608/Hell's Bells

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Hell's Bells
Date of Scene: 28 May 2017
Location: Sunnydale
Synopsis: Sam and Fred meet at on a demon hunt. Neither really know what to do with the other.
Cast of Characters: Winifred Burkle, Sam Winchester




Winifred Burkle has posed:
Winifred Burkle, former genius physics graduate student, escapee from the Hell Dimension known as Pylea, member of Angel Investigations, new member of the team known as the Ghostbusters, has come to the section of Bludhaven known as Sunnydale on an assignment. Generally she works these things with another member of the AI crew, but she has fought hard to be taken seriously as a member of the time that she can handle things on her own! And so, she is now out at night stalking the mean streets of Sunnydale. They, honestly, don't look that mean, but who knows! Streets can be deceiving. The tall, skinny physicist has a large tome in her arms and a flashlight as she walks about the sidewalks.

"Okay, okay, okay. This is just a simple banishing. You can do this Fred. You survived on Pylea for five years all by yourself. You can banish a demon by yourself." Fred mutters to herself as she makes her way toward a vacant house that Angel Investigations has been hired to look into. A newlywed couple bought it, but it seems a demon is squatting there and attempted to kill them when they wanted to make renovations.

"712 Daffodil Street. That's way too cute a name for what's goin' on here," she sighs. But, she puts her flashlight away and starts to make her way up the steps and tries the door. Locked. "Shoot," she hisses, pushing against it harder, somehow hoping that means it'll open.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Though every clue that might point to John Winchester's wereabouts currently points to the need to go undersea...

Well, Sam's kind of hoping not to go swimming. Dean is otherwise occupied tonight, which leaves him to chase another lead.

And since he's also out for a bit of revenge, this suits him fine. The lead is demonic in nature, and it was demons, not sea creatures, who killed his fiancee over a year ago.

He pulls up in a dark blue sedan and parks. He leans forward, a bit bemused to see a waifish girl with a big book trying to shoulder check the door.

He slips out and stands behind her, hands where she can see him, clearing his throat. He could easily pick the lock, but his first instinct is to chase what looks, to him, to be a civilian out of here. To make himself all the more non-threatening, but hopefully as authoritative as one can be in jeans, military jacket, and black t-shirt, he gives a low-voiced, "Miss?

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Fred did not hear Sam Winchester's approach. She's been focused on the door, that continues to not budge. The book is tucked under her arm and as there's a clearing throat behind her, she gasps. The door is abandoned and the book is taken up as weapon. It's a very hefty tome, it could do a lot of damage to a cranium should she be able to reach up high enough to brain Sam.

"//Who are you?//" she asks, suspiciously. She's seen the owners of the house, she's talked with the wife and assured her that she can make sure their place is clear of any danger. Whoever this tall man in his jacket and t-shirt is cannot be up to any good.

Then, she realizes, she's trying to shoulder her way into the door. And she is not really supposed to be here. Crap. Keeping up the glare - as well as the raised book - she studies him. "I'm trying to get into this house, but I lost my key." That's a lie, but she's a pretty good liar when the need arises. "I'm not breakin' in, if that's what you're thinkin'."

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam's arms fly up in a defensive blocking stance as he is threatened by the World's Thickest Book.

Then he actually spots the title, and his eyebrows raise. He reads it out in absolutely flawless Latin, then takes a step back. "My name is Sam Winchester. Uh..."

Pause. Beat. She reassures him that she's not breaking in. He gives a little sheepish smile, then finally just...

"I'm reaching for tools, not a weapon."

He reaches for his lockpick set and holds it up. "May I?"

She still is someone that he should probably chase away, but...well. Having someone else to read or say the exorcism while someone draws fire is kind of a time honored tradition. In a few short seconds he silently votes himself for 'draw fire and tangle with it' duty.

Here's hoping her pronunciation is good, or it's going to be a long night.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
As Sam raises his hands and tries to show himself as a man who is not going to harm her, Fred watches very closely. Her eyes are narrowed, her stance is careful. He has trusting eyes, but she's been taken in by that before! "Sam Winchester," she repeats, no recognition in her voice. If she's a Hunter, she's one that's never heard of the Winchesters.

As he reaches for the lockpick set, her eyes widen. "You want to break in!" she states, surprised and a little impressed. "This is my house," she says, lying again through her teeth. She doesn't know this Sam from a hole in the ground and he might be trouble. "What makes you think I'll let you break into it?"

