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 Ain't it Fun?, Sam
Lawrence Tarwick
 Posted: Sep 28, 2017 | 3:14 pm
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It was midnight, the roads empty besides one lone beat up Chevy trundling down a road. The dull headlights lit up a sign for the town he was entering and the man driving barely seemed to register it as he rolled on by. The town was quiet, his trucks rumbling engine making it feel more isolated than it really was. Soon the flickering neon sign for the motel came into his vision he breathed a sigh of relief. Slowing down he flicked his turn signal on and rolled into the parking lot. Parking in front of the office he shifted into park and turned off his vehicle. The silence seemed to draw on as he opened his door, the hinges creaking in protest. As his booted feet hit ground he shut it behind him with a dull clunk. Groaning he stretched, back popping as he did, a few staggered steps and a yawn and he headed to the front door. Rubbing one eye he glanced at the desk owner, "Called about'a room? Name'a Tarwick?" The man behind the desk hardly even looked at him as he slapped the room key on the desk.

"Thanks." Grabbing them up he headed out, grabbing his bag from the passenger side of his truck. Then off to the room, leaving his truck parked where it was for now. Once inside he dropped the bag in a chair and pulled the newspaper out of his bag, the very thing that had brought him here. A ghost. or ghosts plural, he wasn't sure yet. He was good with ghosts though, he'd gotten to know them well enough. The article he had used to get here was the first thing he looked over, pulling out a battered notebook from the same place he looked through his notes. In the morning he'd have to talk to the local leo's, victims family, coroner. For now he needed sleep, eighteen hour drives alone were brutal even for him. With a swipe of his eyes he got out of his travel clothes and then flopped back on the bed to get some sleep before the next day.

The blaring alarm the next morning was nearly blaring and sent shock waves through the headache and grogginess as he fumbled for his phone to turn it off. Glaring one-eyed at the blaring digital 0700 stared at him. Groaning he forced himself to get up, started some coffee on his way to the shower and was quickly swept away in his day. In a nice suit with fake ID's like he was in a bad tv sitcom. The day was spent talking to witnesses, family, police and coroner. Turned out there had been a serial killer here back in the day, lived in an old place by a graveyard south of the main town. He knew enough by then to get by with and was soon back at his motel room, comfortable, and looking over any other instances of the what he presumed was the ghosts activities. A little strange, maybe, but something seemed strange about the behavior. By sundown he had shaken his feeling of bad vibes and made a decision. Yawning and blinking he made more coffee and once he had drank half the black liquid, chasing away fatigue, he headed back out. Time to go end a ghost or two.

Luckily for him the place he was going was mostly in an abandoned area, the old house condemned. As he shifted his truck into park he peered out his windshield at the creepy building. It was rather large and he had to wonder at whether the house was creepy because it was condemned, or because a serial killer had once lived here. Whichever it was he didn't want to stay out here any longer. Night only lasted so long and he'd really appreciated getting the hell out of this town after this. The hair on the back of his neck raised and he had a feeling he was being watched. Great. How was he supposed to find a body, that cops never had, and get rid of it while the ghost was breathing down his neck? Shaking it off he climbed out of his truck. Plucking a shovel from the back he hooked a small backpack with it so he could retrieve salt and lighter fluid.

The house gave him the creeps as he swung the bag over one shoulder and held the shovel in the middle, intent on using its iron as a ghost deterrent. Taking a breath he then strode toward it, up the creaky and rotten stairs to the porch. The door knob was missing so he pushed the door open. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs. He didn't miss, however, the look of footprints on the floor. Odd. Local kids? Local police? Nothing he'd heard suggested anyone having come here. Maybe it was a squatter? Alarm bells were going off in his head though and he brought the shovel into both hands as his eyes scanned the room. No panicking, Tarwick, you got this. Nothing like a littler internal pep talk right? There were two doors to either side, a staircase in front and a hallway to the left of it. Nothing like clearing rooms on your own. Breathing out he chose to go left, pushing open a door and trying to monitor both behind and in front of him.

