Top of Form
Hunter of the Shadows
Chapter 23
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Dean watches Sam eating as he talks, sharp eyes taking in every movement, every chewing action. It's as though he's reassuring himself that Sam's ok, that the past hasn't indeed swallowed him whole, bringing him right back in time.
"We were damn lucky Tobius turned up when he did. I don't know if I'd been able to figure it out otherwise."
Sam stops eating for a moment, and shrugs.
"Sure you would." He says it with such conviction, and outright faith, that Dean relaxes a little.
But the burden still rests heavy on his shoulders.
"M'not so sure, Sammy," Dean whispers sadly. "We kept in contact every night, and I still missed that something was badly wrong."
Sam smiles grimly.
"S'not your fault, dude. You couldn't have known. I was acting normal, right up 'til that last phone call. I was even feeling mostly ok for days before, apart from losing my appetite. Then" he clicks his fingers, suddenly, "it started. Like a slow release pain killer, that speeds up towards the end. Didn't even notice that I hadn't changed in so long."
Dean's silent for a long moment. His gaze catches Sam again, and something passes silently between them.
"Yeah. I guess it affects everyone differently…"
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
"I know you're tired, Sam," Tobius whispered. "But try again, just a few sips, and we'll let you rest for a while."
"Tr-trying…" Sam panted out.
The kid grimaced and choked, but managed to swallow a few drops of milk. Maybe our presence was helping after all; perhaps it was finally registering in his confused and muddled mind that he wasn't alone.
His family was here to look after him.
"Good boy," Tobius stroked his hair. "We'll try again in a little while."
But his worried eyes sought mine when the kid collapsed into me, head lolling helplessly against my shoulder.
"He's been cursed." Tobius voice was quiet, with no particular drama, but his words sent a bolt of shock through me.
"What?!"
"At the moment he's too out of it to tell us anything that might help." He got up and began pacing the room, muttering to himself.
"Where? How did they get in?" Tobius clearly wasn't talking to me, and I watched in amazement when he began furiously tearing the room apart.
There was no gradual build up, no finesse that I would normally associate with the guy.
He just went insane.
Gone were Sam's neatly arranged drawers, his clothes strewn across the carpet. Hangers were ripped from the wardrobe, shoes and sneakers went flying, and it was only when the items on the dresser were swept to the floor that I came to my senses and realised I had to stop him. Tobius' movements were growing ever more frantic as the seconds ticked by, and I could sense a terrible fury building inside of him. He was out of control.
Tobius stop it!
Have to find it…
Sire…
HAVE TO FIND IT BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!
I dropped Sam back lightly into his pillows, leapt off the bed and grabbed Tobius' arm.
"I said STOP IT!"
When his eyes turned my way, I stepped back with a barely concealed gasp.
Deep, fierce, powerful green glowed angrily, the band around the irises thinning alarmingly.
"Sire," I called gently, and bowed my head, but still kept my eyes on his. Submissive behaviour works for non lunar in the same way as dogs. It's often best to try respect and graciousness, before adopting a more violent solution. Especially since Tobius could easily kick my ass, even on a bad day. "What do we have to find? Tell me, and I'll help you."
The older werewolf blinked, and the terrible rage faded from his eyes. His shoulders relaxed, fists unfurled, and he took a sudden, sharp and shaky breath.
"My god, that was weird. Never felt a hex like this before." He leaned against the ruined dresser and shook his head. "Powerful, fast acting... so much... rage."
I was wondering if I would get a turn, when a light bulb clicked on.
In my head, that is.
"If someone wanted to curse Sam, they wouldn't need to come here to drop a hex bag on him. Too risky anyhow."
Tobius and I turned to stare at Sam's book bag, tucked in the corner of the room. By mutual agreement, we stalked the damn thing like a live animal, and tore it apart.
I shrugged, and held out a small, dark red, velvet drawstring bag. One flick of the Zippo, and it was burning up, bright blue flames eating it away to nothing. Ashes sparked and flickered, dancing their way downwards, and winking out before hitting the carpet.
Tobius and I stared rather guiltily at the remains of Sam's book bag.
I shrugged again.
"I'll buy him a new one."
Sam chose that moment to let out a loud, choked gasped, and his eyes flew open.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Only silver can really kill us. But we can be taken down in other ways.
Someone sure knew their stuff.
