Dean Winchester || SUPERNATURAL (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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damned_institute2010-04-09 05:06 am
kindalikedit) wrote in damned_institute2010-04-09 05:06 am
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Night 48 - Janitor's Closet
[Tracking Faith from here; Scarecrow's effects are wearing off]
No sign of Sam, but he was willing the Demon had went this way. He'd heard something loud banging open in this direction, and Dean was willing to bet that it'd been that Demon. The more he thought about it, the more he was getting weirded out by this whole thing. It just wasn't adding up. Dean could at least safely say that the halls had stopped lurching and throbbing around him. Great, he'd stopped tripping but that didn't change the fact that Sam had somehow been possessed.
Dean stopped in front of the door and listened, wiping his bloody nose absently on the back of his hand. Someone was definitely in there. Screw going in gently. If that thing wasn't gonna use its telekinesis on him, then he was gonna finish the exorcism so long as he was still breathing. Dean kicked open the door.
And barely danced back in time as what looked like a friggen mop swung at him out of the darkness. Normally it would've been annoying, but the thing riding Sam had snapped the handle and it was now closer to a crude stake. Dean didn't give the sonuvabitch another chance to wind up, charging it and throwing his weight against it.
No sign of Sam, but he was willing the Demon had went this way. He'd heard something loud banging open in this direction, and Dean was willing to bet that it'd been that Demon. The more he thought about it, the more he was getting weirded out by this whole thing. It just wasn't adding up. Dean could at least safely say that the halls had stopped lurching and throbbing around him. Great, he'd stopped tripping but that didn't change the fact that Sam had somehow been possessed.
Dean stopped in front of the door and listened, wiping his bloody nose absently on the back of his hand. Someone was definitely in there. Screw going in gently. If that thing wasn't gonna use its telekinesis on him, then he was gonna finish the exorcism so long as he was still breathing. Dean kicked open the door.
And barely danced back in time as what looked like a friggen mop swung at him out of the darkness. Normally it would've been annoying, but the thing riding Sam had snapped the handle and it was now closer to a crude stake. Dean didn't give the sonuvabitch another chance to wind up, charging it and throwing his weight against it.
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Because no, she didn't know who the hell this guy all up in her face was. What she did know was that he wasn't no vampire; from this distance, she could feel the heat from him well enough. Definitely not a corpse.
She threw up her hands, sandwiched between some shelves and this pseudo-James Dean, and hoped to God he was coming off whatever acid they'd both been tripping on. Also, she'd be enjoying this position more if he wasn't trying to kill her.
"Whoa, easy. Wait."
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"The hell?" Dean peered at her, barely able to make out her face in the crappy lighting. It finally occurred to him what he'd touched earlier - he was currently coping a feel on her tits and while they were pretty nice ones, he wasn't ready to drop this just 'cause her rack wasn't half-bad. Dean didn't move his hand, eyes on her face. "Who're you?"
No sign of those yellow-eyes. He was more than sure he'd tracked Sam all the way here, unless this chick made it a habit to randomly go hiding in closets, and he was still convinced this was some kinda trick. Even if, y'know, Demons weren't your regular shapeshifters and this was a weird, way out there way to dick around with his head.
Dean didn't let up just yet, his knife still hovering close to her throat as he kicked aside a bucket he'd nearly tripped on earlier.
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Talk about messing with your head. She hadn't been the only one, though, which shouldn't have made her feel better, but somehow it did. Apparently. But man, what had gone on back there? Seemed like if something was gonna drive you to seeing things, there should've been, you know. Some kind of follow-up to it. This was starting to feel anticlimactic.
Still, she'd come pretty close to...except she hadn't, so forget about it, right? In terms of how things could've gone, this wasn't a worst-case scenario. Looked like she'd nailed him in the face and her back was gonna give her issues for, oh. Maybe thirty minutes, depending.
Tracking her healing rate wasn't a top priority during all of the times she'd been bleeding or whatever. Though now that the action was winding down, she realized she was a little more out of breath than she should've been from that run. She shouldn't have felt it, period.
She eyed him for a moment. "I'm Faith," she added finally. Hey, at least this was a memorable introduction. "You gonna get off me or what?"
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He glanced down pointedly at the knife at her throat. Maybe he'd been seeing things. Too much Kool-Aid and all that. But his nose was still hurting like a mother and the little throw-down they had back there wasn't some hallucination; if she was a normal human, fine. He could let her go. But he'd had way too many jobs with monsters that passed themselves off as humans, as damn good ones, and now he was wishing he could've found some silver. And salt. And brass. And just 'bout everything that was back in the Impala's trunk.
"How 'bout you do me a favor, sweetheart, and give me a rundown about what you remember?" Dean's grin wasn't very friendly right now. If they'd both been tripping, then he needed her version of it to compare to his own. As much as he didn't mind coping a feel on her right now, he was more interested in making sure he hadn't just chased a possessed Sam this way.
If Sam was chilling back in his room, fine. No harm, no foul.
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But now she was just annoyed in general. And she had to admit, a part of her was insulted that she'd taken off in the opposite direction from some...random guy. Whoever he was. Brian. That was so not a good look for her.
She was half-tempted to take the knife away herself—Slayer, regular human, no contest there—and maybe three years ago she wouldn't have even stopped to think about it, but no, playing nice was the new goal here. Turned leaf or something, for whatever it was worth. Either way, she knew she should diffuse the situation, not fuel it on, especially since it didn't look like he was gonna pitch in any.
