Nightshift 43: Autopsy Room 1
[from here]
Sam nudged the door open an inch first before pushing it in all the way, keeping it open with the tips of his fingers just long enough for Dean to get through without getting smacked in the face.
His gaze flicked through the room. He never liked wandering through areas where corpses were stored. It was prime breeding ground for spirits. It didn't help, either, that they were kinda disturbing the bodies at the moment, carrying it around and whatnot.
The one plus side about this was that there wasn't any digging involved. He'd soloed some digs before, even before Dean had...anyway, it wasn't fun shoveling your way through six and a half feet of dirt, while keeping an eye over your shoulder to make sure no one came by and arrested you for grave desecration. He remembered his first salt and burn after four years of doing nothing more straining than carrying a load of textbooks. Hadn't been able to hold a fork for a week.
The door leading to the storage area was locked if he remembered right. He tested it, just in case someone or something had come through before, but it was undisturbed. A quick search through one of the cabinets came up with a needle.
He leaned over the lock. "Stay here," he said, feeling the door click open under his hand.
There was no point in both of them going and they needed someone to keep an eye on the body. He knew they were both thinking it even though neither had spoken up about it-if what'd happened to Harry had been a result of the...whatever it was last night. The curse or spell. If that'd been the case, there was no telling what...well, what state Harry would be in. He was fairly certain that a body that damaged couldn't do anything even if it was somehow still operational, for lack of a better word, but the what if lingered. Souls were tricky things. When they decided to cling to this world, they clung pretty tight.
[going here alone.]
Sam nudged the door open an inch first before pushing it in all the way, keeping it open with the tips of his fingers just long enough for Dean to get through without getting smacked in the face.
His gaze flicked through the room. He never liked wandering through areas where corpses were stored. It was prime breeding ground for spirits. It didn't help, either, that they were kinda disturbing the bodies at the moment, carrying it around and whatnot.
The one plus side about this was that there wasn't any digging involved. He'd soloed some digs before, even before Dean had...anyway, it wasn't fun shoveling your way through six and a half feet of dirt, while keeping an eye over your shoulder to make sure no one came by and arrested you for grave desecration. He remembered his first salt and burn after four years of doing nothing more straining than carrying a load of textbooks. Hadn't been able to hold a fork for a week.
The door leading to the storage area was locked if he remembered right. He tested it, just in case someone or something had come through before, but it was undisturbed. A quick search through one of the cabinets came up with a needle.
He leaned over the lock. "Stay here," he said, feeling the door click open under his hand.
There was no point in both of them going and they needed someone to keep an eye on the body. He knew they were both thinking it even though neither had spoken up about it-if what'd happened to Harry had been a result of the...whatever it was last night. The curse or spell. If that'd been the case, there was no telling what...well, what state Harry would be in. He was fairly certain that a body that damaged couldn't do anything even if it was somehow still operational, for lack of a better word, but the what if lingered. Souls were tricky things. When they decided to cling to this world, they clung pretty tight.
[going here alone.]