The book remains raised, but lowered just slightly. It's not in prime head bashing position, but she doesn't seem to be immediately trusting this large man and his lockpicks. Then, the real question, "How'd you know the name of this book? Only Wesley's that good at Latin on the fly."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"You always try to unlock the door of your own house with one of the world's only original copies of In Libro Domini Impiarum Animarum?" Sam asks wryly. "Look. You're here after a demon, I'm here after a demon. As a rule, I prefer to memorize the exorcisms, but this works too. I don't know who Wesley is, but...I'm thinking we work together. Or..."

He has a feeling he's about to get hit with the book anyway, but he has to try to be chivalrous...

"You just let me handle it. I'm really good at this stuff. I can take care of it, and you could stay safe."

He braces himself, ready to raise his arms again, even as he tries the patented Sam Winchester Charm Smile, complete with Eyes of Empathy that make it clear he's not trying to diminish her in any way, that he merely Cares for Her Ability to Keep Breathing.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
"I generally unlock the door of my own house with a key," Fred tells Sam with a bit of a tilt upward of her chin. "I..." she looks down at the book in her arms and then up at Sam. "This is from the library. You still haven't answered my question about the Latin." And also why he might know a demon exorcism book at a glance.

The mention of the demon is met with a very wide eyed stare. He just said it outloud! Are people supposed to say that outloud?! She works with a Vampire, but she's pretty sure that's supposed to stay pretty confidential. "D-d-demon?" She asks. Oh, why is this the first job she's working alone? Charles would have something smart to say right about now.

Then, the book careen's downward, smacking Sam on the shoulder at his sexist comment. "Yeah, sure, whatever. You're 'good at this stuff' you didn't get here first!" she hisses slightly, blowing her cover. "You can handle the...you know, non-newspaper articles about this! Because I'm so good the newspapers won't cover what is going on! That's how good I'll be at this."

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam takes the smack with the book with equinamity; a flinch and a soft 'ow'. Her newspaper comments produce nothing but confusion. What is she even going //on// about?

"I speak Latin, that's how," he grumps. "It's a vital necessity for just about every exorcism, banishment, spell, or summoning ritual out there."

At last, though, he gives her The Face, a sort of 'now see here' version of it.

"If you're so good at this, how about you get the door open, then? With a key, or however else you were going to do it."

He then folds his arms, a bit like a jerk, because he's feeling a bit grouchy now. And lifts his eyebrows in this very clear, 'okay, I'll wait then' expression.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
"Why do you //know// anything about that?" she asks, glaring at him. In Fred's life, the people who does what she does is very few and far between. That's why she does what she does. "And why do you think I do that?" That's, also, a very important question.

His explanation is met with narrowed eyes. "So, you do this? For a job?" she's unsure of how to handle this guy. Generally people are yelling and screaming and saying how this is not possible by about now.

His snide comment is met with a scrunching of her eyes. "I'm not about to open this door to some weirdo on the porch until I know more about you. Why are you here? Who are you?" She pauses and then adds, "Yes, okay Sam Winchester, but I have no idea what that means, so I'll need more than that despite the the fact that you think that is some sort of passport into people's doors."

Even though she //knows// Sam is better at opening this door than she is, she is not exactly giving up that information just yet.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam sighs and puts his lock picks away. Clearly this calls for patience.

He almost asks her name, but her dander is up. He slides his hands into her pockets and says quietly, "I know about demons because my mother was killed by one when I was a baby. My fiancee was killed by one. I spent my entire life on the road as my father tried to track him down. It is basically my job, yes. Demons. Ghosts. Vampires. Wendigo. Chucacabra. Is it yours?"

A moment later, though, he's grimacing at himself. His lack of patience isn't really called for. Her paranoia is a good thing.

"I'm sorry we've gotten off on the wrong foot," he says, sincere empathy in his voice a moment later. "I feel strongly about protecting people. But if it is your job, I also wouldn't say no to some back-up. What's important here is that we get rid of this demon before it hurts anyone else. That's all I want. Unless I miss my guess, it's all you really want, too."

Winifred Burkle has posed:
The book remains poised to strike him again, but Fred listens. That's really her superpower. As she watches Sam, something softens in her expression. The book does not move to smack the other man again. Instead, it lowers. Winifred Burkle watches Sam Winchester closely, but there is something of an accord.

There's a long silence to his confession about his mother and his fiancee. "I'm sorry," she tells him sincerely. The wispy brunette might try to wield a literal bulk of knowledge, but she certainly has a heart as to things like that. "So. You know, then?" She asks curiously. "About...them." Behind them, the window starts to glow just slightly. "I didn't think there were a lot of people like that."

