I disclaim again: I don't own them, which should be obvious, because if I did you can bet I'd never let them out of my house. ahem
Weaver, chapter 6
He'd been certain Pastor Jim would come through for them, but it was Bobby who ended up giving them what they needed. He hoped, anyway. They were on a clock. After Sam came back the previous night without beer and after he also refused to go out for one, they'd spent the evening doing more research. Turned out there weren't only increased animal attacks, but increased accidental deaths. In a town as small as this one was, that was something they should not have missed the first time around. Second chances were rare in their line of work, after all.
"I'm not sure I get how this is supposed to work," Dean said. If he told himself the truth, he wasn't very sure it would even if Bobby knew his stuff. It had never been tested. "If legends say that some manifestations of Black Dogs disappear at the sound of bells, how exactly are we supposed to get one around this monster's neck? I think that's a bit of a flaw in the plan."
"It would have been nice to actually see the source material."
Leave it to Sam to mourn the mere possibility of book-love. Dean kept his mouth shut. Sam was on top of this stuff much better than him on this hunt, and he didn't need to piss off the guy who knew what to do. He'd spent the day too busy being paranoid about if he was going to bite it because some yokel named Boyd ran over him with a truck to research and materials-gather. Sam seemed okay with it. In fact, Sam was more alert than he had been for a while; good sleep catching up with him. Or it was the book-love by proxy.
"Bobby knows what he's talking about."
"I know he does. It just feels, I dunno, like we got to the end of a puzzle without all the pieces."
"Dude, come on," Dean said. "That's the lamest thing you've said in a long time. We've had help from people before."
"True." Sam sighed. Dean heard paper rustling as Sam looked through the notes he'd scribbled. "Bobby said bells would stop them, not that we had to put them around their necks."
Dean pulled the car to a stop. He still had a hard time buying that, but he couldn't really say that now, after telling Sam he was lame. Because if Bobby said to ring the bells, they should ring the bells.
"You think that'll work?"
"You're the one who said Bobby knows his stuff."
Right. Dean peered out the window. They didn't know if the Dogs would be in the same spot. Neither he nor Sam had been able to find an evident pattern to their attacks, only that they were scattered in differing locales surrounding the town. The suckers were definitely sneaky. Sneaky wasn't easy to fight, which was why bells seemed stupid.
"Yeah. But…bells?"
"It worked for Pavlov." Sam probably thought he didn't get that. "I've been thinking of a way we can use them."
"Create a perimeter, connect them all with rope, wait for the Dogs to show up and breach the perimeter and then we trip it?" Dean said, putting as much 'well, duh, fool' attitude into his tone as he could. "Just an idea. We should have just enough daylight left to get it all set up."
Dean smirked and got out of the car, leaving Sam with his mouth gaping open. Sometimes Sam forgot that just because he preferred to avoid research didn't mean he was stupid. Sam needed reminding now and again, and Dean had to admit he enjoyed the hell out of producing those flustered expressions. It was about a minute before Sam got out of the car and joined him at the trunk.
"I hope it's still around tonight," Sam said. "Your idea's decent."
"Just decent? Sammy, I'm insulted." Sam huffed out something under his breath and reached for the bells. Big ass suckers. The only store that had what they were looking for had been a feed and livestock supply place, but cowbells should work for what they were going to do. "It was the first and most obvious thing to try. Even if bells are a stupid idea."
"So you were just being a jackass when you were complaining about putting bells around their necks."
"I wouldn't put it that way," Dean said. "But why did you think we were getting so many of these things? I had the idea as soon as Bobby said bells."
"Whatever," Sam said. "Let's just get working."
Dean declared himself victor. Reigning champion, actually. They each grabbed a couple bells and clanked over to the general area of yesterday's attack. Even if the Dogs went on the prowl somewhere else, it still seemed likely that this was their…base of operations, for lack of a better term. He and Sam worked quickly. It was a pretty simple trap; they shouldn't have any problems making it work and getting out of this crappy little town. Even the casinos were podunk there. He'd won more money, but they were still podunk.
