Supernatural - Serious JuJu - Part One
Who: Sam and Dean Winchester - "Supernatural"
What: The Winchester brothers go to New Orleans, LA to uncover the mysterious disappearances of people only to discover that voodoo has something to do with it.
New Orleans, Louisiana; Like most horror stories, the streets are dark, deathly quiet and a young woman is seen walking home after a late shift. She's fairly close to her apartments and prefers to walk rather than take a car or public transportation, even this late during the night. Walking is generally a common thing a person does if working, living, or just plain drinking, in New Orleans. She can still smell the distant stench of liquor as it invisibly stains her cloths. Complete with a strong urine and vomit smell, she wishes her nose had been clogged by a cold or sinus infection. Anything really to get rid of that nauseating smell of mixed bodily liquids. She could drink herself in means to get rid of the aroma, but she told herself never to drink on the job, even if it was a bartending one complete with free drinks.
A cold chill cascades across her bare knees as the wind howls and she wishes she'd wore pants instead of a skirt that day. A storm had just passed and she'd known better to dress appropriately for the weather, but she wanted to make good money from tips and mini skirts were always high sellers with the guys. But she had a jacket with her, which was better than nothing, and she wraps her arms against her chest and walks faster. It'd always been a bit dangerous to walk alone at night, and she knew this, but in her purse contained a can of pepper spray and a small knife for protection. And when the distant moaning of a humanoid voice rain out from behind her, she quickly rummaged into her purse and pulled out the pepper spray. Turning around quickly, and holding up the can expecting to see a sex craved pervert in front of her, only the empty sidewalk exposed by dim lit lights greet her.
Soon the moaning is louder and instead of one voice, it's now occupied with at least six others and could almost pass as a deranged choir come to sing to her on Christmas. But it's no where near December and the lyrics these voices are singing aren't even comprehensible as words. She's had enough of this and soon her fast pace is now a sprint and she makes a mad dash straight ahead. If she can get somewhere safe and inhabited by people who speak her language, then she can call a taxi and get a ride home. And as luck would have it, she didn't even own a cell phone. Forget walking the rest of the way, those sounds were enough to convince her to start finding a set of wheels from now on.
There had been many times when she'd come across several `close calls,' but those were just drunks and she'd been able to fend them off. These noises, however, didn't even sound human and it terrified her. Unfortunately, she just happened to be in a stretch of road that passed through an open field and no people seemed to even be near here at night. Talk about bad luck. Out of breath, she began to slow down and stopping to catch her breath, she quickly dug into her purse and drew out the knife. She'd always resorted to the pepper spray, but with whatever force she was dealing with now, it didn't seem logical that spray would stop it. She looks in the distance and this time she can see figures looming forward but they're silhouetted against the dark and visibly hard to make out.
"Back off," she yells at the figures and points the knife ahead so they can see it, "don't think I won't use it on you!"
It's strange to watch them move, their slouching and slow walking frightens her, and it feels as if she's stepped into a monster movie which there is no escape. She turns to run, knife still in hand, but collides with a solid figure behind who feels the jab of her knife in its chest. She screams, but he does not. Even as the blade penetrates his flesh and blood drips down, the man stays emotionless as he stares down at his wound. Frozen by fear at first, she stares into his eyes and can immediately tell that he is not mentally there and that's enough of a clue to get the hell out of there. Though she thinks this, there is not enough time for her to take action and escape. The man grabs her by the shoulders as if she weighed nothing, picks her up, and throws her to the five figures that are now semi visible as they scramble over to her fallen body. They hunch over, covering her figure, as her screams are muffled by their bodies.
------
In a small library located in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, five days later to the prior attack of the young woman, two young men are located in front of a computer screen scanning the Internet for murders and crimes of mysterious origin. Having been a couple of states over and doing the almost exact same thing about two days ago, the two brothers drove in their black Chevrolet Impala in search for their next hunt. Soon, they found themselves in the state of swamps, good Cajun fried food, and voodoo. It was the mid afternoon when these two siblings had been searching online in the cool conditioned room that Tuesday.
