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Post by Deleted on Nov 30, 2013 21:12:50 GMT -5
It's pretty easy to feel invulnerable when you've cheated Death. Preston hadn't wasted any time jumping back into the game as soon as he figured out that he was, once again, walking around in the realm of the living. Tracking down his car had been the hardest part, since his parents had (rudely) sold it immediately following his passing and burial. Then he'd had to deal with them; explaining to an aging lawyer and his hypochondriac wife that you'd crawled out of the very grave they'd watched you be put into was interesting at best. Had he been on the outside looking in, the entire situation might have been funny. Being at the core of it, however? It was more of a headache than anything else. The number of times he'd said 'I don't know' in one day was immeasurable - and he still got texts and phone calls asking questions. Luckily his parents weren't idiots, one sharp glare and a few choice words and they knew better than to go to the authorities or the papers with their story. That'd just end badly for everyone.
Next he'd had to break into the apartment he had lived in. His parents owned it, but had since rented it out to new tenants. They probably weren't pleased when they came home to find their hardwood floors wrenched up to reveal the hollows where Preston used to hide his weaponry and research, but the no longer deceased hunter hadn't stuck around to find out. Instead he'd loaded everything into the trunk of his black corvette and had taken off in search of a new case to break the ice all over again.
Armed with the knowledge that Amy - the demon who had killed him - had given him before his unfortunate death, he was quick to pick up on the not so natural things that cropped up in the news headlines. Seeking something at least moderately manageable for his first case back topside, he'd trailed a few stories that pointed to one thing: a small coven of vampires tucked away in Wyoming. Why anyone, undead or otherwise, would go to the armpit of the fucking world like that was anyone's guess, but with a jar of dead man's blood and his old trusty dagger its holster, the twenty-something hunter wasn't about to question it.
Finding the nest was the easy part. Preston had anticipated two, maybe three of the little fanged bastards when he started trailing the bodies, and he was more than ready to take them down. What he found, however, was something entirely different. There was a whole coven of the things - maybe six or seven, and not only were they dumping bodies, they were hoarding them. The stink of the house, tucked away in the wilderness of Wyoming, had hit Preston like a brick and nearly made him gag.
"Poor bastards." He's murmured, shaking his head as he stepped over bloodless, rotting corpses, banking on daylight to be his friend as he tried to pick out the vampiric from the actually deceased. He'd killed two of them before the third got a hold of him, an arm around his neck tightly, crushing the breath from him. Well, Preston wasn't about to die on his first damn hunt, so in that dagger went and down the vamper fell, leaving a startled and winded Preston questioning whether or not this was such a damn good idea.
It only got worse when he turned to see three more sets of eyes staring at him, surrounding him. He was gonna need some back up and a whole lot more dead man's blood.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 1, 2013 0:41:22 GMT -5
As soon as Sam had heard of a hunter who had come back from the dead, he knew he had to track him down. He reached out to half the hunters he knew, and in the end it had been Garth who'd helped him out. Preston Kingston had died after heaven had closed down and he'd come back. Someone on their side who'd been to these mysterious 'fields' and could tell them all about it, that was what Sam was determined that they needed. Not that they didn't have enough on heir plates, what with a world full of angry angels, the King of Hell in their closet, Dean had been in Hell and made friends with some demon without telling Sam, Ruby was back, and, oh yeah, Lucifer's cage might be cracked wide open.
But on top of all that, Ruby had revealed to Sam that human souls were getting stuck in these fields with the angry souls of angels and demons, and Sam had added fixing that to his to-do list. He had no idea how, but tracking down this Preston guy was his first step. Unfortunately, Preston was in the middle of a hunt. Sam had been closing in on him when he'd realized, and as he pulled up to the run-down house in the middle of nowhere, he took stock of the blade and syringes on the passenger seat. Cutting the lights, he grabbed the supplies and got out. He could see Preston's car on the side of the road and knew he needed to hurry. The sounds of a fight in the house had Sam running low toward the house.
