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[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean has been back in Metropolis for a while.

He just hasn't gone to see the girls. The thought of the bitching they're gonna dish out for him taking off is a bit offputting -- and besides, he really needs to find more books with some reliable information for the farm ghost situation.

(Or at least, that's an excuse.)

He's in what's left of the Metropolis City Library at the moment, poking through old reference books with dirty hands and occasionally shoving a near-priceless tome roughly into his knapsack. Dean's respect for books, let him show you it.

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[ineveryport.livejournal.com]

Jack is sitting on the wall outside the Metropolis City Library.

No reason why he should be there. It'd be ridiculous to suggest he was wating for Dean... right?

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean glances at him in passing on his way back out to the car, laden down with books that he assuredly did not borrow in the correct manner, and then doubletakes.

"Hey, I know you."

[ineveryport.livejournal.com]

"Aye," Jack says cheerfully, touching his hat.

Dean steals stuff. He likes that.

"Jack Hollins is me. I know Jo."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Ah, that's it." Dean grins at him. And then looks slightly sour, because Jack knows Jo and Dean immediately assumes biblically.

"You hangin' round for anything?"

[ineveryport.livejournal.com]

Yeah, Jack wishes. But he doesn't compete, instead he catches Dean's initial grin and returns it.

"Because I like it. The day is a pleasant one."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"It is that," Dean has to admit, slightly grudgingly. "Hey, you know anything about bringin' dead folk back?"

[ineveryport.livejournal.com]

"I know a lot of things," Jack says cheerfully.

"No caster, me, but if you're working changes, I can be helpful."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Reeeally." Dean eyes him thoughtfully. Maybe he's not so bad. "What kinda changes ... and what kinda help?"

[ineveryport.livejournal.com]

Of course he isn't bad.

"Changes in the nature of things," he provides helpfully. "Mayhap you'd call it magic? Can't act it myself, wouldn't want to. But if it can be wrought, I can find a way."

Jack beams. "Your books any help?"

[tobeclosetohim]

[Breaks the slowtime nonexistent rules and bends them to her will. Mwahahah....um, err, I mean..I wuv woo? *innocent look*]

Jo doesn't like the building, half broken open and crumbling.

But she walks up the stairs, with a bored semi-frown, determined.

There's a backpack today, slung over one shoulder, hanging low against her ass. Her hair is still wet at the bottom of the curls and her clothes are, well, as neat as one can ever get with a hunter finding a fight every day.

At the rustle from the far side, her hand reflexively curls back to rest against the gun in the back of her jeans. She inched forward until she could see what was making the noise.

Her hand relaxed, but not her posture.

"So you're back."

Now if only the edges of her lips wouldn't quirk upward when she said that.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean turns to look, letting a faint smirk cross his lips.

It's always nice to see Jo. Someone from home. ... Something like that.

"That's what the rumours say," he agrees. "Don't believe everything y'hear though."

[tobeclosetohim]

"Never do."

The quirk was heading toward a half smile, hands coming to rest on her hips.

"Then I'd have to think there might be extenuating circumstances behind you leaving messages for me."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"There's gotta be?"

Dean has the decency to look slightly shamefaced.

"You got a message, what more d'you want?"

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo smirked.

"A flame thrower. Obviously."

She moved through the middle space, looking at the the dilapidated cases and the title markers that had once cataloged them.

It would be a better apology, after all. She'd have faith in it.

Also, fire was just damn nice, especially in a mechanized toy fashion.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Shit yeah," Dean agrees. "I gotta get one of those. And one f'you, if I find any. Damn that'd be awesome."

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo's expression was brightly smug.

She looked over the contents of the shelves.

They were hardly the first people to come to this conclusion.

"So what're you looking for in this glorious shit hole?"

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Ghost stories." Dean grins, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning back against his desk. "Basics. Got a project."

He could really use Sam.

[theresnodoor]

Rachel has been busy. After talking with Jo a bit, she's been spending more time going out and finding monsters to fight, people to save. She's actually been practicing with her gun, as well, even if she hasn't actually used it in a fight yet.

Most importantly, she's managed to speed up her reaction time with gymnastics to a single second, if not less. So eat that, Bat guy that wouldn't help her.

And through all that busy-ness, Rachel still found the time to pop over to the farm on October 12, as Mort instructed. Sure, she was in morph the entire time and never spoke to anyone, but he never said she'd have to do anything.

(and maybe a part of her didn't really want it to work either)

At the moment, she's in the library. Where?

Dean might have to figure that out himself, after there's a crashing sound at the other end of the building.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Footsteps race towards her and Dean rounds the corner with a gun out.

You can't be too careful.

[theresnodoor]

There's... nothing there. Save for a book lying open and crumpled on the floor.


But there is a small snort from above him and a blonde sitting in the rafters with another book open on the board in front of her.

"Jumpy."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean drops the gun back into his hip pocket. "Yeah, yeah, so sue me," he grumbles.

[theresnodoor]

Rachel swings her legs, leaning forward to eye him. "I think I waste my time plenty without messing with legal crap."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean laughs. "If there were even any lawyers still alive, yeah."

[theresnodoor]

Rachel stops smiling.

Her mother's briefcase on the kitchen countertop.

She flips the book in front of her closed and swings her legs a bit more. "What're you doing here so late? You don't really seem the academic type."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Got a project." Dean lifts a paperback from his pocket and smirks a little. "On the nuthouse farm."