Images of online newspapers with the words "strange deaths" and "disappearances" flash across the computer screen in bold letters and bounce off the computer and onto the viewers faces with a blue tint. A photo of three young people, including an image of the girl we just met previously, flash across the screen with the words "three disappearance in New Orleans within the week. Cops are baffled." Particularly fond of the only woman in the group--now identified and Sam and Dean Winchester, demon hunters extraordinar--the older of the two, Dean, stares with a look of intrigue and attraction.
"It says here that the last anyone ever saw of Julia was when she headed home after her shift at the bar," the younger brother, Sam, speaks for the first time since their introduction.
"Let me guess," Dean smiles, "she decided to walk in the dark, by herself, and in an unpopulated area with little lighting."
"Her friends say she didn't like to take public transportation and would rather walk then get into a car," Sam replies.
"I can understand not wanting to drive, takes the fun out of working and drinking on the job, but that's why you pay people to take you home."
Sam stares at the other two photos on each side of Julia. "No apparent relationship with each other, the only thing they had in common was that they all worked in the same bar."
"So then let's check out this bar," he stares at the name in the paper as the words Jynxx, seem to leap out from the computer, "and then maybe after we can head down to Bourbon Street for some Mardi Gras partying."
"Dean, Mardi Gras was four months ago."
"That doesn't mean we can't exchange beads just because we're a couple months behind."
All Sam could do was try and ignore his brother's hormones, but that alone was another task to handle.
After a couple hours spent in the library where Sam continued to search online and Dean had found comfort in looking through newspapers, the brothers were soon on the road with a tank full of gas and the music playing. Dean wanted to blast the music, but Sam, in the passenger seat, was sleeping and being a nice older brother, he kept the music on the low... that is until Dean figured it was time for his brother to wake up and keep him company. Cranking the notch just a tad bit louder, the almost mute sounding cassette of Sammy Hagar's "Serious Juju" was now playing at the maximum sound. No one could stay asleep from that blasting music, not even the deaf.
Sam should've been used to Dean doing this, his brother liked loud music and pulling pranks, so it wasn't uncommon for him to be disturbingly woken up, but even so, he gave his brother a dirty look, turned his head with closed eyes, and groaned silently.
"What's the matter Sammy, don't like Sammy?" Dean smirked, enjoying the wording in that sentence.
"Maybe if you didn't keep waking me up this way I wouldn't complain about your music."
"Come on man, how can you not like the music of the legend that you were named after?"
"Dad did not name me after Sammy Hagar."
"So then I guess Dad just threw darts at a board with random pieces of paper containing names and it just so happened to land on Sam."
"Or you know, maybe they just happened to like that name."
"Nah, I still say you were named after the Sam man."
"Mom and dad did not name me after a singer because they were obsessed with him."
"Are you kidding me? They were listening to his stuff before either of us was born."
"Yeah, but they weren't that crazy about it."
"I still don't understand why you can't appreciate good music."
"I appreciate good music," Sam's voice rises as there is slight agitation in it, "I also know why it's called classic rock."
"And that's why you should know that it's the only music worth listening to."
"If you're into that phase where it was cool for cross dressing, mascara, and long blonde hair."
"Hey, just because you got called a chick when you had long hair does not mean glam rock is full of women. Actually, that would be pretty sweet, although the deep manly voice would be a turn off."
Sam was done arguing by this point now. If Dean wanted to believe he was named after a rock star then so be it, but Sam knew that his brother was wrong, especially about him being called a girl when he was younger. "Hey, you're the one who actually dressed up as a chick."
"Dude, it was KISS, and it was on Halloween."
"When you were still seventeen."
"Well one of us had to continue getting free candy. You stopped trick or treating at ten and I couldn't let you damper the spirit."
"I've always hated Halloween, you know that."
"Only because I made you dress up as the girl."
"No, that's not why. And you were the one who went as the girl."
"It totally is. And I told you, I went as a member from a rock band, not a woman," Dean smiles, knowing he's won the fight after seeing the hesitation in Sam.
Leave it to big brothers to tease the younger ones about embarrassing moments in the past. A moment of silence, and without any comeback, Sam replies with the only word he can think of, "Jerk."
