realmrsreynolds | On Shadow.

Entry tags:

spn on shadow

On Shadow.

Sallie's accustomed by this point in her career in Milliways with bringing people through to her house.

Sometimes however, she does forget to mention that her door leads to the back end of her walk-in pantry.

"Mind the rice bags, please," Sallie throws out behind her. "I haven't had a chance to put them away yet."

'Them', here, meaning 'a stack of burlap bags waist high that restricts the narrow walkway of actual living space to about half of its original width'.

Sallie's concise like that; even she has issues navigating it all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dean quirks an eyebrow.

"You got any pies you could be bringin' her?"

He's kinda kidding.

"Or does Dorothy have anythin' that needs fixed?"

"The cherry's not done yet," Sallie jabs a thumb behind her to the stove; the LED readout on the display above it certainly looks like a timer, even if the numbers are in Chinese.

"It'll be waiting for you both when we get back."

Might as well feed your guests; pretend the reason they're here is anywhere near normal.

"I can just call you as employees o' mine. I got a reputation for the unusual around here anyhow." An attempt at humor.

"That should work."

Sam gives Sallie a quick grin.

"We'll even try to act normal, unless it'd spot that reputation of yours."

Snickering, "Yeah, shi a. Lemme know how that works out for you both."

Sallie points to the front door as she walks away from it deeper into the kitchen. "Let me get together a bag for her; our ride's out the front door."

Out the front door, immediately in front of Sallie's house, is a small porch, and mostly plainland for a fair stretch into the distance. A path leads from the front door for twenty yards or so to a gate in a whitewashed fence.

Where three horses are tied up to a heavy fencepost, and they're the only transportation in sight.

"You've got to be shitting me."

Uh.

"Uh. Not to be rude, or anything."

"I think they're gonna be more likely to be doing that, dude," Sam mutters, jerking a thumb at the horses.

"Um."

A beat.

"We could walk?"

"What?"

Dean pastes on a smirk, looking sideways at Sam.

"And let you lose out on your dream of havin' a pony?"

Dean cuts a look to Sallie, still smirking.

"The whining--it's goddamn hard to live with."

Hands on hips: "I can imagine. With the both o' you. One of my hands must've moved it; come on."

Sallie leads Sam and Dean out of the doorway and down the porch toward the right -- the road on the other side of the whitewashed fence leads down and away, towards the ranch's working buildings.

And a parked hovercraft.

"I hate the things, but like hell was I going to subject my horses to you both."

He waits until her back is turned before giving Dean a disgusted look.

"A pony? Jerk."

Sam smacks his brother across the back of the head and quickly moves to follow Sallie.

Oh, he did not.

"You bet your ass."

Dean slams his shoulder into Sammy's as he moves to pass his little brother.

"Bitch."

And, the formalities taken care of, Dean gets down to work.

"This Dorothy's place is really that far away?"

Sallie shrugs. "About fifteen miles or so? I think? I do live on a sizable piece of property, Dean. Ain't going to get that in the City. Get on in."

The craft itself is fairly predictable in description, like so many bumper cars, but with a bigger ego. It only skims about two and a half feet off the ground. It takes Sallie two tries to get in.

"Might as well relax; enjoy the scenery. Any questions I haven't covered yet?"

A good one might be 'Is this thing really supposed to make that noise when you start it up, old lady?'

She wouldn't know the answer if you asked.

He clambers into the back. Sam settles his duffel on the floor by his feet, looks around briefly, and shrugs.

"Nope."

Which is just as well, given how loud the engine's running.

Dean tosses his own shit in, then follows.

"Nah. I think we're good, for now."

Later depends on what they find. Like always.

Sallie doesn't reply with more than a nod of the head as she awkwardly backs up the hovercraft and heads away from the Reynolds Ranch, leaving more than a few hands who witness her driving off wondering what in the 'verse she's up to.

The scenery, for however similar it is to Dean and Sam's normal travels, is not half bad; when they get to the City (capital C, even -- that's what happens when there's only one, after all) things get more unusual.

Unless Sam and Dean are used to a mishmash of sedge hats and rickshaws between general stores that look like they came out of towns of the Old West, with open-air storefronts thrown in for good measure.

"Almost to her house," Sallie calls behind her, winding around and above traffic. "'Bout another five minutes."

"Smells better than Deadwood, at least," Sam observes.

His grip isn't white-knuckled, but he's eyeing some of the closer vehicles a little warily as Sallie weaves her way through them.

"Yeah, because that shit's what bothers me most."

Dean's voice is a little tight. And it's got nothin' to do with the whole hovercraft thing.

"Jesus."

"We're here."

'Here' being more like seven minutes away from their last position on the main drag into the City, where things are slightly more spaced out.

"The doctor's house. He'd live part o' the time actually out in my district, and the rest in his actual house. Didn't want patients traveling too far to see 'im."

The house is much smaller than Sallie's, but there's enough of a yard around it to make it feel as though the size was by choice and not the necessity from the encroaching City buildings. Sallie powers down the hovercraft and jumps down first, reaching back in to grab her bag for Dorothy.

"Sounds like he was a good guy."

Sam trades a look with Dean.

"And that was all, huh?"

Dean looks right back at Sam for a second.

Maybe there's another reason the doc didn't like sticking it out at his place.

Who knows?

Sallie's the one who knocks on the door, and Dorothy's actually the one to answer. (Sallie is visibly surprised.)

Before Sallie can say a word, Dorothy gestures with a tilt of the head toward the two men behind her. "Who are they?"

"Just some new employees what came out on the craft with me. We have to go into West End, pick up some supplies. You know how it is. Any shot of them coming in? I didn't think there was much of a point of making them wait in the ride."

Slightly quieter, "[Besides, they're still new. I need to keep an eye on them. Hope you do not mind.]"

Dorothy doesn't and stands aside.

"Ma'am." Sam ducks his head in a nod as he steps into the entryway.

A quick glance around the room doesn't show anything immediately untoward. There's a doorway just behind Dorothy, one that looks like it leads into a central sort of area.

"Hope we're not intruding. We could wait somewhere out of the way while you and Mrs. Reynolds visit?"

An awkward pause.

"Of course," the second woman offers. "It has...been awhile since I've had guests weren't family in the house. If you'd like you can get yourself something to drink while I take care of your boss."

Dean and Sam are waved off to Dorothy's right as the two women move down the hallway.

Dean heads down the hallway, affable smile dropping away as he shifts into business-mode.

"Besides the kitchen, what're we looking at, Sammy. Workroom? You think she's got a shed or something?"

"Something like that, yeah -- some kind of office, maybe. Somewhere he saw patients, or whatever."

Sam follows Dean into the other room, moving around the side toward one of the cabinets.

"Split up or work the place together?"

Dean shrugs, checking under a couple chairs for any charms or symbols. Just in case.

"I'd say split up, but it's gonna look kinda hinky if I'm over here and you're somewhere else."

Huh. Nothing. Go figure.

"Not that it ain't gonna look hinky if we're both somewhere else. Split up? It'll get us finished faster."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject