[Currently in M01, from hereKurt exhaled loudly and suddenly when Kon sat on him. Jeez, way to knock the wind out of someone! Kurt was barely half Kon's weight, he would be crushed
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Shit, so this was like Meg, where the demon had a few tricks up its sleeve despite being trapped. That or the Key of Solomon wasn't up to full strength because he'd had to draw it in crayon.
Dean went sprawling on his back when Punk-Ass finally did hit him with that TK action. He wheezed, feeling like he'd either been hit by a truck or by Company Man again, and rolled over, gritting his teeth. Far as he could tell, he hadn't had anything broken, but he wasn't about to give Punk-Ass more of a chance for a few potshots. The hunter got to his feet, doing his best to hide his wince and hoping the little bastard hadn't reopened his injuries from the other night, despite being tied up and about to get a hell of a nice tan downstairs tonight. The last thing he needed to be was bleeding all over the place again because it turned out some demons didn't lose all their juice under a shoddy Key of Solomon. Obviously they couldn't just sit tight and wait for Sam - or, at least, Punk-Ass couldn't. Not conscious, anyway
( ... )
The comment struck him as a bit off, as if Sam's mention of his brother was suddenly some kind of new revelation. The demons knew perfectly well what they were to each other. That was part of the whole damn problem in the first place.
Whatever doubts he'd been feeling earlier, though, he was too tired and too rushed to entertain them right now. And he really wasn't going to bother taking the time out to trade verbal blows with a demon. There was no point; that kind of crap just went around in circles.
He'd used his abilities on Dean this morning, but barely a touch of it-just enough to feel things out. There wasn't anything holding him back this time and when he let it go, the first thing that hit him was a sharp pain between the eyes. Not the slow build-up when he'd first started exorcising demons, but the ones that used to come along with those visions. He winced, hand flying up to his temple, partly out of the pain and partly out of shock because-what the hellThere was a split second of panic at the notion that his powers had
( ... )
The true, potent stuff was something only the families inherited, but there were weaker branches that had some magic, like Gorman. A puny amount compared to Sons’, but magic all the same.
Reid thought he knew the signs when someone was trying to use something on him, and the way the hair at the back of his neck tingled in warning and the way Asshole #2 recoiled like he’d hit a mental wall kind of gave it away. The warlock’s teeth sank into the inside of his cheek on reflex, smirk disappearing. Okay… what? He’d been jumped by Slap-Happy Joe out there, but the sidekick brother had some kind of supernatural mojo? That just made the entire situation more of a fucking joke, because what the fuck did they think they were doing, joking around with him
( ... )
Sam had no clue what he was, either, in truth; he'd stopped trying to figure that out a long time ago, too. But there was no way this guy knew about Yellow-Eyes or the true origins of his powers. He obviously wasn't a hunter. However he'd come about his abilities, they must've just developed on their own like the other kids. Though Sam had thought the remaining generations had gone dormant before this. He'd hoped they'd gone dormant. His had only unlocked as a result of...a lot of things, and considering the way they'd screwed with him and everyone around him, he'd hoped the others would get to live out their lives normal.
The guy's mention of Plan C did jolt Sam out of his focus on the whole possible special kids aspect and into the fact that, yeah, this was...sort of not a good situation, what with. Kidnapping. Which Sam was tempted to wholly blame on Dean, but given that he would've jumped to the same conclusion had he been in Dean's place, that probably wouldn't be fair. It took all of his power not to cringe visibly. There was
( ... )
Dean came back into the room. It was almost as dark as the hallway outside, but he still had enough light. Dean had a split second to pick out Sam, bowie knife in hand and flashlight in the other, and...
He was cutting Punk-Ass loose from the duct tape.
Dean stepped forward. "The hell're you doing?"
Was Sammy possessed? He hadn't been during breakfast and he wouldn't have been fool enough to walk under a devil's trap willingly even if he had been. So what was he doing freeing the prisoner? Y'know, the friggen demon that belonged tied up to that damn chair and was going to be sent back to Hell. Dean couldn't keep up with Sam's moodswings - first he was gunning to exorcism this bastard and now he was freeing it? What was even going on?
Wild tigers could be better behaved than Reid, his own mother had said so, but maybe she’d be rolling over in her country club chair if she could see him then--under a serious fucking threat from one fourth walling ringmaster, and a less serious and more annoying threat from two dimwits--letting the subpar magical sidekick get within spitting distance of him with a bowie knife. And like a wild tiger that knew the key was about to turn in the lock and open his cage without ever admitting he needed help getting out, the warlock sat and held his breath.
There was a hunger boiling in him, and it was crazy hard to hold it back while bit by bit, duct tape came loose. And then Mr. Slippery Fingers walked back in the door from whatever smoke break he’d been on, and Reid bit his lip in something like gleeThe little details could be dealt with later. Right now
( ... )
Dean went sprawling on his back when Punk-Ass finally did hit him with that TK action. He wheezed, feeling like he'd either been hit by a truck or by Company Man again, and rolled over, gritting his teeth. Far as he could tell, he hadn't had anything broken, but he wasn't about to give Punk-Ass more of a chance for a few potshots. The hunter got to his feet, doing his best to hide his wince and hoping the little bastard hadn't reopened his injuries from the other night, despite being tied up and about to get a hell of a nice tan downstairs tonight. The last thing he needed to be was bleeding all over the place again because it turned out some demons didn't lose all their juice under a shoddy Key of Solomon. Obviously they couldn't just sit tight and wait for Sam - or, at least, Punk-Ass couldn't. Not conscious, anyway ( ... )
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Whatever doubts he'd been feeling earlier, though, he was too tired and too rushed to entertain them right now. And he really wasn't going to bother taking the time out to trade verbal blows with a demon. There was no point; that kind of crap just went around in circles.
He'd used his abilities on Dean this morning, but barely a touch of it-just enough to feel things out. There wasn't anything holding him back this time and when he let it go, the first thing that hit him was a sharp pain between the eyes. Not the slow build-up when he'd first started exorcising demons, but the ones that used to come along with those visions. He winced, hand flying up to his temple, partly out of the pain and partly out of shock because-what the hellThere was a split second of panic at the notion that his powers had ( ... )
Reply
Reid thought he knew the signs when someone was trying to use something on him, and the way the hair at the back of his neck tingled in warning and the way Asshole #2 recoiled like he’d hit a mental wall kind of gave it away. The warlock’s teeth sank into the inside of his cheek on reflex, smirk disappearing. Okay… what? He’d been jumped by Slap-Happy Joe out there, but the sidekick brother had some kind of supernatural mojo? That just made the entire situation more of a fucking joke, because what the fuck did they think they were doing, joking around with him ( ... )
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The guy's mention of Plan C did jolt Sam out of his focus on the whole possible special kids aspect and into the fact that, yeah, this was...sort of not a good situation, what with. Kidnapping. Which Sam was tempted to wholly blame on Dean, but given that he would've jumped to the same conclusion had he been in Dean's place, that probably wouldn't be fair. It took all of his power not to cringe visibly. There was ( ... )
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Dean came back into the room. It was almost as dark as the hallway outside, but he still had enough light. Dean had a split second to pick out Sam, bowie knife in hand and flashlight in the other, and...
He was cutting Punk-Ass loose from the duct tape.
Dean stepped forward. "The hell're you doing?"
Was Sammy possessed? He hadn't been during breakfast and he wouldn't have been fool enough to walk under a devil's trap willingly even if he had been. So what was he doing freeing the prisoner? Y'know, the friggen demon that belonged tied up to that damn chair and was going to be sent back to Hell. Dean couldn't keep up with Sam's moodswings - first he was gunning to exorcism this bastard and now he was freeing it? What was even going on?
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There was a hunger boiling in him, and it was crazy hard to hold it back while bit by bit, duct tape came loose. And then Mr. Slippery Fingers walked back in the door from whatever smoke break he’d been on, and Reid bit his lip in something like gleeThe little details could be dealt with later. Right now ( ... )
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