#lincoln highway bridge

[rabbitcruiser]

Clouds (No. 847)

Iowa Wetlands (seven pics)    

Tama, IA (three pics)

[williammarksommer]

Across The Bay

San Francisco, California

A Road Home Along the Lincoln Highway series

Hasselblad 500c/m

Kodak Tmax 400iso

[onlyseokmins]

I’ve been thinking a lot about car sex when it’s raining outside with Vernon and an amazing playlist to the beat of a Chase Atlantic song

Ah okay so sorry for the wait on this 😭😭😭😭 I kept bouncing between writing this and other things but hope you enjoy it though! I got a tiny bit carried away sooooo some tw: mentions of cheating (BUT NOT LIKE THAT) daddy kink but jokingly, riding, and unprotected sex ehehehee

9/12 update: [sequel-ish]

🎶 I'm driving too fast in my Lincoln Town car

And I think, I just might flip it over

I've been in a rage and I'm headed your way

With the devil on my fucking shoulders 🎶

Hot, humid gusts that rush across your cheekbones from the open window are sated by the cool air conditioning blowing from the car's vents. It gives your skin a dewy glow under the passing streetlights that shine against the dark grey clouds dulling the faint twinkles of city lights in the distance. Laying your head against the headrest, you close your eyes and suck in a deep inhale.

"Do you wanna stop?"

You peek at the driver's windswept hair and his sharp gaze focused on the highway he's speeding down.  

"Nah. Not until you've driven out all that rage of yours."

He snorts. "You're not scared?"

"And why would I be?" You turn your body to face him. "You'd never hurt me, Hansol."

"Yeah? You believe that?"

"Of course." It's not simply blind trust you place in your best friend. It's utter certainty. "I feel a ton better riding shotgun because I know you won't go over the legal max speed limit and you won't be driving to Areum's house."

"What? Why are we talking about her so suddenly?"

You tsk and pat his thigh consolingly, ignoring how he tenses up.  

"You don't have to pretend with me but just know that the guy she was with tonight, she'll definitely end up cheating on him too." His noncommittal response only encourages you to keep talking. "Dude has nothing on you, by the way. Ugly as hell. Prolly rotten personality too. Trash belongs with trash."

Vernon shoots you a side-eye, another sly glance at what you wore to the club before pivoting his gaze back to the road with a raised eyebrow. 

"You think I'm good-looking," he bluffs with a smirk. All in an effort to try and shake the image of your crossed legs perched up on his dashboard, heels long discarded under the bottom of the seat, and that tiny skirt riding up way past your thighs — haunting visuals that threaten to be engraved into his memory.

"Duh. I've told you that a million times."

"You say things like my outfit looks nice. Not me, specifically."

"Omigod, excuse me? Yes. You're good-looking. Super hot!"

"Fuckable?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "You're in rare form tonight, 'Sol. Do you even need to ask? Jeonghan's girlfriend's friend was practically eye-fucking you the whole time."

"Yeah, but – "

"Take back the confidence that cheater tried to beat out of you. You could've gone home with someone just as hot as you. Meddle about with them and such."

🎶 You got me down on my knees

It's getting harder to breathe out

We only met each other just the other day

But you already got me feeling some type of way

Now if I could figure it out

I'd take you back to my house

So we could meddle about 🎶

"Is that what you were going to do with that bastard?"

"Who? Which one?"  

"The last one you were dancing with." Vernon scowls when you giggle. 

"I danced with several, silly. Hm, oh! The one you called me away from? Didn't get his name, you know him?"

The memory of a stranger's grubby hands daring to trace your exposed skin as you swayed to the techno beat had his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. "No."

"Ah," you sigh in disappointment, "but I would've liked to get to know him."

"So, you would've actually gone with him. What if he was a serial killer or something?"

"I can take care of myself, Vernon."

The sharp change in your tone has him flinching, a name he usually goes by suddenly unfamiliar when it comes out of your lips. He knows how independent and strong you are. It's what makes you sparkle and shine apart from others, what draws everyone to you. But that doesn't mean he shouldn't worry about you. The yearning for you to lean on him every so often is strong — especially when it feels that he's the one always relying on you.

🎶 I'm too phased, it's too late

But coming down is all I ever do, babe, yeah

And I'm so down if you're ready, and I'm floating but I'm heavy

And I'll show you if you let me, girl 🎶

"I… I know that — " 

Vernon is cut off when tiny rain droplets starting to dot the window abruptly turn into a deluge of water he can barely see through. Cursing under his breath, he slows down and takes the next approaching exit, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye again. You're calm but quiet, rolling up the window before crossing your arms. Knowing he'll keep you safe as always. Even if you’re a little pissed off at him right now.

