Author Topic: A Minor Complication  (Read 154 times)

Becky Winchester

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A Minor Complication
« on: August 11, 2014, 10:38:34 AM »
[size=9]December 2nd, 2012[/size]

Becky had set the alarm on her cell phone for three hours, allowing her and Sam to leave the house early the next morning in hopes they'd be gone before the rightful residents returned home. With any luck, the storm would pass over soon and they could retrace their steps back to the truck and be on their way. As it happened, luck wasn't on their side this time around, and their plans were about to change.

It was still dark when the snow finally stopped falling, and the wind stopped howling. The moonlight glittered off the new-fallen snow like tiny diamonds shining in the night. Now that the storm seemed to have passed, it was quiet and peaceful, but it wasn't the quiet that woke Sam in the dead of night. It was something else.

Call it gut instinct or second sense, but something inside Sam knew something wasn't right. He might have excused it as simple paranoia, if not for the flashlight in the window and the noises outside the door. Whoever was prowling outside was being sneaky about it, and so Sam assumed it was not the home's owner or anyone who had a key to the door. He glanced at the fireplace, a little relieved to find the fire had died down some. At least, they might be able to use the darkness to their advantage. He reached for the gun he'd left a hand's breadth away, more out of instinct than any sense of real danger. He doubted it was any sort of supernatural being stalking the house, but one could never be too careful. It was more likely to be a burglar, taking advantage of the storm to rob the home's owner of their valuables.

He perked his ears to listen, to discern what was going on outside. He thought he could make out more than one pair of footsteps, though he heard no voices. It was only when he heard the lock click in the door that he really started to worry, more because of Becky than himself. If he was alone, he'd have gathered up his things and made for the back door, but he feared it might already be too late for that. Already close to Becky, he reached over and pressed a hand against her mouth to silence her before she gave them away, at the same time nudging her awake.

Peacefully asleep at his side, Becky didn't have the first clue what was going on until Sam's hand closed over her mouth. She came awake with a start, wide eyes blinking open with fear before relaxing as she realized just who it was silencing her. She swallowed her protest before it could make itself known, nodding to assure him that she knew to be quiet, and looked around in confusion. What was wrong? Had something happened while she was sleeping?

"Shh," he whispered in her ear as quietly as he could, indicating the door with a nod of his head, as he pulled his hand away from her mouth. He didn't bother to explain anymore than that. Not only was there no time, but he didn't want to risk the intruders knowing they were there. "Back door," he whispered quietly as he moved to his feet, not bothering to explain whether or not he was planning on following. It irked him that someone would take advantage of the storm to break into someone's house and rob them, though it never occurred to him that he and Becky might be seen as intruders themselves.

Grey eyes growing wide once again, she glanced once to the front door and nodded, moving to pull her boots on, leaving them unlaced, and pick up her coat and bag. Hat, scarf, and gloves were shoved into a pocket of her coat as she turned toward the back door, glancing at Sam in concern. Wasn't he coming with her?

Sam did the same, tugging on boots and coat as quickly and quietly as he could while juggling the handgun. His attention was focused on the front door now, knowing their cover was about to be blown. He gestured toward the kitchen with the gun, silently telling her to get moving. He fully intended to follow, but wanted to cover their retreat.

Shaken, not at all sure what was going on, Becky swallowed and nodded once again, creeping as quickly and quietly as she could into the kitchen and toward the back door. She wished he could tell her what was going on, though. Was this supernatural, or the owners coming home? Was she about to be gutted, or held at gunpoint?

Even if he'd had time to explain, he wouldn't have been able to. He wasn't quite sure himself who was out there, only that they couldn't afford to be caught. Becky got as far as the kitchen, Sam right behind her, his bag slung off his left shoulder, the gun held in his right hand when the front door opened and several tall, shadowy figures stepped into the house. Sam knew they had only seconds to get out of there before being seen and he nudged Becky to keep going.

As the front door opened, Becky lurched forward in answer to Sam's nudge, scrabbling to open the back door and escape. She glanced back as the door open, not looking where she was going, and bolted out into the cold.