Of course, diffusing didn't mean she had to put up with him.
"Pretty sure that's not what I said my name was. Why don't we start with you moving your hand over a few inches, and then we can talk. Think you've had long enough to decide whether they're real or not."
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At least he could strike vampire off the list; he still had some open wounds here and he didn't see her flipping out trying to sink her fangs in him even though the smell of his blood was right in her face, literally. That or she had some gnarly, off-the-wall self-control. He was hoping for Door Number 1 there.
"Think that's the least of your problems," Dean said. "Now start talking."
He didn't plan to "slip" with the bowie knife, but he wasn't willing to play games here, even if it was with some random hot chick wanting play it rough here. And for the record, her tits had been one hundred percent real.
Dean could totally attest to that.
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Although, okay, she had clocked him pretty hard, considering she hadn't realized he was just a normal guy. In retrospect, it was probably a good thing her first instinct had been to book it. For him, that was. Anymore punches, and he'd be drinking through straws for a week.
"Falling floors, never-ending hallways, wiggly walls? I thought I saw a dead guy, beats me what made you flip out on your end. If I didn't know better, I'd have said someone slipped some of that psychedelic good stuff in the water supply. We good?"
They'd better be, at any rate. She wasn't really spoiling for a fight right now. It wasn't often she said that, but after the thing with Angelus and the Beast, yeah, she'd had her share of action.
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"Getting toward good." Dean was distracted as he matched it to what happened to him. Yeah, he'd been thinking it'd been way too long crossing the hall and that did explain when he thought he'd kicked loose a piece of the unstable floor. And honestly, it wasn't even the first time they'd got hit with some pixie dust before like this, either. "Thought I saw something happened to someone I knew," maybe it wasn't the truth straight-up, but he wasn't just pulling it outta his ass either. Just skipping a few key details.
Dean stared her in the face, eyes searching Faith, sizing the chick up. He wouldn't be much of a liar if he couldn't tell if someone else was throwing back the same thing in his face. Dean made his decision, taking a careful step back as he lifted the bowie knife away from her neck and backed away from the other patient. If she was a monster, she'd either attack now or wait till his back was turned, so either way, he figured he'd have to take her on if she turned out not to be a flesh and blood human.
"Don't suppose you noticed any smells or anything?" Dean wasn't sure if he had, but there'd been a point where it'd seemed kinda...strange back there. And that was before he even ran into "Sam".
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Anyway, at least it'd worn off, unless she was imagining him, too, but she doubted it. She was more wary about where the thing that had caused it was than what had caused it, but it looked like she wasn't gonna get any answers at the moment unless she went back out there to check and really, she was reckless, but she wasn't crazy.
Faith eyed Brian up and down, not even bothering to be discreet about it. He looked like someone she might've let pick her up in a club somewhere when she got bored. And he wasn't freaking out over what'd just happened, so either he'd been here a really long time or he was someone who ran into strange things frequently. If it could happened to ragtag crew of ex-cheerleaders and a mousey bookworm (turned earth-shaking witch), it could happen pretty much happen to anyone.
She shrugged a shoulder. "Like something in the air changing? I guess. Why, did you?"
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It would've been real easy to take a rough tumble down some stairs.
All in all, Dean figured he was lucky to get away with a bloody nose.
Idly wiping at it again, Dean shone his flashlight around the cramped space, making sure to keep her in view. Real small place, and it was kinda surprising that he hadn't brained Faith on the sink or anything. From what he could tell, they'd crashed some kinda janitor's closet, the WET FLOOR sign and the mops being kind of a giveaway there. Dean took a few steps away toward one of the shelves to have a closer look and started going through the boxes, thinking he'd caught a glimpse of -
Hell yeah. Several boxes of batteries. Glancing at Faith, just making sure she was still there and not sprouting any fangs or extra claws on him, he tossed the batteries into his duffle bag. The paint thinner went next - Christ knows it beat hoofing it up to the morgue for accelerant - and after some more rooting around, he came upon a used toolkit. It wasn't exactly a sawed-off sitting pretty but it was still useful. Sometimes a screwdriver was really all you had and provided the head didn't snap off, could work as a weapon on its own.
He snagged the can of WD-40 (hey, they already had a lighter to put that baby to some good use) and a brush for the paint can he decided last second to take with. This would beat touching up any Devil's Traps with friggen crayon and probably be a whole hell of a lot more effective. Dean picked up a boxcutter, and paused. Maybe it was just coming down off that acid trip, but he'd felt kinda funky when he picked it up, like he'd done it before or something.
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She made sure to stay out of his way while he scouted for whatever it was he was looking for. No point in facilitating any tripping opportunities. She'd kind of had enough of the falling thing for the night. After a moment, she reached over and plucked up a metal pipe, not too long but long enough. It wasn't no crossbow, but she had to start somewhere.
"So what do you know about all this stuff?"
He knew something, that was for sure. Though she had to wonder what the hell he was picking up a paint can for. Redecorating his room? Touching up a chip in the wall?
TIMESKIP AFTER THE SCUFFLE
Thanks to some unforeseen circumstances, the door to the closet had been broken, so Chise didn't have to use her cannon to blow it open. Several bottles and cans were littered on the floor which lead her to a conclusion that someone else was in here earlier. She hoped that nothing too important was taken.
Taking out her journal she proceeded to write down everything that was in the room.