had said something.
"Nightfall. Right." Dean paused. "Why again?"
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Post by Sam Winchester on Dec 3, 2009 22:58:48 GMT -5
He was frowning down the street as Dean spoke, wondering if it was typical of a tiny place like this to seem so empty. Glancing back, he offered a slight shrug.
"All the disappearances have happened during the night. That could mean some sort of mojo's going down at a certain time during the night - nightfall, midnight or dawn having the most magical significance - or that there's some kind of nightstalking monster behind it. Either way it's safe to say we want to have some kind of idea what's what before dusk." He glanced overhead with a hint of a wince. "Not to mention that I just realized on the way over here... this is a full moon night. So were the last two, when the disappearances happened... and all kinds of magics and monsters are known to get a boost from the power of a full moon."
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Post by Dean Winchester on Dec 15, 2009 23:20:07 GMT -5
"Good point," Dean replied with a sigh. Full moons. They tended to drive the supernatural world a little more nuts than it was naturally. His mind drifted again to a time when his father had relayed a story about a werewolf he'd had to kill. As he tended to when he thought about his dad these days, his eyes went a little distant and a feeling of great loss and guilt swirled in some deep bottomless pit within him. Dean stared into that nothingness for what seemed an eternity then, only a moment later, some instinct pulled him back to the here and now. He put the loaned car back into drive, revving the motor just to do it and without looking directly at his brother he replied, "Keep in touch, huh? All else fails, we'll meet up at the motel."
A town like this probably didn't have more than one motel, but even if it did, Sam and Dean would be able to figure out which one to go to. they'd been doing this long enough that they knew what to look for.
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Post by Sam Winchester on Dec 16, 2009 15:31:42 GMT -5
"You too. Let me know if you find anything." AKA: Don't go running off after some lead by yourself, Dean. There wasn't any part of Sam wishing he wasn't here, or that he could leave it all up to Dean and head back to a normal life. Those days - what had been left of them after Jess - had died with John. He was in this all the way, and he didn't expect to be protected or left with the kiddie job while Dean went off to handle the hard stuff.
With a nod, Sam turned away and started down the road toward the police station, zipping shut his coat both to ward off he cold and to hide the flannel shirt underneath. Just 'cause he was posing as a detective that didn't need a uniform didn't mean he wanted to go raising suspicions by looking like a mess in front of the cops. The more professional he seemed, the more likely he was to gain their trust and get them talking. As he headed down the street he forced himself into character, straightening his posture, automatically bringing an important clip to his stride. He couldn't help a casting nervous glance toward the east, though, searching for a sign of the soon-to-be-risen full moon.
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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 27, 2010 0:49:13 GMT -5
Dean parked the car not far from a building lit by a bright neon sign. The bar. Checking his ID, Dean stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked longingly towards the building. It seemed lively enough and more people equaled more people who might have seen something.
But first things first. He'd gotten only a brief view of the town from the hill on the outskirts and while driving in. He wanted to do a little visual recon before going straight to the bar and he wanted to do it on foot where he could be both discrete and not seen in that borrowed car. It just wouldn't add to his mysterious yet trustworthy detective alias.
With a nod to no one and a shrugging apology to the car, Dean headed down the side street.
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Post by Sam Winchester on Feb 13, 2010 21:59:59 GMT -5
It wasn't hard getting in to speak with the Chief of Police. What was difficult was trying to convince him that the small town’s department needed any help.
"Town business is town business," the plump, middle-aged stereotype of a Chief insisted comfortably, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together over his lap. "I don't understand why you..."
He trailed off, seemingly at a loss, and Sam offered, "Detectives."
"Detectives." The man tested out the word, frowning as though finding it distasteful. "Yes, I don't understand why you bunch would come wandering in here, acting as though we don't know how to manage our own business."
Sam smiled calmly, placatingly. He'd dealt with these types before.
"Sir, we have the highest respect for yourself and your investigation, and the last thing we would want to do is get in your way. But, unfortunately, the nature of this situation makes it impossible for us to leave it in the hands of just one town. There have been more disappearances in these last two nights alone than this area has seen in the past 30 years. Collaborating is the best chance we have to find out what has happened and recover those who’ve gone missing, as well as keeping the same thing from happening to anyone else."