"Freeze!" a male voice commanded just as Becky stepped out of the house. "Stay where you are, arms in the air. This is the police," the voice continued, two shapes stepping out of the shadows to make themselves known, moonlight reflecting off the bronze badges they wore indicating they were policemen, as well as the gun barrels pointed her way.

Sam froze behind her, still inside the house, as equally relieved they were policemen as he was anxious. At least, Hades' henchmen hadn't managed to track them down, nor was it burglars. With any luck, they could explain what had happened and maybe even get some help digging the truck out of the snow.

Becky let out a quiet squeak of shock, dropping her bag as she jumped in fright. The second the two figures identified themselves as the police, however, she relaxed a little. Being arrested was nothing compared with being in a fight to the death. She raised her hands a little way, elbows tucked tight against her sides, and offered an anxious little smile. "Nice night for it?"

But it seemed the police were not interested in small talk, at least, not yet. "Turn around slowly, keep your hands in the air," the same voice directed.

In the meantime, Sam found himself facing another pair of uniformed policemen, one shining a flashlight in his face. He had not done as Becky and surrendered his gun or put his hands in the air, sandwiched as he was between her and the cops.

"It's just a couple of kids," one of the cops outside the back door said, but before Sam could react, the one with the flashlight caught sight of his gun. "Put down the gun and put your hands in the air!" the man with the flashlight said in a commanding voice.
[img:9e1cb544fb]http://i.imgur.com/460glUJ.gif[/img:9e1cb544fb]
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]

Becky Winchester

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Re: A Minor Complication
« Reply #1 on: August 11, 2014, 10:40:29 AM »
Becky was only too eager to oblige the intimidating policemen with their weapons, turning to face through the open door with her hands in the air, even as she started to shiver in the cold once again. Which, unfortunately, meant she had a perfect view as the cops behind Sam got a good look at his gun.

None of the cops moved to cuff or arrest either of them, not until Sam complied with their requests. "Officers, we were just..." he started to explain as he extended his arms and very slowly crouched down so that he could set the gun on the floor, but before he could finish his explanation, two of the four policemen rushed in and forced Sam onto the floor, pinning his arms behind his back, while a third moved forward to handcuff Becky. A fourth collected Sam's gun and checked to see if it was loaded, which it was.

"Sam!" The sheer fright in Becky's voice at seeing him pinned to the ground was chilling, never mind the pained gasp that broke as her own arms were twisted to her back to be cuffed at the wrists. "Don't hurt him, he wouldn't have shot at you!"

While they might just be a couple of kids, they couldn't be too careful where a gun was involved. "Take it easy," the officer cuffing her told her. It was a female voice that spoke in her ear and was carefully cuffing her wrists. "So long as he cooperates, he won't get hurt," she assured her.

As for Sam, he didn't have much choice but to cooperate. "Officer, I can explain," he started as his arms were painfully wrenched behind his back and secured with a pair of handcuffs, even as he felt someone's knee against his back.

"That hurts," Becky pointed out to the officer who was cuffing her, but she wasn't stupid enough to cause trouble, passively allowing herself to be restrained. "We didn't steal anything, we were gonna leave some money to pay for what we used. Seriously, this isn't as bad as it looks!"

"Save it for the station," another of the officers informed her, upon overhearing her attempt at an explanation.

Sam was wincing on the floor, but wasn't stupid enough to put up a fight. "My truck broke down and we just needed shelter until the storm was over," Sam tried to explain as he was physically held down.

"Why the gun, kid? You need a gun to get warm?"

Silenced, and a little bit scared now, Becky bit her lip, fighting down the urge to cry. They hadn't done anything all that wrong, had they? Did these people really expect them to sit and freeze in a truck rather than find somewhere to take shelter? They hadn't broken anything, not even the door when they'd come in. There was no need for them to be so hostile about all this.

"No, we thought you were burglars!" Sam explained, his voice a little muffled from where he was being restrained on the floor. "Becky?" he asked. "Don't hurt her. She hasn't done anything wrong."