"Okay," Dean said. He secured the last bell. The trap they'd laid was big enough to hold two Dogs, if there actually were two. "That should do it."
"So now we wait."
"Yeah, but I don't think we should just sit here out it the open. These things aren't stupid."
"There isn't much cover."
Sam looked unnaturally nervous. If anyone should be on edge, it should be him. Just because nothing had happened to him yet, besides having to drink truly horrible coffee for breakfast, didn't mean something still couldn't. Damn. Dean suddenly had an urge to check over his shoulder. He did. A couple times.
"If we leave the car just sitting here, I'm afraid they'll see it and won't come back. Most of their victims haven't shot back. They might remember me."
"You think we should move the car and walk back?"
"I don't know. It should be dark by then, but I also don't like the idea of the car being way out of eyeshot."
"Six of one, half dozen of the other," Sam said. "I really think this could work."
He actually sounded like he meant that, which made the nervous facial ticks Sam was now sporting even more out of place. Dean nodded though, and made a mental note to watch his brother carefully. Bobby said the silver bullet idea had merit, but grounding the Dogs first was key. That wasn't difficult to buy, considering the crazy shit they'd gone through their whole lives.
"Probably, but I don't know if I'll be up for a long run after fighting with this thing or things. You didn't see it. Them."
"Let's assume there are two."
"Right. Anyway, if they hadn't disappeared earlier, I'm not sure we would have made it to the car," Dean said. "Even you and your long-ass stride."
Sam looked at him, consternation written all over his face. Dean had no clue what he'd said that was so annoying. Before he could ask, Sam walked to the car He followed. They loaded the unused rope back into the trunk. As he was getting behind the wheel, it finally dawned on him that Sam might be twitchy on his behalf. They were quite a pair, he thought, both too damn preoccupied with the others' welfare. That was dangerous to do anywhere, let alone on a hunt. It was also all he had in his life that felt solid. He had to say this anyway.
"We're going to get these things, Sam. You don't have to worry about me."
For a second, Sam said nothing. Dean realized it was the first time either of them had even remotely acknowledged that he could be a walking dead man, though it had apparently been in Sam's head as much as it had been in his.
"I don't know how you can say that," Sam said. "I don't have to worr… Dean, we don't know if killing those things will cancel out the portent."
"We don't know that it won't. We can't go around scared of our own shadows. That'll get both of us killed."
"It might be better…" Sam clenched his jaw and looked away.
Here they went again. It would have been better if he'd just kept his mouth shut. Dean started the car, put it in gear and took off, giving it more gas than he should have.
"If…?" he said, waving his right hand for emphasis.
"It might be better if we both get killed than if it's just you. If anything happens to you, you'll be dead. I'll have to go on al…"
Sam drifted off again and the car filled with emptiness. Dean knew exactly what Sam meant, because he would feel the same way, but man, he hated talking about this shit. It suddenly felt as though he had indigestion, his stomach swirling in a way that was uncomfortably reminiscent of the Sam'sgonesomething'swrong feeling he was burdened with so often. He spotted a slight copse of brush and pulled the car behind it. They sat in silence for a minute or two. Dean figured they had the time to pull themselves together before heading out for the hunt. He needed to clear his head of their discussion, and he knew Sam must too.
"I need you to listen to me, Sam," he said. Dean glanced toward Sam, but not at him, keeping his eyes focused on the dashboard. "We've faced worse than portents of death, right? You have to believe things are going to be okay, because if you don't it'll just eat at you. A self-fulfilling prophecy kind of thing."
He let Sam ruminate on that for a second, expecting some kind of reply sooner or later. When one didn't come, Dean finally looked directly at Sam…who had his head tipped back against the rest, mouth agape. Son of a bitch, here he was being all existential or whatever and Sam found it a good time to take a nap. The surge of irritation only lasted a moment, and then he was relieved. He really did hate the touchy-feely crap. He reached over to shake his brother awake.