The Boy With The Demon Blood

the-winchester-reject-blog

the-winchester-reject replied to your post: magic!anon: you have a sexual frustration that can’t be relieved until someone else does it. good luck.

….That sucks.

Tell me about it -shifts in seat-

You can’t just go and find somebody to take care of it? Don’t tell me you’re the shy one, Sam.

#the-winchester-reject #[in which he really wish someone would...'suck'..]

No.. It's just.. awkward. Having it thrown upon you unwillingly..

the-winchester-reject replied to your post: magic!anon: you have a sexual frustration that can’t be relieved until someone else does it. good luck.

….That sucks.

Tell me about it -shifts in seat-

Straight to the big questions, then? Can't say I really know myself. I'd love to find out what happened but I want to be through with this Angel/Demon, Soc/Greaser crap.

So, like one day you woke up and you weren't in your own personal heaven? Mind you, I'm pretty sure anyone from around have here has been pulled from hell or plucked from heaven. It's a bit of a trend.

#stillgotmythirdeye

Well Grumpy, I wouldn't mind helping you out with that Magic!Anon there.

..Pamela.. I thought you were.. I..

#stillgotmythirdeye #[in which sammy is super horny and confused]

magic!anon: you have a sexual frustration that can't be relieved until someone else does it. good luck.

....You suck.

#Anonymous #ooc:starting to use my M!As before i potentially go

Times Is Hard (Dean/Sam)

Between faint short breaths and darkening vision he saw his brother tumble back. “Dean..” he breathed, whether that was in his mind or it actually came out of his mouth he couldn’t tell. He tried to lift himself from the wall to go to Dean’s aid, but there was no energy in him strong enough to do so.

The room clouded over with blackness, taking in everything it touched until Sam’s world was black. “Dean..” he tried to say one last time before slipping into blackness.

Dean woke up sitting on a metal chair, with his hands tied behind his back against another chair. He quickly assumed it was Sam behind him. “Dammit,” he muttered. “Sam, wake up!” He whispered. Dean pushed his chair up against Sam’s to try to wake his brother up.

Sam’s head was heavy and swimming in thick fog. His ears rang and his eyes stung. He’s felt worse, he had to admit, this just sucked big time. In some part of his head he could hear his brother’s voice, muffled and distant. He tried lifting his arms but they wouldn’t budge. Sam thought he was still under the effects of the fog or whatever-the-hell-it-was, but as he came around, groaning and shifting, he realised he had been taken and tied to a metal chair with his hands behind his back.

He winced as he tried opening his eyes that were still stinging. Looking through half closed eyes, he tired to scan the room for hints as to where he was, how to get out, and who was with him. He felt a nudge behind him and turned, Dean. “Dean!” he croaked, “It got you too?”

“Yeah, whatever it was, it got both of us. Have you heard of anything that knocks their victims out and doesn’t kill them right away? I don’t mean to sound pessimistic, but I thought we’d be dead.” Dean tried looking around the room, but there wasn’t any light at all.

“I still have my knife, Sam. Do you think you can reach it?”

"I have no idea. Some sort of pissed of ghost with a whole lot of mojo?" he suggested, but his mind was all jumbled from the fog. He moved his hands, "I'm tied too," his hands trying to twist in the ropes they were bound in. "I can't budge."

He let out an angry sigh. "Where the hell did out guns go?" he suddenly thought out loud.

Times Is Hard (Dean/Sam)

Between faint short breaths and darkening vision he saw his brother tumble back. “Dean..” he breathed, whether that was in his mind or it actually came out of his mouth he couldn’t tell. He tried to lift himself from the wall to go to Dean’s aid, but there was no energy in him strong enough to do so.

The room clouded over with blackness, taking in everything it touched until Sam’s world was black. “Dean..” he tried to say one last time before slipping into blackness.

Dean woke up sitting on a metal chair, with his hands tied behind his back against another chair. He quickly assumed it was Sam behind him. “Dammit,” he muttered. “Sam, wake up!” He whispered. Dean pushed his chair up against Sam’s to try to wake his brother up.

Sam's head was heavy and swimming in thick fog. His ears rang and his eyes stung. He's felt worse, he had to admit, this just sucked big time. In some part of his head he could hear his brother's voice, muffled and distant. He tried lifting his arms but they wouldn't budge. Sam thought he was still under the effects of the fog or whatever-the-hell-it-was, but as he came around, groaning and shifting, he realised he had been taken and tied to a metal chair with his hands behind his back.

