(no subject)

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Metropolis stinks.

Rachel's a bitch.

Jo's still doing her own thing. Jo's always doing her own thing. Dean shouldn't mind that so much.

He misses Sam.

However, there's always good food on the Cooper farm. So guess where Dean and the Impala are headed?

Wouldn't hurt to check up on that kid with the interest in demons, either.

(He left a message with the usual hunter's channels -- still in existence, even here where they don't use the term 'hunters' -- for Jo. Figures she'll tell Rach, the two of them so freakin' buddy-buddy.)



So -- eventually, somewhere between Metropolis and the Cooper farm's entrance gate -- there's a 67 Impala growling its way along the dirty roads, belting out Metallica.

Comments

[greatestofease.livejournal.com]

Somewhere else along that route, there's a motorbike with a dismayingly bent-out-of-shape front wheel and slightly crumpled chassis, and a man in his shirtsleeves trying to straighten it and muttering under his breath. There is also a crack in the road and a large rock bears evidence of the bike having ground sideways across it.

"See, Jubes, this is why you never try long-distance biking when you don't have backup or repair shops around. Blast it."

[galwonder]

It's anyone's guess who he's talking to, honestly.

Jubes is sitting on the bike in a way that the bike wasn't designed to be sat on, occasionally swinging her legs through the chassis.

"You used to take the Wingbike to the shop? Really?"

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

The guy's got a bike, and seems to know what he's doing. Dean doesn't intend to stop.

He slows down a little, just to make sure nothin' troublesome is happening, though.

[greatestofease.livejournal.com]

Dick looks up as the car approaches and waves a greeting. One that is obviously intended to imply he's FINE, just HAPPENED to feel like breaking his bike but the situation's entirely under control and nothing needs to be done, thanks, how're YOU?

... he's such a boy sometimes.

It sounds like something's going wrong with the Impala's radio.

[galwonder]

Such a boy. Especially when he's managed to break that part there as anyone can see.

"Hey, asshole! Turn down the damn music! Other people are living in this acopalypse too! Jerk."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

It kind of does sound like something's interfering with the radio. Which is odd, because it's a cassette tape.

Only a little way past the guy, the big car drags to a stop. There's a pause, and then the door slams and Dean gets out, with a small black device the size of a walkman in one hand and a shotgun in the other, and starts walking back towards the bike.

[greatestofease.livejournal.com]

"Oh, great."

Dick gets to his feet, in his best Friendly-And-Inoffensive-But-Ready-To-Drop-Into-Fighting-Stance-At-Any-Moment pose.

"Hey, there. That gun's probably not the best idea."

[galwonder]

Dean's walkman is making noises as strange as his radio was.

"Oh man, are you ever in trouble. Sic him, Wing!"

Jubes kicks Dean through the shins.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

It's screamy as anything.

"Don't worry, it's not f'you," Dean assures Dick, lifting not the gun but the EMP meter. It screams louder, obligingly and he shakes his head.

"A'ight, this's gonna sound fuck-off crazy, but I swear it's for real -- are you aware you're bein' haunted?"

[greatestofease.livejournal.com]

Dick isn't getting any less wary with Dean's assurances -- until that last sentence. Then he's frowning, intent and focused, with a quick glance towards where Jubes was several minutes ago.

"Yeah. I am, actually."

[galwonder]

The scream of the EMP meter starts oscillating, a little like a police siren.

Jubes is moving one hand to the Walkman and back again, fascinated.

"Hey, this thing knows I'm here. Cooooool!."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"You do? Great, that makes it a hell of a lot easier." Dean's hand stays ready on the shotgun at his side. "Where does it show up? You'll wanna stay ready for it. And d'you know where the body is?"

[greatestofease.livejournal.com]

"We're working on that."

Dick remains alert.

"Jubes, stop playing with it. It's probably a very delicate piece of equipment."

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

Ah, but at the farm, there is a motorcycle and a familiar kid with an interest in demons, kneeling beside the bike and frowning as he works.

...apparently so engrossed, he doesn't even really notice the growling. He's busy trying to figure out the growling of the bike first.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean smirks, pulling up across the yard and wandering over.

"Hey."

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

Sitting up and wiping at the sweat on his temple (and leaving a streak of grease across his skin in the process), Sokka looks over and smiles with recognition. "Hey. I thought we were too hippie for you?"

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Oh, you are," Dean agrees, "but you got good food. I figure if I bring peaches back f'Jo and Rach they won't beat me up for takin' off on 'em.

"How's the sister thing goin'?"

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

Sokka laughs and gestures toward the house with a crescent wrench. "Lucy just brought back pears, but I think there's some peaches left, too."

The question gets rid of his smile pretty damn quick, though. Sokka turns back to the motorcycle again, scowling angrily at the machinery.

"It isn't."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"It isn't?" Dean frowns. "Why?"

Judging by Sokka's scowl, it's not that he's given up.

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

No, that isn't it at all.

Sokka continues scowling as he works on the machinery.

"She keeps hiding the books."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"... the ghost? Keeps hiding the books?"

Dean is trying not to smirk. But still.

"... okay, you're gonna need the basics. Rings of salt."

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

"I didn't know she could pick things up!" Sokka explodes, complaining loudly as he throws his arms up in the air. "She's probably hidden them in the spirit world or somewhere else impossible and it just fucking figures that my sister would find a way to be more annoying dead than she ever was alive!"



--but hey, Dean wants to help him. Helping is awesome. Dean now has Sokka's full attention again, lifted brows and wide eyes. "Uh... okay. Salt for what?"

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean is grinning, amused by the flaily.

"Spirits can't deal with salt, or with solid iron. Least, in my world they can't. So if y' pour salt on the ground in a line, they can't cross it. Put the book inside a salt circle, or the whole house if you wanna keep her out -- or in -- and you're set."

[notanoptimist.livejournal.com]

Sokka keeps staring, giving Dean his full attention, and nods as he reaches back for a pad of paper and a pen. "Out, definitely," he says, making notes. "Penning her in didn't work when she was corporeal, I don't wanna mess with it when she can be invisible if she wants."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean shakes his head, bemused. And trying not to imagine what he'd do if it were Sam.

"Yeah, good point, I guess. Uh ... rock salt loaded into a shotgun, if y'wanna temporarily get rid of her. Doesn't hurt them, just -- discorporates them, takes them a while to get their bits back t'gether."