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Samuel Winchester

Hunter

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Dec 13, 2017 | 5:56 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.

<p>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.

<p>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.”

<p>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.

</div><div class='nlyrics'>ain't it fun?</div>
 <div class='nsubl'>tag: Lawrence Tarwick / word count: 583 / ---</div>
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Nov 19, 2017 | 1:48 pm
Player Name: Jax
Character Name: Samuel Winchester
Post Milestone: 25 (Since I made this new account...)
May 17, 2016 | 1:25 pm
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<div id="resolute"><div class="idea"><div class="CHARname">sam winchester<br>
<div class="CHARstat">hunter | true vessel of lucifer | wayward son | devoted brother</div></div></div>
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<div class="CHARname2">friends</div>
<p>Sam has many friends spread out the country, but it can be said that they have never seen the whole picture when it comes to him. For the most part, Sam is a part of a network of hunters who try to help each other out. Lately, though, those hunters seem to just get in Sam and Dean’s way, so they have more of a reputation for flying solo. They have picked up a lot of contacts on the road, though, and tend to meet a lot of new people. Chances are, you’ve heard of Sam Winchester. Many of their friends are dead and gone, but one being that they can never seem to get rid of is the angel Castiel. It is hard to define Sam’s relationship with the angel, but at the end of the day, Sam sees Cas as an important part of his life. Cas’ absence over the past few years has not gone unnoticed.

<div class="CHARname2">enemies</div>
<p>Anyone who doesn’t like the Winchesters, hates the Winchesters. There really is no such thing as being indifferent to them. Over their years back on the road as active hunters together, they make more friends than enemies. Angels and demons of all kinds have marked them for death, and rival hunters often see them as the source for a lot of the trouble. They may have a point. Every time the Winchesters get involved in something, is escalates. One name that brings particular ire to Sam is Lucifer, and everything he stands for. Everyone tied to the Lord of Hell earns instant hate and distrust from Sam, especially because he has been hurt in the past by people trying to use him because of his noted placed in destiny and Lucifer’s True Vessel.

<div class="CHARname2">family</div>
<p>This is where some very dark lines are drawn in permanent marker. Sam sees a distinct difference between friends and family. Family is the end all and the be all, and he knows that not all family members are there by blood. Dean Winchester is the single most important person in his life. Dean is his older brother and his hero, and there is nothing that can be said to convince him otherwise. Sam has literally died and gone to Hell and back again for his brother. They are the children of John and Mary Winchester. Mary was apparently a hunter in her hay day, but Sam never knew her, and she died with Dean was very young. Their father raised them how to be hunters, and Sam always butted heads with John. They were estranged until the last few days of John’s life. A real father figure for Sam, though, is Bobby Singer. He became a guiding figure for Sam and his brother, and continues to aid them in their hunts and their attempts to keep the world from the edge of destruction, all while looking as “done with it” as possible. There is a third Winchester brother, Adam, whom neither Dean nor Sam knew about until much later in life. Now the True Vessel for Michael, Adam resides in Hell, body and mind and soul, where he was trapped when Lucifer fell and was returned to the Cage.

<div class="CHARname2">lovers</div>
<p>Sam has traveled a long time and met a lot of people. While he cannot claim as many lovers to his bed as Dean can, Sam has had his fair share of relationships. Most recently, he had a relationship with Katherine Pierce that ended tragically in her death and her soul being taken forever to Hell. This most recent loss, just another in a long line of tragedy befalling those that he loves, has made Sam a little jaded when it comes to love. He is not looking for anything, certainly no one night stands and definitely no relationships. He just assumes, at this point, that being close to him invites calamity.

