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 Bulls and Blood, How Dean and Sully Met
LANE 'SULLY' SULLIVAN
Posted: Oct 27 2011, 08:03 PM


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Group: Hounds
Posts: 394
Member No.: 4
Joined: 10-March 11



TAG: Dean || WORDS: 809| OUTFIT: Bad Assery
The first time Sully aimed the arrow it was a complete and utter failure. A sharp pain seared through her shoulder and cascaded down her arm. She cursed and almost lost hold of the bow all together. She knew it was from the scars where the skin walker had clawed her all those years ago. Sully had to have surgery on the shoulder to repair muscle and tendons. Usually it didn’t bother her, but sometimes a quick trauma to the area brought the pain back.

Demons were a pain in the ass and the telekinetic ability that they all seemed to have was becoming cliché, especially since they didn’t seem to do anything other than throw people around with it.

Black eyed freaks need a new move.

Sully rolled her shoulder back and the pain flared again. Damn it!

She didn’t have time for this. The demon was advancing on Dean and all he had was a sawed off shot gun with rock salts rounds. Sure it would hurt them, but it wouldn’t stop them. Besides, Dean was seriously injured. Her legs were still working just fine. Trying to make a break for it would be a hell of a lot easier for her. Well provided she didn’t get flung across the arena again. They needed the distraction of holy water. If Sully could aim the damn bow, the arrow was going in its eye and preferably out the back of its skull.

While Sully was trying to get her shoulder to work, she heard the demon exchange words with Dean. Who’s last name apparently wasn’t Wayne, but Winchester. Well it’s not like Sully could blame him for lying. He didn’t even know her real first name. As far as Dean was concerned, she was Jenna Morgan. She should have figured his last name wasn’t Wayne though. I mean seriously the only real Cowboy who had the last name Wayne was the Duke.

Oh. Huh, good choice.

For whatever reason the demon thought Dean was ‘great’. Sully didn’t see what was so great about him, but okay, sure. Whatever rocks his socks. Demons weren’t the most sane beings anyways. She put it up to a slip of the tongue.

”I heard a nasty rumor that you were on death’s doorstep only a week ago.”

“That’s rumor for you. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Sully agreed. Dean had seemed perfectly healthy before getting stomped down by Satan’s Revenge. If he truly had been that close to death just a week ago, well Sully didn’t see how he thought riding a bronco would be a smart idea. Then she remembered that he wasn’t exactly the sharpest tack. More like the tip had been dulled away slowly by random acts of stupidity.

If what the demon said was true, well Sully figured that the tack had just become a little duller. Not that she thought was the demon was telling the truth, but if it was…

“Oh, I’m not disappointed.” The guard smiled a wide, creepy smile. ”This way, I get to kill you in person.”

That statement made all other thoughts fly from Sully’s head. Gritting her teeth against the pain she raised her bow and pulled the string back. Aiming down the sight at the demon, she let the arrow fly. This time she did mean for it to be a crippling shot. It wouldn’t be lethal, but it would hurt like hell.

The arrow slammed into the demons eye and she let the bow fall, gasping from the pain in her shoulder. Her shoulder muscles quivered underneath her tanktop. The demon screamed and howled, and in an abrupt motion he pulled the shot gun away from Dean and aimed it at Sully.

“Oh shit!”

Dean was advancing on the demon with a knife. Sully wasn’t sure what he planned on doing with it. Last she checked demons didn’t die from being stuck like a pig. Dean went to stab the demon, but not before the shot gun went off. Sully went to dive out of the way, but she wasn’t quick enough. The tiny pellets of salt felt like fire as they slammed into her side. She didn’t get all of the blast, but she did get more of than not. Sully tried to scream, but the wind was knocked from her as she was thrown on her back in the dirt. Dust kicked up, settling in her nose and mouth as she tried to gasp for air, leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

Sully coughed and hacked, rolling to her side, knowing she had to get up. Dean was still near the demon, only armed with a knife. She had barely made it to her knees when she saw Dean strike with the knife.

Yeah, the tip of the tack just got duller.



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DEAN WINCHESTER
Posted: Oct 27 2011, 08:07 PM


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Member No.: 27
Joined: 5-April 11



It was strange how Dean had gone from wanting to shoot Jenna himself after her back-chatting and all around dismissive attitude towards him, to instinctively needing to try and save her ass by throwing himself headlong into attacking a demon. Perhaps he would chalk it up to some kind of ingrained hero complex, drilled into him by his father from an early age. Personal safety went out the window when other people were in danger. And with that kind of focus came an ability to tune out his own pain in order to do the task at hand. In this case, killing a demon before it had a chance to defend itself. Adrenaline had taken over now, surging through him to drown out the throbs and aches, masking sharp pain from moving too quickly. He’d pay for it in the morning, but so long as he lived long enough to see another day, he didn’t really care.

There was an advantage now though, the possessed guard was still growling over the arrow embedded in its head, the shotgun in it’s hand neglected, hanging loose in its grip as it ineffectually tried to pull the arrow out from it’s skull. Dean charged, Ruby’s super kill-all knife gripped tight in one hand as he aimed for the bastards heart. The guard sensed his approach and turned, causing his strike to merely skim the guy’s bicep instead, though the resulting wound fizzed and burned indicating to the demon that Dean was a serious threat. It seemed shocked that Dean had such a simple weapon that could cause so much damage. Typically a cut from a regular blade wouldn’t even register, but this one was clearly different.

Dean aimed to stab again, but the guard caught his arm by the wrist and twisted it until Dean grimaced. Another couple of seconds and the bones in his arm would snap like twigs, so he grabbed hold of the sticking out shaft of the arrow and twisted it deeper into the guy’s brain. The resulting roar was almost deafening. Then Dean felt something press against his already abused ribs and he froze, swallowing dread that he knew what was about to happen. Silence fell just long enough to hear the empty sound of a shotgun clicking but not firing. Dean felt his breath rush out in relief.

“Helps if you cock it.” He informed smugly, snapping off the shaft of arrow with the force of the pressure he was putting on it, leaving just the tip sticking out of the guard’s eye socket. The sight was grisly but it didn’t deter Dean from wrenching his wrist free to swing the knife again. This time, thanks to the demon’s agonised flailing, it only managed to cut a gash along it’s ribs. Another wound left burning like glowing embers. Not deep enough to cause a killing strike which frustrated Dean enough for him to resort to plain old punching and kicking.

It had dissolved into a desperate melee in the middle of the arena, like some kind of battle royale between hunter and demon. For every glancing blow with the knife, the guard returned one of his own with a fist or a foot. Dirty tricks were a given and unfortunately for Dean, the demon had more tricks up it’s sleeve than he did. It wasn’t long before he was sailing through the air on one end of a harsh punch to the stomach. A little bit of saving grace was there had been no solid wall to abruptly stop his flight, though landing in the dirt wasn’t much better, even if he was already familiar with the feeling. He finally rolled to a stop, too far from Jenna for her to be of much assistance right now, air escaping his lungs in an involuntary whoosh.

