WIP: Novak twins, meet the main cast.
There’s a banging at Bobby’s front door hard enough to make it shake in the frame. Sam looks up at it and frowns as it springs open. Several hands drop towards various weapons as a lanky guy storms into the room.
“He’s gone and gotten himself fucking possessed!” he says by way of greeting. He throws his hands up in the air, caught up in a rant about stupidity and secrecy, punctuated here and there with the word “possessed!”, as if being possessed was some kind of personal insult. Sam can see that the guy is wired. His walk is a little stiff, and he smells like sweat and spilled coffee. He’s been driving then, driving without stopping. Sam shoots a look at Bobby while Dean stays on guard, and when Bobby shakes his head at them they both relax.
“I thought you two were meant to be smarter than that,” Rufus comments, his rumble of a voice cutting through the rant.
The guy stops, and stares around the room, just now noticing that Bobby has company. “Weren’t you dead?” he asks.
“Retired,” Rufus replies, already back to flipping through a stack of printouts.
“Same thing.”
“What’ve you done with him then?” Bobby asks with a sigh.
The guy steps back out through the front door and returns dragging a wooden trunk. It had once been black, though the paint had chipped and the various crude carvings had sped that process along. Sam could make out air holes drilled at one end. He dropped the end of the trunk and it hit the floor with a muffled thump. The five of them stared at it for a while.
“I always knew that one of you would kill the other,” Rufus said at last. “But my money was always on Jimmy.”
Bobby stares at the box for a long moment before shaking his head. “Come on then, let’s see what you got.”
The box is unlocked, and the lid eased open. A man springs out of it with surprising agility and tackles the stranger around the chest. He looks half dead, is dressed like a priest, and has granules of salt cascading off him as he tries to beat his partner senseless with one of Bobby’s books.
“I think I see what’s wrong with him,” Rufus says idly. “Looks like some asshole locked him in a box of salt for a few days.”
Bobby watches the fight impassively, until Rufus hands him a small fire extinguisher. Bobby sprays the two men like they’re a pair of cats fighting on his front lawn, and they roll apart, coughing. Sam and Dean step in, each hauling a man to his feet and twisting their arms around their backs. It’s only when they have the two relatively restrained that they notice that the men are identical. The priest lashes out with a foot and kicks his twin squarely in the groin, and gets another kick in at his face as the man crumples, Sam having to struggle to keep him off the ground.
“You put me in the box in fucking Florida,” the priest yells.
“Next time I’m cutting your feet off,” his twin replies, though his voice is cracked.
And that’s how Sam and Dean meet Jimmy and Jacob.
*