One of the officers was radioing back to the station, claiming that the "suspects had been apprehended".

Hearing her name from the floor, Becky swallowed to clear her throat before she answered. "I'm - I'm okay, Sam," she promised him, hoping she wasn't lying. "My grampa's gonna kill me, but I'm okay."

"Cooperate and no one will get hurt," the female officer promised them both, leading Becky back inside the house where it was decidedly warmer, until they were ready to leave.

At the moment, Sam thought her grandfather was the least of their worries, though he was annoyed with himself for getting her into trouble.

"There's no one else here," one of the officers told the others as he rejoined the group.

"There is no one else," Sam argued from the floor, starting to get annoyed with the entire situation, especially the part about being tackled to the floor and restrained. "We're telling the truth!"

"My bag," Becky protested as she was walked back into the house, but she had a feeling her bag was going to be thoroughly searched anyway. She just had to hope they didn't try to confiscate her necklace - that really would be bad. Tripping over her own feet, she hit the counter with her hip, yelping in pain, and bit her lip once again, scowling in an attempt not to talk back to the officers all around them.

"We've got your bag," the female officer assured Becky, wincing when Becky bumped her hip, but offering no apology. It wasn't yet clear whether they had chanced upon a couple of harmless kids seeking shelter from the storm or had intercepted a possible robbery. All of that would get sorted once they took them back to the station and searched the house for missing items or any other evidence that might implicate the couple.

"All right," the fourth officer said. "Let's get them back to the station."

Sam was none too gently hauled to his feet, and both he and Becky was lead outside to one of the two police cars that were parked outside the house, while the female officer read them their rights.

"You have the right to remain silent..."

"Sorry, Becky," Sam apologized with a frown as he was hauled to his feet and led toward the door, feeling a little like a sheep being led to the slaughter.

Being handcuffed was not the most pleasant experience Becky had ever been through. Nor was being interrogated by a sour-faced female police officer who asked the same question over and over again. To then be assisted forcefully into a cell separate from Sam's and not know what was going on with him was as close to pure torture as she had ever experienced in her lifetime. From what the police had said, they'd located the truck and brought it to the station; they'd searched the house with the owner and come up with nothing missing. She'd been allowed her one phone call, and her grandfather had been none too pleased with her for making him her only phone call from the police station. Now all she could do was wait, and hope something vaguely miraculous was going to get them out of this one.
[img:9e1cb544fb]http://i.imgur.com/460glUJ.gif[/img:9e1cb544fb]
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]

Becky Winchester

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Re: A Minor Complication
« Reply #2 on: August 11, 2014, 10:41:24 AM »
Sam, too, had been questioned separately from Becky and had given the police the same story. He'd handled himself well enough, despite his annoyance. The police were just doing their job, after all. The gun seemed to be the main point of contention, since Sam didn't have a carry permit and there was nothing on file about any Samuel Winchester registering any handguns. They asked him question after question, and he always gave the same answers, despite how hard they tried to trip him up. He made his own phone call - to the great-grandfather who they'd been on their way to see and who was yet to learn of his existence in the time period. He'd asked about Becky, but had been told nothing, only assured she was fine, and after a while had finally been escorted to a cell where he promptly passed out from sheer exhaustion.

A couple of hours later, the chance of sleep was broken for both of them by the sound of an irate voice making itself known in the outer office. It drew closer, into the inner office, and finally into the cells themselves, and Becky had to force herself to swallow her grin. She knew that voice very well indeed. Her grandfather, Ephraim Hoffman, was berating the sergeant as the poor man fumbled with the keys to open both her cell and Sam's.

"... ridiculous excuse for an operation," the old man was saying, deliberately not looking at either young person as they were roused and freed. "Actual crime takes place less than two blocks from here, and you're hiding in the station because you can't even follow a paper trail to verify the identity of the single most harmless non-thief I have ever come across."

The sergeant had tried to explain about the gun, as well as the breaking and entering, but it seemed these were Sam's offenses, not Becky's. They had no reason to keep Becky in custody, but the same might not be said for Sam.