</div></div></div></div>
<div class="CHARfoot"><div class="CHARlyrics">I tried so hard to let you go
But some kind of madness is swallowing me whole </div></div></div>
<a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/A_THOUSAND_FIREFLIES/index.php?showuser=8378"><div class="credit">c∆f</div></a>
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May 17, 2016 | 10:58 am
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<table id="cont"><div id="titl">SAM WINCHESTER’S THREADS<h2>This tracker is the work of <a href="http://twitter.com/designsbyrevo">Revo.</a> of <a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/A_THOUSAND_FIREFLIES/index.php?showuser=2133">ATF</a> and <a href="http://rpg-directory.com/index.php?showuser=6066">RPG-D</a>.</h2>
<img src="https://samanddeanbrothersinarms.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/sam-s8-we-need-to-talk-about-kevin.jpg" width="525"/>
<h2>hunter, vessel for lucifer, brother of dead winchester. wayward son</h2></div>

<tr><td valign="middle"><div class="cal"><h1>001</h1><a href="http://thesupernaturallife.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showtopic=2552">ACTIVE</a></div></td>
<td valign="top"><div class="desr">
<h1>"God Eluded Me"</h1>
<h2>dean winchester</h2><i>
((In Progress)) A reunion of the brothers.
</i></div></td></tr>

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Apr 27, 2016 | 2:51 pm
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I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see.
<br>I sought my God, but my God eluded me.
<br>I sought my brother and I found all three.
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Mystic Falls…

<p>That was where they had picked skinwalker Dean up, and that was more than likely where the real Dean still was.

<p>Sam was doing everything in his power to not speed… too much. An officer of the law might forgive him for going 80 in a 70 zone, but he had a feeling that 125 mph would be pushing his luck just a little too much. While he knew that the Impala might be able to handle it, he didn’t know If his criminal record could. While he had faith in himself that he had erased their records clean, he didn’t know what might have been placed on it since he last checked. All it took was someone recognizing them on security footage, and they were back in the records, and sooner or later someone might just get wise to the fact that their list of punishable offenses were not as long as they should be in the computer. This was especially true since he was going back to a place where he had spent a considerable amount of time… And because, apparently, there was a skinwalker wearing Dean’s face who had a penchant for committing violent crimes and not cleaning up after himself.

<p>15 hours from New Orleans to Mystic Falls. Every miles of it, Sam pressed his foot down hard. Every once and a while, he beat his hand against the steering wheel in aggravation, or gripped the wheel hard when traffic got especially heinous. Every beat and press reminded him of the shard of glass that Dean… not Dean… had sewn into his palm, the tool he was supposed to use against Lucifer and the visions. Sam had been grateful at the time, thinking that his brother was making a hard call when it came do such an action, and that he was looking out for his kid brother. He had even defended it to Katherine when she asked about why he smelled like a fresh wound and blood. It had worked for a while… until recently, when he saw Lucifer among the dancers and revelers at Marcel’s party. He had been there, wandering the crowd, appearing in the gaps between people, but his eyes had met Sam’s with purpose…

<p>He gripped the wheel tight again, squeezing his flesh into the still jagged glass under his skin. It was an impulse now, a trained condition for when his mind turned to the Fallen Prince of Hell. It was usually the cue to turn his thoughts towards happier things, but… well, there really wasn’t much happy to think about. This might have been the moment of what Katherine’s eyes looked like when she smiled at him, the way that they danced when she laughed that way that seemed to be just for him, but… those thoughts came with their own pain now. The skinwalker had told him everything, About Klaus and the deal he made with Crowley. About how Crowley had captured Katherine in anticipation for making a deal with Klaus, to offer up the woman who he feels gave him his greatest slight, and how Klaus hadn’t even asked for Katherine as part of the deal. So he kept Katherine, and let her live in the Hell of her making… how the skinwalker had seen her himself before Crowley realized that he didn’t have the real Dean Winchester. How, no matter what Sam did, he and his loved ones were never going to escape the clutches of Hell.

<p>That was when Sam forcibly removed the top of the walker’s head with his shotgun. No one looked in on him in the back alley as the body fell to the side, and Sam repeatedly beat the face in with the heel of his boot. Samuel Winchester was wrath incarnate as he destroyed the face of his brother in the gutters of New Orleans, his memory returning to his time in Hell, Katherine’s face replacing his own with every twist of agony. But no, he realized, it would be different for her, wouldn’t it? He remembered the stories she had told him, one of their late night confessions while she played with his hair, and he held her tight against the dangers of the world. She was a suicide. Things went very differently for them.