Sam's empathetic plea reaches a note inside her and she gives him a bit of a smile. "It's--"

Unfortunately, at that point in time the door that Fred attempted to force open and Sam offered to help lock pick bursts outward. There are wood fragments and splinters everywhere as Fred curls around the book, it all seems as if it is in slow motion.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam reacts quickly to the danger. He leaps for Winifred, broad arms wrapping tightly about her willowy frame. He doesn't stop moving, though, barreling them both over the porch railing and to the ground below, rolling them through a shrub and to the ground. The idea is just to get some distance between themselves and the source of the threat. He shoves her firmly behind him. He needs a fast defense and goes for it; a sachet of salt, ready to hurl at whatever comes after them; just another time-buyer until he can get at one of his actual weapons.

"Well," he mutters. "Guess it beat us both to the punch on the door thing."

Winifred Burkle has posed:
The creature through the door is there. The door is burst open and where it once stood is a teenage girl. Her eyes are completely black.

As the door is flown outward, Fred is wrapped up in Sam's protective grasp. She is tossed backward and keeps the book quickly brought into her arms. They're into the plush grass of the front lawn, but her eyes are entirely on the porch they were just launched from. "Wait! We!---" But they're already on the lawn and the demon is on the porch.

"He beat you! I was trying to get inside! We could have fixed this if you hadn't interfered!" she tells him. "This is my first time doing this alone! I'm supposed to do this perfectly to prove that I can do this!" That's too much.

The Demon looks at Fred and Sam with a look of absent anger. Then, it flings itself forward with a movement that looks almost like a tape fastforwarded itself.

Opening the book, Fred starts to read. "Regna terrae, cantate Deo!" However, the demon inside the teenage boy roars and claws at both Sam and Fred.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam ignores Fred's furious snarls about how she was supposed to do this by themselves. They have bigger problems, after all.

Instead, he tosses the salt at the vessel, and grabs a crowbar from the other side of his jacket. Hopefully this demon is low-power enough that iron still hurts her. Hopefully, they can preserve the vessel, too, if the girl didn't take too much damage long before either Sam or Fred got here.

Of course, the act of grabbing the crowbar means that he takes a claw hard across the face. He stumbles back, but his eyes flash. Winifred is reading, which is what she needs to be doing, which means what //he// needs to do is keep this thing //off// of her.

He swings low, aiming for the host's knees, before twisting and trying to bring it down hard on the demon's arm. His face is contorted into a look of snarling concentration. He does his level best to make sure that he's always between their asssailant and Fred; he really //is// serious about the whole protection thing.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
The demon hisses as the salt touches her skin. There is no Devil's Trap, so she runs forward and attempts to clutch at Sam's throat. "Wiiiiiinchestersssss," she hisses at him. The crowbar hits against her side, but it does not dislodge her. With a pleased grin, the hand clutches tighter against his neck. She cares little for the metal rod that slams solidly into her side. The eyes blink and they become entirely black.

As this happens, Fred shoves herself to standing and mutters to herself. It's not a sort of thing that anyone else would take notice. However, as she says it, the girl demon roars. The strength behind it clutches even tighter to Sam as Fred stands up and says her incantation louder.

"HOLD HER!" Fred yells at Sam, as if he is the man there to end this and not a victim. Trusting him, she starts to recite words that may be very familiar to Sam, "Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino qui fertis ascendit super caelum caeli ad Orientem Ecce dabit voci suae vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem deo!"

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Guh! Guh!"

Those are the sounds Sam makes at first as he is clutched with superhuman strength. He grabs at the girl's wrist reflexively. That's kind of like holding her, right?

He struggles to get something else out of his jacket pocket while Fred gets the exorcism going; something that will allow him to buy her just a little more time. And, not incidentally, to maybe not get choked to death. It is a small bottle of holy water. He gasps and nearly blacks out, blinking, as he tries to fumble it open...all of this foolishness certainly means he is still being choked to death. He stumbles back a few paces, then hits the ground with a thump. The demon may no doubt follow if she wishes to continue trying to end him.

Tenacious as ever, though, he finally gets that cap off, and attempts to give the demon a worse day by doing his best to throw the contents of the bottle in her face.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Very close to holding her! The demon smirks at Sam as her grip tightens and she seems to get quite a lot of pleasure out of pain and the possible life that she is choking out him. In fact, she doesn't react again when Fred start to recite the exorcism, nor is she clued into his grabbing a bottle of holy water.