The man was still frowning, but as Sam spoke the look had transformed from outright distaste to one of grudging acceptance. He stared Sam down for several more seconds, just long enough to convince himself that he was still the one in charge, before leaning forward in his chair, dropping his laced fingers onto the desk between them with an audible thump, and asking, “Well then, Detective, what do you want to know?”
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Post by Dean Winchester on Mar 1, 2010 1:35:11 GMT -5
Dean had quickly found that what he'd seen from the hill was actually pretty much all there was to see. Of the side streets anyway. Just ordinary looking two and one story homes. But this was totally fine by him. All that meant was that he could head back to where the information mixed with fun knowing that he'd done a thorough job. He'd started back in the direction of the main street, and the bar, when he realized he was being watched.
He slowed his walk then turned around slowly. A shadow moved out of sight behind a set of garbage cans. Dean turned to face them, tense. He felt the weight of the .45mm in his belt but didn't make a move for it yet. Cautiously the Winchester edged towards the barrels thinking all the while that this was silly. It was probably just a cat.
"Hey!" Dean called out.
There was a moment of complete silence. And then in a flurry of movement, something burst forth from the hiding place...
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Post by Sam Winchester on Mar 8, 2010 13:49:58 GMT -5
Sam stepped out of the police station weighted down by a stack of papers containing too much information, not a lot of time to look through it, and - he feared - not that much that would actually help with the case. He had the names and addresses of all of the missing residents, along with their other police records, if any. That was always a good place to start looking for paranormal activity, since normal people being haunted or otherwise targeted by the supernatural would usually put in a police or hospital call at some point, and people mixed up in magic or cult activity tended to work their way up to it from more commonplace crimes. Unless a pair of speeding tickets and one single write-up for drunk-and-disorderly was a sign of impending homicidal notions, though, it didn't look like this had been an "inside job."
There wasn't any solid connection between all of the victims - most had known each other, but in a town this size it would've been hard not to. Some were friends, a lot weren't, and there wasn't a single continuously connecting thread; hell, they hadn't all even belonged to the town's public library.
All in all, Sam left the police station feeling as if he shouldn’t have wasted precious time there at all. He sighed, pausing on the sidewalk to dig for his phone, hoping Dean had gotten a better lead.
“It’s not what they’re saying, you know.”
A less experienced person might have jumped – Sam merely spun rapidly in the direction of the sudden voice. A teenage girl, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old, stood huddled against the wall of the police building, arms tight across her chest. Her jaw was set defiantly, but her entire stance was defensive, almost frightened.
She continued to glower at Sam, and he asked gently, “What’s not what who’s saying?”
The girl’s grip on her own arms tightened visibly.
“The newspapers. Everyone. They’re all saying it was some kind of… sick suicide cult, or a small town runaway pact or something. It’s not.”
Sam’s heart leapt at the hint of a solid lead, and he took a careful step forward, nodding encouragingly.
“If you have any information about what really happened, it would be a big help for the investigation.” The girl scowled at the cement.
"My housemate, Danni, she went missing that night with the rest. We tell each other everything, and if she'd been involved in anything then trust me, I would be too. Besides, she wouldn't have wanted a ride home if she was planning on running away, would she?"
That was the information Sam was looking for. A solid lead that this wasn’t just a case of small-town crazies.
"So this... Danni, she contacted you last night?" The girl’s eyes darted to meet Sam’s, and then away toward the sky, the brick wall, before settling back on the ground. Sam didn’t have the impression that she was lying, though. A lot of things could make a person’s gaze flutter – fear, confusion, guilt…
"I didn't get the call 'til morning. I was asleep, set my phone to silent, you know. And she was working 'til midnight at the town convenience store, restocking. But the next morning I had a message from her, asking if I got this could I come pick her up and give her a ride home. She usually walked – it isn’t far and we don't get a lot of trouble in a town this small, you know? But she didn't like sound of the thunder outside and didn't want to walk home in a big storm. Whatever happened to her must have happened between her making the call and getting home for the night."
It wasn't much to go on, but you had basically nothing to go on, the smallest piece of information felt like a huge victory. Sam knew there hadn't been any storms two hours away the night before, and now that she thought about it, the girl didn't remember the ground being wet that morning. She seemed almost angry at the question, though.