<p>Hopeless. It was hopeless. He remembered the time when he promised her that he could keep her safe, and she had shushed him, telling him to not make promises he couldn’t keep. He had made the promise anyway, in the silence of his own heart, and he had failed her. Him and that skinwalker left her alone to chase what they hoped was a lead on Castiel. The angel had come to them, but Sam hadn’t seen him since, and Sam wondered if it was another trick. The last time he had seen her, he was kissing her goodbye, saying he would be back in a few hours, while she wrapped herself in a robe and prepared for a bath. Should he at least be happy that he got that? That their last moment together was spent smiling at each other and saying that they loved one another? Was that the best he could ever hope for in this world?

<p>He wept in the alley as the skinwalker’s blood cooled on his boots, his tall limbs curling up under him as his knees failed him and he fell against the wall. Over a year of searching, and what? She was gone… And his brother hadn’t been his brother. He hadn’t actually accomplished anything. He hadn’t saved Katherine from the dark fate she always said she was destined for, and he had been an idiot to think that maybe he could be her white knight. His brother was still out there, somewhere, and Sam had no idea where to start looking, and he had been brash enough to kill the skinwalker before he had a chance to find out where he was being kept. He could only imagine it, now, Dean tied up somewhere, suffering and starving in a filthy cage in some hidden place, and Sam too late to find him. Sam couldn’t save anyone…

<p>Somewhere, a siren screamed, and while Sam was not sure about whether or not they were coming for him, he knew it would be better to move than to stay here and get arrested. He turned to leave the alley in a rush, but paused, remembering something. He turned back and felt around in the pockets of the skinwalker’s pants, and came back with the set of keys. Tears still streaked with drying tears, Sam stopped long enough to swiftly kick the skinwalker’s corpse in the neck before he turned and ran. 15 minutes later, he had found the Impala, and was racing towards the city limits.

<p>And now here he was. No sleep or food as he raced down the dark back roads of Mystic Falls, Virginia. His head cleared the moment he slid into the driver’s seat. There was still a chance he could help Dean. Skinwalkers usually didn’t venture far from their home. The Dean-walker had traveled because his love of wearing the Winchester mask outweighed his need to stay as close as he could to the host. The majority of their time, though, in the beginning was spent in or around Mystic Falls. The real Dean could not be far from there. He just needed to find and search through every secluded location in the area. He pressed the pedal down again. The speed limit said 25, but 30 wouldn’t kill anyone.

<p>He had a plan now… He would start in the middle of town and work his way out. There was no pattern to where one skinwalker kept their “host” versus another, so it could be anywhere from a basement in the city to a warehouse outside of town to an abandoned mine. He needed to be meticulous, and careful, and-

<p>Sam was slamming on the breaks before he fully rationalize when he was seeing in the middle of the road. All he knew was that, in the pitch of night, made even darker by the lack of moon and the coverage of thick trees, the figure in the road practically materialized out of the shadows. His hair, long and untamed and in desperate need of a comb, fluttered in front of his eyes from the sheer force of inertia, and it partially blinded him. His foot if the brake all the same, and he heard the tires lose purchase on the gravel in the road.

<p>The tires screeched in the last moment, and while Sam couldn’t get a clear image thanks to his hair, there was the after image every time his eyes blinked of the frightened pedestrian in the middle of the abandoned road, who vanished under the edge of the hood as the Impala boldly struck him. Sam had no idea how fast he had been going, but he knew it had been a firm hit. Slowly, details started coming to him, of a man with a untamed beard, messy hair that needed to be cut more than his own, a rags for clothes. Sam couldn’t be sure, but the figure may have been barefoot. All the facts thrown together created a very particular image. “Oh my God…” he said out loud in his shock. “I killed Hobo Jesus!”

<p>He threw open the door, and rushed out onto the road. He really wasn’t thinking about danger at the moment, just about the possibility that he had either killed a homeless vagabond or the Vessel for the Second Coming, and either way he had just committed vehicular homicide. Rushing forward, he turned the corner of the car, not expecting what to find what he got there, but preparing himself for a managed corpse, hoping for a few skinned knees.


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<center>notes: Reunited and it feels so good! Except for that car to the chest, I bet… sorry…
<br>words: 1649 | tag: Dean Winchester</center>

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