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In Spite of All the Danger (4/13)

Title: Happiness is a Warm Gun
Wordcount: 1,005 this chapter
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, OMC with appearances by Castiel and Ruby (in later chapters)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None so far. It's set late season 4 so there will possibly be eventual mentions of what's gone on before
Disclaimer: If you recognize the character, it's not mine
Summary: The brothers, in the course of a simple salt and burn, meet up with a stranger who conveniently needs to be rescued
A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic so please be kind. I'm a little nervous regarding its reception. This entry is edited with input from my beta just_ruth Song on YouTube: Happiness is a Warm Gun--The Beatles



One: Dear Prudence
Two: You Can't Do That
Three: Help!



Alan was stunned by the angel’s words. And Castiel certainly did not look like how angels were generally depicted, with the disheveled Columbo look. I’m meant to be here? This was part of some overall Heavenly plan? And I thought the idea had been mine.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean said. “What do you mean Alan’s here to help us? He can’t even hold his own against a spirit. What will he do when faced with a demon?”

“It was part of the act to befriend you,” Alan explained. “It wasn’t supposed to go as far as it did, though.”

“Alan is meant to be here. The prophesy states that the past will come to the present and the future will help banish it.”

“And for those of us to don’t speak Cryptic?” Dean crossed his arms

“Well, Alan is obviously the future part of the equation,” started Sam.

“Yeah, I got that part. We’re the present so who represents the past?”

“Give me a break, Dean. I’m still trying to work it out.” Sam walked to the window that overlooked the street. Something out there must have sparked something in his mind. “Spirits,” he said slowly. “Spirits from the past are being raised.”

“Oh, like that explains everything.”

“Dean, keep your voice down, please,” Alan told him. “We don't need to attract any attention.”

Dean glared at him but lowered his voice to a more normal level. “OK, Sammy, how do we narrow down the spirits?”

“Well, my guess is that they’d be in this general area or why else would Alan appear here and not somewhere else.”

“What do you think, Cas?” Dean looked around but the angel was gone. “I hate when he does that!”

“It happens often?” Alan asked Sam.

“Yeah, pretty much all the time. I’m gonna run down to the car and get my laptop to see what we can learn about local history.”

“In the morning we can hit the library over in Washington because they have a special archive room with church records and the like dating to the 1800s,” Alan told them. “It might fill in some of the gaps in the research.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean sat back on the bed as Sam left. “So, the future, hunh?”

“Yes, and don’t ask me to tell you what happens because that’s a major no-no.”

Some Glenn Miller started on the iPod and Dean made a face. “Really? You listen to this stuff?”

“Not manly enough for you, Dean?”

“You can’t rock out to it.”

“You can with the right song. Women love the stuff.” He grinned.

“Old ladies and soccer moms and probably not even hot ones.” His eye moved to the nightstand and Alan knew he had seen the gun.

“If we have time when this is over, I will prove you wrong. Yes, that’s mine. You can hold it if you want.”

Dean looked at him as if he were unused to an offer from a near-stranger. He took the gun out reverently and checked the chambers first before inspecting it thoroughly. “It’s a Colt Peacemaker and in remarkable condition. What year?”

“1887.” At least that was the year when I got it.

Dean aimed it at the door and looked along the barrel just as the door opened and Sam entered. “Christ, Dean!”

“Don’t worry, it’s not loaded.” He loaded the revolver and put it back in the drawer. “You must have some cool pieces.”

“I do have a nice collection, yeah.”

“Collection?” Sam questioned as he plugged in the laptop and turned it on. “What does it include?”

“Swords, guns, even bows and arrows.”

“A real Robin Hood, eh?”

“Upon occasion. So I do know how to defend myself—and others. No, don’t deny it, I know that’s what you were thinking.” Dean looked at him as if to pursue that line of inquiry. “Any luck, Sam?” he changed the topic.

“I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”

Alan could see his eyes scanning the search pages. “Is there a special type of spirit that would be raised for such a thing?”

“Usually an innocent,” said Dean from his reclined position on the bed, “but this might be something different.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is a seal we’re talking about so it might be something…more.”

Sam made a sudden exclamation and began to click away at the keyboard. “OK, this might be something. There was a woman in 1796 that did charitable works throughout the town and no one had a bad word to say about her, that is, until she stabbed and killed her husband for no apparent reason.”

“Possession?” asked Dean.

“Possibly, but that’s not the interesting bit. Her name was Prudence Malloy.”

“Wait a second. She’s been around for years, how can she be a part of this?” Dean kicked off his shoes and leaned back against the headboard.

“Go on, make yourself comfortable,” Alan said, the sarcasm lost in the moment.

“No idea. Maybe they felt that no one would realize she was part of a seal, being around that long.” Sam stretched in the chair.

“It would also increase the chances of her being put down.” Dean rubbed a hand through his hair.

“There must be a backup,” Alan said. “There has to be. Your friend Castiel told you about the seal after you took care of Prudence.”

“Great. That just increased the number of women I have to look for.”

“Are there really that many murdering colonial spinsters?”

“That’s just it, Dean, they weren’t all spinsters. I’m thinking that a large chunk of them were abused and just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Those long New England winters must’ve been killer without decent TV.”

Sam groaned at his choice of words.

Dean took it as a yawn. “Why don’t you get some shut-eye and let me do the looking.”

“And have you load the bookmarks with porn sites? I don’t think so.”

Alan couldn’t help but smile at the banter. It reminded him of the exchanges with his own brother. “I guess I’d better get some coffee.”

Five: It's All Too Much

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pingback_bot
Feb. 21st, 2011 03:48 pm (UTC)
In Spite of All the Danger (5/?) and (6/?)
User jpgr referenced to your post from In Spite of All the Danger (5/?) and (6/?) saying: [...] Four: Happiness is a Warm Gun [...]
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