"Do I need to remind you, sergeant, that I have just posted bail for this young man?" the old man pointed out acerbically. He snapped his fingers at his granddaughter, summoning her out of her cell the second the sergeant had the door open, and turning to look in on Sam. "I happen to be good friends with his great-grandfather, I'm familiar with his family, and if you don't get this door open very soon, you will be walking the beat again, am I quite clear?"

The sergeant grumbled, but knew better than to argue. There had been a rash of break-ins lately, and they'd hoped to have caught those responsible, but it seemed all they'd managed to snare was a couple of harmless kids. He got Sam's cell door opened and Sam stumbled to his feet, feeling sore all over and a little bit groggy, but not worse for the wear. He looked between Becky's grandfather and Becky and put two and two together, but said nothing for the time being, relieved to have received a get out of jail card without having to call home for help.

"Thank you." Sam, too, was summoned with a jerk of the old man's head as Ephraim turned to march back into the inner office and collect their belongings.

Becky paused, catching Sam's eye. There was an encouraging twinkle in her gaze, despite her solemn expression. She knew her grandfather very well, and she could tell when he was enjoying himself, wondering what this sergeant had ever done to him that he should be relishing this opportunity to make the man squirm.

Sam was only too happy for the rescue, starting to feel a little claustrophobic in the holding cell. He caught Becky's glance and exchanged it with a questioningly curious look of his own before turning back to collect his belongings. "Hey," he said, almost immediately noticing a few items missing. "This isn't everything," he told the sergeant, who seemed to enjoy gloating himself for a change.

"Anything that isn't there is being kept as evidence."

"Evidence of what?" Sam asked. "I already told you what happened."

"Breaking and entering," the sergeant replied, ticking off a list of charges. "Carrying a handgun without a permit and across state lines. Resisting arrest."

Sam's eyes flashed angrily. "I didn't resist arrest!"

"He didn't!" Becky piped up straightaway in Sam's defense, and a moment later, her grandfather leaned over the counter to look the sergeant in the eye.

"Are you attempting to harass them now?" he asked, in a deceptively pleasant voice. "The gun, I accept, stays with you. Everything else that was in those bags had better still be there, or I will be personally filing a complaint about your behavior."

Way to go, grampa, Becky couldn't help thinking to herself, surprised to see the old man quite so strident on behalf of someone he hadn't even met yet.

The sergeant seemed nonplussed by the old man's threat and picked up a list of items that had been confiscated. There were really only two items on the list, but items that Sam had evidently missed. "One nine millimeter Beretta. One set of lock-pick tools. Evidence. You want them back? Show up at court and we'll see what the judge has to say about it."

Sam scowled, knowing it was better not to bother arguing the fact. There were worse things that could have happened. Saints be praised, he hadn't had the Colt with him, or anything else that he either didn't want to lose or that might look incriminating. Both the Beretta and the tool kit could be easily replaced.

"Sign the rest over, sergeant, and we'll be out of your way," Ephraim Hoffman said sternly, signing Becky's form himself, since she was still technically a minor. He handed the pen to Sam and frowned at his granddaughter as she struggled into her coat and heaved her bag onto her shoulder once again.

Sam grumbled a little under his breath but made no other argument, signing the paper and collecting his remaining belongings as quickly as possible. They couldn't leave the police station fast enough for his liking. Sam, too, pulled his coat onto his shoulders, feeling naked without some sort of weapon for protection, though he doubted he'd need one for the time being.
[img:9e1cb544fb]http://i.imgur.com/460glUJ.gif[/img:9e1cb544fb]
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]

Becky Winchester

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Re: A Minor Complication
« Reply #3 on: August 11, 2014, 10:42:35 AM »
Satisfied that the two young people were ready for the off, Ephraim nodded to them and headed out the door, leading the way into the cold morning. "Henry has arranged for your truck to be returned to B&E Salvage in Sioux Falls," he said, his words crisp. "We'll get you both back home safely, don't you worry. But since you've come all this way with the obvious intention of camping outside until we let you in, the decision has been taken to allow you entry to the bunker. Rebecca, we will leave you at a local motel, where you will stay until you are collected by myself or your friend here."