“So what if it dried up by 10AM? That’s the part of the story the crack team investigator wants to focus on? Great, we had low humidity. Unless… You think I’m making it up or something!” And then, before Sam could say anything to try and placate her, the girl spun away and stalked off, muttering about lazy cops who would rather make fun of evidence than deal with a real investigation.
Sam let her go, instead digging through the Encyclopedia of Weirdness that was his brain in search of a supernatural force that would move from one town to the next, kidnapping victims and bringing a storm along with it... Or at least, something that sounded like a storm...
[OOC: Sorry about the sloppy writing in this post, man. I'm trying to drag the plot along a little and I think it came out a little ridiculous. Ah well, at least now we've got something to go on. ;P )
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Post by Dean Winchester on Mar 13, 2010 15:17:47 GMT -5
[OOC: Lol, and in doing such, you pretty much stole my plot dragging device idea. I don't think it was sloppy, man. It's an RPG and we want to keep things moving. Adding in these types of extras tends to happen and I think in a plot like ours, it makes sense. People would be on the lookout for newbies in town after a whole bunch of folk go missin'. Anyway! A quick rethinking of my plan... BIC:] There was a moment of complete silence. And then in a flurry of movement, something burst forth from the hiding place... Dean's right hand went automatically for his gun while he stepped back into a more defensive posture, preparing for the worst. 'The worst' was a shorter, middle-aged man with a frown and a gun. "New Haven police! Stop right there! Put your hands where I can see them! Now!" Dean froze. The police? "Woah, hold on a second-" Dean started, but the approaching man interrupted him. "Hands where I can see them!" the other man shouted again. He wasn't in uniform, Dean noted, though his gun was definitely a model often used by the police. "I'm Detective John Bonham," Dean exclaimed, hoping he was remembering the correct name. "I'm here to investigate a case we have in common." The policeman seemed surprised by this and hesitated. "Let me see your ID." Hands open out wide, Dean replied "It's in my jacket pocket. I'm reaching for it now-" "Slowly!" "Slowly," Dean echoed as he slowly removed his badge from his jacket and held it up so the other man could see. With a frown and a squint, the other man relaxed, lowering his gun. "Sorry, Detective. We're just a little on edge around here lately. What with the kidnappings and all," the older man replied. "Understandable," Dean replied, also relaxing. "If you don't mind, I'd like to see your badge as well." The other man seemed surprised a moment then nodded and pulled out his own badge. "Captain D'Agosta," he introduced. "You said your name was Bonham?" "Yeah," Dean replied. Something in the man's face said that he was trying to remember where he'd heard that name before, so Dean continued, steering the conversation in a more useful direction. "Does New Haven make a habit of pointing weapons at people just taking a walk?" This made the man look away apologetically. "Sorry about that. The Chief's got us doing rounds in plain clothes. Seeing if we can dig anything up about our most recent mystery. You were new in town so I decided to tail you. I noticed your gun, so thought I'd question you. Then you went for the weapon..." D'Agosta shrugged. Dean was impressed. Though it probably wasn't that hard to spot a newbie in such a small town, the man had a sharp eye to have spotted his gun. "Well it just so happens, the missing people are what I'm here about as well. This isn't the only town where this has happened and people are starting to panic. The higher ups want an answer." "Tell me about it," D'Agosta replied with a huff. Dean slid his badge back into his jacket pocket. "Actually," Dean replied. "I was hoping you could tell me about it."
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Post by Sam Winchester on Mar 19, 2010 15:02:13 GMT -5
[OOC: Sorry about that. I like your cop guy, though. He could come in handy.]
Unnatural storms... didn't come up with that much, actually. He'd heard vaguely about powerful witchy spells that could produce storms in the making, but that wouldn't explain the ground being dry the next morning. Maybe the girl had been right, and he was barking up completely the wrong tree. Just 'cause she hadn't noticed the ground being wet, and just because it hadn't rained at Bobby's, didn't mean that there actually wasn't a perfectly normal storm the night before.
But if there had been one, he had nothing to go on. Better to bark up the wrong tree than not try any tree at all and leave the cat to scamper off scott-free. Or... something like that.