What he wasn't ready for was the door, on swing hinges, to slam into him and send him reeling to the dusty floor. Winded he slammed the shovel up out of instinct as a body came at him. Could ghosts have solid form? No, right? At least they hadn't thus far. Sure they could technically touch but this was a little to animated. With a grunt of effort he jerked the shovel, slamming it to the right to force whatever, or whoever, it was off him. Rolled onto his right side now he blocked the attacker as it came again, slamming his back against the wall near the door. To strong. Dammit if he'd been wrong. There was no way this was a ghost. Getting a good look at it, however, it looked human. A squatter like he had thought? This posed new problems however. If it was human he couldn't kill him. It couldn't be a ghost. But the strength was surprising. Maybe he was on drugs? Whatever it was he had no time to worry about it as another figure made its presence known and Lawrence began to feel cold dread.



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Samuel Winchester
 Posted: Nov 2, 2017 | 1:55 am
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Sam's life had become a series of exploits on the internet. Sure, he could say that it wasn't much different from the way things normally went, except this time, it was a self imposed sense of duty that kept him glued to his computer. There was little for him to do out on Bobby's junkyard (well, what used to be Bobby's junkyard before... before he died...)except site by the computer and scan the message boards. He supposed he should be thankful that he even had internet out here, but it was one of the modern amendments that Caelene made when she took over the yard. He was grateful for it, especially since Dean spent a lot of his days recovering from his injuries.

It made for a restless life. Ever since Dean came back, Sam did not know what to do with himself. He fussed over his brother, and he helped Caelene out as much as he could with the yard, He could not go far while Dean recovered, and while he wanted Dean to get better, Sam was having a hard time seeing what lay beyond that. Since Dean showed up at the home he shared with Jessica, and told him that their father her not come back from his hunting trip, Sam's life had been one catastrophe after the next. It kept him busy, and it kept him distracted. This slow life was.... not good for him. Every time his mind wore down, it left room for other thoughts.

So, he avoided down time. He read as often as he could, and Bobby did leave behind an extensive library. One week in, and Sam had not made a dent in it. One week in, and Sam was being driven insane from staring at the same walls. He was starting to wonder how he ever got through law school. By day nine, Sam was looking for any reason to escape, and he turned towards the message boards. He was sending out replies and inquires about anything within a thirty minute drive of the junkyard... And that proved to be very limited. Turns out, Bobby did an excellent job at protecting his own neighborhood, and the demon population was still recovering.

So, when a report pinged up on his RSS feed about local cops constantly being called out to the same house, only to find nothing five times, he thought that he might give it a look. For all he knew, he would find a family of raccoon that lived in an basement, but it would get him out. After making sure that Dean was deep in his sleep enough to not wake up, and being sure that he could get out with Caelene noticing, he took the Impala, and drove toward town.

The GPS brought him to a place that was a little out of the way. He did not hold to superstition that much anymore, but the more he drove, the more the fog rolled in. The first tombstones that he could see from the street were barely obscured when he first arrived, but by the time he got to the front door, the fog was thick enough to bury all except the tallest markers. When he came upon the truck, he had to slam on his breaks to avoid plowing into it. That was all he needed... to wreck the Impala. But... who the hell was out here, anyway? It wasn't a cop, called out for another strange sighting, so...

Sam left the car where it was, exactly where he had slammed on the brakes, and cut the engine. He usually left the keys in the car in case the need for a quick get away, but with another person running around out there, he needed to play this one safe. The appearance of someone else turned this situation from a casual outing to potentially dangerous. For all he knew, he was about to stumble into a meth lab or some other mundane explanation for the constant cop calls. The gun that he brought with him would need to have special and standard shells ready to be loaded.

Other than that, he did not know what he would be walking into . There was a standard supply he should have with them. A pocket of salt was essential, along with an iron knife, and some holy water. Any more than that, and he would be over-preparing and weighing himself down. He closed the trunk, careful not to slam it loudly, and carefully approached the house. The closer he got, the more he was certain that he was not alone.. and his own boredom made his steer clear of caution.

