Sleep did not come easy in the back seat of the tiny Camrey.
Small as she was, amid the jumble of their possessions, there
was not much room for Ezra herself back there. With her head
propped against a myriad of books, topped with a bunched
up hoodie, the blonde swam in and out of consciousness.
Anya and told her to get a few hours of sleep before she
returned from her trip, one that would obviously take a few
hours to return from. The elder girl had parked near a set of
train tracks, just off the road in the shadows before wandering
off to God knows where to complete their transaction. Anya
had acquired a particularly lethal looking knife that had some
supernatural quality, though neither knew what. Ezra was
never allowed to accompany her sister on these trips, the
older girl forever anxious that something would happen to
her if she did. Ezra didn’t mind, per say, but waiting in the
car for hours on end was anything but fun.
A gentle breeze slid in through the cracked window, playing
across her face as she dozed. She could just hear the chirp
of crickets from beyond the car doors, as well as the crunch
of heavy footsteps against gravel… Bleary hazel-green eyes
slid open just in time to see a shadow pass over her window.
With a yelp, the girl sat bolt upright, nearly hitting her head
on the seat next to her as she scrambled forward to lock
the doors.
❞If you’re a cop I am definitely
allowed to park here for emergencies!❞
Though it was still husky with sleep,
her voice raised at least two octaves
in anxiety, her body ducking below the
window so the figure could not see her.
❞If you’re not a cop I am definitely
armed and very dangerous.❞
sam really isn't having a good day. first off, his
brother is a demon. not possessed by a demon, not
killed by metatron, but a full-on black-eyed bastard.
and now, to top it off, he'd went and gotten his demon
knife stolen. so no, he's not in the best mood as he
burns his way across the country in the impala (which,
by the way, is absolutely disgusting due to dean's
latest habits).
at the moment, sam's jaw is aching from how tightly
he's clenching his teeth, his grip on the steering wheel
turning his knuckles white. he's only praying that the
thing who took his knife is here; it's not like he's got
time to scour the globe. dean's rotting away in the
dungeon of the bunker, cas is off god knows where,
and his time is r u n n i n g out.
he pulls over near some train tracks, eyes locked
on the car lurking in the shadows. there. it has to
be. unless the tracking spell went wrong
somehow. warily, sam props open the trunk,
sneaking his handgun into the waistband of his
jeans and pulling out the angel blade, just to be
safe. okay. time to give the thieving son of a bitch
a piece of his mind.
sam's shoes slap softly against the pavement as he stalks
over to the car, drawing his gun as he crosses to the
driver's side door. but before he has a chance to pull it
open, he hears the locks click and an anxious voice. an
inkling of doubt trickles through his resolve, but she hasn't
proven her innocence yet.
❝ look. i really don't wanna hurt you.
tell you what -- --
-- - just give me my knife back,
and i'll be on my way, o k a y ? ❞