Becky knew better than the argue, though it hurt to realize she was being deliberately cut out of whatever was going to pass within the Men of Letter's repository.

At first, Sam thought the man was addressing them both and that both of them would be allowed inside the bunker, but that hope was quickly dashed when Becky was told she would not be permitted inside. "But she's an initiate. Same as me. Why am I being permitted inside and she's not?" Sam asked, thinking Becky had just as much right to be there as he did. Sure, he was a Winchester, but so what? She had her own connections to the Men of Letters.

"Because she is not fully initiated into our organization, and has refused to be until she has a chance to explore the world a little on her own terms." Becky blushed, hearing the bitterness in her grandfather's voice as he explained to Sam. Ephraim paused beside his own car, a sturdy-looking Jeep, turning to look at Sam. "I don't pretend to know the whole truth of what is going on here, but whatever you said to Henry has convinced him to give you access and a chance to prove yourself to him," he said quietly. "Rebecca, however, is my granddaughter and my concern. I will not trap her into a life she is not ready to live, no matter her tendency to act for my benefit. If she is to stay free of the bunker for a while longer, she cannot go inside today."

Sam shook his head, as if ready to argue the point. He wasn't planning on becoming trapped in any way either, if that was what the man was implying. Like his father before him, he was a hunter, but he was also an initiate, and refused to choose between the two, but then the world he came from needed him to have possess the knowledge and skills of both, and he hoped he could convince his great grandfather of that necessity here. He opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it, realizing that the older man was right. Though Sam wished she could have come with him, he realized it was probably better this way, at least for now. "I'm sorry, Becky," he apologized again, now that they had a moment to talk, reaching for her hand, while her grandfather looked on. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

A little downcast, Becky shrugged, curling her hand into his, ignoring the curious look her grandfather gave them. "It's okay," she lied unconvincingly. "I should have realized, really. It's the most important secret we have, after all." She managed a smile, trying to reassure Sam. "None of this was your fault, either," she added pointedly, looking him in the eye.

"I'll talk to him. See if he'll make an exception for you. If we're..." He hesitated a moment, as if just remembering that they weren't alone. "I meant what I said before. Nothing has changed," he told her, trying to make her understand that the promises they'd made together hadn't changed, and nothing Henry Winchester might have to say to him was likely to change his mind, at least where she was concerned.

Her smile relaxed, reassured instantly by his gentle reminder of the promises they'd made not so long ago. "I meant it, too," she promised him. "And you're right. Nothing has changed. But don't put yourself out trying to get me in. I've got a pass, when the time's right." She glanced at her grandfather, startled to see him grinning at the pair of them. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

Ephraim shook his head, chuckling, and gestured to the Jeep. "Get in, the pair of you," he told them, the sternness gone from his attitude and expression. He'd been given an insight into his granddaughter's new fella that had put him very firmly on their side, that was all. "I doubt either of you will have to go back on any plans you've already made."

If not for Ephraim Hoffman's presence, Sam might have had more to say to Becky, but he didn't want to get too personal or intimate in front of the man. He reluctantly let go of Becky's hand as he turned to face the man who was her grandfather and offered that hand to him. "Sam Winchester," he introduced himself, though he assumed he already knew that. "Thanks for your help."

"Ephraim Hoffman," the old man answered in kind, shaking the boy's hand firmly. For someone who had spent his life in a library, there were tell tale weapon calluses on his hands that spoke volumes to a hunter. "Come on," Ephraim told them. "I'm going to book the pair of you into a motel so you can get a wash and some sleep, and I'll come by later to collect you, Sam. But first things first."

Sam smiled, the thought of a warm shower and bed sounding like heaven. He wasn't sure if the man was going to book them into separate rooms nor did he care, knowing they'd find a way around that soon enough. "And food," he added. Whatever meager meal they'd been served in jail hardly passed for food, in Sam's estimation.

