(Untitled)

[smilelikesteel]

Sidestep. Duck. Resist a roundhouse kick, because it might shake up a vampire or a demon in corporeal form, but it won't do shit against a ghost. Doesn't seem fair, does it? A ghost can be corporeal enough to come after you with a rusty skinning knife, but it's not corporeal enough to kick. Hunters have two modes with pissed-off ghosts: "avoid" and

Comments

[unchosen_son]

Sam and patrol were one thing. This was seeing if Lilly might just be hanging around still and when he comes across the girl, she seemed familiar, like he'd seen her in some old picture or something. Or from somewhere. "Hey," he called out, letting his voice drift.

[smilelikesteel]

The person making their way up the beach seems familiar. Too familiar, in the sense that it was the last person I want to see right now. Possibly ever.

I point the gun at him. It's only rock salt, and he probably knows it, but if it's a demon again, not that it would be, it wouldn't like rock salt. But a demon usually isn't stupid enough to possess the same person twice. But... I am seriously out of my league here.

"Come any closer, and you won't be able to sit for days."

[unchosen_son]

Sam raised his hands, eyes wide. Okay, what the fuck? Both hands were in the air, but he could make a move for his gun. "Okay, so, I'm sorry you're here?" he offered slowly, in confusion.

[smilelikesteel]

"Yeah, me too." He seems genuinely confused. But then again, he also seemed to genuinely care for me - right before he slammed my head into the bar. That was one hell of a headache.

Keeping the gun trained on him, I climbed to my feet, glancing around quickly for the duffel bag. Good, right where I'd fallen on it. "Did you have anything to do with this? Because I swear to god, Sam, if you did..." Okay, so I'm not in the top condition to be making threats and having them sound really convincing, but I'm hoping the gun will make him think twice.

[my_wayward_son]

Dean heard what sounded like a scream echoing in a canon and the unmistakable sound of a shotgun going off. After freezing for just a minute, he headed in the direction he'd heard the sounds coming from and reached the beach just in time to hear a thud. Wheeling around, he froze yet again. Jo? It was like the world had tilted to the side a bit, like he'd been turned on his ear. But this could only be good, right? "Jo?" He asked, voice sort of incredulous. It was too freaking early for this kind of crap. Dawn was just inching over the horizon in the distance, the sun reflecting on the water as he watched the blonde before him, watched the shotgun in her hand, and wondered if she was going to take this as well as he had. Dude, at least that's probably just rocksalt. He hoped.

[smilelikesteel]

"This is a dream, right?"

I mean, it has to be. This is totally illogical. Not that hunting ghosts with a gun full of rock salt is any kind of logical, but randomly appearing on a tropical island with Dean fucking Winchester... that's like a bad reality show. I want to slap him for being here, or maybe cry. But I do neither.

"If you pinch me, I'll wake up, right?" Dusting the sand off of my legs, I squint at him. Wish I had some sunglasses.

[my_wayward_son]

"Ah - no, we're not quite that lucky," Dean said, keeping his hands at his sides and in clear view. "We're on an island - and it's kinda hard to explain it all, but... no - there's no waking up. It's not a dream, it's not a demon thing..." He wasn't going to suggest she put her gun away, because that would be stupid - she'd put it away when she was comfortable. "Want me to keep explaining, or do you wanna just... not?"

[smilelikesteel]

"Yeah, I damn well want you to explain!" I shouldn't lose my temper. It's not Dean's fault. None of it is Dean's fault, not really, but he's always been there, so conveniently involved in everything that's gone wrong in my life. Maybe it's a cosmic sign that I'm too thick to see or too stubborn to ignore.

I take a deep breath. Inhale the warm island air. It would be calming if I knew why and how I was on this damn island in the first place. "Funny coincidence that you happened to be here too, right?"

[facethehunters]

Jerry is getting used to seeing people appear out of nowhere. She shimmers on the sand in the heat. Jerry Bines has never been to the desert, but he imagines that they shimmer, when he lies awake beside Lyra at night and thinks about hot places far away.