Waiting outside, Sam could hear movement inside. It did not sound polite. And whatever was going on on the other side of that door could not wait for him to sneak around the back... You told Dean you were going to be more aggressive... so... Same kicked in the front door. With the fog swirling behind him, leaking into the room, the light from the high moon back-lighting him, Sam entered the room to find... nothing. So much for a dramatic entrance...

But the sounds did not stop. The room was clear, but sounds were still coming from another room. To the left... His long legs helped him cover the distance, and he looked through the door... There was already action in process. A man on the ground and another towering over him. His eyes flickered back and forth between the two of them. They both looked... normal. In the middle of a fight, and the one on the ground was clearly worse for wear, but he still looked normal.

Quickly, Sam, make a choice... Sam raised his shotgun, and fired it in the air. The scatter shot was enough to send some of the plaster from the ceiling raining down. The man who was standing fell back. Sam himself had to shield his eyes from the raining plaster, and when he looked up... he was gone. He took a moment to look around, covering the room with a glance, before looking down at the man o the ground. “You wanna tell me what I just walked in on?”

ain't it fun?
 
tag: Lawrence Tarwick / word count: 1041 / ---
 

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Lawrence Tarwick
 Posted: Nov 2, 2017 | 5:36 am
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Vaguely there was a part of him that realized he had come into this fight only half prepared and got himself completely blindsided. That rang clearer when he heard the front door, which he knew he had shut behind him, slam open. Okay so maybe he had really, truly, misjudged this situation. Perhaps he was starting to see supernatural creatures everywhere when this could just be a brand of human nonsense. Sometimes it was the human nonsense that turned out to be the worst thing he could encounter. There was no time to think about this new development, not with this guys, things, whatever it was, hand grabbing his only defense and putting way to much pressure on it. Grunting with effort he planted his feet and tried to kick at the guy to make him back off. His feet planted on his abdomen but he only succeeded in sliding across the floor some. To much weight. Or strength. Whatever it was it wasn't good.

Luckily for him the sound of the door of this room opening caught his attention. Crap. Heart hammering out an anxious beat he got his first glance at the person who had now joined them. Enemy? Friend? Something in between maybe? Whichever option it was the guy was tall, very very tall. Just as the strength in his arms started to flag this new presence fired the shotgun he had with him at the ceiling. The sound enough to make him jump, his right arm caving to the pressure of his attacker. Thankfully the sound of the gun going off made whoever it was standing over top of him think twice. Covering his face with his arms to protect against the rain of plaster he coughed a little at the dust it kicked up. Coughing again he peeked out from under his arms to see that the coast was clear. Whomever had been attacking him had vanished.

Now there was an entirely new situation he had to deal with. Already on the floor, the shovel handle laying across his chest, he was in a compromised fighting place. This guy had the upper hand with the gun, and he weighed that heavily as he started to move. Brushing plaster off himself he pushed his back off the ground, sitting now and warily eyeing the tall stranger. "Well uh...suppose that depends on what y'wanna know." Now was not the time for sarcasm and yet he honestly couldn't help it. Defense mechanism one against tall, handsome, gun-toting strangers. Not that now was even an appropriate time to be ogling someone who very clearly had more control of this room at the moment. Maybe once he got his legs beneath him he'd feel a bit better, but for now he was determined to get plaster away from his eyes.

"I mean. You ask me and you most definitely did not just walk in on me getting my ass handed to me, that's for sure." It was the truth though, one more moment alone and he may not have been just sitting on the dusty floor making sure he wasn't about to be blinded by plaster. Once sure he had gotten rid of the plaster and dust he blinked away the rubbing and peered up at Sam, unconsciously letting his left hand rub and knead at his right forearm. Okay, he really needed to stand up. Being down on the floor definitely made him feel a lot smaller than he knew he was. Guy might be tall but he himself wasn't tiny. Not really. Okay, maybe a little but he'd never admit it out loud. "Wanna give me a hand?" Putting his right hand out to the man to see what he would do. A sure way to at least put the tables in his court, get the man to give him a hand up so he could get that gun from him. Nothing personal, really, but he'd been shot enough in his life already.



