Heart (OPEN)

[Dean Winchester]

[dean]It had been days since he'd heard from Sammy and Dean had no idea where he was. But when something came up in Maine, he was in the Impala so fast he was pretty sure he'd left a dust trail. It felt like the farthest place away from everything that he go, so he went. It wasn't like the drive was too long since he wasn't sleeping these days, anyway.

He rolled into Andover and did the usual, getting a room at a hotel - the Danebury not so crappy as usual but his best option - under the name Peter Criss and trying to get a few hours' sleep. He managed about one and half before he gave up, waking and showering the grime of the road off before sitting at the small desk in his room with the stack of news papers he'd gathered.

There'd been a rash of deaths in the small town, three that were reported but a little digging had shown it was actually five. That would catch his attention regardless, but that it was happening in a town with a population under one thousand made it stick out a lot more.

That every body had been missing its heart had local law enforcement thinking serial killer and Dean thinking werewolf. The problem was, a trip to the medical examiner's office had shown that none of the bodies had any other sign of violent attack. Just the missing hearts.

It was fucking weird and he'd left a message at Bobby's to call him because he was having a hard time thinking it through.

Waiting for the older hunter to get back to him, he decided to get himself something to eat and maybe feel the locals out about what was going on. He found himself at the Little Red Hen diner, menu and another newspaper in front of him as he sat at the counter, wishing for once that he'd let Sam get him that lap top but too stubborn even now to admit that it would be easier on researching.

Letting it go for the time being, he rubbed tiredly at his eyes and flipped his mug over to let the waitress, wherever she was, that hell yes he wanted coffee, not paying too much attention when someone sat down next to him.[/dean]

[Letty Halvoni]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i50.tinypic.com/2j5i0rt.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable] Letty was well aware it was only a matter of time before she ran into someone she knew in Andover, or someone who knew her, that was her life now. She'd search the papers for anything that resembled a case, arrange to step in at the nearest hospital, and wait for a call. Hunters needed her more than she would have liked, for their sake, but they weren't the most health conscious lot and often wound up needing to be patched up, preferably without leaving a paper trail. This time around she was registered at Lawrence General, a good three hours away from Andover, but the small town was at least that far from any major hospital so she had to make do with the drive every morning. She was just rolling through when the sudden, intense need for coffee over came her and she retreated to the nearest diner. Diner coffee was always the best for people who liked their coffee black and in an actual mug, rather than chalk full of sugars and calories, sitting in a paper cup sealed with things that shouldn't come near anything you consciously put in your body. So, while she was expecting to see a familiar face, she was still surprised to find John's oldest son sitting at the Little Red Hen. "Dean?" She smiled, hiking her over sized bag up onto her shoulder. It always grew tiresome to let it hang from her arm, the weight of the medical supplies, salt, silver, holy water, chapstick and chewing gum got to be a bit much after a while. She slid in beside him, "gosh, it's been so long, I'm lucky you never seem to update your wardrobe, otherwise I may have walked right past you." Her brow pinched in concern when she caught his eyes, "you look awful." [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Little Red Hen, Andover Outfit: lookie here Notes: [/style]

[Dean Winchester]

[dean] He took one look at the suit case strapped over her what had to be about one hundred pound frame and asked, "How do you stay upright?"

Giving his head a small shake as though to clear the massive amount of mental images - all variations of her falling over from the ridiculous weight of the giant purse - he gave a one shoulder shrug at her commentary on how he looked. It happened when you didn't sleep...ever.

That he wasn't surprised to see her wasn't really a surprise in and of itself. Letty had a way of just showing up and, if he was honest, he was just about always glad to see her when she did. And not just because she'd saved his hide once. Literally, the road rash had been terrible and she'd managed to save him from winding up looking like he'd been skinned alive at some point.

He looked her up and down, as much as he could with her sitting next to him and said, "You look better than I do."

