Night 41: M01-10 Hallway

[mitase.livejournal.com]

[in M7]

Hanatarou had managed to choke down about half of his dinner before finally giving up and pushing the tray away. With a glance back at Sora to make sure his roommate wasn't looking, he'd opened the closet door to get his uniform and started to change; he thought that if he was going to act like a healer he could at least look like one. Right?

He was just settling his pack in place when the intercom went off, and he gave a startled glance back toward the speaker. The announcement was creepy and disturbing as usual, but considering that he was already a bundle of nerves as it was...well, there wasn't really a visible impact on him. There were supposed to be two people - two strangers - coming by to be healed, and he hoped that he'd be able to help them.

The healer paused for a moment, staring blankly at the imitation Hisagomaru in the corner of the closet before finally deciding to leave it there for the time being. He'd have to see how he felt after trying to heal two people before deciding what he was going to do next.

Comments

[boyking]

Sam huffed out a sound that was almost a laugh, exasperated only because it was expected of him. "Yeah, you don't have a phone, Dean."

It started as just an offhand response, but he realized that it actually was one of their problems. It hadn't been an issue so far, but they really needed a way to communicate with each other if or when they ever separated. They couldn't just rely on being able to stay side by side all the time.

They did have those radios. It'd probably be possible to turn it into a two-way, though he'd have to let Dean take care of that. Dean was the one who fiddled with old walkmans to make an EMF.

He pulled a chair up to the desk and sat down, leaning a little over the backrest to peer at the journal Dean pushed towards him. He'd already looked at it, of course, when he'd been searching for Dean, but mentioning that would lead them back to exactly what'd happened last night and Sam was hoping to avoid going there for as long as possible. Or ever, if he had to be completely honest.

"I can see what I can get from the nurses on the building's history, but..." He glanced up, shrugging in a way that implied it wasn't something to bet on. "I don't even know if that's gonna help in the long run. I mean, there's not really anything we can do about these hunts until we have something to hunt with."

One Bowie and a pillowcase of salt didn't count. At the very least, they needed a lighter. Accelerant, that could be easily grabbed from the batch of chemicals they'd run into upstairs, so that wouldn't be a problem. But until they could burn a body—and until they could get to the body they needed to burn which was another issue entirely—there wasn't a lot they could do. And that was only in terms of the spirits. The supposed giant cats and an apparently giant bird—yeah. He wasn't even going to touch that right now. That bird, or winged creature or whatever, from last night, he had no idea what it was, but all he could think about was that he seriously hoped it wasn't a frigging harpy.

He paused, then leaned over to reach into the drawer for the radio. He held it up to Dean. "Think you can pull off an EMF or a walkie maybe?"

Both would be nice, but they weren't exactly filled to the brim with ready tools. He'd prefer the walkie if it came down to it. Sensing spirits beforehand saved their asses plenty of times, but being able to keep in touch with his brother if they ever had to split up took priority. While he had no idea what kind of range they'd be able to get if they did manage this or what sound quality it'd be, it almost didn't matter. As long as he could know his brother was still breathing, it'd be good enough for him.

[kindalikedit]

Wasn't like he couldn't help himself to one. Hell, that wasn't even the point, the point, Dean thought, was the theoretical chick in question was into him enough to give him a number in the first place.

Dean watched Sam as his brother leaned forward to get a better look in the dim lighting. He'd been thinking the exact same thing he had: it was one thing to identify the hunts, even know where the corpses were that needed torching...it was another thing to actually be able to do their job cold like this. The potential shapeshifter running around was more bad news on top of the retardedly high number of ghosts haunting the joint - nevermind the fact they had at least two violent deaths that could easily lean into angry spirit territory. Dean had torched all kinds of bodies, but usually they were mostly decomposed. The idea of trying to torch a more or less fresh body, chilled from the morgue, wasn't exactly appealing. Dean was still trying to estimate how long it'd take to salt and burn a frozen body when Sam held up the radio.

Dean took it with a crooked half-smile. "You really gotta even ask? I can probably jury-rig it to be two way, at least. EMF'll be another ballpark, we need more parts for that."

He was still holding the radio when it suddenly came on by itself (never a good sign for them) and began broadcasting heavy static. It took a second to realize there was a voice behind the static, making disembodied, pained moans. Dean shot a look at his brother, stood up carefully and picked up his bowie knife, waiting for what else might come at them. Spirits couldn't get at them with the salt line surrounding them, but it wasn't like that stopped them from making their presence known. The intercom clicked on like the radio.

Dean didn't panic when a thin mist rolled under the crack between the floor and door's bottom. It curled in, in thin fingers at first, growing thicker by the second as it passed over the salt line. Whatever it was, it wasn't a ghost. Dean brought up his flashlight, standing next to Sam and automatically watching his back as he kept a wary eye out for any new visitors. That was when he spotted the splotch of red on the wall, right over Angel's bed and just outside the salt line - he'd laid it down around Angel's bed rather than having to move it - and growing larger by the second as the wall continued to bleed like something had died bloody behind it.

"Sam," was all Dean had time to say, before nightshift ended.