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Post by Dean Winchester on Sept 15, 2013 21:34:39 GMT -5
continued from S2. Aint No Rest for the Wicked"Nowheresville", MississippiThe night was not starting out well. Not well at all. As Dean was thrown to the ground, he caught sight of a restaurant sign across the street and a peculiar thought crossed his mind. So... why did only the purple elephants fly? There were four different and brightly colored elephants on that sign, which, really, was strange enough! But only the purple ones were flying around. So why- The angry woman who'd tackled him to the pavement (and not in a 'hey, I like you' kind of tackle, but an angry, beyond sane reason tackle) smashed a fist into his chest. He was grateful it wasn't to the head because he was pretty sure that had hit the ground. And maybe that's why purple elephants were- Another strike to the chest and a howl of rage and Dean managed to raise his arms to grab her. Where the hell was Sam? Not that he needed help with a woman six inches shorter and fifty pounds lighter than him or anything... No, no, he was just wondering. The brunette hissed and spat like an animal, cursing him and clawing at him, and struggling against him with the kind of strength someone had when the were holding nothing back. The kind usually reserved for life-and-death, end-of-your-rope struggles. In the darkness of the evening, Dean couldn't make out her eyes hidden in the shadows of her long hair, but that might not be a bad thing. He was pretty sure they'd look quite insane and yet, at the same time, quite human. Without meaning to, Dean had stumbled upon another one of the people in this rural Mississippian town who had succumbed to a mysterious onslaught of murderous rage. This person had broken the pattern by attacking the elder Winchester. All he and Sam had really heard about until then was people attacking friends and family members. She didn't even know Dean, but when he'd called out to her, simply to try and ask for information, she'd turned and attacked him. "Easy, lady!" Dean exclaimed as he tried very hard to keep track of her clawing hands.
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Post by Sam Winchester on Sept 21, 2013 18:33:10 GMT -5
Well, it definitely wasn't the daeva.
Sam had hung back inside the diner as Dean headed out to the car - leaving him with the bill, no surprise there. The guy at the register had been a bored looking teen who'd just shrugged at Sam's mention of the "excitement in town recently," so he'd followed his brother out with nothing new to offer about the case. Looked like Dean had stumbled into something, though.
"Hey!"
His shout didn't do anything to slow down the woman who was trying her best to scratch up his brother. She didn't even seem to hear him. Running forward, he reached down, grabbed her, and lifted her, spitting and hissing, off Dean.
"Hey, calm down! Whatever he said, forget it ok? He's harmless."
She wasn't listening. She was beyond listening. Like a feral animal, she twisted and kicked in his grip, writhing so violently he could barely hold on.
"Dean, what the hell's going-"
Her shoe slammed into his shin and he grunted, losing his grip long enough for her to swing around and hit him in the face.
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Post by Dean Winchester on Sept 22, 2013 15:25:04 GMT -5
Dean got to his feet with as much dignity as he could maintain just as Sam lost his grip on the woman and she turned on him. And all he could think while this chick, pint sized compared to Sam, was 'Yup. We hunt demons, vampires, wendigos, chupacabras, and all sorts of other boogeyman crap, and what stops us in our tracks? Exhibit A: psycho human girl...'
Dean grabbed the woman in a double arm lock, her arms trapped behind her back and also keeping this close.
"I'm gonna take a guess, Sam, and say she's one of the nut cases we heard about," he called over her snarls. "Seriously, lady, get a grip. We're here to help-"
"Hey!" This shout came from a group just down the street. Two women and three men, all of whom looked like they could take care of themselves. And all of whom were glaring at Sam and Dean like they thought they were kidnappers or some other sort of unsavory low-lives. "You let her go right now!"
Dean shook his head. "Hey, guys, this isn't what it looks like. There's something seriously wrong with her. She needs a hospital."
This claim was an odd one for a murderer or mugger, so a few of them looked confused. The woman twisted and shouted and Dean worked to keep her feet from doing to him what she did to Sam.
"Seriously, someone call 911 or something," he demanded right before the woman slammed her head back into his face. Luckily his head had been turned towards the superfriends over there or she may have broken his nose. As it was it felt more like she broke the side of his face. "Dammit!" was all he could really say as he managed to maintain his hold, keeping her even closer now in the hopes of decreasing any momentum if she tried that again.
