Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hasperkynipples) wrote2010-09-02 12:22 am
hasperkynipples) wrote2010-09-02 12:22 am
Entry tags:
[walenburg estate] In which Dean and Bela try not to kill each other.
“You know where to find the thing, right?”
“Yes, Sam, I know where to find an amulet in an estate sale. I’m not a total idiot.”
Dean didn’t want to be on this job, but he also knew that the thing needed to be destroyed. The amulet had killed five people in three days just through touch alone and while the people around it weren’t seeing the pattern, a hunter would. This particular hunter, however, was dealing with the idea that he was going to be entering demon territory sooner than he would have liked, and when it came down to it, that was starting to look a little more important than some cursed crappy piece of metal.
Sam, though, didn’t know that that was the end that Dean was looking at, and Sam wasn’t going to know (if that skank Ruby told him, he would fry her ass with her own friggin’ knife—saved his life or not). So that meant that Dean had to keep this news to himself and pretend like nothing had changed, which meant taking any job he could that kept Sam from trying to figure a way out of this for him. He was not interested in seeing Sam drop dead two years in a row—that much was certain. Which meant hunting after a cursed crappy piece of metal.
He reached the front door of the estate and sighed to his brother on the phone. “Alright, I’m goin’ in. I’ll call you when I find it.”
“Remember, dude, we’re just casing the place. We’re coming back for it later.” He could tell by Sam’s tone that he was expecting his brother to be an idiot, forget that the thing had killed five people in three days and touch it with his bare hands. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Yes, Sam. Goodbye, Sam.” Dean hung up the phone and adjusted his tie before making his way into the estate, looking around for any sign of the amulet. As his eyes scanned the room, he couldn’t help the groan that escaped when he spotted someone else who happened to be present. “You gotta be kidding me.”
Tonight, of all nights, was a night he did not want to deal with Bela Talbot.
“Yes, Sam, I know where to find an amulet in an estate sale. I’m not a total idiot.”
Dean didn’t want to be on this job, but he also knew that the thing needed to be destroyed. The amulet had killed five people in three days just through touch alone and while the people around it weren’t seeing the pattern, a hunter would. This particular hunter, however, was dealing with the idea that he was going to be entering demon territory sooner than he would have liked, and when it came down to it, that was starting to look a little more important than some cursed crappy piece of metal.
Sam, though, didn’t know that that was the end that Dean was looking at, and Sam wasn’t going to know (if that skank Ruby told him, he would fry her ass with her own friggin’ knife—saved his life or not). So that meant that Dean had to keep this news to himself and pretend like nothing had changed, which meant taking any job he could that kept Sam from trying to figure a way out of this for him. He was not interested in seeing Sam drop dead two years in a row—that much was certain. Which meant hunting after a cursed crappy piece of metal.
He reached the front door of the estate and sighed to his brother on the phone. “Alright, I’m goin’ in. I’ll call you when I find it.”
“Remember, dude, we’re just casing the place. We’re coming back for it later.” He could tell by Sam’s tone that he was expecting his brother to be an idiot, forget that the thing had killed five people in three days and touch it with his bare hands. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Yes, Sam. Goodbye, Sam.” Dean hung up the phone and adjusted his tie before making his way into the estate, looking around for any sign of the amulet. As his eyes scanned the room, he couldn’t help the groan that escaped when he spotted someone else who happened to be present. “You gotta be kidding me.”
Tonight, of all nights, was a night he did not want to deal with Bela Talbot.
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Until, of course, it turned up in this sleepy little burg of a town. Five deaths in three days, all just as the research said they'd occur. It was a terrible travesty for the dear ones left behind, and a huge gain for her. Grieving family didn't always watch their things so closely, and if something happened to fall through the cracks? Well, maybe it hadn't really been there at all, truth be told. Accidents happen, things get misplaced. Maybe it would turn up somewhere else. And by the time it didn't, it would be neatly packaged and on its way to Japan.
Bela scanned the room, pausing to adjust the opera length gloves that completed her gown that evening. They were a classic look, but a great hindrance to her sense of touch. A necessary evil, though, if she was going to get as close as she needed. She certainly wasn't looking to drop dead herself, and the mere thought of a painful death gave her butterflies. Her eyes continued sifting through the crowd, stopping on an all-too-familiar face. Pursing her lips, she started over in his direction, pausing to grab a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. No sense in not keeping up an appearance.
"Dean. Going stag tonight? What a shame."
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"Take it you had the same problem?"
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