Night 48 - Janitor's Closet
[Tracking Faith from here; Scarecrow's effects are wearing off]
No sign of Sam, but he was willing the Demon had went this way. He'd heard something loud banging open in this direction, and Dean was willing to bet that it'd been that Demon. The more he thought about it, the more he was getting weirded out by this whole thing. It just wasn't adding ( Read more... )
No sign of Sam, but he was willing the Demon had went this way. He'd heard something loud banging open in this direction, and Dean was willing to bet that it'd been that Demon. The more he thought about it, the more he was getting weirded out by this whole thing. It just wasn't adding ( Read more... )
Because no, she didn't know who the hell this guy all up in her face was. What she did know was that he wasn't no vampire; from this distance, she could feel the heat from him well enough. Definitely not a corpse.
She threw up her hands, sandwiched between some shelves and this pseudo-James Dean, and hoped to God he was coming off whatever acid they'd both been tripping on. Also, she'd be enjoying this position more if he wasn't trying to kill her.
"Whoa, easy. Wait."
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"The hell?" Dean peered at her, barely able to make out her face in the crappy lighting. It finally occurred to him what he'd touched earlier - he was currently coping a feel on her tits and while they were pretty nice ones, he wasn't ready to drop this just 'cause her rack wasn't half-bad. Dean didn't move his hand, eyes on her face. "Who're you?"
No sign of those yellow-eyes. He was more than sure he'd tracked Sam all the way here, unless this chick made it a habit to randomly go hiding in closets, and he was still convinced this was some kinda trick. Even if, y'know, Demons weren't your regular shapeshifters and this was a weird, way out there way to dick around with his head.
Dean didn't let up just yet, his knife still hovering close to her throat as he kicked aside a bucket he'd nearly tripped on earlier.
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He glanced down pointedly at the knife at her throat. Maybe he'd been seeing things. Too much Kool-Aid and all that. But his nose was still hurting like a mother and the little throw-down they had back there wasn't some hallucination; if she was a normal human, fine. He could let her go. But he'd had way too many jobs with monsters that passed themselves off as humans, as damn good ones, and now he was wishing he could've found some silver. And salt. And brass. And just 'bout everything that was back in the Impala's trunk.
"How 'bout you do me a favor, sweetheart, and give me a rundown about what you remember?" Dean's grin wasn't very friendly right now. If they'd both been tripping, then he needed her version of it to compare to his own. As much as he didn't mind coping a feel on her right now, he was more interested in making sure he hadn't just chased a possessed Sam this way.
If Sam was chilling back in his room, fine. No harm, no foul.
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At least he could strike vampire off the list; he still had some open wounds here and he didn't see her flipping out trying to sink her fangs in him even though the smell of his blood was right in her face, literally. That or she had some gnarly, off-the-wall self-control. He was hoping for Door Number 1 there.
"Think that's the least of your problems," Dean said. "Now start talking."
He didn't plan to "slip" with the bowie knife, but he wasn't willing to play games here, even if it was with some random hot chick wanting play it rough here. And for the record, her tits had been one hundred percent real.
Dean could totally attest to that.
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Although, okay, she had clocked him pretty hard, considering she hadn't realized he was just a normal guy. In retrospect, it was probably a good thing her first instinct had been to book it. For him, that was. Anymore punches, and he'd be drinking through straws for a week.
"Falling floors, never-ending hallways, wiggly walls? I thought I saw a dead guy, beats me what made you flip out on your end. If I didn't know better, I'd have said someone slipped some of that psychedelic good stuff in the water supply. We good?"
They'd better be, at any rate. She wasn't really spoiling for a fight right now. It wasn't often she said that, but after the thing with Angelus and the Beast, yeah, she'd had her share of action.
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"Getting toward good." Dean was distracted as he matched it to what happened to him. Yeah, he'd been thinking it'd been way too long crossing the hall and that did explain when he thought he'd kicked loose a piece of the unstable floor. And honestly, it wasn't even the first time they'd got hit with some pixie dust before like this, either. "Thought I saw something happened to someone I knew," maybe it wasn't the truth straight-up, but he wasn't just pulling it outta his ass either. Just skipping a few key details ( ... )
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Anyway, at least it'd worn off, unless she was imagining him, too, but she doubted it. She was more wary about where the thing that had caused it was than what had caused it, but it looked like she wasn't gonna get any answers at the moment unless she went back out there to check and really, she was reckless, but she wasn't crazy ( ... )
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She made sure to stay out of his way while he scouted for whatever it was he was looking for. No point in facilitating any tripping opportunities. She'd kind of had enough of the falling thing for the night. After a moment, she reached over and plucked up a metal pipe, not too long but long enough. It wasn't no crossbow, but she had to start somewhere.
"So what do you know about all this stuff?"
He knew something, that was for sure. Though she had to wonder what the hell he was picking up a paint can for. Redecorating his room? Touching up a chip in the wall?
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