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Force and Matter pt 2
Title: Force and Matter (2/?)
Author: Blu (BluAlbino)
Fandoms: Supernatural/The Covenant
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: Not really…
Summary: Chasing a lead takes the brothers to a small, seemingly perfect town in Massachusetts called Ipswich.
Disclaimer: None of it is mine…
A/N: I blame this all on xlorains_stormx, who frequently enables my nonsense, and helps me get from point A to point B, thanks Rainey.
“ M’not drunk Sam…” Dean said, his words slushing together in his mouth. Sam, who was half supporting, half dragging his brother out of Nicky’s, had to disagree with him. “On’y had a bottle an’ a half.”
“Right Dean.” Sam said, directing him to the Impala parked a few blocks away.
“No really.” Dean said, shaking off the arm Sam had put around his shoulders. “That sunnavabitch kid must done somethin’ to it.” Sam nodded his head enough to stave off Dean’s intoxicated bitching, not paying much attention to his words. Only when he slid into the driver’s seat did he think about how strange it was. Dean had one of the highest alcohol tolerances known to man, yet was somehow smashed after less then an hour drinking beer. There hadn’t been nearly enough empties on their table.
Dean had apparently passed out in his seat, before putting his seatbelt on, and slumped over, his head resting on Sam’s shoulder.
Dean hadn’t been even close to this bad since the “Purple Nurple” incident. Something was definitely up.
___
Waking up took some effort on Dean’s part, considering that his entire head felt painful and fuzzy.
“Morning.” Sam greeted him, much to awake for this time in the morning. Dean grunted in response. “Actually it’s not morning, it’s one in the afternoon.” Another grunt. “And I think you were right about what you said last night.” Dean cracked an eyelid at that, and was rewarded by a sudden stab from his already abused brain.
“About?” Was all he could manage.
“You didn’t drink enough to get smashed.” Dean groaned. Sam, who spoke fluent Dean, translated this as ‘you sure, ‘cause I feel pretty damn smashed,’ in a very sarcastic tone. “But I don’t think it was the beer, because I had the same thing. And no one could’ve put anything in it, because you opened the bottle at the table, and we both had it in our sight at all times.”
“So, what?” Dean asked, sitting up slowly. “You saying that my beer somehow magically turned into 50 proof?” Dean meant it sarcastically, but Sam gave him that look. The one that said ‘of course it did, how do you not see it?’
“Actually…” Sam didn’t need to finish. His face said it all. Dean raised an eyebrow. “You were talking about some kid at the bar.”
“Yeah, some blonde kid.” Dean rubbed at his forehead. “Reid somethin’.” Sam nodded, like that was just the answer he was expecting.
“Garwin.” Sam said. “Reid Garwin is Danvers’s friend. The one who’s turning eighteen next week.”
“Huh…” Dean said, waiting for this to pass through his hungover brain. “So, you think he might’a did somethin’? Kid looked pretty human to me.”
“I think he’s more then human Dean,” Sam said, twirling his laptop around to show a website with a picture of town hall at the top. “While you were asleep I was reading up on Ipswich’s history.”
“Yeah?”
“It turns out that the Salem witch trials were started here, and John Putnam, one of the town’s founding fathers, was put to death for witchcraft.”
“Lemme guess,” Dean said, “that was Garwin’s ancestor..”
“Nope.” Sam said, surprising Dean. “That was one of his ancestor’s friends. I think we’re looking at a coven of witches.”
“Witches.” Dean said vehemently, now sure that the blonde kid had spiked his drink. “So then we can’t shoot ‘em?” He asked, half serious. Sam frowned at him.
___
After a bit more research, mostly bribing the staff of Nicky’s, Dean and Sam found out that Danvers and Garwin both hang out with the same group of friends, and were somewhat famous around town. They made up a group known as ‘The Sons of Ipswich.’
“Sounds like a boy band.” Dean muttered. Sam discreetly elbowed him in the ribs.
All four of the boys were related to a founding father of the town, and all had an ancestor that was a friend of John Putnam, reinforcing Sam’s theory of a coven.
“So what do we do, ambush ‘em?” Dean asked as soon as they were out of hearing range.
“Not all four of them at once, they’d take us out.” Sam said, Dean nodded. “Just one of them, see if they know what they’re doing.”
“So the Simms kid?” Dean replied, referring to the youngest Son. Sam nodded.
___
That’s how they ended up waiting for Tyler Simms outside of his dorm at midnight on a Friday night. Earlier they had seen him leaving in a very hard to miss black Hummer, Dean muttering under his breath about spoiled rich kids, heading for a party that someone at Nicky’s mentioned.
“What if he’s not alone when he comes back?” Sam wondered aloud.
“Then we get him when he’s alone.” Dean replied.
Sam was right to ask, as it turned out. Simms came back with a drunk Garwin in the passenger seat. The blonde was obviously wobbly, even from across the parking lot, but pushed the other away when he tried to help support him.
