[Sam is, as per usual, buried under heaps of research. Sadly he’s not making much headway. It seems that he is really and truly stuck in the fgtbox and no amount of symbolism or incantation can get him out
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[Dean is, of course, doing all he can to avoid hitting the books, choosing this exact moment to walk in with a case and a grocery bag full of junk food, tossing Sam a significantly smooshed snack cake.
He pulls up a chair next to his brother, pops open a Coors and wipes the ice cold can across his forehead. The heat's been murder lately and Dean's face and forearms are covered in a thin sheen of sweat.]
[Yeah, thanks bro. Sam catches what used to be a delightfully sweet snack treat and eyes it with some trepidation before tearing open the package. Hell, he's hungry and it's still good.]
Nothing yet. You find anything out there besides beer and... [A glance at the candy wrapper] Little Debbie?
[Dean visibly fights with himself not to make an innuendo out of that and emerges victorious. Some things he just can't corrupt. Little Debbie and her delightful assortment of snacks are one of those things. God bless Swiss Rolls.
He throws his hands up in a gesture of defeat in response to Sam's question.]
Jack and squat. I grilled everyone I could find. No one's found an exit yet. [pause to take a swig] I dunno, Sammy, but nothin' about this strikes me as supernatural, and it's damn near a sausage fest around here.
[God this sounds dumb but okay] A box. We're trapped in a box.
Lots of civilizations make mention of a magical container that can hold all kinds of things. Uh, Pandora's box, bottomless trunks, West-African travelers lore.
[He points to one particular book to back up his claim]
Here they talk about a witch’s spirit that was trapped by monks in Dunstable in the 18th century. Apparently they burned her at the stake for practicing black magic and then her ghost came back to haunt them. They called a Palmer who used a special tincture to lure her ghost into the bottle and it was buried in the churchyard.
I think we're in something similar. I mean c'mon. There are a handful of people and it feels like almost anything can happen. We're in a motel room but you go out into the hall and it could be the jungle or, or a diner. No one knows anything more than that.
Well, that doesn't make me feel any better. [a beat] In any of these legends, does it explain how to bust out one of these, ah, boxes? I guess we can't take an X-Acto to the walls and hope for the best.
Uhm.. [He flicks back through his research] No. Most of the time the boxes were never meant to be opened in the first place. The lore typically goes on to say that a whole host of bad things happen if they're unlocked.
Pandora's box held all the bad things in the world, the bottle kept the witch's ghost from escaping...
He pulls up a chair next to his brother, pops open a Coors and wipes the ice cold can across his forehead. The heat's been murder lately and Dean's face and forearms are covered in a thin sheen of sweat.]
Any luck yet?
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Nothing yet. You find anything out there besides beer and... [A glance at the candy wrapper] Little Debbie?
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He throws his hands up in a gesture of defeat in response to Sam's question.]
Jack and squat. I grilled everyone I could find. No one's found an exit yet. [pause to take a swig] I dunno, Sammy, but nothin' about this strikes me as supernatural, and it's damn near a sausage fest around here.
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[He shifts to sit upright and drags over an open book.]
So I've been looking over a few things and as near as I can tell, we're stuck in some kind of... [dare he say it?]
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Lots of civilizations make mention of a magical container that can hold all kinds of things. Uh, Pandora's box, bottomless trunks, West-African travelers lore.
[He points to one particular book to back up his claim]
Here they talk about a witch’s spirit that was trapped by monks in Dunstable in the 18th century. Apparently they burned her at the stake for practicing black magic and then her ghost came back to haunt them. They called a Palmer who used a special tincture to lure her ghost into the bottle and it was buried in the churchyard.
I think we're in something similar. I mean c'mon. There are a handful of people and it feels like almost anything can happen. We're in a motel room but you go out into the hall and it could be the jungle or, or a diner. No one knows anything more than that.
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A box. Are you sure we're not just tripping on Dream Root again? Maybe someone slipped it to us.
[He then turns a suspicious eye on his can of Coors.]
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I don't know, Dean. This all feels a little too real, if you know what I mean. Dreams aren't usually this... Calm.
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Pandora's box held all the bad things in the world, the bottle kept the witch's ghost from escaping...
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Someone had to pop open this little toy chest to trap us and the others. They must've let out somethin' real nasty.
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Like what?
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