Pain from landing decided to start chipping holes in the wall Dean had put up to block it out and he had to shake his head a couple of times to regain his composure. All of a sudden he realised that his hands were empty, the knife having been knocked out of reach by his ungraceful impact. It was his only hope and he desperately scanned the ground in search of it before the demon could get close again. He spied it, glinting in the moonlight just a couple of feet away but as he got to his knees to stand and fetch it, the unmistakeable sound of his own gun being pumped and loaded echoed around the arena.

Crap…

With no other options, Dean pushed himself up, stood and rushed for the knife, but the demon was quicker than he was. One loud gun blast reached his ears and it was almost as if the sound had knocked him face down into the dirt again until the familiar sensation of hot salt embedded in his flesh began to sting. He knew what it felt like to get a dose of rock salt, though this time he’d been shot in the back with it, rather than the chest.

“You’re right, it does help if you cock it.” The guard said cheerily as he wandered up behind Dean, admiring the shotgun as though it had never marvelled at such a destructive device before. With the wind knocked out of him for a second time, it was all Dean could do to scramble slowly away, belly down to the ground. His back felt like it was on fire, though he knew that the damage was mostly superficial. Still, it didn’t help to have the demon wandering over to push him flat against the dirt with a boot in the middle of his back.

“Where do you think you’re going Winchester?” Dean felt the barrel of the gun pressing against the back of his head and he held his breath and closed his eyes.

“If you’re gonna kill me, at least have the balls to do it to my face.” He said defiantly, cheek pressed into the earth beneath him. The possessed guard laughed, his amusement at Dean’s ‘never give up’ attitude quite genuine.

”Ha, ha! I suppose seeing the light go out in your eyes when I choke it out of you would be much more entertaining. ”

Over confidently, the guard tossed the shotgun away and rolled Dean over, too focused with kneeling on his chest and wrapping his meaty hands around Dean’s throat to notice where Dean's hands were, or what he was holding. What the demon hadn’t realised, was that the blast from the shotgun had knocked Dean closer to Ruby’s knife and he’d snagged it and tucked it out of sight before the guard had seen it. Now, mere moments from having his windpipe crushed, he pulled the ace out from his sleeve. The demon didn’t even have time to react when the sharp tip of the blade pierced the side of it’s head and the whole knife slid hilt deep into it’s brain.

Dean sneered, knowing he’d won and wanting his triumph to be the last thing the demon saw before it bit the dust. Bright lights fired in the demon’s remaining eye, the bewitched knife having done it’s job of killing the demon, as well as the human it was wearing. It was a bitter sweet pill to swallow but there had been no other choice. Finally, once the burning lights of demonic presence had fizzled out, the body on top of him sagged and the grip around his throat loosened. Dean coughed and gasped in a few desperate gulps of air before breathing returned to some semblance of normal. It would have been a whole hell of a lot easier if his ribs weren't so sore and there hadn’t been a dead guard laying on top of him, but he’d take what he could get.

After a few moments of just letting events sink in, Dean eventually found the energy to roll the corpse off his chest and then just lay there, looking up at the stars as all his bruises and scrapes gradually filtered back into his consciousness. Right now, his back hurt the most, but he was too tired to bother moving just yet.

I need a beer…


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LANE 'SULLY' SULLIVAN
Posted: Oct 29 2011, 08:42 AM


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Joined: 10-March 11



TAG: Dean || WORDS: 1019| OUTFIT: Bad Assery
Sully froze for a moment when she saw the knife graze across the demons bicep. The wound lit up and sizzled like it had been burned. Sully wasn’t the only one who had been surprised. The demon looked down at his arm and then back at Dean curiously for a moment. That sure as hell wasn’t any normal knife. Sully sharpened Dean’s tack back up a bit, because it wasn’t quite as dull as she thought it had been.

Dean took the distraction, attempting to use the knife again, but the demon apparently saw it coming. He grabbed Dean’s wrist thwarting off attack and shoved the barrel of the shotgun against Dean. Sully’s breath hitched. Rock salt wouldn’t kill Dean. Not even from that close of range, but it would sure as hell knock him out.

Oh shit.

Pushing herself to her feet, Sully grimaced as both her side and her shoulder tightened with pain. Ignoring the pain and reached for another holy water tipped arrow. It felt like she was going in slow motion. The demon’s finger was squeezing on the trigger of the shotgun. There was no way in hell she was going to make it in time. She expected to hear the loud, echoing boom of the gun going off, but instead there was silence, and Dean was still standing there, a cocky look on his face.

“It helps if you cock it.”

Sully sighed in relief. So demons weren’t all that bright when it came to guns. They relied more on their own personal powers than any sort of material weapon. This time that had worked out in Dean’s favor. Unfortunately in hand to hand combat, a demon is usually stronger, so Sully wasn’t surprised to see Dean go to a rolling stop after slammed in the gut. She pulled an arrow and shot, it grazed by the demon as he went after Dean. It noticed her out of the corner of its eye and once again flung her into the wall with a flick of the wrist.

The world exploded in a swirl of colors and Sully’s bow fell from her hand. Her knees slammed into the dirt and she looked over towards the demon and Dean. They were swaying to and fro and Sully felt like she was on a bad trip. The world tilted and she stumbled. She shook her head trying to clear it. The demon flipped Dean over and Dean grabbed the knife, slamming up into the demons skull. There was a spectacular light show as the demon screamed…and the keeled over on top of Dean.

I’ve got to get me one of those.

The world was beginning to settle back on its axis, but the pain in her side and shoulder were increasing. Sully knew she just needed to ice down her shoulder to get rid of any inflammation and it would be fine by tomorrow. Her side, however, was an entirely different story.

Lifting the edge of her torn tank top, Sully looked at the damage. There were speckles of salt imbedded into her skin between her ribs and her hip bone. It was already a nasty, bright red color, and the salt was burning the small wounds it had created. Rock salt wouldn’t kill you, but she had been hit in a tender spot. No bone to protect it. It was going to bruise badly. She figured she was going to have all the colors of the bruise rainbow: Red, purple, green, blue, black and yellow. Yeah, that was going to be an attractive site.

With a sigh she let her shirt fall back down and leaned over to get her bow. She grimaced as the muscles in her stomach protested the movement.

Guess my shoulder isn’t the only thing I’m going to be icing tonight.

Sully hooked the bow on her shoulder and reached into her back pocket. The disc case was cracked, but the actually DVD seemed to be intact. She hoped that Dean had just killed the demon responsible for all of this, but she still wanted to go over the video. See if there was anything they had missed. Sully didn’t want the life of another Cowboy being forfeit because she was careless.

Shoving the disc back into pocket, Sully hobbled over to Dean. He had thrown the dead corpse off of him and was staring up at seemingly nothing. The bloodied knife was still in his hand. She decided that kneeling next to him would be too much of hassle at the moment, so instead she just looked down.

“You all right, Cowboy?”

Her gaze kept going to the knife. Dean had more secrets than just his name. Sully had been doing this for a while now, and she’d never heard of a knife that could exorcise a demon just by stabbing it. Then she realized there hadn’t been any black smoke. Frowning she looked from the corpse, back to the knife.

Did he just kill a demon? Like really kill a demon? With a friggin knife?!

Those were just a few of the questions she planned on asking Dean. “We need to get out of here. I don’t know where the other guards are, but someone’s bound to come around soon enough, and I sure as hell don’t want to be here when they do.”