“I can walk by m’self, baby boy.” he slurred. Dean snorted, remembering how he’d called Sam his boyfriend. At least he didn’t call his brother ‘baby’,
“Uh-huh.” Simms said when Garwin stumbled. The blonde flipped him off and started walking faster, putting some distance between him and his friend. Dean gave Sam a look, and they moved forward together, out of sight of the boys. They slowly made their way towards them, shadowing Simms.
Garwin got about twenty feet in front of his friend, and the Winchesters were ten feet behind him.
Dean, the slightly quieter of the two, walked forward, now directly behind Simms. He wrapped an arm around the smaller boy’s middle, and put his other hand over his mouth.
Simms immediately started thrashing, and tried to bite at Dean’s hand. Dean, having much more experience with this sort of thing then he’d like to, tightened his grip and lifted him up, the boy being lighter then he looked. Garwin kept walking forward in drunken oblivion.
Dean carried Simms, still struggling, off of the parking lot and into a stand of trees near the end.
“We won’t hurt you.” Sam said, trying to calm Simms down, but only managing to sound like a rapist. Simms was not calmed.
“Seriously kid, we just want to talk.” Dean hissed.
“We know what you and your friends are doing, Tyler.” Sam said, making the kid freeze momentarily. Whether at the implication or the use of his name, Dean didn’t know. “We know about the magic.” Simms’ eyes widened. Dean slowly lowered his hand from the boy’s mouth.
“How do you know about that?” Simms hissed, a shocked look on his face. Dean and Sam exchanged a look.
“Never mind that.” Sam said, taking the role of Good Cop.
“But you should know, that if you don’t stop hurting people with it, we’ll stop you.” Dean said, completing the act with Bad Cop.
“We never hurt anybody.” Simms said, eyes wide and frightened.
“Chase Collins.” Dean deadpanned. Simms’ face fell, and his scared look was replaced with a hard one.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said. Dean snorted.
“Baby boy?” Garwin called from a distance.
“Shit.” Dean hissed.
“Let me go,” Simms said. “I won’t tell him about you guys until the morning, and he wont kill you for kidnapping me.” Dean grumbled, but didn’t stop Simms when Sam let him go.
“Over here, Reid!” He called, walking out into the open.
“We shouldn’t have let him go.” Dean hissed.
“We had to,” Sam replied.
“What were you doin’ in the bushes?” Garwin asked.
“Fell.” Simms said, sending Garwin into a fit of drunken laughter. The Winchesters left silently while the boys made their way back to their dorm.
___
After finally getting Reid to lie down and sleep in his own damn bed, Tyler placed dialed his cell phone nervously.
“Caleb?” He said, “look I know it’s late, but we have a problem… Remember those guys Reid was messing with at the bar? Well I just had a conversation with them. We’re in trouble.”
Author: Blu (BluAlbino)
Fandoms: Supernatural/The Covenant
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: Not really…
Summary: Chasing a lead takes the brothers to a small, seemingly perfect town in Massachusetts called Ipswich.
Disclaimer: None of it is mine…
A/N: I blame this all on xlorains_stormx, who frequently enables my nonsense, and helps me get from point A to point B, thanks Rainey.
“ M’not drunk Sam…” Dean said, his words slushing together in his mouth. Sam, who was half supporting, half dragging his brother out of Nicky’s, had to disagree with him. “On’y had a bottle an’ a half.”
“Right Dean.” Sam said, directing him to the Impala parked a few blocks away.
“No really.” Dean said, shaking off the arm Sam had put around his shoulders. “That sunnavabitch kid must done somethin’ to it.” Sam nodded his head enough to stave off Dean’s intoxicated bitching, not paying much attention to his words. Only when he slid into the driver’s seat did he think about how strange it was. Dean had one of the highest alcohol tolerances known to man, yet was somehow smashed after less then an hour drinking beer. There hadn’t been nearly enough empties on their table.
Dean had apparently passed out in his seat, before putting his seatbelt on, and slumped over, his head resting on Sam’s shoulder.
Dean hadn’t been even close to this bad since the “Purple Nurple” incident. Something was definitely up.
___
Waking up took some effort on Dean’s part, considering that his entire head felt painful and fuzzy.
“Morning.” Sam greeted him, much to awake for this time in the morning. Dean grunted in response. “Actually it’s not morning, it’s one in the afternoon.” Another grunt. “And I think you were right about what you said last night.” Dean cracked an eyelid at that, and was rewarded by a sudden stab from his already abused brain.
“About?” Was all he could manage.
“You didn’t drink enough to get smashed.” Dean groaned. Sam, who spoke fluent Dean, translated this as ‘you sure, ‘cause I feel pretty damn smashed,’ in a very sarcastic tone. “But I don’t think it was the beer, because I had the same thing. And no one could’ve put anything in it, because you opened the bottle at the table, and we both had it in our sight at all times.”
“So, what?” Dean asked, sitting up slowly. “You saying that my beer somehow magically turned into 50 proof?” Dean meant it sarcastically, but Sam gave him that look. The one that said ‘of course it did, how do you not see it?’
“Actually…” Sam didn’t need to finish. His face said it all. Dean raised an eyebrow. “You were talking about some kid at the bar.”
“Yeah, some blonde kid.” Dean rubbed at his forehead. “Reid somethin’.” Sam nodded, like that was just the answer he was expecting.