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Samuel Winchester
 Posted: Nov 14, 2017 | 1:28 am
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Something about the whole situation set Sam's hackles on end. The assailant had disappeared all too quickly. Usually, it was not a good sign when things were able to move in the blink of an eye. He had his concerns, but there was a complication now. Sam didn't know what he was expecting when he walked into the building after seeing that truck parked out front, but he had not been prepared to walk onto the scene mid-brawl. He had his doubts about completely lowering his weapon, but he certainly not going to let down his guard.

The Sam of five years ago probably would have appreciated the levity from the other man's sarcasm. Hell, the Sam of a year ago, before his nation wide journey by himself, chasing (figurative) ghosts, probably would have chuckled at least a little. This new Sam, though... He felt like a shadow has passed over his life, and that this was all that was left for him. If his moment did not bring about another catastrophe in his life, then it would be the next moment, or the one that followed right behind it. After being reunited with his brother, he felt like he felt little joy in his life. One random meeting was not going to change that...

Looking down at the prone man, he considered his options. For all he knew, this was someone that should not be trusted. He could be a townie coming here to stir up trouble. He could be a fellow hunter. He could be a supernatural entity posing as a defeated human. None of these endeared him anymore to the man. He had been burned enough time to know that none of those things meant that he could be trusted. Humans, he discovered, could be a bigger risk than anything he hunted. Still, the man was prone, and what were his other options, anyway? Without a sense of caution eating away at his skull, he unshouldered the shotgun, finger slipped away from the trigger but the safety still off, he reached down his hand to help up the stranger.

An that gun was still unshouldered when he helped him up. The skin-to-skin contact did not cause a tragedy. At least, there was no obvious tragedy, so it was a “so far so good” kind of scenario. Still, he kept his stance guarded and his senses alert. He knew he was not exactly giving off the most friendly of auras, but Sam had been feeling less than friendly lately. He did offer an incredulous look at the “not getting his ass handed to him” statement. “Oh yeah, I was sure that you had the situation completely under control,” he said, not without sarcasm of his own.

He took careful measure of the man. He was shorter than Sam but almost a half foot, though that in itself was not a shocker to the Sam who knew he was usually the tallest person in the room. He also appeared to be unarmed, unless that shovel that he had with him counted as a weapon. That part of everything he eyed with impunity. He did not like it. But he needed to know more before he leaped to conclusions. “You need to be careful out here, or you might get yourself ganked.” He dropped the slang word into the end of his sentence. Sam could not recall a single person who knew the word “gank” without an explanation outside of members of the hunting community. It was not a foolproof way to if this guy was in the know, but it was a start. a

All was quiet for the moment, anyway, and who knew when that was going the change.

ain't it fun?
 
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Lawrence Tarwick
 Posted: Nov 15, 2017 | 3:23 am
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It felt like an eternity laying there on the dusty floor. The slow build of anxiety had started accumulating and he could feel his chest getting tight as he waited to see what this other guy was going to do. When the gun finally lowered he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shaky and uneven and loud, at least in his ears. So he wasn't about to be shot, yet, which came as little relief tot eh shaky panic that had flooded out of him. People were almost more unpredictable than these monsters. At least monsters had a goal they were working toward, usually nefarious. Humans though? One could never tell what they were up to.

With the gun down and the man offering a hand up he felt that perhaps he wasn't needing to take the weapon from him. At least not right now. Starting a fight where there was none, against this guy, wasn't exactly on his to do list. Not with a monster that he was almost entirely sure, now anyway, wasn't a ghost. Whatever had attacked him wasn't human either, it had moved way to quickly for that. The fastest guy he'd know would still not have been able to just disappear like that thing had. Unfortunately he couldn't really do anything about it until he'd cleared up whatever confusion there was between him and this newcomer.