He ran the facts over in his head again as he made his way toward the motel where he and Dean were supposed to meet, but it wasn't until a set of Christmas lights flickered on in the dusk-light down the street ahead of him that he realized what exactly was bothering him so much.
Christmas. It was the middle of December, it was South Dakota, and climate change hadn't kicked in all that much in this part of the country. With all the cross-country traveling he and Sam did, it had taken him a while to really take into consideration the climate, but even with the sun still out it couldn't have been above freezing right then, and last night it would've had to be colder. Thundersnow did exist, but it was an incredibly rare thing. Sam had never seen it in his life, and he was willing to bet Haven Valley hadn't seen it last night.
Alright, so that ruled a natural storm out. That meant that the "thunder" Danni had mentioned had most likely been related directly to her disappearance. Thunder, vanishing. Or maybe... hearing the thunder, and vanishing? Something about that rang a distant bell in his head, but he couldn't place it.
And it was getting dark fast.
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Post by Dean Winchester on Mar 29, 2010 13:41:28 GMT -5
"Considering all the evidence, or rather the lack of any evidence, I don't think the disappearances were voluntary," D'Agosta was saying.
Dean shifted in his seat, his eyes glancing around the noisy yet controlled bar scene to look back at the policeman across the table from him.
"Did anyone think that they were voluntary?" Dean questioned.
D'Agosta took a swig of his drink. Just an iced tea, Dean had noted. From what he'd seen so far of this man he seemed a rather by-the-book copper. Even down to not drinking on the job.
"Yeah, there were a few theories that that was the case. Cops included. In a way it makes sense. If it weren't some sorta pre-planned exodus, how could they have all just left unnoticed, right?" D'Agosta said.
"But if it were planned, how come no one's heard anything about any one of those people leaving? You'd think something woulda slipped out," Dean replied.
D'Agosta leaned forward on the table and waved a finger at him. "That's what I said. Seriously, the options here seem to be a drug related or some sort of mass kidnapping."
"Drugs?"
"Yeah. I dunno. I think that's everybody's fall back theory. 'Something bad happened? Oh. Drugs must be involved.'," D'Agosta snorted.
Dean gave a small chuckle as well to let the policeman know they were thinking on the same wavelength. "And what do you say?" Dean asked.
"Me?" The man sighed. "We're a small town, detective. You know how they are. Even if you don't like everybody, you do know or at least know of everybody. But having said that, the ones who disappeared were not really connected in any noticeable way. They weren't all friends, they didn't work at the same place, they didn't all go to the same gym... I think that this little vanishing act was planned, detective. By who, I dunno, but both of our towns were hit by this thing."
Dean nodded. "I think you're right, but I'm in the same position as you. I can't seem to prove anything one way or the other." He took a sip of his own drink (also not alcoholic so as to keep on D'Agosta's good side) and allowed himself a moment to think. "Captain... Can you think of anything unusual that happened before the disappearance? Something that might have triggered this? New people? Strange stories or sightings?"
D'Agosta shrugged. "Don't think so. We get the occasional passer through, but no one stayed long enough to be kept track of the whole week before the disappearances. At least, they didn't stay in the motel."
"And everyone's been questioned?"
"Well, the whole town's not been questioned, if that's what you mean. Relatives and close friends of those who've disappeared I believe have all been questioned. The Chief would be able to tell you for sure," D'Agosta replied.
That wasn't a bad idea if Sam hadn't found any leads. If the Chief was feeling generous, or with a little pressure from Dean and Sam, the Winchesters might also be able to get a hold of the actual police reports of the questioning.
With a nod of agreement, Dean glanced down at his watch. It was getting late.
"Thank you for your help, captain. I should probably meet up with my partner and see if he's found anything," Dean replied, standing up.
D'Agosta stood as well. "Sorry I wasn't of more use, Detective Bonham. If I can be of any more help, let me know. I'm still hoping we can find these people alive. ...But the more time that goes by..."
Dean nodded. "Thank you."
And with that, Dean exited the bar and headed out to find the motel.