A hex powerful enough to enhance the victim's fears and emotions, to have them spiralling out of control and on the brink of madness, came from no light weight magic user.
In addition, it had to be someone who knew Sam, and through him, got to know us. It explained why Tobius fell under its power, but it didn't tell us why I wasn't affected.
Sam was pretty weak for a few days afterwards, his muscles partially wasted away, with little or no strength left.
Yeah, the right hex can work that way.
It didn't feel right to question him when he was so sick, so we left it alone.
We fed him milk to start off with, remembering all too well what happened the first time he ate raw meat on an empty stomach. Poor kid needed that like a hole in the head.
Thanks Dean.
I said nothing, just gave him a small smile, and held the glass to his mouth.
Are you mad at me?
Glancing at his thin, worried face, I realised he was serious.
God no. Not you kiddo. Never you. This ain't your fault. Damn hex bag was sewn into the lining of your book bag. You couldn't have known, Sammy.
He slurped greedily at the milk, obviously reassured that he wasn't in any trouble. I tried not to smile, but right then he reminded me of a three year old Sam, sitting at the kitchen table of whatever shithole John could afford at the time. His chubby little legs would swing to and fro; too short to reach the scummy floor, his tiny hands wrapped round a glass way too big for him, because John wouldn't waste money on things like sippy cups. The glass would be emptied noisily, and carefully laid back on the table, revealing a milk-moustached Sammy.
Want some more?
And there he was, same as the image in my head. Only the kid was older, now.
Sam smiled shyly through his milk-ringed mouth, too weak to wipe it clean. Grabbing the carton from the night stand, and happily dispensing another shot of milk; I realised I would've done anything just to see that look on his face again.
Thanks Dean.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
"Are you ready for some real food Sam?"
Sam glanced up eagerly from the TV, and nodded.
"I'm starving, dude." He carefully sat up and leaned against his pillows.
Sam had been bedridden for a few days, and whilst I was playing nurse maid, Tobius was visiting the campus to explain that his little brother was suffering from flu, and could he take class notes to help Sam catch up?
Sam and I had entertained ourselves for hours, imagining Tobius in amongst all those students, questioning, and getting to know their very human ways.
Or silly ways, as he put it. Plastering on a dreadfully fake smile that was sure to scare the living crap out of anyone who crossed his path, Sire had left to spend the day around noisy, petulant, bloody know-it-all students. He'd obviously forgotten his grandson was now a member of this clan, but Sam was laughing so hard by that point he couldn't bring himself to point it out to him.
It sure was good to see Sammy smile again, though.
When he was awake enough, he made a list of all the people he'd met since joining Stanford, but the effort took its toll.
He was force to admit that whoever dropped the hex on him was probably near the top of the list. Someone he'd befriended and become close to.
But this one was news to me. Sam never mentioned this person before in our many late night phone calls.
It was all "Peter made me laugh in class today," or "Rebecca helped me out when I got lost on campus" and "you really have to meet her brother Zack. He's a great guy".
The usual stuff.
But he never once mentioned her. And for very good reason.
"I like her. She's nice." Sam had fidgeted with his blanket, face adorably red with embarrassment. "I don't think it was her, Dean. It can't be. She's not the type."
Newsflash kiddo. They never seem the type. That's why they're called witches. They're good at covering their tracks.
They're also very human, so how would we tell? Not even our unseen vamp, wherever he or she was right now, could have known.
Real clever.
Sam's eyes sparked with anger.
Not her. Jess wouldn't do that!
Sam…
She wouldn't!
I sighed inwardly, and sat down on the edge of his bed.
This was a tricky situation, and already I'd made a real pig's ass of it.
Look, I know you don't want to believe your girlfriend…
She's not my girlfriend, Dean. At least, not yet. But… I was hoping…
Ok, Sam. I know you don't want to believe your friend is capable of hurting you. I held his gaze with determination, silently letting him know I was on his side. But is there anyone else who could've had access to your book bag?
Sam's jaw clenched and unclenched a few times, before he looked away.
I guess not.
My heart broke for the kid.
Clearly, whoever this Jessica Moore was, Sam had fallen for her, and fallen hard.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Ironically, it was Jess who'd approached Tobius, rather than the other way round. Not exactly the actions of the guilty, but maybe she was covering, throwing us off the scent.
"I don't think so," Tobius surprised me. He was a good judge of character, sure, but he'd made his mistakes in the past, trusting Gordon's word being one of the biggest. Which was why I questioned his judgment this time round.
