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Post by SAM WINCHESTER on Mar 3, 2011 19:27:02 GMT -5
Lake Fenton, Michigan
Sam’s heart skipped a painful beat as he glanced across the room at his brother. Less than a year remained before the elder Winchester’s untimely death and Sam could not bear the loss of his sibling. Averting his gaze, he stared at the computer screen. He had already attempted to break the deal, however the outcome proved fruitless. Come what may, the hunter would overcome any and all obstacles in order to salvage Dean’s soul. Despite his brother’s less than optimistic outlook, Sam would continue searching for the loophole in the contract until hell froze over.
Abruptly drawn from his reverie, he focused on the information displayed on the monitor. “I think I’ve found something,” he said, hoping they now possessed the lead they had been adamantly searching for. His eyes skimmed over the numerous articles he managed to unearth subsequent to hours of unsuccessful investigation on the subject matter. “I’m pretty sure we have a restless spirit on our hands. The deaths, they’re all reminiscent of old Pagan myths; preferably the ancient Greek sirens and Slavic rusalka.”
“These spirits were always jilted by their lovers in some way, shape, and form, and committed suicide by drowning themselves. All the victims have been male and listen to this: supposedly, a young woman by the name of Sarah O’Keefe washed up on the shore of Lake Fenton five years ago. The authorities labeled it an accident, but the murders occur the same day every year—the anniversary of her death. I don’t think this is a coincidence Dean.”
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Post by DEAN WINCHESTER on Mar 3, 2011 20:13:58 GMT -5
Dean sat on the edge of his motel bed in the middle of routinely cleaning his firearm. He paused just as he has started cleaning the barrel of his gun. Looking up over at his brother who was sitting at the only table in the room. For a moment he almost laughed at the sight of his younger brother looming over the tiny little table, but he managed to keep a straight face. He went back to cleaning as he spoke out loud.
"So you think this dead chick is coming back and killing all those guys to get a little revenge? Did any of the dead men have anything to do with her or her death?" he asked wondering if Sam had uncovered anything else about this particular case. As the sooner they found clues as to why the spirit was killing people the easier it would be for them to find the remains and flambe them before anyone else died.
Though he knew all to well that cases like this were ever solved as easily as he had hoped, but finding leads gave them an edge. In their line of working having an edge meant you stayed alive a little longer or at least not beaten up as much in this case.
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Post by SAM WINCHESTER on Mar 16, 2011 21:46:19 GMT -5
Dude, the victims . . . they all drowned,” Sam replied. “Other than that—not as far as I can tell,” he replied, heaving an exasperated sigh. However, the hunter assumed the murderer had a motive when selecting those she killed. There was always the possibility the case did not correlate with the supernatural in any way, shape, or form. Nonetheless, the date of the deaths corresponded with the anniversary of the young woman’s untimely passing. He also wondered if her death was not a suicide after all.
“I think it’s worth checking out. We can at least take a look at the crime scene—talk to the family of the victims’—anything that may give us a lead.” Sam faced his brother, waiting patiently for his response, though he figured Dean would readily agree to do so; it was better to be safe than sorry, especially when a spiteful spirit was—perhaps—involved.
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Post by DEAN WINCHESTER on Mar 17, 2011 1:25:47 GMT -5
Dean did not have to really think it over to much as his brother had made a good point. Either way they were going to have to do a lot of leg work around the town and try and dig up as much info about what had happened to the dead men if they were going to get anywhere with the case. Dean could feel the routine of the job to start to settle in.
"So where do you want to hit first? Families or crime scene?" he asked out loud as he checked his weapon one last time and seemed satisfied with the cleaning job he did on it. Personally he would rather deal with cops at any of the crimes scenes than have to speak with the victim's families. He was never good with acting sorry and sincere. All that mushy crap was more up Sam's alley as he was always getting in touch with his girly feelings side. He usually had to grit his teeth and try and fake his way through the whole thing, which was why most of the time he let Sam do the talking and comforting.
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