Sam manages to splash most of it in her face and it hisses, steam pouring off of her as she rears back, dropping the man. Hands clutch her face and she roars in a very inhuman sort of way. Then, though, she hears the words that Fred is reciting.

Gasping, she runs forward toward the physicist crying, "No! NO! NOOoo~!!!" Her pursuit stops with a jerk. The girl's head flings itself backward almost violently and a huge plume of black smoke roars out of her mouth and into the sky and she collapses backward onto the ground, limpless.

Taking a few breaths, Fred clutches the book to her chest and blinks at Sam. "You alright?" she asks as she takes a few steps forward, reaching out a hand to help him up.

Sam Winchester has posed:
He blinks foolishly at Fred a few times. The crowbar is long gone, dropped somewhere in the confrontation. He's a little wet from the backsplash of his own holy water defense. And he's breathing, something he has cause to really appreciate because hey, a few moments ago that was no sure thing. Blood cascades dramatically down the left side of his face thanks to the cut he took from demonic claws.

"Yeah," he grunts softly, taking her hand. "Yeah. You?"

Despite accepting the hand, he is careful to make sure that the bulk of the weight requirements for getting him on his own feet fall upon him, well aware of his relative size, vs. her own. He casts a critical eye over her, tense, watchful for any injuries, his hazel eyes radiating with gentle concern.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Unlike Sam, Fred seems no worse for wear. Sam shielded her from the worst of the blows the demon lashed out and it was more occupied with attempting to kill him than ever take a second look at the waifish girl with the big book. "I'm fine. Didn't even look twice at me 'till I was recitin'. You've got--" she gestures at his face where there's blood falling down his features.

She leans back as she helps Sam up, even though he does most of the heavy lifting on her own. "Thanks for, you know, takin' the brunt of all that. These smoky demons are new to me. I'm used to the ones that have-" holding the book against her chest with her elbow, she uses her hands to point her index fingers up and puts them on either side of her head like like horns. "Or" and then she takes her hands and inverts them, putting them in front of her mouth like fangs. "Those kinds."

That described, she glances over at the girl on the lawn and frowns. "She hasn't gotten up yet," she says softly. "D'you think she's okay?"

Sam Winchester has posed:
"No problem," Sam says, to her thanks.

Her pantomime of demonic taxology produces a quick hint of a smile in one Sam Winchester, quickly cleared lest she think he is laughing at her.

"I don't know," he says grimly. "Sometimes demons use the bodies they take so hard that they basically become walking corpses. I tried not to hit her anywhere vital, just in case, but..."

Ignoring his face for the time being, he heads over to the young lady and checks for a pulse, his face taking on a grim cast. The expression says he doesn't expect to find one, however much he might //want// to find one.

Regardless of what he finds, he asks, "What's your name?"

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Instead of her thinking he's laughing at her, Fred smiles back. She's used to being the kooky one in her group and doesn't tend to think people are making fun of her. Though, after spending some time with Holtzmann, that title might be usurped.

The information about how demons use bodies is met, though, with a very serious and sad expression. Fred's eyes are rather large and tend to convey her emotions. "They can just do that? Take anyone over?" It's not something she likes the idea of.

As Sam moves to check for a pulse, his worst suspicions are realized - there is no pulse. In fact, getting closer, it looks as if now that the demon is gone there are quite a few broken bones and opened wounds that are no longer held together by supernatural means.

"I'm Fred," she introduces herself, stepping closer as she does so. "Winifred Burkle."

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam lets out a soft sigh and drops his head for a moment when he realizes there's a corpse. He also carefully takes out a cloth and starts rubbing the corpse down, getting rid of anything like prints. He goes looking for other evidence too...any of his hair that might be on the body. He even pulls out a little toothpick to carefully scrape the underside of her nails. She was choking him; that might have left skin cell damage.

He offers a second hanky over to Fred. "Well, Fred, it's nice to meet you," he says. "Mind wiping down the door, the porch, and anything else up there we might have touched?"

Dean might have been content to just torch the body and dump the remains, but...Sam prefers to take the extra time and effort to clean up the scene so that whomever this young lady was can get found and processed. Somewhere, she might have a family who would like some closure, however sad that closure might be.

He circles back around to her question. "Just about anyone," he agrees. "There's a sigil that prevents it. I had it tattoo'd on my chest a few months ago. I recommend similar measures for anyone else in this line of work. I'll draw it out for you. You said you had to do this one on your own...that mean you work with someone else, usually?"