"What makes you say that?" I could feel Sam's hopeful gaze swivelling between the two of us. "She could be a good actress."
Tobius shook his head, determinedly.
"No. She was genuinely concerned for Sam's welfare…"
"Really?" Sam interrupted, all nervous excitement. "What did she say exactly?"
"Well, she asked after you, said she'd heard from Rebecca that you were gravely ill with flu…"
I stared at the two of them in disbelief.
"Guys?"
But they just ignored me in favour of… girly talk? Unbelievable!
"So… uh…" Sam stammered a little and ran a hand through his hair, now freshly washed and shining with health. "D-did she, ya know, like, sound like she really cared? Or… or maybe… uh… interestedinmeatall?"came out in a rush.
Tobius grinned from ear to ear, and I fought down an impatient growl.
"Guys?" I tried again, but no avail.
The older werewolf wrapped an arm around his grandson.
"I'd say, the young lady is head over heels in love with you, youngster, and if I'm correct, Jessica has certainly made a good choice in you." And when he went on to say "she has the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen on a lady, and her hair is as fair as the finest spun gold" I nearly puked on the spot.
When Tobius waxed poetic like this it often got sickening, like listening to Bon Jovi's Bed of Roses with the volume turned full up. Urrrghhhh!
That was it. Time to put a stop to this madness once and for all.
"GUYS!"
That got their attention.
"This is all very… uh…" I didn't know how to put it, so I decided honesty was the best policy "gross. So can we get back on track now, huh? Or have you two made a date to braid each other's hair and paint ya toenails?"
And had Tobius mentioned the word love? No way. Sammy was way too young to be falling in love, and besides, he'd only known the girl a month…
Tobius and Sam shared a conspiratorial glance.
"Never mind, Sam. Your father just has no sense of romance."
Sam nodded sadly. Actually nodded sadly, as though I was some kind of lost cause.
"I made him watch Love Story once, when I was sick one Christmas." Sam eyed me with sympathy, but I was glowering right back at him. "Right after Ali MacGraw died, and Ryan O'Neal broke the news to his estranged father, Dean threw his shoe at the TV set, yelled 'aw c'mon she's still alive I saw her breathe', announced the leading lady was, and I quote, 'a shit actress who couldn't act her way out of a paper bag', said Ryan O'Neal was probably gay anyhow, then stormed off to the nearest bar." The little shit finished up with a triumph grin.
Tobius shook his head.
"Philistine! That film is a masterpiece of true love, sacrifice, and emotional display."
"Frankly, I'm amazed he watched it at all…" Sam muttered, eyebrows raised, a small smirk on his face.
"Ah, yes, but in spite of his derision of the lovely lady," Tobius carried on grinning. Bastard! "I suspect Dean was rather taken with Ali."
Ok, that was a little too close to the truth for my comfort, and I actually felt my ears turn red.
"See?" Sam pointed at me. "His ears have gone red. Classic 'Dean' sign of denial!"
"Sam!" The warning growl finally put a stop to the mockery. "Enough! If it wasn't Jess, then who the hell was it?"
Sam's face fell, the laughter faded, and his smile disappeared at once.
That made me feel like shit, actually. It was great to hear the kid laugh again, but we couldn't afford to waste any more time. Sam needed reminding that somewhere out there, a witch was out to get him. A witch who knew about werewolves in general, and us in particular.
I suddenly felt exhausted beyond reason, and leaned against the bedroom wall.
"Dean," Tobius murmured, and cleared his throat. "A word, if you please."
His tone wasn't angry, but I guessed he was gonna have a few things to say about the way I just handled things with Sam. I met his gaze, and nodded.
Out in the hallway by the bathroom, Sire tilted his head to one side, and studied me carefully.
"He's been through a rough time, my son."
"I know."
"We were merely jesting."
"Sure."
"Are you ok?"
I blinked. That took me by surprise. Why wouldn't I be ok?
"I'm fine," but I sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Just a little tired."
Next thing I knew, my head was spinning, the world tilting sideways, and Sire caught me by my jacket collar before I could hit the floor.
Then nothing.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
My first real thought was hmm, nice soft bed, and what the hell's that god awful smell?
Ah. Smelling salts. Worked a little slow, but got there in the end.