He winced as he tried opening his eyes that were still stinging. Looking through half closed eyes, he tired to scan the room for hints as to where he was, how to get out, and who was with him. He felt a nudge behind him and turned, Dean. "Dean!" he croaked, "It got you too?"

Times Is Hard (Dean/Sam)

Sam held is breath as the figure came closer to the door, hoping it’d just pass by. But of course it wouldn’t, they left the door wide open and it probably heard them bash it in. He must have been cast in shadow for the figure appeared in the doorway and didn’t notice him. He froze and hoped Dean was doing the same, eyes glued to the man in front of him.

The figure let out a “Huh.” after a long moment of silence, then he turned and carried on his way. Sam waited until he couldn’t hear the footsteps before letting out a huge sigh and stepping out into the room again.

Dean watched the figure walk closer and closer to Sam, and he was ready to pounce once his brother was discovered. But he wasn’t. The figure paused and muttered something, inaudible to Dean. He bit his lip to prevent from breathing loudly. It began to turn around, and within that second, Dean was behind the shelves, sheltered by darkness once again. He watched as the figure left the room from once it came.

Once he heard the satisfying click of the metallic door, he walked over to Sam while sliding his knife back in his boot. “Dammit, who… or what was that, Sam?” He looked up to his younger brother as he spoke.

Sam’s breathing was more audible now, loud puffs of air passing in and out his lungs like he’d been drowning. “I don’t know, Dean.” he looked straight past his brother, staring blankly ahead of him. “Definitely not human.” he said between breaths.

Sam blinked and felt a wave of heaviness come over him, thick fog coming into his lungs as his vision blurred, his body falling back into the wall. He tried to bring himself to but something was pulling him down.

Dean’s eyes began to widen as Sam began to fall. “Sam? Sammy?” His voice was confused at first, but the second time he said his brother’s name, all that came out was fear. He ran up to Sam and searched for some sort of indicator to what was going on. “Sammy are you alright?” He noticed that Sam wasn’t breathing. “Dammit, breath Sam!”

The fog must have gotten to Dean because in that moment, he couldn’t get as much air as he usually does. He took a step back and placed a hand on his chest. Through severe coughs he shouted, “We’re… going to be… okay, Sammy.”

His vision started to blur, as Sam’s did, and he fell backwards, knocking his head on a terracotta pot, causing him to lose consciousness.

Between faint short breaths and darkening vision he saw his brother tumble back. "Dean.." he breathed, whether that was in his mind or it actually came out of his mouth he couldn't tell. He tried to lift himself from the wall to go to Dean's aid, but there was no energy in him strong enough to do so.

The room clouded over with blackness, taking in everything it touched until Sam's world was black. "Dean.." he tried to say one last time before slipping into blackness.

Times Is Hard (Dean/Sam)

Sam held is breath as the figure came closer to the door, hoping it’d just pass by. But of course it wouldn’t, they left the door wide open and it probably heard them bash it in. He must have been cast in shadow for the figure appeared in the doorway and didn’t notice him. He froze and hoped Dean was doing the same, eyes glued to the man in front of him.

The figure let out a “Huh.” after a long moment of silence, then he turned and carried on his way. Sam waited until he couldn’t hear the footsteps before letting out a huge sigh and stepping out into the room again.

Dean watched the figure walk closer and closer to Sam, and he was ready to pounce once his brother was discovered. But he wasn’t. The figure paused and muttered something, inaudible to Dean. He bit his lip to prevent from breathing loudly. It began to turn around, and within that second, Dean was behind the shelves, sheltered by darkness once again. He watched as the figure left the room from once it came.

Once he heard the satisfying click of the metallic door, he walked over to Sam while sliding his knife back in his boot. “Dammit, who… or what was that, Sam?” He looked up to his younger brother as he spoke.

Sam's breathing was more audible now, loud puffs of air passing in and out his lungs like he'd been drowning. "I don't know, Dean." he looked straight past his brother, staring blankly ahead of him. "Definitely not human." he said between breaths.

Sam blinked and felt a wave of heaviness come over him, thick fog coming into his lungs as his vision blurred, his body falling back into the wall. He tried to bring himself to but something was pulling him down.

Times Is Hard (Dean/Sam)

Sam smiled to himself as his brother walked past him into the dusty room, soon following him inside.