Winifred Burkle has posed:
As Fred watches Sam start to clean off the body, her eyebrows furrow. She's confused for a moment. "What're you--" Then, the knowledge catches up. She's a smart girl and she knows exactly what he's doing. "But--" her words trail off. "She was...she can't be more'n seventeen."

The suggestion for her to wipe off the porch gets her blinking her eyes a few times. Working with Angel sometimes has put her on the opposite side of the law, but she's never had to try and cover up something like a //body// before. "Wait, wait. This girl...she probably has family somewhere that's worried about her. That have--that have no idea what's happened to her." Her voice catches a little. It seems as if that piece of information hits a little close to home. "We've gotta call the police. Gotta let them know what happened to her."

The questions about who she generally works with for the moment are tossed to the side. She'll answer them later, but to her this is //important//. This has to be remedied.

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Of course we've got to call the police," Sam says, carefully inspecting the corpse's fingernails once more. He has to think of her as a corpse; if he thinks of her as anything else he might have an emotional response he is not prepared to have here and now. Later, in his hotel room, with a beer...later, he can have that response.

He looks up at her, the soul of patience. "Why do you think we're taking the time to remove the evidence of our presence here? There's nothing we could add to any court case, and despite the anomalies in the body we would be the only suspects. In my experience, the cops aren't the best in the world at processing stories of supernatural involvement. Pretty hilarious when guys who wear their underwear on the wrong side of their pants make the news by flying around and hitting people, but...it is what it is."

He pulls out a penlight, really carefully looking for any strands of his own hair, or Fred's.

"So...when I'm done making sure that they won't look to us, we can get out of here, and put in the 'there's a body' call from a burner, and let the system take its course."

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Fred watches the way Sam does this, methodically and automatically. "This happens a lot, then." It's not a question, it's a statement. While Sam is doing this with a necessary detachment, she has very little of that. This was a girl who went missing. Who probably has family worried sick about her. It strikes a chord and that very easily shows. "With these kinds of demons. They just snatch people and no one knows what happened to them till they show up on the lawn."

However, she does understand the nature of what he's doing and why. Slowly, she makes her way to the porch. She has no cloth or the like, so she uses her shirt to wipe down anything she or Sam might have touched.

"We were--" she comes back down the steps and takes a breath. "We were hired to look into this house. To try and get whatever supernatural being was squatting in it to leave. That's...that's generally what we do, we help people who need help with this sort of thing. So...I think...that might come back to Angel Investigations if we don't..." she frowns, hates even suggesting this, "...move her."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"..."

Sam wouldn't have looked more startled if she'd gone and hit him on the back of the head with a board.

"Y-- hired?"

He pauses, eyes going wide. "You can get paid to do this stuff? Like actually paid? You work for a //company// that does this? That offers like...a paycheck? With benefits? You don't-- I mean-- really?"

It causes some hope.

Because it offers a bridge. A bridge between his deep desire for stability, his //need// to stay in one place and build some sort of life, his utter hatred for the open road...

And the life he was born to live, that he can't escape from, that he now understands will pursue him, relentlessly, no matter what. His law degree dreams have certainly gone up in smoke, but suddenly it seems there's a way to move forward, one he'd never, ever considered. Every other Hunter he'd ever met had been ... ahem... self-financed. Many, certainly, of his ilk don't really prefer to answer to anyone at all.

But Sam Winchester might well be willing to give up a measure of autonomy and even anonymity if it means adding a consumate measure of sanity.

Dean won't like it, but Sam and Dean aren't the unit they used to be. Dean is with a woman who, despite her protests, is every bit the warrior he is. They still have a father to find, but Sam is more aware than Dean is that this could take many months...the trail has gone cold here in New York and the bizarre undersea hunt they're planning might lead nowhere at all.

He shakes himself. "Oh. Moving her. Yeah, we can do that. Let's go see if there's a sheet or something to wrap her up in."

Winifred Burkle has posed:
The startled look that Sam gives her startles her just as much. It's not even something she was expecting to be a question. "Y-yes?" she's not sure what else to say about it. "I mean, there's not really a lot of benefits or anything. I live in an abandoned hotel and we live paycheck to paycheck a lot, but we have clients, yeah."

In fact, she gives him a very strange look as he looks floored by the idea of a paycheck, but is completely nonchalant about the idea of moving the body of a dead girl to another lawn in order to not be prosecuted for her murder. Who is this guy?