Knowing that Dean had to be in a hell of a lot more than she was, Sully held out a hand to him. Before, Sully hadn’t cared if she left him behind. Now though, well Dean was a bit more interesting than she thought. Maybe he could be useful, but mostly she wanted to know about that knife. She couldn’t get any answers from him if he was in jail. Not that Dean wouldn’t find a way to break out. She figured he at least had that much resourcefulness, but that would take time. Time Sully didn’t have. On top of everything else, she was still supposed to barrel race tomorrow afternoon.

Oh yeah, that was going to be fun.



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DEAN WINCHESTER
Posted: Oct 29 2011, 01:17 PM


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Group: Hunters
Posts: 287
Member No.: 27
Joined: 5-April 11



A peaceful silence fell over the arena, dust settling around Dean after a battle that he could so easily have lost on a different day. If Jenna Morgan hadn’t shown up, then would he still be breathing right now? Or would he never have run into the demon in the first place because he’d have gotten what he was looking for and left long before? It brought home to him how much he missed having Sam around to watch his back even if, for once, he couldn’t blame Sam for not being here when it was Dean’s decision to go poking into a hunt on his own.

Not one of my better plans, I gotta admit…

Maybe it was the feeling of loneliness that had him thinking of Sam, or maybe it was staring up at a wide sky full of stars that brought back memories of happier times. Times when both brothers would sit on the hood of the car drinking beer, content in each other’s company for hours, in awe of the heaven‘s above. Or perhaps it was just because Dean was holding Ruby’s knife and he knew that whenever Sam wasn’t with him, he was with her. After everything the three of them had been through, Dean still wasn’t sure he trusted her. Yes, she had shown loyalty to them by helping save Anna and Castiel, but Sam wasn’t the only one to keep meetings with the rebel demon a secret. Dean had never told him what happened between them down in Hell and he hoped he would never have to. If Sam found out that she’d taken a knife to him under orders from Lilith, then he dreaded to think what that would do to the kid.

“You all right, Cowboy?”

The sound of approaching, uneven footsteps filtered into his brain too late, blocked by other thoughts until a face, framed by long, slightly mussed up hair, suddenly arrived in his frame of vision, blocking out part of the night sky from view. Thankfully, it was only Jenna who’d wandered over to make sure he wasn’t dead. Either that, or she was planning on stealing his belongings if he was.

He held up one hand and put the tip of his forefinger to the tip of his thumb to make the international sign language gesture for ‘I’m just peachy‘ rather than actually lying verbally instead. Accompanying that was a lop-sided smile, which considering both of them were still relatively in one piece, more or less, seemed fairly appropriate. She looked a little worse for wear but at least she was on her feet, which was more than he could say for himself.

“We need to get out of here. I don’t know where the other guards are, but someone’s bound to come around soon enough, and I sure as hell don’t want to be here when they do.”

It crossed Dean’s mind to be stubborn, to smack away the offered hand she was giving him to help him back up in favour of showing her that he was a tough guy who could get up on his own, thank you very much. The kind of man who didn’t feel pain and who walked away from every fight with nothing more than a few bruised knuckles from where he’d punched the other guy unconscious with one hit. But that wasn’t true and there was no sense in hiding behind a shield of bravado if you were just going to whimper like a little girl trying to get your ass up off the ground with a bruised back.

So he bit back his pride and took the helping hand, grimacing with effort and discomfort when abused muscles shifted under his skin with the movement of levering himself to his feet. Times like this, he often wondered if he was getting old. He certainly had more creaks in his bones these days.

“Thanks.” He said, voice more gravely than usual as he cautiously rolled his shoulders and tested his body for limits. He’d had worse, but that wasn’t to say he enjoyed feeling like he’d been run over by a truck. Ignoring his own problems, he cast a concerned eye over Jenna, unaware that was how it appeared. It was hard not to feel responsible for her getting hurt when the demon had quite clearly been gunning for him.

“You alright?”

From all he’d learnt about her in the short time he’d known her, something told him he wasn’t going to get a straight answer anyway, so he figured that hanging around to try and coax one out of her would be pointless. She was right anyway, they’d out-stayed their welcome in the arena, it was time to leave.

Ordinarily, Dean would have preferred to do something about the body they were leaving behind, but he lacked the strength or the time to haul it anywhere. The guard’s family deserved to know what had happened to him anyway, if he just vanished, then that would have been crueller on them. He knew from experience how having a loved one disappear felt, he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Still, he didn’t want to be implicated for the crime either, even if he was the killer, so he hobbled over and awkwardly bent down to wipe the guy’s blood off the knife using the sleeve of his shirt. When it was clean enough, he tucked it back into his pocket and set about patting down the guard for his wallet. The cops would be more inclined to pass this off as a robbery gone wrong if he actually stole something from him. Besides, it wasn’t like he would need his money now anyway.

The last thing Dean did was wipe his fingerprints off the empty wallet, dumping it by the body before straightening up again with a tight lipped expression, collecting his shotgun and anything else he’d lost in the fight before heading off back to the car lot and the sanctuary of his baby.

"Where're you staying?" He asked Jenna when they were almost back to their cars. It would have made more sense for him to go back to Bobby's to clean up, but he didn't really want to worry the old guy by showing up like he'd had the stuffings beaten out of him. It'd only earn him a shake of the head and an 'idgit' comment anyway. Besides, it would kill two birds with one stone to follow Jenna so they could both watch the events footage that she was in possession of at the same time.


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LANE 'SULLY' SULLIVAN
Posted: Oct 29 2011, 02:42 PM


Girls Kick Ass - Says So On A T-Shirt
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Group: Hounds
Posts: 394
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Joined: 10-March 11



TAG: Dean || WORDS: 941| OUTFIT: Bad Assery
Dean had taken her hand, though at first Sully thought he was going to be just another cowboy and get up on his own. It would have taken him a lot more energy to stand on his own, and honestly he probably would have hurt himself worse. Sully gripped his hand and pulled. Her side screamed in pain, and let her know that it wasn’t happy with what she was doing either.

“Thanks.” Sully released his hand, not bringing attention to the strain in his voice. She figured that he was hurt a lot worse than she was. That demon had been gung ho on tearing him a new one. Well maybe just tearing him in half. Sully had just seemed to be a side project that had gotten in the way. It was probably better that the demon had been fixated on Dean. Sully may not have gotten that holy water shot off otherwise.

“No problem,” She told him.

Sully tensed when she noticed Dean giving her a once over. It wasn’t a leering look, but more one of concern, as if he were trying to figure out if she were hurt or not. “What?” She finally asked.

“You all right?” He asked.

“Fine,” She replied quickly and went over to the dead body of the security guards. Her chest tightened a bit as Sully wondered if he had a family. Would his wife or kids wake up tomorrow and wonder where their father was? The demon had possessed him, and if Sully could have she would have done an exorcism with as minimal damage done to the host body as possible. Unfortunately there had been no time. It was a him or us situation and as bad as she felt for the family, Sully wasn’t upset the demon was dead.

Dean knelt next to him, taking his wallet. She knew where his mind was going with this. Sully wouldn’t be able to bring her bow back out into the open while they were still there. If anyone saw it, and added the factor that the guy had an arrow head in his eye, well, Sully didn’t feel like breaking out of jail this week.