"Did you think I was going to let my granddaughter starve?" Ephraim laughed, knocking on the back door of the Jeep as he moved to climb in at the front. He could spot which way the wind was blowing, and despite Becky being a minor in the eyes of the law, he didn't mind. It was about time she started showing some signs of being more than just a book reading machine, and if this truly was a Winchester, he couldn't think of a better man for her to be doing that with. Of course, if Sam wasn't a Winchester, he wouldn't survive the night, but he didn't need to know that just yet.

Sam had no idea what the other man was thinking, only that the prospect of food and shelter was being offered. He wasn't too worried about proving himself, knowing things about his great grandfather that few even among the Men of Letters knew. He helped Becky into the Jeep before climbing in to join her, unslinging his pack and dropping it onto the floor at his feet. "How well do you know my great grandfather?" he asked, curiously.

"We've worked together for almost thirty years," Ephraim explained as they settled themselves in the back seat. He waited until the doors were closed before starting the engine, pulling smoothly out of the parking lot and turning onto the snowy road, a surprisingly confident driver for a man of his age. "He was my mentor, the man who first introduced me to the order. I was originally a member of the Judah Initiative, but being no longer a Jewish family, it was considered better manners for the Hoffmans to join the Men of Letters. Henry Winchester brought me in and taught me most of what I know. He's a good friend."

Beside Sam, Becky shivered with the chill, inching closer to make the most of his body heat as the Jeep slowly warmed up around them. She knew most of this, though not the specific names, but she never tired of hearing her grandfather tell the story.
[img:9e1cb544fb]http://i.imgur.com/460glUJ.gif[/img:9e1cb544fb]
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]

Becky Winchester

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Re: A Minor Complication
« Reply #4 on: August 11, 2014, 10:43:20 AM »
Sam quietly absorbed the information, curious as to why Henry had never mentioned the Hoffmans, but it was likely both Ephraim and Becky had either died before Sam had gotten involved with the Men of Letters or they had taken a different path in the future he had come from. He felt Becky shiver beside him and drew an arm around her to pull her closer so he could keep her warm, unafraid of what Ephraim might think of their closeness. Sam saw no reason to keep his relationship with Becky a secret from the man who just might end up being his grandfather-in-law. "Did he tell you what I told him?" he asked, further.

Blue eyes spied the closeness between the two in the rear-view mirror, but the old man made no comment on it, choosing to answer the question that was put to him. "No, he didn't," Ephraim confirmed quietly. "But I know a little of his circumstance. He doesn't know how his son died, but I remember the agony he went through when his grandsons died to avert the Apocalypse. He never even knew they existed until their names came to us from the hunters who knew the truth. I've never seen him so exposed as I did in the days that followed."

"You mean John," Sam said, as if to confirm just who they were talking about. He'd shared that story with Henry in the future, as it had been told to him by his father. It seemed a little ironic that he'd have to share it again, and Sam realized, not for the first or last time, that he was not only changing the past, but his own future. His own history was convoluted enough without getting into his father's but it seemed an inevitability. "I know how John died." Sam realized Henry probably knew nothing of Ayden, either. How ironic that Ayden and Becky had somehow come to be friends.

"Then you will have to be the one to tell Henry about it," Ephraim said quietly, drawing off the road and into the parking lot of a reasonable looking motel, complete with diner. Parking, he killed the engine, and twisted in his seat to look at them. "If I book you a single room to share, it goes no further," he informed Becky, who lit up with a grin. "Your father may be my son, but I have no wish to be bellowed at like a bull with a sore head. Yes?"

Delighted that her grandfather had apparently just given his blessing to her relationship with Sam, Becky nodded. "Absolutely, grampa," she promised. "He won't hear about it from me."