The room was like an Egyptian tomb, valuables filling the place all under a thick layer of dust. His eyes scanned the room for the tusk, but with none such luck. It was probably out on display, he thought. With people around. He turned when is brother spoke, holding up a jaw bone. Sam eye balled him, mentally telling him to put it down before he broke it. “Probably hundreds of years old.” he commented.

Just then, he heard some footsteps out side and muffled chatter. “Dean.” he whispered, taking the elbow of his sleeve in his hand to pull him back with him.

“What? Oh!” He whispered. Dean quickly backed up with his brother against a shelf of relics. “Who is it? A guard?” he breathed, quickly closing his consonants. He discretely reached for his miniature knife that he always kept in his sock.

He made a quick motion with his hand signifying that he’d go around and catch the person from behind. As he was walking around, he almost got distracted by the bones, shards of pottery, and broken tablets, some of which looked supernatural.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I don’t think any visitors would come this way.” Sam reached behind him and pulled out his gun he had tucked under his belt, for he knew he’d have to use it at least once today.

He nodded at Dean who signalled his actions, standing near him to cover. The footsteps were getting louder, and Sam pressed his back to the wall by the door with his gun in hand. He looked over to Dean whose eyes were fixed elsewhere as if he could see sound.

He readied his knife and listened for more footsteps. They were still heading in Sam’s direction. Dean hid behind a shelf, and peeked around. He didn’t recognize the figure, but it had a black hat on, with a long, black coat. He narrowed his eyes and tried to look for clues as to who, or what, this thing was.

Sam held is breath as the figure came closer to the door, hoping it'd just pass by. But of course it wouldn't, they left the door wide open and it probably heard them bash it in. He must have been cast in shadow for the figure appeared in the doorway and didn't notice him. He froze and hoped Dean was doing the same, eyes glued to the man in front of him.

The figure let out a "Huh." after a long moment of silence, then he turned and carried on his way. Sam waited until he couldn't hear the footsteps before letting out a huge sigh and stepping out into the room again.

This won't be easy

I will have decided by Wednesday 5th (for all you in the US that'll be a day prior) and will be contacting the masterlist. If you wish to keep in touch, you can follow my main blog.

#OOC

Times Is Hard (Dean/Sam)

Sam smiled to himself as his brother walked past him into the dusty room, soon following him inside.

The room was like an Egyptian tomb, valuables filling the place all under a thick layer of dust. His eyes scanned the room for the tusk, but with none such luck. It was probably out on display, he thought. With people around. He turned when is brother spoke, holding up a jaw bone. Sam eye balled him, mentally telling him to put it down before he broke it. “Probably hundreds of years old.” he commented.

Just then, he heard some footsteps out side and muffled chatter. “Dean.” he whispered, taking the elbow of his sleeve in his hand to pull him back with him.

“What? Oh!” He whispered. Dean quickly backed up with his brother against a shelf of relics. “Who is it? A guard?” he breathed, quickly closing his consonants. He discretely reached for his miniature knife that he always kept in his sock.

He made a quick motion with his hand signifying that he’d go around and catch the person from behind. As he was walking around, he almost got distracted by the bones, shards of pottery, and broken tablets, some of which looked supernatural.

"I don't know," he whispered back. "I don't think any visitors would come this way." Sam reached behind him and pulled out his gun he had tucked under his belt, for he knew he'd have to use it at least once today.

He nodded at Dean who signalled his actions, standing near him to cover. The footsteps were getting louder, and Sam pressed his back to the wall by the door with his gun in hand. He looked over to Dean whose eyes were fixed elsewhere as if he could see sound.

Times Is Hard (Dean/Sam)

“Yeah, I guess.” He said, not overly convinced. He looked around some more as Dean headed for the back entrance again, scanning the place for anything peculiar, trailing behind his brother’s footsteps. Sam was hoping like hell he was just over sensitive to the idea of something trying to kill them everywhere they go - it was a becoming trend for them these days.

Dean stepped through the door and glanced around the small room. “Damn. Shoulda brought a flashlight,” he muttered. He stepped further into the dusty room and coughed because of the density of the air. “It looks like no one’s been in here for years.” The hunter coughed into his sleeve again and looked for another door. Just ahead, there was another door, but unlike the first wooden one, this one was metal. He furrowed his eyebrows and walked towards it. Dean grabbed the handle and pulled it. Nothing happened. “Sammy, the door’s stuck.” He tried pulling it once more, before letting his brother take over.