Once they had cleaned up the scene as best they could they headed out to the parking lot. Sully’s side was not easing up on her, and all she wanted to do was get back to the motel, pick salt out of her side, take some painkillers and pass out. Opening her tool box in the back of her truck she put the bow in the bottom compartment. She grimaced when her muscles stretched. The salt grinding into her skin, burning and irritating the tiny wounds.

"Where're you staying?" Dean asked.

Sully shut the tool box and looked towards him. She debated on whether to tell him or not. If she told him that meant more than likely he was going to find out just how hurt she was. That meant she could be vulnerable. Dean didn’t seem the type to attack her in the middle of her sleep, or while she was wounded, but then again you never really could tell.

On the other hand Dean was hurt himself. Not to mention the fact that there weren’t many places to stay in this little town. It would be hard to track her down, if he didn’t attempt to just follow her back. Besides she had some questions for him. That knife was a prized possession that she’d never come across. She was curious about that along with other things.

Finally she gave in. “The Giddy On Up Motel over on highway 50. You can’t miss it, trust me.”

Sully hauled herself into the cab of her truck, gasping in pain when she went into a sitting position. Leaning back against the seat she lifted her shirt to look at her side. The bruise was deepening in color, the skin slightly swollen. “Yup,” She mused to herself. “All the colors of the bruise rainbow.”

Letting her shirt drop she went to start the truck. It sputtered and stuttered, but didn’t turn over. “Damn it, baby not now!” She turned the key again only to get the same results. “I know, I know, I owe you a tune up, but I can’t get you one if I’m in jail, all right.” She rubbed the steering wheel affectionately. Sully turned the key a third time and smiled when the truck started. It grumbled at her, reminding Sully of her promise. “I know baby, as soon as this hunt is over, we’ll get you squared away.” She patted the dashboard and pulled out of the parking lot.

Sully kept an eye on Dean’s headlights as she headed back to the motel. The Impala stayed at a close pace behind her. She didn’t know if it was because Dean thought she might suddenly decide to flee, or if that was just because that was the way he drove. She didn’t care; they’d be at the motel soon enough and they needed to watch the disc.

Killing that demon had seemed too easy. Not that it was exactly easy per say, but if that had been the demon that was doing all of this, why didn’t either of them have a hallucination? It had straight on wanted to kill Dean. The demon responsible for this whole mess liked to play with their victims. The one they had just dealt with was more worried about killing Dean than playing games. It didn’t seem to fit their original demons MO. Somehow, she didn’t think this was over.



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DEAN WINCHESTER
Posted: Oct 29 2011, 03:30 PM


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Posts: 287
Member No.: 27
Joined: 5-April 11



“The Giddy On Up Motel?” Dean repeated, his mouth ticking up into a disbelieving yet oddly amused smirk.

She’s gotta be kidding. She just made that up. Does sound kinda kinky though, I bet they have magic fingers…

“Heh, I’ll believe that when I see it.“ He said, digging into his pocket for the car keys as they both limped their way to their respective cars.

”I’m gonna follow you there. We still got evidence to check before we chalk this one up to one random demon.”

Call it a gut feeling, but Dean didn’t think this hunt was over yet either. You didn’t just see fire breathing hell horses for no reason, unless maybe you were hallucinating. There had been enough of that when he’d been in his sick bed, seeing things that weren’t there so much it was hard to tell what was real. If it hadn’t been the case that other riders had seen things too, he would have just rationalised that it was after effects of the illness. Sort of like a persistent cough that won’t go even when all your other symptoms do. Maybe it was, but until he knew for sure, he wasn’t giving up on his investigation yet.

Gritting his teeth, Dean folded himself up and slid sideways into the driver’s seat of the Impala, partially pleased that his leg had loosened up a little from all the running around, but dismayed that leaning back into the usually comforting leather was playing blue murder on his back. At the very least, the seat was cool and the feel of it against his bruised spine was soothing to an extent, he just hoped that the vibrations from the engine would massage away his aches rather than tap dance on them instead.

He’d been a second away from starting up the car when the strained efforts of Jenna’s engine caught his attention. He visibly cringed at the horrible sound it was making, mentally wondering if it was either the distributor cap or the alternator that was the problem. Evidently something under Jenna’s hood needed fixing and if he’d cared much, or actually had any time to do anything about it, then chances were his skilled hands could fix the issue in no time. But right now he didn’t care, so she would just have to deal with it herself. The Impala started without fuss, tuned to perfection and right on cue, the death throes of her truck switched to a spluttering attempt at life. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jenna rubbing the steering wheel like a grateful lover. It made him roll his eyes until he remembered that Sam had caught him doing the same with the Impala once or twice.

Okay, maybe she’s not that nuts after all…

During the drive to the Giddy On Up Motel - Dean swore he was taking a picture if that was really it’s name - he had plenty of time to think about the day’s events. One thing was nagging at him, more than who was causing the rodeo deaths. Back when he was picking himself up out of the dirt after his stunt fall from the broncho, Dean had been certain that Jenna had done something to him to ease his pain. There weren’t words to describe what had happened, but one moment he had been able to see three of her and his brains had felt like they’d been scrambled up in a blender, then the next, she was putting her hand on him and a sensation of warmth spread throughout his body causing what he thought had been a concussion to ebb suddenly away to a mild headache. The fact that she did the same thing twice ruled out co-incidence for him at the time. However, now she was hurt and if she possessed any kind of psychic healing voodoo powers, then surely she would have used them on herself by now, wouldn’t she? No-one willingly walked around in pain if they could do something about it, so why hadn’t she eased her own injuries?

Dean rested his elbow on frame of the door as he drove, the fingers on that hand idly massaging away a knot in his neck as he pondered whether or not to ask about it. If he was wrong, she would just think he was weird and he’d be stuck wondering what had caused his unexpected partial recovery. If he was right, then maybe he could swallow his pride long enough for her to fix him up so that Sam, Bobby and Li wouldn’t know he’d even been hurt. They’d all been through enough lately without him causing them any more worry. The disturbing thing was, that if he was right, and she did have some kind of power, then what did that make her? A psychic? A witch? Someone more like Sam, Andy or Max? Special kids who had demon type powers?

I’m starting to wish I’m wrong about Jenna now…

Sure enough, she hadn’t been lying about the name of the Motel and Dean pulled up close behind her as they parked in the open car lot. It was definitely the kind of place you’d find a hunter, where no questions were asked and the rooms were rented by the hour if need be. Naturally, Dean felt instantly at home.

“You weren’t kidding.” He said as he climbed slowly out of his car to meet her. With a nod of his head, he motioned to the Motel name sign, with it’s gaudy neon lasso above it and the fake plastic cactus’s underneath. The bar next door, aptly named the Cowboy Casanova Inn, no doubt had a mechanical broncho of it’s very own too.

Oh, how he loved the south.


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LANE 'SULLY' SULLIVAN
Posted: Oct 29 2011, 04:00 PM


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TAG: Dean || WORDS: 765| OUTFIT: Bad Assery
When they pulled into the motel Sully eased herself out of the truck, trying not to irritate her side anymore than it already was. She still wasn’t sure about this. A familiar unease sat in the center of her gut. She was either following a really good lead, or being a complete idiot. By morning she’d know. Going around to the toolbox, Sully pulled out her overnight bag along with the med kit and walked over to meet Dean. “You weren’t kidding.”