The book is clutched tighter to her chest as he pulls himself out of whatever mindset her story of the job put him in. She stays where she is for a moment and tilts her head to study him. "This does happen a lot, then." Before it was a statement and a worry. Now it's something a bit more. "Moving bodies, cleaning up crime scenes."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Look, Fred, if you want to take your semi-legit status and use it to explain possession to the police, be my guest," Sam Winchester says quietly. "But I have never found it to be good policy."

He decides to just go in himself, looking around. Surely there's a bedroom with a comforter or something. So it pays, but not //worth crap//. That's good to know before he goes making any major life changes. Because living in an abandoned hotel pretty much sounds like the life he's got now, and really, if he's gonna do illegal things to survive, he knows sooner or later he's //just// gonna commit the credit card fraud so he can have his beer money, and power for his laptop.

Still, all this rumination comes with action, and he leaves her to stand on the lawn, aware that at any moment she might just call the police on //him// because he seems super shady to her. Well.

It is what it is. He's run from the cops before.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
There's not much inside the house, as it's recently bought and going through renovations, but it doesn't take Sam long to find a painter's tarp a worker left behind before the place was a squatting house for a demon.

"Possession? Are you saying you have //drugs// on you?" Fred's brain automatically goes to the legal definition of possession and then she blinks and realizes that he's talking about the supernatural definition. "//Oh//. Well, no. I'm not saying--" she sighs. It's a complicated subject. Angel Investigations tends to skirt the line of legality quite a lot - in fact their worst enemies are lawyers. Evil Demon Hellspawn lawyers, but lawyers nonetheless. And she's never moved a body before.

"Look, I just don't want to leave her on a lawn somewhere. She deserves better after having been through all that." Her tone is very firm as she follows him up the stairs, but not exactly into the house that she came to investigate on her own.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam pulls the tarp up and looks over his shoulder at her.

"I'll take her to a semi-secluded portion of the park, in an area which will get at least one or two joggers tomorrow morning."

He doesn't at all seem to have a problem with her logic. He thinks she deserves better too. That's not the point he's arguing.

He'd also given her a bemused look when she veered off into drug territory, then realized...she's just a little out of it.

He steps back out of the house and puts the tarp down, then bends to gently lift the body. Despite the fact that he's treating all of this like it's Situation Normal, he's incredibly gentle, respectful, even, as he puts it into place. He starts wrapping the body up, quite carefully. He'll have to dump this car after this, steal himself a new one.

He looks up at her and says, "You can go with me if you want, but it's probably smarter for you to go home, just in case I'm pulled over."

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Fred trails after Sam as he pulls the tarp out of the house and then wraps the body up. He seems to be doing everything with respect and in a way that she has no issues. However, this is all a little surreal to her. The heavy book remains a good weight in her arms that keeps her attached to this actually happening.

"Okay," she says, though she's not sure she has anything else to say in that matter. "Okay." That's a repeat. He lifts the body and moves it to the car and she still has the feeling this is far too normal for him. However, he helped her before and ensured she wasn't injured.

Pulling a card from her pocket, she holds it out to him. It's a simple white card with a line drawing of an angel on it. It just says 'Angel Investigations' with a phone number and an address on it. "In case you ever need us. The hotel's not far. I really only live there 'cause I was trapped in a hell dimension for five years and that really takes a toll on your credit. Plus, I like it there. It's cozy and not really what you'd expect from an abandoned hotel or anything." She's rambling. That's just sort of her way.

Her eyes trail to the girl in the tarp in the car and she nods her head. "I would like to see her rested, but I should get back and let Angel know what happened. He's probably worried. He can be kind of a fuddy duddy."

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam does a double-take when she says she was trapped in Hell for 5 years. The look that comes over his face is nothing but purest empathy, though he feels, as he stuffs this body into the trunk, that there is no appropriate way to address that in a way that isn't just...damaging. But the notion that her choice of living arrangements isn't really due to whatever payment plan Angel Investigations has going for its members does find its way into his mind. He takes the card.

He'll be coming by to check this organization out.

"I don't have a card to give you in return," he says. He has a zillion burner numbers and one mainline phone, but...the problem is...now he's closing the trunk over a body, and he doesn't want to take a lot of time to sit and chat and exchange numbers now. And she's decided to go, which is the decision he supports.

He gives her a little smile.

"I'll be in touch. It was nice meeting you, Fred."

And with that, he gets in the driver's side. 'Hell's Bells' plays gently over his stereo as he goes. It's not the Impala, but Dean's been in here anyway, and it's usually better to let the big baby pick his own music regardless of the car he's driving.

Soon enough, he's gone.