"Bitch."
What: The Winchester brothers go to New Orleans, LA to uncover the mysterious disappearances of people only to discover that voodoo has something to do with it.
New Orleans, Louisiana; Like most horror stories, the streets are dark, deathly quiet and a young woman is seen walking home after a late shift. She's fairly close to her apartments and prefers to walk rather than take a car or public transportation, even this late during the night. Walking is generally a common thing a person does if working, living, or just plain drinking, in New Orleans. She can still smell the distant stench of liquor as it invisibly stains her cloths. Complete with a strong urine and vomit smell, she wishes her nose had been clogged by a cold or sinus infection. Anything really to get rid of that nauseating smell of mixed bodily liquids. She could drink herself in means to get rid of the aroma, but she told herself never to drink on the job, even if it was a bartending one complete with free drinks.
A cold chill cascades across her bare knees as the wind howls and she wishes she'd wore pants instead of a skirt that day. A storm had just passed and she'd known better to dress appropriately for the weather, but she wanted to make good money from tips and mini skirts were always high sellers with the guys. But she had a jacket with her, which was better than nothing, and she wraps her arms against her chest and walks faster. It'd always been a bit dangerous to walk alone at night, and she knew this, but in her purse contained a can of pepper spray and a small knife for protection. And when the distant moaning of a humanoid voice rain out from behind her, she quickly rummaged into her purse and pulled out the pepper spray. Turning around quickly, and holding up the can expecting to see a sex craved pervert in front of her, only the empty sidewalk exposed by dim lit lights greet her.
Soon the moaning is louder and instead of one voice, it's now occupied with at least six others and could almost pass as a deranged choir come to sing to her on Christmas. But it's no where near December and the lyrics these voices are singing aren't even comprehensible as words. She's had enough of this and soon her fast pace is now a sprint and she makes a mad dash straight ahead. If she can get somewhere safe and inhabited by people who speak her language, then she can call a taxi and get a ride home. And as luck would have it, she didn't even own a cell phone. Forget walking the rest of the way, those sounds were enough to convince her to start finding a set of wheels from now on.
There had been many times when she'd come across several `close calls,' but those were just drunks and she'd been able to fend them off. These noises, however, didn't even sound human and it terrified her. Unfortunately, she just happened to be in a stretch of road that passed through an open field and no people seemed to even be near here at night. Talk about bad luck. Out of breath, she began to slow down and stopping to catch her breath, she quickly dug into her purse and drew out the knife. She'd always resorted to the pepper spray, but with whatever force she was dealing with now, it didn't seem logical that spray would stop it. She looks in the distance and this time she can see figures looming forward but they're silhouetted against the dark and visibly hard to make out.
"Back off," she yells at the figures and points the knife ahead so they can see it, "don't think I won't use it on you!"
It's strange to watch them move, their slouching and slow walking frightens her, and it feels as if she's stepped into a monster movie which there is no escape. She turns to run, knife still in hand, but collides with a solid figure behind who feels the jab of her knife in its chest. She screams, but he does not. Even as the blade penetrates his flesh and blood drips down, the man stays emotionless as he stares down at his wound. Frozen by fear at first, she stares into his eyes and can immediately tell that he is not mentally there and that's enough of a clue to get the hell out of there. Though she thinks this, there is not enough time for her to take action and escape. The man grabs her by the shoulders as if she weighed nothing, picks her up, and throws her to the five figures that are now semi visible as they scramble over to her fallen body. They hunch over, covering her figure, as her screams are muffled by their bodies.
------
In a small library located in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, five days later to the prior attack of the young woman, two young men are located in front of a computer screen scanning the Internet for murders and crimes of mysterious origin. Having been a couple of states over and doing the almost exact same thing about two days ago, the two brothers drove in their black Chevrolet Impala in search for their next hunt. Soon, they found themselves in the state of swamps, good Cajun fried food, and voodoo. It was the mid afternoon when these two siblings had been searching online in the cool conditioned room that Tuesday.
