shatterverse | (no subject)

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Over in the training field, there's important experimentation going on. An old archery target has been set up, and some paces away is a long white and red stick on top of a tripod.

From the top of this stick,a couple of wires loop out and attach to a roughly made glove on the left hand of a blonde woman with a blindfold loosely tied around her eyes as she lines up a homemade bow towards the target and shoots.

In succession, she shoots three arrows near and around the bullseye, approaches with confidence, checks the location, and returns.

It all takes a lot of concentration. Distractions might put her off her stroke.

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But it's such a good conversation. Dean loves it.

"Hey," Dean says, glaring at Sam. "Quit that."

No calling him Deanny. That's just wrong. JUST BECAUSE SAM HAPPENS TO BE BIGGER NOW D:

"I gotta say," Leah adds dutifully. "That Porsche is a sweet ride. One of the smoothest engines I've heard."

Sam is abruptly ten thousand times more smug now. His smirk practically reeks 'my car is cooler than yours and the pretty girl on my arm says so.'

"She's a beauty too," Dean agrees, and gives Sam a grin. "Kinda soulless, though. So clean.

"Suits Sammy down t'the ground."

"Y'gotta love it when people try to cover up for flaws by calling them 'soul'."

Leah already has Dean pinned down as someone who likes vinyl.

Sam coughs. He must be coming down with a cold.

"I'm more concerned about being a 'beauty,'" he points out, with an eyebrow arched at his brother.

"Ah, that bit? Not so much you, Sammy." Dean smirks back at him - before looking doubtfully at Leah.

What's wrong with vinyl? If it was at all logical to have a record player in the Imp, you better believe there'd be one.

Vinyl's noisy. Leah used to have long arguments with Bill about this. If she can't imagine she's standing right next to the guitars, she doesn't want to know.

But she can't exactly react to funny looks and eyebrows, so she shrugs.

"I'm not about to give an opinion on that," she points out.

Sam just rolls his eyes, smirking. "I was gonna take Leah to my car to pick up some stuff," he tells Dean. "Come on, you can be delivery boy, too."

Leah's hand on Sam's arm has relaxed slightly since Dean's arrival. Now it's less of a holding a friend's arm and more of a waiting to be lead places.

"And then you guys have a bit of research to be done, right?"

"Augh, don't tell me," Dean grumbles. "I hate research."

But he falls into step behind Sam and Leah happily enough.

"It's really the only reason why he's happy I'm here," Sam teases, grinning. He puts a hand over Leah's on his arm to help lead her, moving away from Dean's car and toward his.

That doubles his grin. He has a car. And Dean is here and Leah is okay and Jo doesn't hate him... as much.

"I hate it too," Leah says helpfully. "Not my fault it's all I can do these days. Point me to something I can do to pay you back for that rescue you pulled."

"He rescued you?" Dean is interested. Not surprised, but interested. "Wait, what the hell kinda trouble did you guys get into that he hasn't told me about?"

"Zombies," Leah says cheerfully. "Right when I'm out away from my equipment,'n all. Ended up having a last stand in an electronics shop."

"We ended up just clearing a path with homemade flamethrowers," Sam adds. "I didn't have the resources to clear them out completely. And you don't owe me anything for it." He nudges Leah gently on the shoulder with a smirk. "You got me here, that's plenty payback."

"Lady Blackhawk got us here," Leah points out, nudging back cheerfully. "I just called for help."

"From a radio you built. I wasn't calling anybody."

Dean is laughing at their banter, quite happy to tail after them and listen. "Zombies, huh? Hadta stake 'em back in their graves? That musta been fun."

"You kidding, man?" Leah remarks back. "We were outnumbered least twenty to one. Flamethrower and peg it."

Sam shakes his head and sends Dean a look, nose wrinkled in disgust. "Those things were everywhere, not just where I found Leah. Their graves could have been ten feet from where they stood or in another country, and none of them would have been marked. And the building we hauled ass from was literally surrounded by them and all I had were a couple of homemade flamethrowers."

"So you left 'em there? Damn." Dean shrugs. "Oh well. What matters is you're alive."

"Oh, and you too, Leah."

"No reason not to go back," Leah adds. "Take the plane, coupla decent weapons, we could at least check for anyone else to rescue."

"I'd be in that." Dean's grin grows a little in anticipation of a fight. "Could use a day stakin'."

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