With no time for stealth, Sam burst in the front door, his shoulder throbbing from the force. Fuck, did it reek! The rooms were lined with dead bodies and dried blood was everywhere, but Sam held his breath and hurried toward the sounds of the scuffle. He rounded a corner to see Preston (identifying him from pictures) surrounded by three of the bloodsuckers. Taking advantage of the element of surprise, he chopped his blade into the neck of the nearest one and clean through. The body and the head fell seperately and the other two turned to Sam, shocked. Hoping that Preston had it in him to take down one of them, Sam readied his blade to take on the other.
"Preston, right? You okay?"
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Post by Deleted on Dec 1, 2013 1:32:55 GMT -5
The sound of heavy footsteps made Preston - and the three fangers around him - jump in surprise. Before he knew it, the one closest to him was gagging on its own blood and finally, the head was rolling to the floor. Wild eyes whipped around to fall on the hulking, six-foot four man who looked more than vaguely like every drawing of Jesus that Preston had ever seen. Good lord, this guy was built. Had he not been in a rather unfortunate predicament, the hunter would have allowed himself a moment to take in the form of his glory thieving savior, but the rapid movement of the vampires prevented that.
He had just opened his mouth to answer when a fist collided with his stomach, winding him and causing him to reciprocate with his dagger through the soft spot just beneath the vampire's chin, impaling it not only through its throat but also through the soft bottom pallet of it's mouth thanks to the upward jab. The gargling sounds were disturbing, and Preston was grateful when they stopped as he tore his blade back out and went to hacking at the thing's neck like a madman. Daggers were not really meant for decapitation, but with the thing twitching from the poisonous remnants of dead man's blood left on the blade, Pres was able to put an end to it fairly quickly. The body fell limp to the floor, lifeless head rolling away, and the hunter turned breathlessly to Sam.
He peeled up his shirt to inspect the area that the vamp had clocked, a softball-sized bruise already blossoming across the skin in angry reds and mottled purple. He scowled and let the cloth of his clothing drop, lifting his head to finally get a good glimpse of the fellow hunter. "My name depends on who's asking. And I'll live. What are you doing here and how did you find me?"
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should probably say 'thank you' or at least show a bit of appreciation, but that just wasn't Kingston's style. Instead he sized up the man he'd already deemed to be competition and crossed his arms over his chest. "I've been alive for a week, I'm not exactly stoked to find out someone's already stalking me."
For a moment, Preston tried to wager what this guy would be like in a fight if it came to that. He was at least three inches taller than Pres was and built like a fucking brick house, so it was safe to reason that if it came to blows, the younger, smaller hunter would have to rely on speed over strength. He could do that, sure, but that still didn't guarantee a win.
Rather than dwell on hypotheticals, Preston dropped down to peel at the jacket that one of the fallen vampires wore, fishing through pockets and drawing out, of all things, a knife. Why the creature had needed that, he had no idea, but another weapon was another weapon, and Pres wasn't about to argue it. "You've got experience with these bastards, I take it?"
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Post by Deleted on Dec 4, 2013 16:44:56 GMT -5
The next few minutes were a flurry of action, as Sam faced off against one remaining vampire and Preston tackled the other. The first thing Sam's vampire, a strung-out looking greaser, did was to knock the last syringe of dead man's blood out of his hands. Without that to help him, Sam took a mad swing with his thick blade. It nicked his neck but nicking wasn't good enough. With a snarl, the vamp ducked under his arm as Sam recovered his stance from the swing. He grabbed Sam's neck and squeezed, and for a moment Sam slipped. Grabbing the vampire's hair, he held his head still for just long enough to jam the blade through his neck. The vampire let go and Sam yanked it out at an angle, severing the spine. The creature went down and Sam bent over the body for the final hack that would sever the head completely. Now spattered with blood, Sam straightened to find how his new partner had fared.
Preston's short reply to Sam's concern took him back, once the last vamp had dropped, headless, to the ground. Sam's chest rose and fell in quick bursts with the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he regarding the hunter. "I'm here to help. It wasn't hard to figure out what you were hunting," he said, gesturing to the dead monsters around their boots.
"I've been alive for a week, I'm not exactly stoked to find out someone's already stalking me."