Sully smirked as Dean took in the site of the rundown motel on the side of the road. These were the places she most felt at home. Fancy hotels and big houses always made her feel uncomfortable. She didn’t belong there. She never would, but Sully was okay with that.

“I told you.” She gesture for him to follow and she went to room seven on the bottom floor. The door was a dark brown and needed an actual key to get in. The Giddy On Up Motel hadn’t upgraded to the plastic cards, which Sully was grateful for. She never could get those things to work properly.

The room wasn’t very large. There were two twin beds made up in burnt orange and brown checkered sheets. The wall behind the bed was done in a deep green and had portrait of a cowboy riding off into the sunset in the middle of the two beds. The wall to the right was beige with a portrait of a two cowboys on horses, looking to lasso something. There was a small table against the wall, the chairs matching the burnt orange color of the bed spreads. The lamps were accented in the same green as the back wall. The bathroom, was surprising plain, but Sully figured people would think it was odd if the toilet paper roll was in the shape of a cactus plant.

“This town takes their cowboys seriously.” She walked over to the far bed and dropped her things on it. “Then again most Rodeo towns do.”

Sully went to pull the disc out of her back pocket and winced, her free hand going to her side. For a moment she had forgotten about the injury as she watched Dean take in the decorum of the room. Slowly continuing with the motion she pulled the disc out of her pocket and tossed it onto the bed with the rest of her things.

First things were first. Sully had questions and she had no doubt that Dean had only wanted to come so he could get a look at the disc, but they both needed to take care of their injuries first. Well at least Sully did. If she left the salt in her side it would probably get infected. She couldn’t heal herself like she could others. Hell she couldn’t heal herself at all. The best she was going to be able to do is remove the salt, and wrap her gut in an ace bandage to restrict her movement.

Rolling her shoulder, Sully could still feel the deep ache in her muscles from where she was slammed into the wall. Grabbing the ice bucket off the table she went out into the hall and quickly filled it from the machine. Returning to the room she grabbed a few sandwich bags out of her med kit and filled them with ice.

Normally Sully would have taken her shirt off, but she didn’t feel like walking around the room in her bra with a guy she just met lurking about. Besides she was only wearing a tank top, so it wouldn’t be in the way. She hissed in a mixture of pleasure and pain when the ice made contact with her skin. She grabbed an ace bandage and began wrapping it over the icepack she had pressed to her shoulder. It covered the jagged claw marks that rested there, at least for now.

Once the ace bandage was secured she turned to look at Dean. He was worse for wear than she was and so long as her shoulder was being iced she’d be able to help him clean up his wounds if need be.

“How bad are you injured?”

She wasn’t thinking of using her powers on him again. Not unless she absolutely had to. At the moment she didn’t have to. Dean could suffer along with her. Sully wasn’t wasting what little energy she had left for the night healing the cocky cowboy. The med kit would be enough to patch both of them up. She hoped anyways.



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DEAN WINCHESTER
Posted: Oct 29 2011, 04:23 PM


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Apparently there was a rule for people who ran motels this cheap. Well two rules actually. The first went something along the lines of, ‘Every room must be painted in at least three different colours that don’t match and should be carpeted with something that with absorb every stain possible, but in such a way as to make you never want to tred on it with your bare feet, ever’. The second was a little simpler. ’If there’s a cliché to be had, go nuts with it.’ Clearly, the owner of this particularly fine establishment was a stickler for the rules.

“Yeeha.” Dean commented blandly as he took in the details, the novelty of this kind of themed accomodation having rubbed off long ago.

It didn’t escape his notice that Jenna was in some pain when she reached into her back pocket for the disc he wanted to see, but like a wise hunter, he didn’t comment on it and just made a mental note about her weakness instead. She had made it quite clear that she didn’t want him in her personal space, let alone touching her to check how badly she was hurt. His bruised jaw was a testament to her volatility after she had punched him when he grabbed her arm, something which he had yet to bring up with her again. He figured that since she had what he wanted right now, it could wait, just in case she decided to get pissy about the whole thing and kick him out. He couldn’t be bothered to argue anyway, he just wanted to see the footage and go. Besides, her smack barely registered after the demon beating he’d taken, it was almost a moot point.

When she slipped out of the room to fetch ice, Dean took the opportunity to poke around in her belongings while she wasn’t looking. Call it natural curiousity, or lack of trust. Either way, he was hoping to find out a little more about her. Her overnight bag was slightly open on the end of one bed, the gap inviting Dean to poke his nose in, or rather his sticky fingers. As luck would have it, the first thing he came across was a bra and being a typical man, he couldn’t help but pause for a moment to stare at the garment in his hands, distracted by a gutter mind and a downstairs brain.

Huh, she does have boobs. I thought she was flat chested…

Admittedly, Jenna was a good looking woman, but there was nothing particularly feminine about her that held any kind of attraction for Dean. Jenna was too rough edged and hard. She wasn’t like Annali, all soft curves and sensuality.

Mmm…Li’s curves…

Dean had to mentally slap himself out of his daydream when it dawned on him he was wasting time when he was supposed to be looking for clues about his new hunting friend. It wouldn’t look good if she walked back in to find him holding her bra with a perverted smirk on his face. A punch to the jaw would be the least of his worries, so he replaced her underwear and rummaged a little deeper into the bag, luckily finding something very promising. Her wallet.

Yahtzee.

After a quick glance back to the open doorway to check that Jenna wasn’t coming back, Dean flipped open the leather wallet and hastily pawed through her cards, pausing when he found her driving license. Eyebrows raised, he pulled it out properly to read the name on it.

Well, well, well…seems I’m not the only one using fake names today, Lane Sullivan.

Lane? Really?


Sensing Jenna - Lane’s - imminent return, Dean slid the driving license back where he found it and returned the whole wallet back to the bag he’d pilfered it from, just in time to turn around and look casual when she walked back through the door. She didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss so Dean just sat himself down on the end of the other bed while she tended to her shoulder, idly turning over the discarded disc in his hands until she was done.

It was very tempting to call her out on the secret identity straight away but there was no advantage in that at the moment. Better to keep the intel close to his chest, should he need an upper hand further down the line.

“How bad are you injured?”

Hmm. Let’s see, my back feels like someone sanded it down and poured acid into the raw bits, my leg’s still bitching about being pulled out of it’s socket earlier, I got road rash on my arms from being dragged around a rodeo arena by a wild horse, there’s a ring of bruises around my neck where a demon tried to choke me, not to mention the cracked ribs, numerous cuts, scrapes and black and blue bruising everywhere else…

“I’ll live.” He held up the disc in his hands and waved it back and forth a couple of times. “We gonna watch this or what?”


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LANE 'SULLY' SULLIVAN
Posted: Oct 30 2011, 03:20 PM


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TAG: Dean || WORDS: 865| OUTFIT: Bad Assery
“I’ll live.” He held up the disc in his hands and waved it back and forth a couple of times. “We gonna watch this or what?”