He waits until he's pulled into an old shopping parking lot to speak again. The rain hits the roof of the car at a steady pace, almost drowning out the Chase Atlantic song playing on the radio. Unbuckling the seatbelt, he shifts in his seat to gaze at you although you avoid at looking him for the first time in a while.

"You really do trust in me, huh?" He acknowledges and you roll your eyes.

"Didn't I say I did? But that doesn't mean you have to act like you're my dad when it comes to who I flirt with. I always tell someone when I'm leaving and who I'm going with." 

Vernon is aware of that, the 'someone' usually being him as he watches you slip your hand in some random guy's for the night. Leaving him behind without a second glance, a brilliant smile on your pretty lips.

"Besides," you continue, "instead of worrying about me, have a little fun yourself. It's what you deserve after that shitty breakup. It just sucks she somehow shows up at every place we're at."

"I'm not trying to be your dad. But… I could be your daddy."

"What?" Lightning strikes but it's not from outside. Your eyes flash with something when you whip your head to face him in shock. "What did you just say?"

🎶 Push a little further on the edge

Crawl a little further on the bed, babe

I'm burning up, yeah, all I see is red

She said, "Fuck me like I'm famous", I said, "Okay" 🎶

He clears his throat, fidgeting in his seat. "I'm not saying I'm into that o-or that you have to be, I'm just — Fuck." He meets your electrifying gaze with his smoldering one as his voice lowers. "Don't you know how much I want you?"

"Vern — "

"Hansol," he corrects, "love it when you call me that. Only you." 

The name he rarely goes by anymore never sounded better falling breathlessly out of your lips when he leans across the console. It's not a challenge, it's a suggestion — one you accept by pressing your lips against his.

It's something both of you have dreamed of for so long. Never the right time or place. But here, underneath the stormy night sky in his black Volkswagen Jetta, Vernon tastes like stardust and the Twix bars he's always stealing from your cupboard.

You're not sure when you ended up in his lap but you can't complain as you run your fingers through the waves of his hair. Pressed up against him in such a tight space. The flurry of emotions has goosebumps raising on your skin and he pulls away, panting harshly. Your foreheads are touching as you gaze at each other.

"I can't believe you want me," he almost laughs in disbelief. "Is this real or am I dreaming?"

"Of course, you're not dreaming. I do want you. Always have. None of your partners ever treated you right." You roll your hips as a test and Vernon's low moan of your name only amplifies your confidence. "How could they when they weren't me?"

He slides his seat back, the sudden motion causing you to slam a hand against the window to try to steady yourself and avoid throwing your weight against him. But that's exactly what Vernon wants. Using the momentum to cup the round cheeks of your ass, he positions you right where the tip of his hard cock pokes against his jeans. You can feel him through the scrap of fabric that's a sorry excuse for panties, already ruined.

"You're so wet, baby," he murmurs against your lips. "All for me, yeah? No one else, no other guy could soak your pussy like me, right?"

Even if it was a lie (which it wasn't), you can only agree because Vernon doesn't move an inch until a resounding yes leaves your lips. It's another scrambled blur as you fight to unclasp his belt and jeans in the small space you have. It feels intimate and raw.

Just like your love for him.

You let out a relieved sigh when his cock is in your hand and Vernon echoes it, throwing his head back. You'd moved down a bit so you could jerk him off easier, giggling at how he twitches when he feels the heat of your pulsating cunt leaking all over his thigh.

"Wish I could suck you off, Nonnie," you whisper in his ear and he groans. "Feel the weight of your heavy dick against my tongue, lap you up like my favorite lollipop. Mhm, bet you taste so good. Your other partners were afraid to take you down their throat 'cause you're so deliciously big. But I wouldn't be." Your other hand gently strokes his cheek. "'Cause you'd never hurt me. Ever. Isn't that right, my sweet boy?"

Vernon's eyes snap back open, grasping at your wrist. "Yeah, I'd be so good to you, baby. But I need to be inside of this dripping pussy." A finger tentatively pushes your panties to the side. "Fuck, like right now."

