princeship | Stupid Sexy Demon Hunting Ω Locked to nottheshoe

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Stupid Sexy Demon Hunting Ω Locked to nottheshoe

He blew into town at some ungodly hour of the morning, 'round the time the suits usually began their morning commute into the city. Dawn was beginning to creep into the darkened sky when he pulled up to the rickety old house that had brought him here. As he'd thought, the house looked like something straight out of a scary movie. Only thing missing was the big-breasted blond running across the lawn, really.

It was far too late for anything really otherworldly to be happening -- or too early -- but it wasn't like he couldn't scope out the place while he was waiting. From what he'd gleaned from the different newspapers/paranormal websites, he needed as good a grasp of the layout of the place as he possibly could.

Dean killed the engine and sat for a few moments just staring up at the house. Grisby's house, home of the grisly. Had to give 'em points for creativity, at least, though he wasn't really sure how much solace he could take in the notion that today's youth knew how to rhyme. Over the past year a total of six different murders-slash-suicides had taken place inside the house, each one more gruesome than the last. It had escaped media attention for the longest time until just recently, when one of the claimed victims turned out to be a small boy no older than eight.

Said boy also happened to be the sole heir to a rather prominent big-name corporation in the city, but Dean wasn't one to really sweat the small stuff. The fact of the matter was, a kid was dead. And he was damn sure going to make sure the son of a bitch responsible was going to die for it.

Hands stuffed into his pockets, he approached the house with the casual air of a curious passerby. There weren't nearly enough people on the streets by this point, but the occasional car that breezed by gave him enough light to pick out the tattered lines of police tape crisscrossing the house and the grounds. Pretty clear this place wasn't a frequent tourist spot. He had his suspicions as to what it was that was doing the killing, but until he actually got inside he couldn't really be for sure.

When he got close enough to squint inside the dusty window he paused. Was that... light?

"Son of a bitch."

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Nike wasn't into charity work. Not especially. It wasn't that she didn't feel the need to help-- or that she didn't want to help-- she just had to lay low. Stay too long in one place, use too much magic, got you captured much more quickly than just ghosting from place to place.

Better to keep under the radar and let little things go.

But when she was breezing through this town, some place in the middle of Nowhere, America, and heard rumors of some weird unworldly stuff going on-- and then the murder of some kid... well she felt the need to look into it a bit.

She wished she had an entire library of spells, magics, mystical creatures at hand but currently, it's just her and Athena, curled up in this -- admittedly creepy-- old house. There definitely was something going on, the very air of the place was charged with energy. She wasn't really worried too much about her own safety for the moment-- not with Athena keeping her defensive spells up while Nike did her best to hash through her own limited knowledge.

On the flip side, that means she's distracted enough to not notice the Impala outside.

Oops?

It only took him a few moments to dig through the stash of fake ids he's got in the glove compartment. Health inspector, gynecologist -- one of his personal faves -- all of 'em each with about five different aliases and his picture to boot. He rummaged through them tediously until he managed to locate the one for F.B.I. Not that he really thought he'd need it, but it was better to bring out the big guns first, right?

Shoot first, ask questions later.

Dean jogged back up to the house, eye fixed on the window where he'd seen the light. It hadn't looked spectral, not from this vantage point, at least, but it was still there, and that could mean a number of different things. Whatever the case, he had to get rid of it, and soon.

The door was criss-crossed with even more lines of police tape, which Dean brushed aside carelessly before he lifted his hand and rapped sharply on it with his knuckles.

"F.B.I., open up!" and then, after a pause,

"I know you're in there!"

Nike and Athena both jump at the noise. Crap. Not good.

Okay, so they had a few options. Sneak out, would be pretty easy, considering she could go invisible-- but she also wanted to keep investigating, maybe she could just hide--

Crap. Nope. there was no easy way out of this. Best idea was to just face off with the guy and see if she could just manage to make him forget she was ever there; make him come back later.

There was deliberating and arguing with Athena in her head, but honestly, there was no time for a better plan.

So yeah, she'll just be creeping down to the main door as quietly as possible and just wait for you to open it, Dean. Hands at the ready to cast a restraining spell.

There's no mistaking the creek of the floorboards, subtle though it may be, and with a cock of his head Dean listened intently for any further signs of life. It's hard to tell if that's a good or a bad thing, since ghosts usually tended to be on the whole "size -life" side of things, but it's hard to take comfort when there's a dead kid rotting in a grave in the local cemetery.