Now the only problem was getting this stoic giant who seemed to almost radiate a 'I'm not your friend' vibe. Back on his feet he felt a shift in his gut when he realized standing didn't really make him feel any better in the mans presence. He was tall. Very very very much so. With a sheepish grin he opted to be the friendlier of them and not take the others negativity to heart. There were plenty of veterans who acted this way too, so it wasn't exactly new to him. "Well hey, you saw me mid fight, not exactly equal footing. Besides, you startled the hell out of me with the door. What were you trying to do, break it down? It was already unlocked." The front door had been unlocked the last he'd known anyway.

"The shot to the ceiling, though, brilliant." Dusting himself off he eyeballed Sam warily. Not really sure what to do about this development he sort of leaned his weight on his right foot. Ganked. It surprised him to hear the term and he found himself relaxing a little. "Oh thank you God, you're a Hunter." Honestly that was the best thing he could think of happening to him right now. The only time he'd heard that term was his brief run in with an older, crankier, man who had given him a basic lecture and told him he wasn't about to 'babysit'. "Name's Lawrence." He put out his hand, hoping against hope he could get this guy to talk to him just a little bit.



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Samuel Winchester
 Posted: Nov 18, 2017 | 2:06 am
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There was one thing that he had to say about this man, he certainly had character. He was in surprisingly good spirits for someone who just had someone attempting to snuff the life out of him. Either he was crazy, or used to this... and Sam was not about to judge him on that. He was, frankly, in the same place in his life. If anything, man or monster, tried to kill him, he would spend no time finding a way to joke about it. It was a survival tactic, learned by those who faced it every day. So maybe, he should not have been surprised when the other man seemed relieved that Sam was a Hunter, and picked up on the code word.

Of course, nothing about the man, this Lawrence, made him automatically trust him. He had been burned before. Granted, they were in the minority, and that voice in the back of his head that had been popping up more and more frequently. Stress made it worse... he knew that from trial and error of living with it for a year, so he took a deep breath, and forced it quiet, down and down again. He closed his eyes. He counted to five. And when he opened them again, he was looking at a hand being stretched out for him.

He blinked for a moment, rewiring himself for actual human interaction. Had it been so long since he met a stranger? Caelene didn't count. Garth had vouched for her almost immediately, and Dean's survival counted on him trusting her right away. With some delay, though without reluctance, he took Lawrence's hand and gave it a shake. “Sam,” he replied with his own name. First name basis for now? All right, he could do that.

The floor above them erupted with the sound of running footsteps. Heavy, Booted. The sudden thunder of them after their quiet introductions made Sam jump and reflexively ducked. His eyes tracked the sound, from one end of the hallway to the next above them. Away from the stairs... away from them... Somewhere upstairs a door slammed, and then everything was silent again. Sam waited a heartbeat, waiting to see if there were any more sounds, however minute, before turning to look at Lawrence. “Well, you were first Hunter on site. What do we have here?” It was an unspoken etiquette that first Hunter on site was the one in charge, and Sam just assumed that because he got here late, Lawrence already knew what was going on. So, he eagerly looked to the other.

ain't it fun?
 
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Lawrence Tarwick
 Posted: Nov 19, 2017 | 12:20 am
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This whole situation was definitely turning for the weird. Weirder he supposed. This guy was definitely on the fence about him, which was okay he totally understood that. Lawrence didn't expect an utter stranger to just trust him after all, that was just plain insanity. Besides the more he did this hunting stuff the more he realized why that was. People had ulterior motives that weren't really clear until they smacked you in the face. If one didn't possess a little bit of reluctance towards others he'd be suspicious too. Which was likely why he needed to learn to tone down the nervous blabbering and overall friendly face he always had. It was likely why so few Hunters seemed to want to talk to him right off the bat.