“Garwin.” Sam said. “Reid Garwin is Danvers’s friend. The one who’s turning eighteen next week.”
“Huh…” Dean said, waiting for this to pass through his hungover brain. “So, you think he might’a did somethin’? Kid looked pretty human to me.”
“I think he’s more then human Dean,” Sam said, twirling his laptop around to show a website with a picture of town hall at the top. “While you were asleep I was reading up on Ipswich’s history.”
“Yeah?”
“It turns out that the Salem witch trials were started here, and John Putnam, one of the town’s founding fathers, was put to death for witchcraft.”
“Lemme guess,” Dean said, “that was Garwin’s ancestor..”
“Nope.” Sam said, surprising Dean. “That was one of his ancestor’s friends. I think we’re looking at a coven of witches.”
“Witches.” Dean said vehemently, now sure that the blonde kid had spiked his drink. “So then we can’t shoot ‘em?” He asked, half serious. Sam frowned at him.
___
After a bit more research, mostly bribing the staff of Nicky’s, Dean and Sam found out that Danvers and Garwin both hang out with the same group of friends, and were somewhat famous around town. They made up a group known as ‘The Sons of Ipswich.’
“Sounds like a boy band.” Dean muttered. Sam discreetly elbowed him in the ribs.
All four of the boys were related to a founding father of the town, and all had an ancestor that was a friend of John Putnam, reinforcing Sam’s theory of a coven.
“So what do we do, ambush ‘em?” Dean asked as soon as they were out of hearing range.
“Not all four of them at once, they’d take us out.” Sam said, Dean nodded. “Just one of them, see if they know what they’re doing.”
“So the Simms kid?” Dean replied, referring to the youngest Son. Sam nodded.
___
That’s how they ended up waiting for Tyler Simms outside of his dorm at midnight on a Friday night. Earlier they had seen him leaving in a very hard to miss black Hummer, Dean muttering under his breath about spoiled rich kids, heading for a party that someone at Nicky’s mentioned.
“What if he’s not alone when he comes back?” Sam wondered aloud.
“Then we get him when he’s alone.” Dean replied.
Sam was right to ask, as it turned out. Simms came back with a drunk Garwin in the passenger seat. The blonde was obviously wobbly, even from across the parking lot, but pushed the other away when he tried to help support him.
“I can walk by m’self, baby boy.” he slurred. Dean snorted, remembering how he’d called Sam his boyfriend. At least he didn’t call his brother ‘baby’,
“Uh-huh.” Simms said when Garwin stumbled. The blonde flipped him off and started walking faster, putting some distance between him and his friend. Dean gave Sam a look, and they moved forward together, out of sight of the boys. They slowly made their way towards them, shadowing Simms.
Garwin got about twenty feet in front of his friend, and the Winchesters were ten feet behind him.
Dean, the slightly quieter of the two, walked forward, now directly behind Simms. He wrapped an arm around the smaller boy’s middle, and put his other hand over his mouth.
Simms immediately started thrashing, and tried to bite at Dean’s hand. Dean, having much more experience with this sort of thing then he’d like to, tightened his grip and lifted him up, the boy being lighter then he looked. Garwin kept walking forward in drunken oblivion.
Dean carried Simms, still struggling, off of the parking lot and into a stand of trees near the end.
“We won’t hurt you.” Sam said, trying to calm Simms down, but only managing to sound like a rapist. Simms was not calmed.
“Seriously kid, we just want to talk.” Dean hissed.
“We know what you and your friends are doing, Tyler.” Sam said, making the kid freeze momentarily. Whether at the implication or the use of his name, Dean didn’t know. “We know about the magic.” Simms’ eyes widened. Dean slowly lowered his hand from the boy’s mouth.
“How do you know about that?” Simms hissed, a shocked look on his face. Dean and Sam exchanged a look.
“Never mind that.” Sam said, taking the role of Good Cop.
“But you should know, that if you don’t stop hurting people with it, we’ll stop you.” Dean said, completing the act with Bad Cop.
“We never hurt anybody.” Simms said, eyes wide and frightened.
“Chase Collins.” Dean deadpanned. Simms’ face fell, and his scared look was replaced with a hard one.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said. Dean snorted.
“Baby boy?” Garwin called from a distance.
“Shit.” Dean hissed.
“Let me go,” Simms said. “I won’t tell him about you guys until the morning, and he wont kill you for kidnapping me.” Dean grumbled, but didn’t stop Simms when Sam let him go.
“Over here, Reid!” He called, walking out into the open.
“We shouldn’t have let him go.” Dean hissed.
“We had to,” Sam replied.
“What were you doin’ in the bushes?” Garwin asked.
“Fell.” Simms said, sending Garwin into a fit of drunken laughter. The Winchesters left silently while the boys made their way back to their dorm.
___
After finally getting Reid to lie down and sleep in his own damn bed, Tyler placed dialed his cell phone nervously.
“Caleb?” He said, “look I know it’s late, but we have a problem… Remember those guys Reid was messing with at the bar? Well I just had a conversation with them. We’re in trouble.”