Another knock for good measure. Dean leaned back, one hand on the butt of the gun hooked in the back of his pants, the other gripping the handle of the door hard enough to turn his knuckles white. There's no time to prep himself, just go go go go go, but that's what Dean does, anyway, runs on pure instinct until he can't run no more.

Said instinct has rearing back and kicking the door open, practically lunging through with his gun drawn and at the ready--

-- only to stop short when he sees just what is inside, because she sure as hell doesn't look like any kind of ghost he's ever seen before.

"Uh---"

Oh, well there's an awkward moment. Nike's brow is still furrowed. She's still at the ready.

"Huh, y'don't look like any FBI agent I ever seen."

Not that she's seen any, mind you. But she knows cops, agents, law enforcement. They don't travel alone, and even when they're investigating something as bogus as a haunted house, they don't dress like Dean does.

At least, if they do, they don't announce themselves as agents.

Then again, she's not in a position to be questioning anyone. She weighs her options quickly, not too many, and not too many end very happy either.

Might as well go for the least neutral first.

"Y'here about th'kid?"

Maybe he's just an FBI agent with an awesome sense of style? Christmas bonus came early? Seriously, Nike, are you really going to question it?

The question catches him a bit off guard, but he's quick to regain his footing and flashes a smile at her. Not too much of the Winchester charm, but it's enough to maybe put her a little bit at ease. Maybe. Sort of like a "I see what you're doing here" sort of thing.

"That depends on who's asking." Oh, wait, he was. "You got anything you can tell me about it?"

He's pretty sure it's nothing a night in the house wouldn't fix, but he's not too keen on keeping the girl here while he smokes the thing out.

Of course she's going to question it. She's seen enough suits in her lifetime to know that she should avoid the officials at most any cost.

Still, she puts her weight on one side and crosses her arms. "Y'wanna just hear th'same old rehashed rumor that's been goin' around, or what I've really found?"

She's still ready to try and wipe his memory if he starts to bug out on her, but he was staying calm. And it seemed he may know something 'more' is up. A quick scan told her he wasn't a wizard himself-- but that didn't mean he didn't know about the supernatural.

Whoa whoa whoa. Hold the phone. This was not the reaction of someone setting up shop in the House of Death for kicks. True, she hadn't really done anything wrong -- Dean couldn't really bring himself to consider squatting a crime, which is probably why he hasn't chased her out yet -- but most kids tended to either shit their pants or suck up whenever the feds were involved, sometimes both.

Least, that's how it went in the movies.

Sam was the one with the puppy eyes. Sammy was the one with the people skills, how come he couldn't be here dealing with the homeless chick? Least that way Dean could look better by comparison, because as much as he loved his baby brother the guy did not do dating very well. It'd make his life a hell of a lot easier---

Yeah. He's probably getting off-topic, here.

"I can just hear 'em back at the office now, but," he grinned, hands held up placatingly. "what the hell. Go ahead and lay it on me."

"Office...." She repeats the word, dryly. "Okay."

She takes a breath, sorting out what she had found, how to word it, phrase it-- go in easy and slow or just break it down quick and hard.

Well, Nike wasn't one for subtle.

"There's a spirit-- or some sorta magical energy clingin' t'this house. Pretty sure it's what's been th'cause of the murders." She's taking a glance around the old run down room, looks like Dean's appearance had managed to upset whatever it was in the first place. He couldn't mask himself the same way she could, after all.... On that note.

"Normal people," An implied 'such as yourself', "-- would probably do better not t'get involved."

She's dancing around the main subject at hand. How she knew any of this, why she was there, who she was-- but hell, he wanted to dance. They would dance.

Any doubt he might have had over whether or not this was a chick playing Buffy the Vampire Slayer was immediately dispelled. Dean wasn't really good at masking his emotions -- hell, him and Sam both weren't -- and the way his expression grew comically surprised was indication of that. Suspicion is quick to follow, though, and the laugh he lets out is a little uneasy. Impressed, yeah, but... last he checked there weren't hunters around for miles.

"Okay--- okay." Guess it was time to change up his methods. "Okay, first off-- who are you, again? Normal people? Lady, there ain't one single thing normal about me." He's half-tempted to make that a double entendre, but this probably isn't the time or place for that. "Last I heard, there was nothing but normal people around here. Well, 'cept for whatever the hell is in this house."

There probably isn't any need to lie. He doubt it'd do him much good now.