I opened my eyes, to find Sam standing in the middle of the room, my Zippo in hand. I just caught the after-flash, as though something had burned bright blue a few seconds ago.
"So, I got hexed, huh?"
"Yeah," Sam's worried eyes roved over my face. "How dya feel?"
"Ok, I guess." Actually, I felt quite refreshed. "How long was I out?"
"Three hours." Tobius came into the room, glass of milk in one hand, a plate of chopped raw beef in the other.
My stomach grumbled with delight.
As soon as I sat up, Sam was hovering. Plumping my pillows, tucking the blanket round me, lifting up my socked feet and sliding another pillow underneath…
I was about to snap at him, tell him to back off, until I caught the look on his face. Poor kid was scared to hell and back. I reached over and grabbed his hand, stilling his movements.
"Sammy, I'm ok," I informed him softly, running my thumb over his wrist. "Now sit down, you look ready to collapse. You ain't a hundred percent yaself yet, kiddo."
Sam nodded, but sat beside me. I didn't say a word, just shuffled over and made room for him on the bed. Kid has a tendency to get clingy when I'm hurt, like he can't stand the thought of leaving the room, in case I disappear or something.
I talked as I ate, sharing my food with Sam, relieved to see him eating properly.
"So, where dya find it?"
"I found it in the glove compartment of your car," Tobius answered softly.
I paused, mouth full of beef, and glanced up, eyes narrowed in anger.
"Someone messed with my car?" Only it came out "s'mon methed w'm'car?" But I was pretty sure by the double eye roll from my father and son – in perfect sync by the way – they fully understood.
Three things you don't mess with.
Sammy, Tobius, and the Impala. In that order.
Any such crimes carry the death penalty as far as I'm concerned.
"That aside, and I'm sure we share your distain for such a desecration," Tobius shared an amused look with Sam. "Perhaps we should concentrate on the hex?"
I shrugged. Made no difference to me when it happened. The bastard who touched my car was getting strung up by his own testicles sooner or later. Just a question of time.
"So what was the purpose? To send me to sleep for a few hours?" I laughed at that. "Guy did me a favour."
"Exactly." Tobius crossed his arms, feet shoulder width apart.
"Huh?"
"When was the last time you slept?"
He'd sure got me there.
Last time I slept was the night before I came to see Sammy, which was…
Shit. Nearly a week ago?
The first few nights could easily be accounted for. I wasn't going to sleep with Sam so sick, but the following nights as he was getting better?
Yeah, we don't need a lot of sleep, but Tobius and I had been on hunt after hunt before we arrived at Stanford. And combined with our ever present vigil with Sam...
Tobius nodded grimly.
Someone's trying to incapacitate us, leave us vulnerable.
It made sense. A witch wouldn't be able to outright kill us, being human, and way too 'cycles of nature' and floaty dresses with bat or spider motifs down the front, right?
But they could easily slip under the radar and prepare us for someone who might.
Like a vampire?
Again, another elaborate plan. So elaborate, in fact, it was making my head spin a little.
"That doesn't explain the hex on you," Sam was looking at Tobius.
"Sure it does," I answered for Sire. "It wormed its way in, somehow."
It had driven his love and anger towards a full on explosion. And losing your temper, means losing control, something Tobius rarely does. It would have blinded him, made him do something stupid.
"Anger could have lead to some serious errors of judgment, maybe even got you killed." I said that last part tentatively, not sure of his reaction.
But Tobius merely nodded, not the type to condemn a man for his honesty.
"That's about the size of it."
"How were you able to overcome it though? I mean you just shook it off, like it was nothing." I had to ask. That question had been bugging me for a while now.
"Not on my own, I didn't." Kind green eyes glowed with gratitude. "You were there, following pack protocol, bringing me back from the edge. You bowed down to your alpha, and installed reason just as my own logic was failing."
The mark of a true leader. You followed your instincts and made the right decision.
Sam nudged me with his elbow, and grinned, eyes sparkling with pride.
Nice going Captain Kirk.
Shaddup Spock.
I couldn't help grinning back. The kid was proud of me. I liked the way that felt.
But it was time to get back to the problem at hand.
Finally!
So, a witch was setting us up for an attack, just like the werewolf with Caleb, but this time the goal was to make sure we couldn't fight back.
When Sammy came up with the plan, I wasn't impressed.
They want us incapacitated? Let's give them what they want.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
It was around one am when we finally heard a small creaking from the rear of the apartment, a set up, from when Tobius and I deliberately loosened a few floorboards.