Someone was testy. Not that she was exactly the queen of happiness but still. Then again it had been a long night. Sully cursed herself for not paying more attention to the situation. If she had maybe her side wouldn’t be so tore up.

Well if you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be strong.

That was her motto. Hunting wasn’t the smartest career choice and injuries came with the territory. So did mistakes, but she hated making them all the same. Especially ones that could have been avoided like this. She had been slow from her head bouncing off the arena wall. If she had a concussion it was mild, but it had been enough to throw her game off.

Then again if the demon hadn’t been so fixated on Dean she might not have been able to do anything at all. She made a mental note to ask him about that along with all of the other questions she had. At this rate she was going to need to get a notebook and start writing them all down, lest some other oddly curious thing about Dean Winchester throw itself at her and she forget one of the previous ones.

Dean seemed to be an odd duck. Not that he was a bad guy, but she had a feeling he was one of those cocky, holier than though, need to knock their ego down a few notches guys. The kind that made her want gag most of the time. She also figured him to be the kind who doesn’t back down from a fight and was loyal to those he cared about. The last was just a hunch, but he just seemed that way.

Sully needed to clean out the wound in her side. Dean, was obviously getting impatient though. Technically he was right. They needed to watch the disc. Sully hadn’t remembered seeing the guard in the arena earlier in the day, so either he had jumped bodies or maybe doing it from a distance.

“Yeah, we’ll watch it.” Going back into her bag, Sully pulled her laptop out of the bottom and set it on the small table. “I’m telling you, Dean something seems off about this. That demon didn’t even attempt to make us hallucinate.”

Gritting her teeth Sully hooked up the laptop. She was so going to pay for this later, but the video shouldn’t take long to watch. Once it was over she could clean herself up. She bent down to put the plug in the socket. Her bruised side folded and she couldn’t help but give a slight cry of pain and stumble back. She seethed through gritted teeth and mentally cursed herself for being so stupid. Sully had been caught up in her thoughts and not paying attention to what she was doing.

“I’m fine,” She said before Dean could ask. “Just give me a minute.” Sully wanted to grip her side, but knew that would just add to the pain. Instead she left the cord where it was. The damn disc could wait after all. Grabbing the med kit, Sully went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Once inside she lifted her tank top over her head and threw it on the counter leaving her in a black bra and jeans. Her side had taken on tinges of purple and green along with the red. “Great.” Gently she touched the inflamed area, hissing from the sheer tenderness of a light finger.

This is not going to be fun.

She grabbed a needle nose pair of forceps out of the med kit and started pulling the salt pellets out of her skin. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she clenched her jaw against the pain. Her side was on fire, like someone had put a blow torch up against her skin and went at it. After extracting the third pellet she leaned against put the forceps down and rested her hands on the counter top. She still had several more to pull out. Right now she’d wished she had Lidocaine to dull the area, but she’d been out for a while. Turning on the cool water she splashed it over her pale face and looked in the mirror.

Her eyes were a bit sunken and hollow, but not much more than usual. Her long braids were in disarray from the battle with the demon and a few strands stuck to her face from throwing water on her face. The icepack on her shoulder was beginning to melt and send trails of sweat from the packs down her arm.

Once she got the rest of the salt out she was going to have wash her side down in peroxide and wrap it in an ace bandage. “Pull it together, Sully.” She needed to get this done quick so she could get back out there and watch the video. Then she figured that a drink or two from the saloon next door was definitely in order.



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DEAN WINCHESTER
Posted: Oct 30 2011, 06:58 PM


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“I’m telling you, Dean something seems off about this. That demon didn’t even attempt to make us hallucinate.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking that too.”

It wasn’t simply that he hadn’t witnessed some kind of trippy mirage though, he just didn’t get the same feel from the demon he’d killed as he had about the one in the rodeo arena. In his experience, the black eyed types that just wanted to flat out murder him without any imagination, they tended to be the low level grunts who only knew he had a price on his head. They didn't really care how he died, just that they got the reward of being the ones to kill him. They weren't the Lilith's or the Alastair's, or even the Meg's of the underworld. They were just extras. Collateral damage for the bad guys. Besides, there was the small matter of the demonic horse he’d seen too. Had that been part of an hallucination, or was that real? If it was real, why was it Dean could see it and no-one else had?

Unexpectedly then, Lane’s actions trying to hook up her laptop got the better of her injuries and she almost crumpled in half right in front of him. Automatically his protective streak kicked in and he was on his feet, hovering behind her in case she passed out on the spot.

“You should sit down.” He suggested, but before the words even left his lips, she’d cut him off with the classic Winchester fob off of, “I’m fine”. When it came to reading people and the secrets they hid, Dean was a master of knowing the true meaning behind that particular line. She wasn’t fine in the slightest, but she had too much pride, or not enough trust for him to concede the fact.

“Just give me a minute.”

Dean watched as she huffed off into the bathroom for privacy, shaking his head as it reminded him of so many times Sam had done the same when being around Dean had just gotten to be too much. When you lived in close quarters day in, day out, motel bathrooms quickly became refuge points for a little peace. It seemed that was universal.

Fine. If you wanna be a stubborn woman, be my guest.

In her absence, he plugged the laptop in himself though, not without some discomfort of his own. It was a mercy that he at least had the wall to lean on whilst he did otherwise he’d have been on the floor, unable to get up again. Maybe he would just stay down this time, catch up on some sleep. The day had been impossibly long and tiring and he was on the last reserves of his energy. He cast his eyes over to the empty bed by the window and sighed longingly at it. If Lane wasn’t here, he’d be all over that right now.

A stiffled hiss from the bathroom snagged his attention again when he stood up and curiosity mixed with concern had him hobbling over to listen in. He could hear water running and Lane was talking to herself, no doubt looking into the mirror at the same time.

“Pull it together, Sully.”

Sully? Of course…Lane Sullivan.

“You okay in there?” Dean called through, knocking on the door a couple of times with his knuckles, forgetting too late that they were raw from punching a rodeo guard not that long ago.

“Rock salt’s a bitch to pick out if you’ve never done it before. I know.” It was Dean’s round about way of offering his services, should she need them.


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LANE 'SULLY' SULLIVAN
Posted: Oct 31 2011, 07:56 AM


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TAG: Dean || WORDS: 594 || OUTFIT: Bad Assery
Sully had the forceps dug into her skin when Dean’s voice startled her. “You okay in there?”

Used to traveling alone, and taking care of herself Sully hadn’t expected someone to call through the door while she had a sharp metal instrument in her side. She jumped and tip of the forceps ground into her skin and she jerked it away with a slight yelp of pain.

At least I got the last piece of salt out.

“Rock salt’s a bitch to pick out if you’ve never done it before. I know.”

She imagined he did, and she knew he was trying to be helpful, but it wasn’t the first rock salt party Sully had been to either. The bruise was going to take a while to heal, there was no doubt about that. It would go quicker without the salt embedded into her skin though. There were tiny holes in her skin covering the bruise now. She looked like a black and blue pin cushion.

“I’m good,” Sully tried to keep the words as light as possible. She didn’t know Dean, nor did she trust him, but at the moment he seemed to be offering his help, and while she wouldn’t take it, Sully didn’t want to sound ungrateful. “I’ll be out in a second.”