"Correction, there were only normal people in this town." A small smile twitches at the corner of her mouth, she liked catching people off guard-- one of the small things she still enjoyed. But she will be relaxing her posture just a bit, he didn't freak out, that was one good sign.

"As for me," she shrugs, "I ain't nobody, but a drifter."

She doesn't give her name not out of paranoia, if he knew who she was, if he was after her, he would have tried something. As it stood, she knew everyone in the Royal Guard, and there was no reason for any group of socially ousted wizards to be out in the boondocks of America.

She doesn't give her name for other reasons. Mostly because right now her name is mud. She'd rather be a nobody, than herself.

"I just don't like t'see anything magic takin' advantage of people who can't defend themselves. Only reason I'm here." She juts her chin out in a gesture to him, "I'm assumin' you're th'same."

"Drifter, huh? So you just blow into town, rescuing kitties and slaying big bads?" Nike, why you gotta go and steal his line like that. He's still amused as all hell though, if the way he puts his hands on his hips is any indication. Wariness? A little. But at the end of it, there's a potential hot-chick-demon-hunter here to give him a little extra manpower.

"So you're a hunter. How long you been? Y'know," is he striking a pose? Maybe? Yeah okay he totally is. "I've been in the business a few years, and I can honestly say I have not heard of anyone like you. And believe me when I say, I have a very good memory." Well. In some instances. He still couldn't recall the name of the girl from the minimart, even though he was pretty sure she'd scrawled his number somewhere. Kinda awkward calling a girl back when you didn't even remember her name.

But that was neither here nor there. A cursory glance out the window tells him that dawn is fast approaching. Soon it'd be too bright for anything heebie-jeebie to be crawling around here. Call demons whatever you want, but they were still good enough to adhere to an early morning bed time. "So it's witches, then. Freaking hate those things."

Her lips purse a bit, definitely an amused smirk. Cheesy and clueless. This was going to be interesting.

"Not a 'hunter', Though I do deal in the supernatural," She's pushing forward, examining him-- can't be too careful after all-- sizing him up. Ah, now she 'sees' it, magic items, things which did hold a certain amount of spiritual power to them. Not the type of thing she's used to searching for, especially not on someone who was 'normal'. "Parents just got around t'tellin' me about it a few years back though."

She's amazed she manages to keep a straight face when she mentions her parents, she wonders if that's just the mask she's keeping up or if she's really dulled her emotions that much.

"So witches.... what makes y'think we're dealing with-- 'witches'?"

Her tone is light, amused, a little sing song even. There's not a witch for miles, at least none of the ones she was familiar with.

Well... excluding herself of course.

Dean's going to give her a sympathetic look because, hey, not like he hasn't been down that road before. His entire life was practically built around secrets and "family tradition", when he thought about it.

"Uh..." And he's going to try not to be a little smart-ass, here, but witches rub him the wrong way like nothing else. "You did say magic, right? Ain't saying you're wrong or anything, but, lady, witches and magic tend to go hand in hand like the devil and sin. Hell, it's pretty much the exact same thing."

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't really heard anything from Bobby regarding witches in the area. What with all the apocalypse mumbo-jumbo going on lately, you'd think they'd have congregated together and started having massive orgies all over the place while they waited for their lord and savior Prince of Evil to bust in with the lube. Not like they hadn't been wrong before, though.

"What do you think it is, if not witches? Enlighten me."

She snorts, cocking one of her hips.

"Witches ain't th'only thing magical out there. Spirits, creatures, spells, wards, sigils--" The list comes off easy, she doesn't know everything, but she does know the basics, "Alla those let off a magic signature and don't necessarily hafta do with anythin' dealin' with witches."

She'll be coming closer though. Curious to a fault, investigating and squinting her eyes up at him. She wondered just how he had planned to deal with a witch if it came to that, probably not best to test it. Dangerous things always came in surprising packages.

No. No no no, lady, what the heck are you saying? Are you crazy?

Dean's used to putting his foot in his mouth but, mercifully, this time he's doing a pretty damn good job of not looking at her like she's a complete nutso. Magical? That's stretching it. Demonic more like, and Dean's seen enough of that to know not to confuse the two together.

"Magic." He repeats the word again, just to make sure he's heard correctly. "Okay-- hey, far be it from me to knock off someone's childhood, but magic - c'mon, this ain't no Disney movie, here. Magic's only used by one group of people, for one thing, and I can sure as hell tell you most of the time it ain't pretty. Creatures, spirits -- that's evil. That's demonic. That's not magic."