🎶 I don't know if you already know how

But girl, I got the feeling that you know now

You're buried in the pillow, yeah you're so loud

But I'm about to show you, baby, slow down 🎶

This time, Vernon lets his head fall forehead and softly bumps your forehead with his as you attempt to sink down. He keeps his fingers splayed across both of your hips, bunching up the fabric of your short skirt so he can watch the way your puffy pussy lips part and wrap around the tip of his thick, hard cock.

Muttering obscene filth in your ear (“this skirt was just asking me to bend you over and slip inside all night”, “claim you as mine right in front of all of them”, “that’s what you wanted, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”) that simply makes you clamp nearly impossibly tighter around him.

Once your ass is seated against his thighs, thick length fully nestled within your warm walls, you think you hear someone screaming — and it must be you. Biting down hard on Vernon’s collarbone, your hips have a mind of their own and instantly begin sliding up and down until you’re bouncing so hard and fast enough that his car might be shaking.

Vernon’s eyes are fixed in awe at where he’s disappearing into you. His head is spinning, and he hurriedly pushes up your crop top, letting your tits fall free. Perfectly positioned in front of his face. 

“Sl-slow down, b-baby,” he gasps out, hand shooting out to cradle the back of your head before it hits the steering wheel or something.

You’re the prime visual of fucked-out and dick-drunk. Tears cause your mascara to run, tongue hanging out as you desperately moan, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as your hips fail to falter. Vernon thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful — and feels just as dizzy as you do — but he seeks to find an anchoring.

“L-love, slow down,” he fights to still your hips and your pitiful whines cause him to pepper little kisses on your neck and breasts. He can feel your erratic heartbeat sync with his as he shushes and soothes you. “Wanna savor this moment.”

“Hansolie… we can go for hours later after this. Even for weeks, maybe.”

It’s Vernon’s turn for his hips to buck up uncontrollably at the way you cutely pout his name along with the suggestion of “more later” while his cock is stuffed deep within you.

“Easy for you to say, I’m not sure my recovery time is as fast as yours, though.”

“Yeah? I’m sure I can fix that.”

He angles a particularly harsh thrust at your words. One that has you falling back against his chest so he can rasp in your ear. “Is that a promise?”

“Mhm, yeah…” you moan but the next, teasing comment that comes out of your mouth makes him realize that maybe he should just let you be fucked senseless. “Whatever daddy wants.”

“You’re such a sweet lil brat. Gonna let me eat this delicious lil pussy of yours in the backseat? Or should I drive home with my cum seeping out of it and clean you up on my bed instead? Hm? Say it.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“No, say my name.”

“Mhm, yes, Hansol…”

His name melts away into a loud moan before you’re slamming your lips against his so he can swallow up the scream that threatens to erupt as you hit your peak. Shuddering, you swear you can see stars even though the sunroof is closed, it’s nighttime, and it’s raining. You tremble in his arms, whimpering as he spills his own release deep within your walls — suddenly feeling sated and sleepy.

“Don’t wanna move.”

“Me either,” Vernon chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “Why don’t we just lay here for a bit?” He rubs tiny circles across your bare skin as you breathe in his comforting scent. “We’ll go home after it clears up a bit more.”

“I love you.” You snuggle against his neck. “I’ve always loved you.”

“Yeah? I love you too… always have.” He nudges you up so you can look into his honest, straightforward gaze. One that would never hurt you. “And I always will.”

[artdecodude]

There's probably a bunch in Cheyenne, Wyoming that needs rediscovered, but the biggest, most obvious, example I can think of is this Railway bridge, probably built as part of the Lincoln Highway. Around the corner of Lincolnway (old highway 30) and Westland Road.

It's fairly generic except it has large fans on both concrete pillars.

That is pretty great. The overpass on Happy Jack Road looks so basic down the rails a bit.

[bitchinfawkseh]

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 11

————————————————————————

Summary: Meg has taken John, and the three of them go to the Winchester's old friend, Bobby Singer, for help.

W.C: 12769

Warnings: Violence, near death, car crash, sadness

[A/N] are you ready to cry?😏 Thank you so much for your patience! I know it's been 3 weeks since I posted last chap, so I hope this makes up for it! It's kind of bad bc I was rushing to finish it, but next chaps will be better and more frequent!