"I'm not--" Well, he had stalked him; Sam couldn't rely deny that much. It was funny how much of what he and Dean did sounded creepy out of context. "It's because you died that I had to find you." He watched Preston kneel to rummage through the vamps' pockets, with no urge to do the same himself. "You've been to the 'fields'. Soul's End, or whatever they're calling it. I need to know about it. You're the only human I've heard of who made it back." His tone was desperate, full of the importance that Sam seemed to think lay on this topic and Preston's place in helping him.
"You've got experience with these bastards, I take it?"
"I've put down my fair share." Sam wondered for a moment how green the guy was. Seasoned enough to handle vamps, obviously. He stepped toward him and held out a hand, though he paused and retracted it halfway upon seeing that it was dripping with blood. "I'm Sam. Winchester."
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2013 12:10:18 GMT -5
Preston crossed his arms over his chest as Sam tried to figure out what to say. Most of these hunter types, for all their strength and usually fantastic physique, tended to lack in the speaking department. They opened their mouth and woops -- brains gone out the window, tongues turned to mush. Sam was faring better than most at any rate, in the fact he'd managed to string together half a sentence before trailing off and mucking up. The younger hunter tried not to roll his eyes and failed, shaking his head as the explanation came to its inevitable close.
Winchester. Now that was a name that he'd heard before. Only the name preceding it had been 'Dean' and the night hadn't started with a fight and had ended with groans of an entirely different variety. Preston grinned smugly at the memory of that and wracked his brain for other reasons the name might seem familiar. The Roadhouse came to mind, and a conversation overheard from two other patrons sparked yet another idea. Winchester. Those notorious bastards. The idea that he'd bed one of those assholes suddenly became even more satisfying.
"Of course. I should have guessed that someone would find out about me and would want answers. Should have guessed it would be one of your lot, too, in retrospect. Tell Dean I said hello, will you?" He smirked up at this moose of a man, now trying to find the similarity in the features of the two brothers. "I don't have much to say about my time as a corpse, bud. You die, a reaper comes -- with all the rumors floating around I would have thought you'd be familiar with the whole ordeal. Was I wrong?"
Preston knew that Souls End was new - well, not new. Just... unknown. Undiscovered. And here he was to tell the tale of it. Wouldn't his reaper be so happy?
Probably not, no.
"Souls End is exactly what it sounds like. It's a field, a dimension, it's hooked up between Perdition and Elysium from what I understand like some big ass cosmic mediator. Look, I don't even understand how I know this stuff. I just know that I do. So if there's anything specific you need to know, spit it out. Talking about rotting in the ground isn't my idea of a good time, sorry not sorry."
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Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2013 15:31:13 GMT -5
Sam found himself trying not to give the guy a look as he rolled his eyes at him. If Preston wanted to have attitude, then fine, but Sam knew better than to serve it back to him. He needed information from him too much. It was a good thing he hadn't brought Dean along; Dean didn't appreciate the meaning of holding your tongue like Sam did. He'd blown their chances of getting good intel more than once because he couldn't keep from being a dick to the civilian or hunter who had it. But it seemed that Preston had experience with Dean already.
"You know Dean?" he asked, his expressive face twisted in confusion. He'd never heard of this guy before he'd come back from the 'fields'. It was news to him that Dean had. Maybe he should have brought Dean, after all. But soon enough, the conversation turned to exactly what Sam had come for.
"You die, a reaper comes -- with all the rumors floating around I would have thought you'd be familiar with the whole ordeal. Was I wrong?"
"I thought I'd been everywhere until I heard where you've been. Human souls shouldn't be going to wherever you went. It's Heaven or Hell, and I've been to both. Now they're being trapped, and I need to find out how to fix it." Sam watched Preston with a hopeful visage, his blade hanging loosely by his side and dripping vampire blood, forgotten.
"Souls End is exactly what it sounds like. It's a field, a dimension, it's hooked up between Perdition and Elysium from what I understand like some big ass cosmic mediator. Look, I don't even understand how I know this stuff. I just know that I do. So if there's anything specific you need to know, spit it out. Talking about rotting in the ground isn't my idea of a good time, sorry not sorry."