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Post by Sam Winchester on Apr 12, 2010 17:05:19 GMT -5
Sam sat in the motel room with the laptop he'd managed to liberate from the car (it was nice to have a car with two sets of keys for once - Dean would never give him unrestricted access to the Impala like that), frowning at the pages of notes he'd scrawled out relating to storms and disappearances. The most obvious one that had come to mind was the presence of demons - electrical storms had been one of John's key methods of tracking demons down before... before. But that didn't really tie in with mass disappearances.
There was a lot of other lore connected with thunderstorms as well - there were storm gods in pretty much every ancient culture, not to mention the Native American Thunderbirds and some theorized connections to the coming apocalypse. Witches could use storms to gather power and perform more powerful spells, and some magic started off being so powerful that it left electrical discharge in the atmosphere. But nothing specifically related to disappearances. And nothing connected to the little bell that was determinedly jingling in the back of Sam's brain.
Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear...
It was something he'd read a long time ago - something about hearing the pounding at night, loud crashes like thunder and the beat of a drum, and being dead or having vanished by morning.
It wasn't until he found himself, at a loss, browsing through a commercial web page about storm gods that he stumbled across it: an offhand mention of Odin, who was in some myths perceived to be the leader of the Wild Hunt. He'd spent the next fifteen minutes digging through leads in old English, German, and Welsh mythology. There was nothing like the Wild Hunt in any American stories he could find, but that didn't mean it wasn't here. In fact, out of anything he'd researched, this was by far the closest fit.
It hadn't been thunder Danni had heard before she'd vanished. It had been hoof beats.
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Post by Dean Winchester on Apr 15, 2010 22:55:05 GMT -5
Dean entered without a word and slammed the door to the motel room shut behind him. He tossed his set of keys into a dish on a table by the bedside then collapsed down to the mattress. Much less comfy than he'd hoped and he gave a little groan of pained displeasure before turning his eyes to his brother.
"I don't know, Sammy. This whole thing is just..." Dean made an aggravated motion with his fists before propping them behind his head. "The streets are quiet except for the plain clothed cops. Everyone's either inside hiding or at the bar worrying and being useless. Supposedly nobody saw or heard anything!"
He sighed and fluffed up a second pillow and placed it behind his head. It didn't help. "Hope you had more luck than I did."
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Post by Sam Winchester on Apr 22, 2010 22:36:40 GMT -5
Sam barely took note of Dean as he entered, except for an instinctive glance to make sure it was Dean and not some not-so-subtle intruder. He was still intent on his research, flicking between Word documents and web pages that helped to confirm or contradict his theory. Dean's grumbling was noted more or less subconsciously, until a sudden silence alerted him that his brother was waiting for him to speak up.
"What? Oh, yeah, well I thought I had nothing, until I realized that, Dean, it's almost Christmas." He swiveled quickly in his chair, lifting a hand to wave off whatever sarcastic comment Dean would be ready to send flying at that. "I mean, it's the middle of winter. And when I was talking to this girl, she mentioned something about thunderstorms last night. But thunderstorms in December, in North Dakota, aren't really all that common. So I started thinking, what if it wasn't thunderstorms? What if it was just something that would sound like thunder if someone wasn't really thinking about it? So I started researching stories of mass disappearances associated with thunder, or things that seemed like thunder, and then I..." He trailed off, realizing Dean probably didn't care about the finer points of his research.
"Well, anyway, I came up with..." He spun back toward his computer, downsizing several documents until he found the one he was looking for, and then leaned to the side and tapped at the top of the screen so that Dean could see the title as well.
"This. The Wild Hunt."
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Post by Dean Winchester on Apr 22, 2010 23:38:43 GMT -5
Dean lifted a questioning eyebrow at the mention of Christmas and was about to say something about how that did not really make any sense in the given context-
When Sam waved him off and put it into context.
"Wait, wait, wait. Thunderstorms?" Dean questioned swinging himself into a sitting position then getting back to his feet. "What do thunderstorms have to do with anything? And if thunderstorms are so weird around now -which, come to think of it, they are- how come no one else has really mentioned hearing anything? I did ask my cop guy specifically if there was anything at all odd going on and he did say no."
Dean stalked over to Sam as he registered the words on his screen and what Sam had finally come up with.
"The wild hunt? Isn't that something rich British guys do?" he asked as he squinted at the webpage.
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