Sam seemed a little lost in thought, frowning as he recalled the conversation he'd once had with his great grandfather once before, but Henry had already known of Dean and Ayden's existence then. This time, all of it might come as a bit of a shock, not to mention the fact that he more than likely thought he no longer had a single living relative. The frown on Sam's face was evidence of the fact that he was temporarily distracted and a little worried about that pending conversation, until he blinked out of his thoughts, brought back to the present by the sound of Becky's voice beside him.

"Good girl." Ephraim reached back and patted her knee. "Now you two hold here, and I'll get you a room." Without another glance, he slid out of the car and left them alone, advancing across the parking lot with purpose.

Becky smirked faintly, turning to look at Sam with a little concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded to reassure her. "Just thinking," he said, without offering up what it was he'd been thinking about. "Your grandfather seems like a decent guy," he said, changing the subject. So far, anyway. Despite his faraway thoughts, he hadn't missed the promise of checking them into one room, rather than two. "He seems awfully fond of you," he added with a small smile.

"Grampa's the best," she agreed with a nod. "He can be kinda grumpy sometimes, but he's a good guy. And he likes you, so you've got an ally when you meet my dad now." She winked at him, leaning close to kiss his cheek. "Did they hurt you?" she asked softly, voicing the worry she'd been holding since their arrest in the wee small hours of the night.

He smiled at the kiss, relieved her grandfather seemed to like him, if only for her sake, shrugging his shoulders at her question. "I've had worse," he admitted. The tangle with the Fates had resulted in a concussion, and though he was a little sore, he'd take that over the head injury any day.  His parents had been careful to keep him out of harm's way most of his life, but once they'd been killed, all bets were off.

"That's not an answer," she pointed out, showing him her wrists. Though they'd been handcuffed for less than an hour, it had been long enough to bruise her, and the marks looked like they weren't going to fade for a couple of days.

Okay, so he had some bumps and bruises. She'd find out soon enough when they were alone, but he was far more worried about her than he was about himself and he frowned in concern at the bruises on her wrists, taking the blame upon himself again. "Sorry," he said, taking one of her hands gingerly in his own and brushing his lips against her bruised wrist. He thought his pride had suffered a lot more than his body, but he kept that thought to himself, nor did he trade bruise marks with ler, letting her find out on her own. "I guess we should have waited for the weather to clear."

"Not your fault," she told him again. "They were the big bullies who didn't stop and let us explain before they got all handsy." Catching his chin with her fingertips, she drew him into a soft kiss. "Nothing's changed, remember? It's done now, and it turned out okay."

"Probably the most excitement they've had in years," he said, knowing how things were in these small towns. They'd have their hands full a few years down the road if his family didn't do something to stop Hades before then. He frowned a little back at her as she caught hold of his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze, though he was happy enough to return her kiss. "Nothing's changed," he echoed, repeating his own words back at her, though he wasn't so sure. Nothing's changed, but if we don't stop it, everything's going to change.

She gazed into his eyes, but just as she was about to speak, a knock on the window behind her made her jump, startled. Ephraim grinned at them, waving a key. "Oh," Becky laughed, rolling her eyes. "Get the impression he wants to dump us and go back to work for a bit?"

"Something like that," Sam admitted, not nearly as startled as Becky, an almost amused smile on his face at her reaction. He kissed her again, just for good measure, before grabbing his bag and pushing his way out of the Jeep.

Giggling, she slithered out after him, hoisting her own bag onto her shoulder as her grandfather came around the car to join them.
[img:9e1cb544fb]http://i.imgur.com/460glUJ.gif[/img:9e1cb544fb]
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]

Becky Winchester

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Re: A Minor Complication
« Reply #5 on: August 11, 2014, 10:44:22 AM »
He put the key into Sam's hand, and dropped a ring off his own hand into Becky's. "You're in nineteen, Mr. and Mrs. Winchester," he informed them, proving once again that small towns could be pretty unforgiving places. "I will come back for you at six, Sam. Try to get some food and rest before then."

Sam didn't really like the idea of leaving Becky alone in the motel room. Small town or not, there was a chance his enemies were looking for him, and he didn't want anything to happen to Becky while he was away. "You should stay with her while I'm gone. I don't think we were followed, but..." Sam trailed off, hoping he was worrying for nothing. He wasn't sure how much the Men of Letters knew yet, but Becky knew nearly as much as he did.