So when the man accepted his outstretched hand to shake he was deeply relieved. Sam. "Well, its nice to meet you Sam." Releasing his hand and looking over him again he realized it definitely fit the other. It was likely a shortened version, probably Samuel, but he wasn't about to just ask despite his nerves. This was obviously a more experienced hunter than himself too. The urge to just ask a million questions burned just beneath the surface, and likely showed in his eyes. He'd been told that no matter how controlled he got his face his eyes always gave him away. Which was fine, honestly, he wasn't trying to hide anything. Not really anyway.

All thoughts disappeared when he jumped a little, gripping the shovel still in his one hand tighter. His eyes on the ceiling he swallowed thickly, wondering exactly what he was dealing with. What he had thought were just ghosts had turned into something he wasn't even sure what to call. Whatever it was it had been solid, much more solid than any ghost he had run into yet. And yet he knew it was a supernatural monster, especially convinced after it had disappeared when Sam joined the scene. There had to be a better way than to learn on the go. It baffled him that the hunter community didn't have some sort of unity when it came to these things. New hunters couldn't be that uncommon after all.

"Uh...well..." The sudden full attention of the other hunter made him uncomfortable. Did he admit outright that he had absolutely no clue what was going on and confirm that he was in over his head? What were his other options? Get someone hurt? He stiffened at his own thought and finally just blurted out the truth. "Honestly, I thought this was ghosts. But there's no way, like, none. That thing was to solid, not acting like a ghost at all. And I gotta say, I'm in way over my head here." Flushing from slight embarrassment as he looked back at the ceiling to avoid seeing whatever reaction Sam might have. "Ghosts and vampires and I'm good but...I've been flying blind otherwise." Which is where he was now, completely stumped.



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 Posted: Dec 13, 2017 | 5:57 pm
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Well, it was nice to see that he was not unreasonably jumpy when it came to the sudden sounds. If he had been the only one who reacted, he would have been oddly put off, either because it meant that Lawrence had no survival instincts, or he was so unphased by sudden sounds that he was too calloused to care anymore. He didn't know why he was focusing in on that particular detail about Lawrence. Sam had been through the ringer before, with the wool firmly pulled over his eyes. He thought he used to able to read people well. He was going to be a lawyer, for Christ's sake, it was going to be part of his job description. The part few years had taught him to trust no one... Either you don't trust them and survive, or trust them and end up losing them anyway.

That hurricane that had become a constant in the back of his mind threatened to roar forward again, but he was on a job. Narrowing his focus, he brought his thoughts back to the now. He was starting to get the feeling that Lawrence was a little green around the gills. Sam could not help but made him jump into the “profession” in what was comparatively later in life. No, Lawrence didn't look like some kind of geriatric man, but for a lot of hunters, it was a family business. The Winchesters were not exclusive in that. Usually in those cases, though, by the time a hunter was well into their twenties they had a lot more experience. Maybe something happened to Lawrence to make him get involved... some lost loved one or mystery.

Whatever the case, Sam opted to take a little more of the lead. “Vampires and ghosts, huh?” he said. “Well, welcome to the masters class...” As for right now, the thing in the house was upstairs, and he had not heard it move. Either it could go back and forth between being corporeal and not, or it was cornered. “I know about as much as you do, so this is the part where we either look for more clues” which seemed a little cheesy and time consuming, “or run up there and confront it with all the pluck we have,” which could end with less than ideal results. Sam was never the type to run off without having as many details as possible. “I personally prefer getting a look around first... A lot of creatures leave something behind. If we know what it is, then we at least know what to do.”

There was another option, of course. “Or we leave.' It was not that Sam considered it himself, but it was just one more way that he could read Lawrence. If the man decided to leave, then it meant Sam would just have to continue on with this hunt alone. If he stayed, then he knew at least he was dedicated. He hated having to test people like this, but he had been on the receiving end of the same treatment from other hunters, and hopefully he was being nice enough about it that Lawrence would think he was just making friendly conversation. Gun still shouldered defensively (not because of Lawrence, but because of the mystery creature upstairs) he walked back from the hallway to the front door. If Lawrence wanted to leave, this was where they parted ways, but it was where Sam was going to start his own investigation.

ain't it fun?
 
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