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Post by Sam Winchester on Sept 26, 2013 22:44:00 GMT -5
The group of newcomers looked unsure, but one of the women finally shrugged and pulled out her phone, saying something that sounded like "Well, cops aren't a bad plan either way" though it was hard to tell over the spitting and shouting. Two of the others started to come forward, looking like they wanted to help but weren't sure how. Sam felt the same way. Letting her go obviously wouldn't work and knocking her out probably wasn't an option with witnesses around, even if it would probably stop her from hurting herself (and them).
Two of the strangers stood at Dean's either shoulder now, trying to help hold her still, keep her from clawing up at Dean's hands and trying to steady her head. She seemed beyond reason, but what else was Sam going to try?
"Hey," He moved in front of her, keeping well out of head-butting range, and tried to lean down and catch her gaze. "Look, we're trying to help you, alright? Did something happen to you? Can you remember what happened?"
He almost jumped when she stopped writhing and suddenly fixed her gaze on him, her eyes wide, intense. Not scared-intense or even upset-intense, but just radiating pure unbridled focus.
"Shadows." The word came out like a curse, and for a second her gaze flitted, like they were looking for disembodies shadows to be creeping up on her on the evening street. "The shadows." And then something else crept into those eyes - suspicion. "You sent them, didn't you? That's why you're holding me here, you're with the shadows!"
And then she was fighting again, harder than before, and Sam had to jump out of range to avoid getting kicked. Again.
At least they were definitely on the right track.
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Post by Dean Winchester on Sept 28, 2013 9:36:25 GMT -5
It wasn't long before the ambulance arrived. The EMTs were baffled by the woman's insanity and were forced to sedate her after she tried to use one of the guys' flashlights as a bludgoning tool. The ambulence had been accompanied by a squad car and although the attack on the EMTs gave Dean and Sam's claim of being innocent passers by credit, they still had to waste several minutes giving statements. Luckily the information went both ways. The policemen wers not adverse to telling Dean and Sam.
"One was actually a girl I'd known back in school. I didn't know her well, but she didn't seem crazy," said the officer who identified himself as Glenanne.
"What do people think is going on?" Dean asked.
"Dunno," said the other one. "Drugs maybe. But most of these people have never had any known problems with drugs. The attacks and killings were just so..."
"Out of character?"
"Yeah."
Dean nodded. Between this and the woman's crazy talk of shdows it was definitely looking like there was some outside force imposing itself on those people.
"Was there anything that connected those people? Maybe they go to the same gym? Their family or friends have the same enemies? Where they go to the doctor or get their water or anything?" When the officers looked at him with uncomprehending frowns, Dean ahrugged. "Well, something's got to connect them, right?"
Glennane sighed and gave a shrug, but Dean wasn't paying him much attention now. No one had known the woman's name that they'd just dragged off to get checked out, but now Dean recalled that when he'd first approached her, she'd had a purse on her. She must have dropped it before she'd attacked him. It should still be there, in the shadows somewhere. If they were lucky the contents could help them learn more about what happened to her before she started getting freaked out that the "shadows" were after her.
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Post by Eve Vardell on Nov 4, 2013 17:14:58 GMT -5
It had been a long drive.
No, like... a long drive. The plus side of Eve's mostly inverted sleep schedule was that they didn't have to stop at all but for gas: Zane had taken the afternoon into evening shift driving while Eve got some shut eye to readjust herself (their schedules had both shifted somewhat since they'd started living in the same house - Zane staying up later into the night and Eve risking falling asleep a few hours before dawn when the moon wasn't full, so mid-afternoon wasn't exactly bedtime for either of them at the moment). But you didn't live long on the road if your body couldn't handle adapting fast to new situations. Maybe it was the wolf in her. If she was willing to give it that kind of credit.
Whatever the reason, Eve was able to handle the long and dull drive through the night with no problem (unless wanting to murder Zane's snooty British GPS counted as a problem, and then she had about three hundred of them). And then it was back to Zane driving and Eve passing out in the passenger seat.
She didn't know how people lived like this. Give her a bus, a train, a long walk down a deserted highway from town to town over being stuck, limbs cramping up from disuse, in a five-by-five box of metal with only a superior British computer and your companion's slow, heavy breaths to keep you company.
But they made it. She didn't want to think about how many hours they'd clocked in that car, and she'd be happy to never look at its state-of-the-art interior again, but she didn't say so. Zane'd had to deal with the drive too, and he'd only come as a favor to her. Instead, cricking her neck and stretching her arms above her head, she peered down the quiet, night-darkened Main Street.
"So, this Singer guy. Did he say what exactly what the Winchesters were facing down here?"
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