Images of online newspapers with the words "strange deaths" and "disappearances" flash across the computer screen in bold letters and bounce off the computer and onto the viewers faces with a blue tint. A photo of three young people, including an image of the girl we just met previously, flash across the screen with the words "three disappearance in New Orleans within the week. Cops are baffled." Particularly fond of the only woman in the group--now identified and Sam and Dean Winchester, demon hunters extraordinar--the older of the two, Dean, stares with a look of intrigue and attraction.
"It says here that the last anyone ever saw of Julia was when she headed home after her shift at the bar," the younger brother, Sam, speaks for the first time since their introduction.
"Let me guess," Dean smiles, "she decided to walk in the dark, by herself, and in an unpopulated area with little lighting."
"Her friends say she didn't like to take public transportation and would rather walk then get into a car," Sam replies.
"I can understand not wanting to drive, takes the fun out of working and drinking on the job, but that's why you pay people to take you home."
Sam stares at the other two photos on each side of Julia. "No apparent relationship with each other, the only thing they had in common was that they all worked in the same bar."
"So then let's check out this bar," he stares at the name in the paper as the words Jynxx, seem to leap out from the computer, "and then maybe after we can head down to Bourbon Street for some Mardi Gras partying."
"Dean, Mardi Gras was four months ago."
"That doesn't mean we can't exchange beads just because we're a couple months behind."
All Sam could do was try and ignore his brother's hormones, but that alone was another task to handle.
After a couple hours spent in the library where Sam continued to search online and Dean had found comfort in looking through newspapers, the brothers were soon on the road with a tank full of gas and the music playing. Dean wanted to blast the music, but Sam, in the passenger seat, was sleeping and being a nice older brother, he kept the music on the low... that is until Dean figured it was time for his brother to wake up and keep him company. Cranking the notch just a tad bit louder, the almost mute sounding cassette of Sammy Hagar's "Serious Juju" was now playing at the maximum sound. No one could stay asleep from that blasting music, not even the deaf.
Sam should've been used to Dean doing this, his brother liked loud music and pulling pranks, so it wasn't uncommon for him to be disturbingly woken up, but even so, he gave his brother a dirty look, turned his head with closed eyes, and groaned silently.
"What's the matter Sammy, don't like Sammy?" Dean smirked, enjoying the wording in that sentence.
"Maybe if you didn't keep waking me up this way I wouldn't complain about your music."
"Come on man, how can you not like the music of the legend that you were named after?"
"Dad did not name me after Sammy Hagar."
"So then I guess Dad just threw darts at a board with random pieces of paper containing names and it just so happened to land on Sam."
"Or you know, maybe they just happened to like that name."
"Nah, I still say you were named after the Sam man."
"Mom and dad did not name me after a singer because they were obsessed with him."
"Are you kidding me? They were listening to his stuff before either of us was born."
"Yeah, but they weren't that crazy about it."
"I still don't understand why you can't appreciate good music."
"I appreciate good music," Sam's voice rises as there is slight agitation in it, "I also know why it's called classic rock."
"And that's why you should know that it's the only music worth listening to."
"If you're into that phase where it was cool for cross dressing, mascara, and long blonde hair."
"Hey, just because you got called a chick when you had long hair does not mean glam rock is full of women. Actually, that would be pretty sweet, although the deep manly voice would be a turn off."
Sam was done arguing by this point now. If Dean wanted to believe he was named after a rock star then so be it, but Sam knew that his brother was wrong, especially about him being called a girl when he was younger. "Hey, you're the one who actually dressed up as a chick."
"Dude, it was KISS, and it was on Halloween."
"When you were still seventeen."
"Well one of us had to continue getting free candy. You stopped trick or treating at ten and I couldn't let you damper the spirit."
"I've always hated Halloween, you know that."
"Only because I made you dress up as the girl."
"No, that's not why. And you were the one who went as the girl."
"It totally is. And I told you, I went as a member from a rock band, not a woman," Dean smiles, knowing he's won the fight after seeing the hesitation in Sam.
Leave it to big brothers to tease the younger ones about embarrassing moments in the past. A moment of silence, and without any comeback, Sam replies with the only word he can think of, "Jerk."
"Bitch."