We'd set the alarms on silent. Switching them off altogether would have alerted the intruder we were on to him. Just as suspected, our assassin was a vamp. No sound, no scent, moving fast, and obviously a former student of Gordon Walker's boot camp, because the locks were no trouble.
That actually left me a little cold.
The assassin could have walked right in here any time when Sammy was on his own, but probably knew the kid was older, wiser and a hell of a lot stronger these days. Hence the need for a powerful witch and her nuclear warhex.
The guy must have been furious when we showed up, but the question remained. Who was the witch?
I got the feeling we were about to find out.
Sammy lay on the bed, his skin shining with what looked like a bad fever. But I'd just sprayed his face with water for effect. He was still a little pale, thin and weak from his own curse, so it was inevitable he would be part of the bait. But needless to say, I didn't like it one bit.
I was on the next bed, feigning a deep coma, breathing slow and regular.
Tobius was nowhere to be seen.
But I knew where he was.
Hiding in the shadows of the open bedroom door like a kid playing hide 'n seek. I wanted to laugh.
Dude, hiding behind the bedroom door?
Got any better ideas?
No but… it just lacks something. I sighed silently. We're a real Mickey Mouse operation, huh?
Guess that makes you Mini Mouse, huh Dean?
Shaddup Sam.
Boys, quiet now. I'm trying to concentrate.
A silhouette appeared in the open doorway. It was small, petite, and framed with long blond hair.
Yeah, I got a good eyeful before Tobius slammed the door on the vamps face, and the bitch crumpled to the floor.
"Well," Sire announced, more than a little smug. "It just goes to show that the old ways are sometimes still the best."
I leapt off the bed, grumbling under my breath, and turned on the overhead lamp. The vamp was out cold, arms splayed across the carpet, lying on her stomach. Long blond hair streamed down her back, and over her shoulders.
I felt Sam approach, sensed his heart ache.
I'm so sorry kiddo…I didn't want to be right about Jess… Sammy? What are you doing?
He knelt down and rolled her over, then looked up at me, eyes shining with relief.
I don't know who this girl is, but it ain't Jessica Moore.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Tobius put in a call to Lenore and left the room, and we tied our erstwhile vamp to a chair. By the time she came round, Sire was back. And he was armed with an axe.
She didn't get to taunt us.
She didn't even get to open her mouth before Tobius was in full swing, and a familiar squelch echoed round the room.
The vamp's head rolled around to rest against my foot, and I kicked it with disgust. It bounced out the room and down the hallway.
Ew, dude. Sam wrinkled his nose. I think there's a severed head in my bathroom.
But I was too busy glaring at Sire to care.
"I should have done that to Gordon first chance I got," he announced. "I wasn't about to make the same mistake a second time."
I nodded slowly.
"Ok, I get that. Care to explain why you iced the bitch before we could question her?"
Tobius set down the axe, pulled out a cigar, and with a hot air of bold smugness that could have raised the Bismarck, lit up, eyes dancing with amusement.
"Lenore provided me with everything we needed to know about this one."
"And?" I watched him, impatiently awaiting an answer, but the smug bastard was deliberately dragging it out.
He calmly blew out a smoke ring.
"Ever heard of Harvelle's Roadhouse?"
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
"Is it just me, or do these connections between us, John and Gordon keep on getting more and more ridiculous?" I bellowed out, pacing up and down the room, occasionally stomping on the vamp's head.
Sammy had retrieved it from the bathroom, said he couldn't bear the thought of getting naked in there with her staring at him. Why he thought we'd leave it in there, I couldn't guess. Though it would have made a great prank.
So I stomped and kicked it on every pass, just 'cos I felt like it.
Made me feel better, ok?
It was a pretty gruesome sight at that point, blood and grey matter sliming over the carpet. It was gonna take more than a quick Shake 'n Vac to remove those stains.
Tobius was observing me with considerable amusement, but I just ignored him. Let him laugh.
Sam folded him arms, eyes narrowed.
"What are you so pissed about, Dean? She's dead. Threat over with." He paused then added "for now."
I rounded on him, finger pointing at the dead vamp.
"Oh, let me count the ways!"
Harvelle's Roadhouse, an old hunter's bar, was owned by Ellen Harvelle, wife to hunter Bill, and mother to blond bombshell, Jo, who just happened to be our current, and very dead, guest.