He doesn't say anything, not at first. He relates the girl to the other women (the three women), and isn't sure which one she is yet. He looks back at the piece of wood in his hand, where a bird for Lyra is starting to emerge.

[smilelikesteel]

I blink around. It's hot. Well, of course it's hot, Joanna Beth, you're on a goddamn tropical island. On a beach. It's a nice beach, actually, like a place you'd take a vacation to. Not that my family was the sort that did vacations.

There's a man standing nearby, looking somewhat out of place, probably kind of like I do. "Hello?" I say slowly. I can always shoot him if he's a ghost. And then, out of nowhere, "Am I dead?"

[facethehunters]

Jerry watches as she looks around. He remembers doing the same thing himself, turning his head quickly to see if there was any blood. There'd been a lot, a lot of blood, but none of it noticably his.

Am I dead.

Jerry shrugs, a roll of a bare shoulder.

"Maybe," he says. "Did ya die? If you died, you're probably dead, only not anymore."

It's harder to explain that to have it happen to you.

[smilelikesteel]

"I don't think so," I say. "I don't remember dying. There was a ghost, and he went right through me..." I wonder if he'll think I'm crazy for talking about ghosts. Who cares? He sounds kind of crazy himself.

We're all mad here, ha, ha.

"How'd you mean, not anymore? Am I a ghost? Are you?"

Now that would be one hell of a chunk of cosmic irony.

[neptune_sleuth]

Veronica couldn't sleep. She'd spent the night in her own bed, lying as still as she could to keep from bothering Mac, her fingers twisted in the sheets and her eyes open. They had to be open. Every time she closed them, the black gave way to Lilly, to memories, to bad dreams. She'd stayed put, refusing to let herself go running back to Sam like a kid in need of comfort even so. He'd helped, but losing Lilly was something she had to do alone

[smilelikesteel]

"Meg!"

The voice, combined with the sound of footsteps, startles me as I'm walking slowly down the beach, trying to get my bearings. I don't think I'm dead. But I'm definitely not in Oklahoma, and I'm pretty sure I'm not asleep, either. So all of this makes me kind of twitchy.

I drop the duffel bag from my shoulder and turn around, the gun already in my hand. I should go for the knife, not the rock salt, but it's more comfortable.

It takes me a minute to realize who I've just pulled the gun on. A girl, probably a couple years younger than me. Short, blonde. I doubt she was going to attack me.

"Sorry," I say shortly. "I'm not Meg."

[neptune_sleuth]

The gun sent her that message at least. The last time Veronica saw Meg, she was lying in a hospital bed, pale and intense, asking for favors. Those last few months may not have been comfortable between them, but Meg had never been the kind to pull a gun on anyone.

Shoulders sinking back, Veronica's muscles tensed, preparing for a fight. There wasn't much she could do about a gun, but with luck she wouldn't need to worry about that. "You just... look a lot like her," she said, her eyes running over the girl, too familiar even after all these months. Not just a lot like her - identical. A little older maybe, more worn even, but almost a perfect match.

You're new, huh? wasn't going to go over well with this one. So Veronica took a few slow steps closer, hands open at her side. "I'm Veronica. Veronica Mars. And I really prefer to talk without a gun in my face. I mean, if you don't mind."

[smilelikesteel]

"Sorry," I say again, half-shrugging. "I'm just... weird. Weird morning. I didn't see you come up behind me, or else I wouldn't have... I mean, you don't seem dangerous. It's just rock salt, anyway."

I tuck the gun in the back of my jeans and leave the duffel bag on the floor. I'm so freaked out, I'm babbling like an idiot. In front of a strange teenage girl, no less. Get it together, Joanna Beth. There's nothing I can do so I'll just have to make the best out of this situation.

"I'm Jo," I offer, thinking to add, "Harvelle," a moment later. "You live here?"