Sam followed his brother cautiously into an old room with “NO ENTRY” branded on the door in blood red paint - well, he hoped it was paint. His eyes constantly flashed around the room and where they came from, making sure nothing or no one was following. His eyes turned back to Dean when he coughed, his own eyes narrowing to see better in the dim lighted room. Once his brother attempted prying the old metal door, Sam took his stance in front of it as Dean stepped aside.

Carefully wrapping his fingers around the rusted handle, he squeezed and rammed his body into it with full force. They were in luck for the door parted and with another body slam the hinges gave way and the door opened. He stepped back, shaking the rust and effort off his shoulder and looked over to Dean. “What?” he said innocently.

Dean rolled his eyes and playfully pushed Sam out of the way. “Whatever. I loosened it for you.”

Once he was in the next room he felt around for a switch. His hand brushed against a metal plate and he clicked on a light. Although it was only a few light bulbs, it was better than no light at all. “Come on, let’s hurry. Maybe we’ll get lucky and not see anyone. Who knows? They could all be on a coffee break or something,” the eldest said, optimistically.

As they were walking through the storage room, Dean stopped a few times to look at a few of the artifacts. Most of them were dried up bones, sarcophagi, and old books with illegible printing. “Sam, how old do you think some of this stuff is?” he said, playing with a seemingly 200 year old jaw bone.

Sam smiled to himself as his brother walked past him into the dusty room, soon following him inside.

The room was like an Egyptian tomb, valuables filling the place all under a thick layer of dust. His eyes scanned the room for the tusk, but with none such luck. It was probably out on display, he thought. With people around. He turned when is brother spoke, holding up a jaw bone. Sam eye balled him, mentally telling him to put it down before he broke it. "Probably hundreds of years old." he commented.

Just then, he heard some footsteps out side and muffled chatter. "Dean." he whispered, taking the elbow of his sleeve in his hand to pull him back with him.

Times Is Hard (Dean/Sam)

“Yeah, I guess.” He said, not overly convinced. He looked around some more as Dean headed for the back entrance again, scanning the place for anything peculiar, trailing behind his brother’s footsteps. Sam was hoping like hell he was just over sensitive to the idea of something trying to kill them everywhere they go - it was a becoming trend for them these days.

Dean stepped through the door and glanced around the small room. “Damn. Shoulda brought a flashlight,” he muttered. He stepped further into the dusty room and coughed because of the density of the air. “It looks like no one’s been in here for years.” The hunter coughed into his sleeve again and looked for another door. Just ahead, there was another door, but unlike the first wooden one, this one was metal. He furrowed his eyebrows and walked towards it. Dean grabbed the handle and pulled it. Nothing happened. “Sammy, the door’s stuck.” He tried pulling it once more, before letting his brother take over.

Sam followed his brother cautiously into an old room with "NO ENTRY" branded on the door in blood red paint - well, he hoped it was paint. His eyes constantly flashed around the room and where they came from, making sure nothing or no one was following. His eyes turned back to Dean when he coughed, his own eyes narrowing to see better in the dim lighted room. Once his brother attempted prying the old metal door, Sam took his stance in front of it as Dean stepped aside.

Carefully wrapping his fingers around the rusted handle, he squeezed and rammed his body into it with full force. They were in luck for the door parted and with another body slam the hinges gave way and the door opened. He stepped back, shaking the rust and effort off his shoulder and looked over to Dean. "What?" he said innocently.

Times Is Hard (Dean/Sam)

Sam’s eyes quickly shot around the park just to make sure no one saw their arsenal. Empty.. enough. He looked back at the saw as Dean tucked it away. “Should work.” he said, pulling his infamous sturgeon face.

Dean nodded. “Let’s go through the back. There shouldn’t be any metal detectors back there.” He started walking towards the back of the building, while keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious.

“Alright.” he agreed, grabbing his bag out of the car before they locked it and headed for the back entrance. He looked around and noticed an absence of people. “Hey Dean,” he queried, “Does this place seem awfully quiet to you for a Saturday?”

Dean paused for a second and glanced around the nearly empty parking lot. There were three cars, including his Impala. Something was definitely off. “Well…” he tried rationalizing it, “the museum just opened a few minutes ago. I wouldn’t imagine a bunch of people would be here yet.” Sam was right though. This wasn’t natural.

[OOC: IT’S SUPERNATURAL.

WOOOOAAHH XD]