It was the best he could do just then, he was too tired to come up with the usual come on that typically followed whenever he ran into her. One she always turned down. He figured he'd just skip that bit today and get down to it. "You see anyone else around since you got here?"[/dean]

[Letty Halvoni]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i50.tinypic.com/2j5i0rt.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable] She considered his question before answering with a light shrug, "necessity, and years of practice." A doctorate wasn't much use if all the tools you learned how to utilize were kept in the trunk of your car. Unless of course, you were the Winchesters, then it seemed leaving everything in the trunk worked out just fine. Now, making that mad dash to the car in heels, that was something she'd pay to see the brothers attempt. "And I could ask you the same question." Staying upright looked as though it was proving difficult for him, "what are you running on these days? Three, fours hours of sleep for every forty-eight?" She waited for the flirting and flattery, and when it didn't come she gave him a look that was even more disapproving than usual, because that meant he was simply too exhausted to form the words. She held the expression, not that it had ever proved effective, but she could still sleep easier knowing she'd at least tried to get her point across. She shook her head, blonde locks falling over her shoulders, "It looks like you're the first to bite on this one. Weird huh?" She lowered her voice a notch, "missing hearts?" It wasn't something she'd heard of before, hearts taken so cleanly from the chest with no other signs of attack present. She lifted the other empty mug from the table to signal for coffee, and it took her that long to realize that Dean was actually alone, no Ben and Lisa, no mopey brother, there were no signs anyone had accompanied him to the diner. "Where's Sam?" [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Little Red Hen, Andover Outfit: lookie here Notes: [/style]

[Dean Winchester]

[dean]"Not really counting," he said dryly of how much sleep he was getting, which was a total lie on his part. He did the math every time he woke up from a twenty minute burst of unconsciousness, usually brought from it by one of the dreams. There were so many of them in rotation that he'd honestly lost count of them all and didn't even bother trying to recount them when he woke up. Did it matter? Every single one of them had him jerking awake, heart going fifty miles an hour, skin covered in a sheen of sweat. Sometimes he managed five or six of those bursts a night. Sometimes not.

"Yeah, it's weird and I got giant bucket of nothin'," he sighed, then, realizing his mug was still empty, held it up, "And a mug full of nothin'."

The waitress came over and filled it up. "Thanks, sweetheart," he said, letting his face go smarmy for a second and feeling smug for the briefest second as she gave him a flirty smile. No matter how tired he was, he still had it.

If only he remotely gave a crap.

He ordered the special, not even caring what that was, two of the home made donuts and a slice of apple pie - well aware his mood could be gauged based on the amount of baked goods he consumed in a sitting - and turned back to Letty. "Got a call into Bobby, hoping he can come up with whatever it is I'm missing."

About Sam he said exactly nothing, which spoke loud and clear in and of itself.[/dean]

[Letty Halvoni]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i50.tinypic.com/2j5i0rt.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable] Another look, but she kept silent. Out of John's boys, Dean had always been the stubborn one. Sam had his days, sure, but it was nearly impossible to get Dean to take advice. In particular advice from the scrawny blonde chick with the freckles and too long limbs who gave him a run for his money behind a nine millimeter even at thirteen. The fact that she had earned the right to know a thing or two about things like these was irrelevant when he was in one of his moods. She gave an inner eye-roll when the waitress finally made her way to the table. It was no surprise that the busty red head tended to Dean's mug first, making sure to bend just right so he could see her ample cleavage if he so chose. She still managed a, "thank you," and gave a polite smile once the girl finally got around to filling her mug in turn. Ordering undercooked oatmeal with fruit and brown sugar, and a glass of ice water. "Two donuts, and we're not talking about Sam." Not a question, an observation that he had to've known she'd make, having seen the same pattern too many times before. Whether or not he felt like letting her in she left up to him, moving on in the conversation. "I'm sure he'll figure something out, he always does." A warm smile tugged her lips, the salty old man was tough as nails on the outside, but she'd wedged herself into that soft center well enough to know that the size of his heart almost matched up to the size of his occult collection. He had an answer for everything in that dusty office. "In the meantime though, I'm sticking around to make sure nothing goes and snatches your heart out while you're in a sugar coma." She tried for a stern face, and a that's-that tone, failing miserably. "No arguments." [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Little Red Hen, Andover Outfit: lookie here Notes: [/style]

[Dean Winchester]

[dean]"Trust me," he said, voice gone to a slow, bland drawl, "The last thing I want is to die. Again." Dean had a very clear no dying policy. Maybe he'd be okay with it some day, if he got a gurantee that he wouldn't end up back in the pit, but for now, "Gonna keep my heart right where it is, thanks."

He knew as he said it that he meant it on more than just the physical level, Lisa and Ben's faces flashing through his mind. He scowled, shutting that line of thought right the fuck down, and went about drinking his coffee. Because coffee and, "Hey, donuts," he said as he picked one up, made everything better.

He swiveled on his stool enough as he took a large bite of donut that showed exactly zero class so he could look more squarely at her. Swallowing, but only because the bite had been so big that if he'd tried to speak it would have been entirely unintelligible, he asked, "How you plan on stopping whatever it is from snagging anything when we have no idea how to do that?"