"I just have a few quick questions," Sam pressed, sensing he had a short window to get through to the guy before he decided he'd rather just leave. "Let me get you a burger, or a steak. There's a joint not far up the road. My treat." It might seem strange, to talk dinner whilst standing over a pile of fresh corpses, but to Sam it was just another day. A man's got to eat, right? Waiting and hoping for Preston's agreement, Sam stepped back toward the door.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 17, 2013 18:02:48 GMT -5
“Yeah, I know your brother. He’s an interesting character. Don’t know how he landed in a country bar though. As much plaid as he was wearing he really didn’t look the part. But I suppose good booze will lead a man anywhere, huh? That’s how I got there.”
Preston watched Sam with annoyance; he was too calm and collected. Preston got kicks out of people who got their panties in a bunch over a few harsh words… Sam didn’t appear to be one of those people and as a result the younger hunter was rather rapidly losing interest. He eyed the blade dripping blood that swung idly by the Winchester man’s side and then glanced over to the headless bodies of the vampires that had almost made him dinner. If nothing else, he owed a few answers, and the idea of a bite to eat (while ironic) didn’t exactly sound bad. Especially if it was on someone else’s tab. His stomach growled as if on cue, which would have been weird if Preston wasn’t ridiculously used to talking about food over a bunch of dead bodies. That also would have been strange if he was in any other profession.
“Yeah, fine. I could use a bite if you’re paying. My car or yours?” Preston was halfway out the door by the time he finished speaking, wiping his own bloody knife on his sleeve to clean it off. One look at Sam’s car and he turned, grimacing. “Mine. Definitely mine. Try not to drip and dead blood on the interior, I just got the seats reupholstered.” Fishing his keys from his pocket, Pres clicked the unlock button twice and climbed in, tossing the knife in his hand into the duffle bag pressed behind the seat.
Rolling down the window and leaning from it, the inherently cocky and relatively obnoxious hunter decided to call out to get Sam to hustle, even just a little bit. They were burning daylight, and the thought of food was fueling a whole other side of Preston’s impatience. “Come on, Jesus! You’ve got more sinners to save and I have more sins to commit. You can start the game of twenty questions in the car while you tell me where to go and I promise to play fair and be honest…” He trailed of, only to add a quiet “If it suits me,” a moment later.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 1, 2014 17:55:26 GMT -5
Sam didn't linger long on his brother's chance encounter with the newly resurrected hunter. Hunters often found themselves trailing the same case, and hunter hotspots like the late Roadhouse were dotted here and there along lonely, godforsaken stretches of highway. He hurried to follow Preston from the bloodbath in the house and out toward his car. Apparently, his long legs weren't carrying him fast enough, but he let the relatively green hunter rush him along without the kind of look that a friend or, say, his brother would have gotten for the same words.
“Come on, Jesus! You’ve got more sinners to save and I have more sins to commit. You can start the game of twenty questions in the car while you tell me where to go and I promise to play fair and be honest…”
Sam didn't hear the last of his words, and it was a good thing. Sam was wary of trusting strangers, though much less so than Dean tended to be. Sam liked to think that most people were good at their core, even if they had black marks on their record. Sam certainly had a few marks on his. But he still kept his guard up around those he didn't know. Hunter or not, strangers could be crazy when you lived in the kind of world Sam lived in. In fact, being a hunter just made you more dangerous if you lost your marbles.
As soon as he was in the car, Sam set about his 'twenty questions'. "Do you like burgers? There's a diner a few miles east." Pointing in the right direction, Sam clicked his belt in and settled in. Like most cars, it was a little too small for him. He could feel his hair brushing the roof and was tempted to slide the seat back to make more room for his long legs, but for the sake of being polite, he didn't. "So since Heaven's closed, humans have been sent to these...'fields'. What are they like?" It was the first in a long line of questions that Sam had for Preston, which would probably last through the main course and into a few slices of pie at the diner.
[[ooc: if you need me to add, let me know]]
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