Masterlist | AO3

Dean hung up the phone almost immediately, he glanced over at Cheryl and Sam, who were waiting for his update. "They've got Dad." He huffed out. Cheryl's eyes widened and her jaw dropped, of course, it was a suicide mission. Of course, something would happen to John - that's why he was made to come alone. "Meg? She has him?" She asked. Dean nodded in confirmation and she sighed deeply, turning and pinching the bridge of her nose. If she had gone with him... none of this would've happened. "You should have let me go with him!" She snapped. Dean's jaw clenched and his eyes thinned to slits, he wasn't happy about this either but she didn't need to give him the "I told you so" speech. "Dammit, Cheryl! That's not important right now. We gotta get outta here." He barked back. He stormed around the room, quickly packing his things into his duffel back before tucking the Colt in the waistband of his jeans. Sam's brows shot up, "Leave? Why?"

"Because the demon knows we’re in Salvation, all right. It knows we got the Colt. It’s got Dad - it’s probably coming for us next." Dean grunted. He strode into the bathroom, snatching up his toothbrush and Cheryl's plastic grocery bag full of makeup and skin care. He tossed it towards her and sent her a look, a look that said don't argue with me. 

"Good. We’ve still got three bullets left. Let it come." Sam said, crossing his arms against his chest. Cheryl sent Dean a glare before reluctantly packing up what little items she had sprawled across the room. Being the only woman, she couldn't leave her clothes and her underwear lying around like Dean liked to. Dean sighed and roughly pulled the zipper on his bag shut, "Listen, tough guy, we’re not ready, okay? We don’t know how many of them are out there. Now, we’re no good to anybody dead. We’re leaving.... now!" He fumed. Cheryl rolled her eyes and tucked her sketchbook carefully into her bag, it held almost all of her clothing designs - it was very important to her. "Okay! Dean, where are we even gonna go?" She asked. His green eyes flickered to meet hers and he shrugged his faded coal black army jacket on. "Dunno yet, we need a plan. Maybe we can start at the warehouse in Lincoln."

"Dean, you seriously think these demons would leave a trail?" Sam asked in disbelief as he shoved his laptop and charger into his bag. Dean tucked his tongue into his cheek and his brows furrowed as he thought momentarily. "You're right, we need help."

The Impala whipped down the highway, never slowing down for even a second. Sam glanced over at his brother, who was intently staring at the road ahead as he sped before abruptly turning down a rocky path. "You sure Bobby'll help?" He asked. Dean swiped his tongue across his lips and shrugged a bit, John and Bobby had a bit of a falling out the last time they saw each other. For all they knew, Bobby would turn them away without another thought - but over the phone, he sounded more than willing to help. "Sounded like he did over the phone." He muttered.

"When the fuck did you have time to call someone?" Cheryl asked. She squinted at the back of his head and scrunched her nose up, sometimes he completely shocked her with how quick he was with stuff. Dean's eyes met hers through the review mirror and they narrowed, "When you were taking your sweet ass time in the bathroom."

"I had to pee!" She hissed.

"Yeah, yeah." He said dismissively. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, slumping back into the leather seats and crossing her arms defiantly. Everything with Meg before John was taken was resolved, all because Sam said that it was just because Dean cared about her. But now, she was a little pissed again because if she were just there he would've been fine - she knew it in her heart and soul. 

Once they passed a clearing of trees and bushes, a large property with many old and dusty junk cars littered around came into view. Cheryl sat up in her seat, raising her brows as she peaked out the window. There was tons of scrap metal lying around, this Bobby guy must have a lot of land. A big bully-breed-looking dog lay down in front of the front bumper of an old truck, a hefty chain that provided more than enough room for it to roam attached to his collar. "Jeez... how did he afford this?" She muttered under her breath.

"How can you afford your apartment?" Dean snorted.

"Alimony." She said nonchalantly. Her ex-husband was a very kind man, and he was from a wealthy family that had buckets of money. He gave her a hefty settlement during their divorce out of kindness and vowed to send her a grand every month until said otherwise. Only a little less than half of that monthly money paid for her shared apartment with Maya, the rest of it went into savings. Sam spun around to face her and raised a brow, "You were married to a nice guy, huh?"

"Yup." Cheryl puffed out her cheeks and didn't waste a single second to jump out of the car when it had stopped.

Bobby, who was waiting on the porch for their arrival, cocked a brow when a pretty brunette woman hopped out of the backseat of the Impala. Sam and Dean were quick to join her, and Dean even grasped her arm - gently pulling the eager woman back. Cheryl shot him a glare and pouted her lips together, "I was just gonna introduce myself..." She whispered.