"I will arrange things so that someone is able to stay with her," Ephraim allowed, inclining his head to the young man with whom his granddaughter seemed so very taken. "Until then, stop worrying about what happens later. Look after yourselves and get some sleep. You've had a busy night."

Busier than the man knew, Sam thought with a knowing glance at Becky. He wondered what her grandfather would think if he knew they'd done more than just sleep together. "Thank you again," Sam told him, closing his fingers around the keys to their motel room. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester, he thought to himself. No, Mr. and Mrs. Sam Winchester. It had a nice ring to it.

Becky's blush didn't exactly keep their activities together a secret, but so long as they didn't mention it out loud, she doubted her grandfather was going to broach the subject. Sliding his ring onto the correct finger, she smiled at him, letting Ephraim embrace her warmly. "See you later, grampa," she murmured, kissing the old man's cheek affectionately.

"Go on, do as you're told," he grumped at them, waving them away with a grin. "I'll see you tonight."

Sam had not been expecting such a warm reception from Becky's grandfather, though it was really her father he was worried about. He reached for Becky's hand, once she was done kissing her grandfather. "See you tonight," Sam promised, patiently waiting until Becky was ready to go find their room.

Stepping back from her grandfather, Becky watched him climb back into his Jeep and pull out of the parking lot, incredibly pleased with him for being nice to Sam. She squeezed Sam's hand, looking up at him. "Shall we go and have a hot shower?"

"I'd like nothing better," he replied. The storm might have passed, but it was still cold enough outside to chill them both to the bone if they lingered very long.

"You've got the key," she reminded him with a giggle, gently giving him a tug out of the slush that coated the parking lot and over to the motel rooms themselves. "What was the number again?"

"Nineteen," he replied as she tugged him toward the motel and out of the cold. It didn't look like much more than a truck stop, but all they needed was a hot shower, a warm bed, and some food in their stomachs to be satisfied.

"I guess it's up the stairs, then," she mused, looking over the place thoughtfully. "Hot shower and bed, and we can eat when we wake up," she suggested then, moving to tramp up the slippery wooden steps to the next level in search of their room.

He followed her up the stairs, careful not to slip on the ice and snow, lugging his backpack with him, glancing at the numbers on the doors until they reached nineteen. Once there, he fit the key into the keyhole and opened the door.

"Oh, wow." Stepping inside, it was sheer bliss for Becky to discover that not only was the heat on, but it had been on for some time. Not only that, but the bed was big and clean, and ready to be fallen into. "If I said that this was heaven, would you think my expectations were way too low?"

He chuckled at her question, though he understood why she might feel that way, after what they'd been through over the last twenty-four hours or so. "I don't know. The house was pretty cozy once we got the fire going," he said, despite it not being their own. It had been a little like playing house, and he wondered if it was a preview of what living together would be like.

"Well, yeah, but this has a bed we're actually allowed to use," she pointed out with a chuckle. "And a shower. Oh God, please let the water be hot." Dropping her coat and bag, she scuttled into the bathroom for the express purpose of making absolutely certain that they were going to get the hot shower they'd been hoping for. "It is! Get in here and scrub my back!"

Sam laughed at her reaction to the room, which seemed pretty ordinary to him. "Yes, ma'am," he said, dropping his own pack and coat on the bed before following her into the bathroom. He'd made sure to lock the door once they'd entered, so they didn't have to worry about any intrusions.

Steam was already billowing from the doorway as he approached, and one hand reached out to grasp hold of his shirt and pull him into the bathroom with a wicked little giggle. One thing was for sure ... they were definitely going to be ready to sleep by the time they reached the bed.

[size=9]((It's helpful having the Men of Letters in the family, innit? Huge thanks, as always, go to Sam's player!))[/size]
[img:9e1cb544fb]http://i.imgur.com/460glUJ.gif[/img:9e1cb544fb]
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]