She quickly took the peroxide and let the cool liquid wash down her side. The tiny holes hissed and bubbled white foam. It felt like tiny ants had crawled in her skin and were slowly biting away at the infection. She cringed, but when the peroxide was done doing its job she wiped the excess away with a damp cloth and then wrapped the ace bandage securely around her gut.

When she went to put her tank top back on the bandage helped keep her muscles in place and the pain was considerably less. She pulled the fabric over her head and left the bathroom. “All right,” She told Dean. “Let’s see what’s on that video.”

Walking over to the table, Sully eased herself into the chair. Sitting wasn’t as bad as before, but the ace bandage only managed the pain. It didn’t take it away. She took the disc from Dean and slid it into the player. “Hopefully this will give us some sort of idea as to what happened.”

When the video came up Sully maximized it to full screen so that they would be able to see everything better, and possibly notice any small details. Buck Johnson had gone first, and then Dean. They had been there for those two. Even so they watched first Buck get pummeled, and then Dean. Though tempted to watch Dean get flung about like a rag doll again, Sully instead paid attention to the background looking for anything out of the ordinary. After all it’s not like she was giving the disc back. When this was over she could sidle up in bed with a bag of popcorn and laptop and laugh at Dean all day if she wanted to. Right now though, they needed to figure out if they’d gotten the right demon or not.

“I don’t remember seeing that guard at the arena,” Sully told Dean as she continued watching the tape. “There were cops, and…” She trailed off when the camera turned onto the announcer Anna May. There was static over her for a moment, but when it cleared she noticed something odd the horse Anna May was riding. “Dean, is it me, or is there too much shine to that horse’s eye?”



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DEAN WINCHESTER
Posted: Oct 31 2011, 08:36 AM


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The offer of help fell on stubborn ears and Dean surmised that she couldn’t be hurt that bad or else she would said something. That was the theory anyway, it wasn’t as though he had any prior examples to base it on with her. So after a moment of lingering by the door like a spare part, flexing his swollen knuckles to keep them from freezing up, he decided that if he had to wait, he might as well put some ice on his bruises too.

Borrowing one of her handy sandwich bags, Dean sat on the end of her bed and scooped a handful of ice into it, pushed out all the air and sealed it up so he could press it to the back of one hand. He kept it there until his knuckles began to go numb and then shifted it to his other for the same amount of time. The heat from the bruises slowly faded and by the time Sully exited the bathroom again, Dean was starting to relax.

“All right. Let’s see what’s on that video.”

Whatever she had done to fix herself up seemed to have worked, Dean noticed almost immediately that she was moving more fluidly than she had done before, the tell tale sign of bandages under her shirt explaining the likely reason. Triage was obviously a skill she’d picked up at some point in her life. Dumping the melting ice pack on the table, Dean moved over so he would be able to see the screen, turning a chair to straddle it so he could lean forward against the back and avoid aggravating his own salted wounds.

“Hopefully this will give us some sort of idea as to what happened.”

“If it doesn’t, we’re back to square one again.”

They watched in silence for the most part, skipping ahead through uneventful footage until they got to the events they wanted to see, namely the part with the flying Winchester. It was strange to watch himself on film, it wasn’t often Dean got a look at himself as other people saw him and he wondered why no-one had ever told him he was quite so bow-legged. If he didn’t look so nervous about getting on the broncho, he could have easily passed himself off as a life long cowboy with a stance like that.

“I don’t remember seeing that guard at the arena. There were cops, and…”

Dean wasn’t really listening to her now, instead he was concentrating on the screen, looking intently at the end of the arena he knew he’d seen the hell horse and rider. Frustratingly, the camera didn’t quite cover the entire arena, but he kept seeing something skirting around at the edge of the frame that just didn’t seem right. Like intermittent static, only not. Whatever it was, Sully didn’t seem to have picked up on it and he figured it was just his tired eyes playing tricks on him. He looked away for a second and blinked a couple of times, rubbing the bridge of his nose and his eyes with a thumb and forefinger to brush away the tiredness.

“Dean, is it me, or is there too much shine to that horse’s eye?”

“Huh?” He looked back again and immediately sat bolt upright in his chair.

“That’s the understatement of the century!”

What he could see on the screen now was what he had seen back in the arena in that flash of a second he’d made eye contact with it. A demon in it’s true form, charred and hideous riding bare back on an evil looking black horse with hooves on fire and smoke pouring from it’s nostrils. Lightning quick, Dean reached over and hit the pause button to still the image of it on the screen.

“How is no-one in the crowd seeing that?” He questioned out loud, turning to Sully who apparently didn’t seem to be as freaked out by it as he was. In fact she was giving him a very odd look indeed. It took a second, but the penny finally dropped.

“You’re not seeing it either, are you?”

Then he remembered that she hadn’t seen it at the time and perhaps now she still couldn’t. So why the hell could he? Frowning a little - and hoping that he wasn’t going mad - he pointed at the demonic horse on the screen and motioned for her to look again.

“What do you see?”


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LANE 'SULLY' SULLIVAN
Posted: Oct 31 2011, 08:38 AM


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TAG: Dean || WORDS: 548 || OUTFIT: Bad Assery
“That’s the understatement of the century!”

Sully blinked at Dean’s outburst. He had gone from blasé about the tape to jerking forward to get a look at the screen. She realized that there was something odd about the horse, but apparently Dean had seen something that hinted to him what they were dealing with.

"Um, okay," She replied casually. "How is that exactly?"

Dean ignored and she watched his behavior as he reached over and hit the pause button. Dean was tense as he looked at the screen, gazing at it as if seeing something she couldn’t. His face held awe and wonderment, but not in a good way. More like an oh my god are you friggin’ serious kind of way.

“You’re not seeing it either, are you?” Dean asked her.

She raises a brow at Dean. “Seeing what exactly?”

He waved his hand towards the screen and Sully looked back to the video. Horse and announcer were center stage, and she could still see that eerie illuminescent shine in the horses eyes. Other than that though, everything seemed normal. Still, things that showed up like that on camera were either a trick of the light, or it meant something was going on. Seeing as how no matter which way the horse moved it eyes shined, well she figured it was a clue.

“What do you see?”

“I see that annoying rodeo announcer, Emma whatever, and the horses eyes are shining.” She shrugged. “That’s about it.” Sully looked back at Dean.

Sully had come across other hunters before, but Dean seemed to be different. For a moment she wondered if Dean had a secret he was hiding. He sure acted like it. Not to mention the fact he had that nifty knife and apparently was seeing something she didn’t.

It piqued her interest. Sully knew there were other people out there like her. They had certain abilities. Or at least she hoped there was. Sully figured that if she had shamanistic tendencies and she was only half Native American, well then there had to be full blooded Native Americans who were full blown shamans. It would make sense anyways.

Dean though, didn’t look Native American, but theirs couldn’t be the only one with…for lack of a better word…magical cultures. She knew that most witches got their powers from demons, and that psychics were usually just people who were good at reading body language and would easily, and happily swindle money from someone who was suffering. Sully figured though that there had to be legit people like her out there. She wondered if Dean was one of them.

“What do you see?”

