A Different Perspective

Bard 15

a/n: I have no idea where this is heading...just wanted to play around with POV and see something from an outsider's perspective...not everyone the boys meet up with should become cannon fodder...

/././supernatural/././

To say you dabble in the occult is an overstatement of the facts...you have little working knowledge of spell craft...and a smattering of factual knowledge across the expansive breadth of the subject: as the saying goes—' you know a little about a lot of things'—just enough to make you dangerous. And really, in this day and age, who "studies and memorizes" anything, when so much knowledge is so readily available at our finger tips.

You know the occult is real...or rather as real as anything can be, in a humans limited 3 dimensional perspective—you've experienced it first hand: you've seen the cards accurately foreshadow future choice and events, you've witnessed spirits make contact through the board and in other ways that make ones hair stand on end and goose bumps to crawl down your arms: and more importantly, you have sensed the spirits...though, no more than echoes, really, in the several purported haunted houses your mismatched cabal had investigated over the years.

So, to say you believe in the "supernatural" is not without merit...but to believe the multitudinous stories of every "Tom, Dick and Harry (or Sally) –not so much. Despite the belief, all "stories, eye witness accounts and family legends" are taken at face values—neither believed nor disbelieved without proof.

It is seen as just a small part of a whole of the philosophy you have honed over the years...a spirituality you quietly try to live by...that deity cannot be fathomed, that the next journey is to be forever steeped in shadow and mystery...that each choice, for good or ill, sets in motion the next path we will each follow: that "karma" is a bitch sometimes, so you try to keep your nose clean as it were...and should you forget, the universe will gladly remind you of your insignificance in its grander design. (And has done so on multiple occasions).

Despite your indulgence of the sixth dimension, your life if rather dreary and mundane...surrounded, as you are, by the sterile trappings of the new millennium: there is little of the fanciful when lore was the norm and "science" was steeped in mistrust and mystery.

So it was without intention that your ears found a hushed conversation in the booth behind you that piqued your curiosity without effort. At first your roll your eyes, at the back and forth talk of ghosts and vengeful spirits—it is close to Samhain...when everyone suddenly has a mind to be a ghost hunter: but there is something about the deep earnestness of the conversation that gives you cause to pause.

You catch a few names, for some reason a few of them seem familiar, and idly scratch them out on a spare napkin...intent on satisfying your curiosity later. You also are surprised to hear the muffled voices talk of the recent crimes that have plagued the small community that's nestled in the valleys on the outskirts of the city...the strange incidents of property damage and injuries, one location grabbing your full attenion as they also bring up the strange death that occurred just a few days ago. The scene etched in your memory forever.

The cops are stymied and the rumors run rampant...from the criminal to the conspiracy to the downright bizarre...

So, is it idle conversation of the curious and morbid...journalists looking for a period piece for the holidays...wannabe's that have watched one to many CSI or ghost hunters episodes...but yet there is something about their tone—their interest, that belies those thoughts. Those hushed voices speak with an underlying knowledge, of a comfortable-ness to the bizarre and unfathomable: and that somehow their involvement will prove to be both welcome and needed.

Without much conscious thought you begin to plan right along with them...your mind pulling up, sorting and discarding ideas as quickly as they are; their next stop on the investigative trail soon becomes obvious and you decide, consequences not even considered or weighed, that you are going to "follow the case"—as it were.

You gather the files you were going through from work as you ate lunch, then slide from the booth to quickly make your way to the register, stealing surreptitious glances towards the two young men that still sit in quiet conversation, in the booth that was behind you.

As you slide into your car, you can't help but glance through the window to see them still huddled in conversation, oblivious of anything but their exchange.

Should anyone have taken an interest in the interplay, more subtle than a whisper, of stranger's in the back to back booths, they would have seen the eyes of first the dark haired young man, followed moments later the blonde, look up and eye you with guarded curiosity as you pulled from the small diners parking lot.

/././ supernatural/././

You've been at the archives for more than forty minutes before the two young men enter. You were beginning to think you had been mistaken in your estimates of their interest and were nearly ready to grudgingly give up your own pursuit of something other than the stifling mundaneness that had become your existence when they entered.

Long since having found the information and carefully taken notes that were now tucked into a small planner in your bag you move off to the alcove that houses the many variations of maps that have grown and changed with the expanding area...the strangers are plainly visible though far from earshot.

Though you arrived well before they did you do not want to underestimate your new found quarry; so as not to arouse there suspicion, after all you've watched your fair share of procedural cop show yourself, you move off to the gift shop as it offers you a view of the entrance to the archives; so you can see when the two young men leave.

The clerk eyes you suspiciously, as you have done nothing but wander around idly for the past thirty minutes; and just when you think it might be a good idea to leave the gift shop lest the clerk call the police you spy the two men exiting the archive.

You grab a candy bar and rush to the register, using the guise of paying for the candy to continue to watch the two as they slowly exit the building.

Exiting the building moments after the two men, you are frustrated to not see them on the sidewalk that leads to the parking lot, or on the walk that leads in the other direction towards the street.

You shake your head and give a snort of disbelief...what the hell were you thinking anyway...what did you really hope to accomplish in this sudden folly: following two absolute strangers for god's sake...they could be serial killers for all you really know.

You give the sidewalk one last sweep, before heading to your car. You have your own life, responsibilities...you can't go off pretending to be some superhero...you don't have your cabal for back up anymore...

And that's where you make a rookie mistake; so lost in your thoughts of self -depreciation that you fail to notice the two men that come up behind you as you unlock your car.

As the dark headed man lays a hand to your shoulder and whirls you around to face them, asking darkly, "...why are you following us?" all you can think is..."oh damn..."

/././ supernatural/././