He was feeling cranky, was being a dick and he knew it, but it didn't stop him from asking. Though it was mostly because he was worried about her getting hurt didn't make him feel any better about it, either. Maybe he should do them both a favor and just shut the hell up.[/dean]

[Letty Halvoni]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i50.tinypic.com/2j5i0rt.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable] Her expression fell flat and she gave a few hard blinks, one brow raised just slightly higher than the other in a sign of understated challenge and a strong enough back bone to not take too much offense to Dean's snarky remarks. "Shoot, keep shooting until you exhaust every type of bullet you've got. Salt, wood, silver, good old fashioned lead. And if that doesn't work, we run and hope we're faster than it is." Another sip of her coffee and she reached into her bag, fumbling around until she found the container she'd been seeking. She pulled it out, shaking two, small, olive toned capsules into her hand. "Take these." She extended them in his direction, fully intending to force them down his throat if he refused. "Because you're exhausted and crabby, and you'll need all the help you can get when we do come across the heart-snatcher." The pills were her own blend of herbal remedies, ginseng, green tea, other energy boosters and mystical components rumored to help increase concentration and energy levels and release endorphins. [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Little Red Hen, Andover Outfit: lookie here Notes: [/style]

[Dean Winchester]

[dean]The problem with all of that was that whatever it was could be on them before they got to the end of their bullets, let alone salt, silver and whatever else. But he knew she knew that. Like all of them (whether she counted herself a hunter or not), it seemed to Dean that she liked to downplay the danger. Talk like they'd get all the way through everything they had in their arsenal and still have time to run away. Like they'd die one day far in the future, old and in their sleep, just like the normal folk. Did normal people die like that? He had no idea. The only normal people he'd seen dead had usually been chewed on by something nasty.

He looked down at the pills in her hand and shook his head. "I'm self-medicating," he told her, having no idea that the pills weren't narcotic in form and not much wanting to pull a Heath Ledger. "I like drinking, does the job well enough." And sometimes, it even took the edge off of everything just enough so that he could almost remember what he'd been like not too many years ago. The problem was, it also enhanced some memories: of heaven and hell and a year spent in a warm bed and warmer arms. It was sort of a bitch, but it never occurred to him to try something different or to put the bottle down.[/dean]

[Letty Halvoni]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i50.tinypic.com/2j5i0rt.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable] "These aren't those kind of pills." She gave him a look after he mentioned the drinking, but didn't bother to lecture him, chances are the job would take him before his liver had the chance to give out anyways. "So just take them. They're natural, won't make you feel funny. And they dissolve fast so I could just slip them into your coffee next time you're not looking, in the spirit of keeping you on your game and not dead." She sipped her own cup before reaching across, taking his hand and putting the pills in his palm. "Besides, I haven't heard that tone since Truman High." And God knows she didn't want to have to deal with that Dean again. He got so cold and mean back then, totally shut down for a little while and treated her (and everyone else) kinda the same way he was acting toward her right now. "If this is an alone thing, and you're going to be either snapping at me or pushing me out of harms way the whole time, maybe it'll be better if I just go find Sam and hope for a less jerky version of that Winchester instead." [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Little Red Hen, Andover Outfit: lookie here Notes: [/style]

[Dean Winchester]

[dean]Dean snorted. Natural, that would be something novel. Was there anything in his life, even on the smallest level, that was natural anymore? Not fucking likely or, at the very least, not much he could think of. Still, he couldn’t just do as she said without at least pulling a face, which he did before tossing them down and chasing them with coffee, sticking his tongue out as far as he could so she could see he’d actually swallowed them. “Satisfied?” he asked before adding, “Christ you’re pushy, anyone ever mention that?” He was conveniently forgetting that he had, several hundred times in the time they’d known one another.
He ignored the jibe about Truman, face shutting down at the mention of his brother. “Good luck with that,” he said dismissively, thought about paying the check and letting her try her luck with Sam, not in the mood to deal with pushy and demanding except that she was right, he was being a dick. While he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he could at least admit it internally.
He reached for his coffee again, took a long pull and looked at her seriously. “Look, you want in on this, I could probably use the help. I’m not at the top of my game right now.” That he was even admitting that was a sign of just how much he was off lately. “I won’t be pushing you out of harm’s way, Letty, that’s the whole freaking problem,” he told her earnestly. “But there’s a damned good chance I’ll be putting you in it.” He was dangerous these days, and not for the usual reasons. He really didn’t want to be responsible for her getting hurt because he was slow on the draw or something.[/dean]