It was a fair question. Just the first of many she had to ask him. Would Dean trust her enough as a hunter to tell her the truth? She didn’t know. Sully had her own issues with trust, but right now they needed to stop whatever was happening to the riders. The shine in the horses eyes meant she was going back to the arena tomorrow. She’d have to barrel race even if just to keep up appearances with…well whatever the hell it was that Dean was seeing.

Sully leaned back in her chair, keeping her eyes on Dean, and waited for his answer.



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DEAN WINCHESTER
Posted: Oct 31 2011, 08:42 AM


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Of course she’s not seeing it too, that would be too easy…maybe I’m finally going insane after all these years?

“I see that annoying rodeo announcer, Emma whatever, and the horses eyes are shining.”

“The announcer?” Dean muttered under his breath, concentrating hard to think if he’d actually paid her much attention before he’d really seen what her true face looked like. He looked at the frozen image on the screen and then closed his eyes and tried to picture it in the arena in his mind. Surely even if there was only Dean that could see her - it - for what she really was, why hadn’t it become apparent sooner? He would certainly have noticed something that out of place even if he didn’t know what he was looking for at the time.

Was his ability to see her only triggered through the fear of riding the broncho? Or perhaps, more disturbingly, instead of giving him hallucinations like she had done with other riders, did she purposefully make it so that Dean could see her because she knew who he was and what he was? Was this a taunt? A ‘come and get me if you think you can’ message from an over-confident monster or did she not expect that Dean would have survived his ride on Satan’s Revenge? Maybe she’d allowed him to see her true face so that she could have the satisfaction of making sure the hunter knew a demon had killed him.

All these questions are giving me a headache…

”What do you see?”

Brows firmly furrowed now, Dean opened his eyes and looked sternly back at the screen, losing hope that he was just imagining things when the hideous demon horse and rider still remained on the laptop monitor.

“I see a much better candidate for the name ‘Satan’s Revenge’, that’s what I see. It’s…” Just how did you explain what evil looked like?

“It’s awful. Like some kind of fire breathing, flame hoofed death pony with a demon on its back. It’s as if someone flayed all the skin from a horse and chargrilled it in gasoline, only it‘s not dead. Just looks like it is.” He carried on, focusing on what he was describing rather than looking at Sully because he knew how it sounded in his own ears. This was nuts.

“And the demon isn’t just something riding around in a meat suit, it’s what it looks like on the inside.“ There was a moment’s pause and Dean chewed on his lip, doubtful of saying what was on the tip of his tongue.

“I see the real face of a demon.“ His mind flashed back to so many visages of evil he’d encountered down in the pit. Faces like the one on the screen. Deformed and ugly. Sinister. Malevolent. Like unexpected memories, sneaking in when he was least prepared for them, they brought back the uneasiness that thoughts of Hell so often did.

“It’s what Hell twisted out of a soul to make it…inhuman.”

It could have been me if not for Cas...

“Look, I know what you’re gonna say, it’s crazy, I get that. But that is what I see and no, I have no idea why I can see it and you can’t.”

Frustrated with himself and his lack of answers to the questions in his mind, he got up and started pacing back and forth between the beds, though it was less pacing and more hobbling with one hand pressed firmly against his bruised hip, but it was never the less determined. After all the research that he had done regarding visions of horse’s and the actual Horsemen after his plague induced fever dreams of them, he felt he should know what he was dealing with but, whether it was because he was tired and not thinking straight, or residual sedatives were still running loose in his system, he just could not put two and two together right now.


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LANE 'SULLY' SULLIVAN
Posted: Oct 31 2011, 08:44 AM


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TAG: Dean || WORDS: 809 || OUTFIT: Bad Assery
“I see a much better candidate for the name ‘Satan’s Revenge’, that’s what I see. It’s…”

“It’s…what?” Sully prompted. She didn’t want him to stop now.

Dean seemed tense as he stared at the screen. She didn’t know what he was seeing, or if it was real. Maybe he was seeing whatever it was he had hallucinated in the arena.

She wondered if then anyone who had been affected by the demon would be able to see it if they watched the video. Maybe they wouldn’t see what Dean was seeing, but maybe they would see their own personal hallucination all over again. That didn’t bode well. If people started screaming, ‘Can’t you see it,’ when they watched a replay of their ride there would be a whole lot of Cowboys diagnosed with either head injuries or schizophrenia. She was wondering if Dean had any one of those ailments or if he was actually seeing something on the tape.

“It’s awful. Like some kind of fire breathing, flame hoofed death pony with a demon on its back. It’s as if someone flayed all the skin from a horse and chargrilled it in gasoline, only it‘s not dead. Just looks like it is.”

Sully’s nose scrunched up at the description and looked back at the screen. She didn’t see any of that. All she saw was a gorgeous, black Arabian Stallion who was unfortunate enough to have the most annoying rider in the world. Dean was seeing something more though. Something she couldn’t see, whether it be because she wasn’t crazy or because she hadn’t felt the effects of the demon.

“I see the real face of a demon.“ That drew her gaze back to him. “It’s what Hell twisted out of a soul to make it…inhuman.”

How does he know all this? How can he see the true face of a demon? That’s impossible. They just look like smoke when they aren’t possessing someone. Is his worst fear demons? Is that why he sees the horse that way?

She was thinking maybe Dean was just too damn stubborn to admit that a demon had got the best of him. Then again that other demon had gone straight for him. Had known who Dean was and was determined to get him out of the picture. Sully suddenly had a feeling there was more going on with this wanna-be cowboy than she knew about it.

“Look, I know what you’re gonna say, it’s crazy, I get that. But that is what I see and no, I have no idea why I can see it and you can’t.”

Dean got up and started pacing. Well more like limping, but still, he was agitated. She could tell by the look on his face. Sully watched for a moment, just letting him pace. She was wondering if he was going to elaborate on anything he had just said.

When he didn’t, Sully sighed and it was a reminder of her bruised sighed. She winced a bit, but the pain wasn’t as intense thanks to her trust ace bandage. She was tired and her head was starting to hurt.

Just another thing to add to the growing list of irritations.

Dean seemed to be lost in his thoughts, and Sully’s opinion was that it probably wasn’t a good thing. She imagined that getting lost in Dean’s mind was like getting lost in a labyrinth: dark, frustrating, and probably scary as hell. It was not something she felt like dealing with on top of everything else.

Easing herself out of the chair she stood stepped in front of Dean to stop his pacing and grab his attention. Somehow she didn’t think calling his name would work.

“Look, it’s been a long day, and an even longer night. Let’s take a break and get a beer.”

Sully went to her bag and pulled out the old army jacket that had belonged to her brother. He had gotten at a thrift store a few years before he took off. It wasn’t something he could bring in to the Marines with him so he left it with Sully. She headed out the door, not waiting to see if Dean would follow. She needed a drink. If he wanted to pace himself crazy it wasn’t her business.

Throwing the jacket on, Sully walked across the parking lot towards the Cowboy Casanova bar. Movement caught her eye and she looked up. Perched on the roof of the bar was a red tailed hawk. It seemed to be staring at her, watching her. Sully always seemed to see hawks, wherever she went and they always seemed to be watching her.

Yeah, they’re watching you Sully. She started wondering if Dean’s craziness was contagious.

She shook her head. “I need a drink.” Then Sully walked into the bar.



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