Well, she hadn't known why she was expecting someone outside of the spectrum of wizards to know about all the nuances of magic. Though she notes that he is willing to believe in demons-- but thinks magic is waaay too far fetched an idea to consider.

She just continues to smile and shrugs,"I guess y'must be the expert then, Mr. 'Hunter'."

That tone means she's not buying it. Welp, no chance of dealing with whatever it was for now, and this guy certainly wasn't going to be helping her out any time soon.

She'll just be attempting to slip by you Dean.

Aside from having his ego a little bit ruffled, Dean was pretty content to just let the chick walk on out of here. Knowing his life, though, this probably wouldn't have been the last time they'd run into each other. Funny how fate had a tendency to screw up his plans like that.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa-- Lady," And this is either smug Winchester charm coming out, or maybe Dean was a little more ruffled than he thought. "Try not to sound too sarcastic, huh? I've seen more ghosts than kids do in their nightmares. Hell, more horrors than a Halloween fun house. Trust me. This ain't no picnic."

And his stomach decides at that moment to jump at the word picnic, and rumbles rather aggressively from under his flannel shirt. Never one so easily embarrassed - awkward, now that was something else - Dean smiles crookedly and jerks a head in the direction of his car.

"If that ain't convincing enough, I got a few things I could tell you over breakfast. Two birds with one stone, and all."

She stopped in her tracks, turning back to give Dean a bit of a look. This could go so many ways. She shouldn't accept his offer, she should just walk away now. Instead she rolls back on to her heels and pivots to face him.

"Y'make it a habit t'not even give a girl your name before y'try t'take her out for--" Air quotes here " 'breakfast' to 'tell' 'em somethin'?"

Her grin just cocks up more.

"Gimmie a name, and pay my tab and I'll think about it."

Really. She didn't have any money on her. He'd have to pay.

"Dean." The crooked smile only spreads. If he was ruffled before, he certainly didn't look like it. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Kinda against the Code to let a chick pay for breakfast."

The floorboards creak under his weight when he moves for the door, stopping just short to turn and make sure she hasn't evaporated or something. Wouldn't go over so well if it turned out she'd been the ghoul all along, and all.

"Pancakes good? Think I saw an IHOP up the road."

Yep. Still there. She gives a shrug of her shoulders and a smirk.

"Sure, pancakes're good for me."

She passes by him and pushes open the door, Athena stays close under her feet, shooting Dean a glare.

"Just don't try any funny business, Dean. I won't hesitate t'start screamin'."

Among. Other things.

Were cats always supposed to look like that? He'd never had a pet cause pets and beasties don't really work so well together. He had enough on his plate without having to mop Fido off the floor, and he was damn sure Sammy didn't have the heart to be able to deal with that.

"Good." Dean shrugs off the glare and trails along after Nike. "Funny, girls don't usually say that till after I take 'em out to dinner."

"Mmmm, really?" Her voice lulls in the air as she sashayed her way over to his car. "Cause usually guys ask for a girls name before gettin' 'em pancakes."

Try to get out of this one smooth talker.

"Before, after. You're still getting pancakes, aren'tcha?" Guess she wasn't a car person. Dean'd be lying if he said he wasn't expecting her to make some kind of comment about his sexy girl, but whatever. Pancakes first, more Winchester charm later.

Nike doesn't know jack shit about cars, Dean. It looks big enough to fit her and the cat and that's all she'll notice. She hasn't even been in a proper car for a while.

"Well then how'll y'know what t'scream out later?"

Oh there's a dangerous smirk as she ducks into the car.

Okay, that statement is enough for him to momentarily forget about the fact that there's a curb under his foot, and so Dean will stumble like a graceful elephant against his car with mouth agape.

Well. That was unexpected.

"Y--" Probably not a good idea to speak right now Dean. So he'll just give her this crooked little smirk as he's slipping himself in beside her. "Are you always this friendly, or is it just me?"

She leans back in the car-- huh, comfy. First soft place to lay she's had in a while. She glances at him out the corner of her eye, smirk tugging at her lips. She considers her answer for a moment--

"T'be honest, y'just looked easy t'fuck with." A shrug of her shoulders. Take that as you will, Dean.

"Lady, you don't know the half of it." And the implications can go either way with that one, but Dean's too busy starting up the engine to really clarify it for her. The returned smirk is probably all she needs, and in the next few moments they're zooming off toward the nearest pancake place.

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Stupid Sexy Demon Hunting Ω Locked to nottheshoe

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