Coincidence?
Ohhhh, think again my friends!
Now that Tobius mentioned it, I did kinda remember John talking about some bar in the back of beyond, where hunters gathered to share intel, compare working practices, generally get hammered and brag about their latest kill. Which pretty much all amounted to the same thing. Human hunters, as I might have pointed out before, are fairly single minded.
Turned out, Bill had worked with John a few times, and Ellen considered John to be a part of the family.
Yeah.
Part of the family!
So, whoops? We go and kill John.
And now we killed Ellen's daughter, who, Lenore reliably informed us, was definitely one of Gordon's roving lieutenants. Had been for around a year now, in fact. The only reason she headed here, we could only presume, was because this was the last place she'd heard from Caleb. Lenore couldn't confirm that, but she did confirm that ol' Gordo's team usually stayed in contact.
And that meant there were more of the toothed bastards out there.
It occurred to me to wonder how this Lenore person was getting info out of Gordon, then decided I didn't really want to know. We had more important things worry about.
Yeah, get in line!
Jo seriously lucked out when Sam Winchester showed up for something as ordinary as class, especially since she was only expecting to find a lead, not one of the actual targets.
Wanna know what else?
You might wanna draw up a chair, pour yaself a stiff drink for this one, guys, maybe smoke 'em if ya got 'em...
She practiced black magic.
Oh no wait, wait, wait! Its gets better than that!
She also specialised in concealment spells, and curses.
Jo was the ideal assassin, a vamp-witch, with knowledge of curses, armed to the teeth with hex bags, could disappear at will, and cunning as a fox.
Reeling yet, are ya? 'Cos I sure fucking was!
Dropping the hex on Sam must have been a walk in the park.
Just wait 'til he turns his back, making gooey eyes at Jess, then a rip, slide, and a quick stitch later, and Jo's walking nonchalantly away, innocent as a black widow spider in heat.
Perfect.
And that just got me riled all over again, because now I was thinking through all the possibilities.
Her unusual ability to cloak up like a Klingon Bird Of Prey obviously meant she got to listen in on Sam's conversations.
Of course she wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like that.
As Jo found out a little more, she probably added extra ingredients to the first hex bag, just in case one of us showed up out of the blue.
Possibly, Sam talked about Tobius more than me, which made sense. Sire's the pack alpha after all, and Sam's 'oldest brother' in the eyes of the human world. Hence, the effect on Tobius. It matched, 'cos Tobius is almost as emo as Sam.
She must have watched us from a distance, when I was taking care of Sam during his own curse, and that felt a little creepy. It was a good hex, though, as sleep curses go, and might have worked for longer, if not for Tobius' own brand of smelling salts. Once the hex bag burned up, there was a chance I might not have come out of it. I guess we'll never know for sure.
So, Jo got her measure of Tobius, learned all she could about the pack alpha, and used it well.
Damn shame for her she'd never read the Tobius Le Salle's book of Tactical Manoeuvres, lesson one:
'When ambushing a vamp, hide behind the door.'
That about summed up the night's events.
This was becoming more and more farcical by the second.
Was it any wonder I was pissed?
"Who in hell thinks this shit up anyways?" I finished on a snarl, and caught Tobius trying to hide a grin.
Sam grimaced and tilted his head to consider that.
"I do see your point."
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Author's notes:
I was trying to aim away from spells etc, feeling it was a bit too Harry Potterish, but somehow I got steered in that direction against my will.
Sorry guys, but I've finally gone round the twist and given you Jo Harvelle, a vamp that's also a witch, and can make herself invisible. What a crock of shit.
I'll bet any Jo lovers out there are bloody glad I killed her off now, eh?
I know this was, as Dean put it, a little 'farcical', but then I think about certain scenes and episodes of S4 (the walking, talking, giant bi-polar teddy bear of Wishful Thinking comes to mind!) and I believe I can just about be forgiven.
Just this once.
And besides, a little 'farcical' from time to time, never hurt anyone.
Poor Dean's feeling a little frazzled. Gotta love a ranting Dean. I tried to mimic his infamous rant from Yellow Fever, but I'm not sure I pulled it off.
Note the slight dig at the author towards the end there? I don't think Dean likes me very much right now.
Cheer guys. Give me some nice reviews for this chapter and I'll try to be a little more serious next time.
Kind regards,
ST xxx