"Yeah, maybe wait for the rest of us." He grumbled under his breath before releasing her arm. Bobby descended the stairs, adjusting his old fishing cap as he went to meet them. Cheryl shook Dean's hand off of her and flashed the older man a gentle smile, "Uh, hi, I'm Cheryl Jones..." She quickly blurted out before offering him her hand to shake. Bobby reluctantly returned her smile and his calloused hand enveloped hers, giving it a firm shake. "Bobby Singer." He replied. Dean sighed deeply and tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to ignore Bobby's pressing eyes. They were most definitely asking why there was a girl with them, a pretty girl. "She's a, uh, friend, we met on a case. We're close." Dean explained.

"You teachin' her how to hunt?" Bobby asked. Cheryl let out a bark of laughter and quickly covered her mouth to stifle any more giggles, oh that was humorous. As if she had anything to learn from the Winchester's. "Oh God no, I was hunting long before them."

"Yeah?" He asked, looking her up and down. "Who taught ya?"

"The Delgado's."

His eyes widened in surprise and his brows shot up, the Delgado's were one of the richest and most powerful hunting families out there. They had generations of strong and capable hunters, and the many properties that they rented out across the country kept the money rolling in. "What? Are you serious?" Bobby asked. She nodded once and smiled proudly, if she wanted to impress a guy who was this important to Sam and Dean, she'd have to drop a tidbit of information that'd help her case. "Yes, so I know my stuff. I'm not a newbie."

Bobby chuckled and patted Sam's shoulder, "You boys lucked out with her." He said as he led them into the house, working with someone close to the Delgado's was comforting - but he'd still have to throw some holy water at them to be safe. Dean's brows furrowed, "She barely does anything..." He grumbled under his breath as he shouldered his way into the house. Everything was irritating him at the moment, he was just freaked out about what may happen to his Dad - and he was slightly pissed off that she may have been right about going with him.

Inside, books were scattered everywhere - the place was full of random objects and things to kill the supernatural. It was a neat freak's nightmare with how messy it was in here, but it was oddly comforting. Cheryl glanced around and pursed her lips together, this place must've been nice before it fell apart. The wallpaper was peeling off of the walls and one of the windows on the side of the house was broken and boarded up. Plus, there may be a dozen more issues. Bobby plucked a silver flask with a crucifix embedded in the front of it, feeling its weight in his hand before handing it off to Dean. He cocked a brow and took the flask from him, "What is this - holy water?" He asked.

"Just to be sure," Bobby said. He jerked his head over in Cheryl's direction and crossed his arms against his chest. "Hand it off to her after." He instructed. Dean nodded, unscrewing the little cap before taking a small swig. It of course had zero effect on him, he wasn't a demon after all. It shouldn't. Dean reached over and tapped Cheryl's arm, pushing the flask into her hands. "Take a sip."

"Holy water?" She questioned. He nodded in confirmation and she took a tiny sip, wiping the remnants of the water off of her lips as she handed it back and Dean tucked it into his pocket. Sam was being his usual nerdy self, finding his place at a round table and he had already begun to pick through a heavy book on demons.

"Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure we should come." Dean sighed thankfully. Bobby waved him off and pursed his lips together, they were like family. These boys were practically sons to him, any problem they had became his. "Nonsense. Your daddy needs help."

"Well, yeah, but last time we saw you, I mean, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. Cocked the shotgun and everything." Dean shrugged. This caught Cheryl's attention, she raised her brows and glanced over at Sam as she took a seat across from him. His eyes briefly met hers and his lips thinned, he nodded, confirming that this was true. Bobby chuckled, "Yeah, well, what can I say? John just has that effect on people."

Cheryl snorted and rolled her eyes, "Tell me about it..." Dean's gaze snapped over to her in an instant, he swallowed hard before reluctantly smiling and nodding. "Yeah, I guess he does."

"None of that matters now. All that matters is that you get him back."

Sam flipped through the large book, scanning the pages with buckets of information on every piece of available space. He inhaled deeply and tapped one of the pages, "Bobby, this book... I’ve never seen anything like it."

"Key of Solomon? It's the real deal, alright." Bobby said as he came to sit on the edge of the desk. Cheryl raised her brows, she heard of the Key of Solomon before - only read bits and pieces of it in the Delgado's library on their main property. "And these, uh, these protective circles. They really work?" Sammy asked.

Cheryl nodded, "Oh yeah. It's called the Grand Pentacle or the Seal of Solomon. In Islamic and Jewish lore the seal gave King Solomon the power to control the supernatural, even a shedim or djinn. So it definitely can hold a demon." She explained. Bobby pursed his lips together and ran his hand over his beard, well, she certainly knew more than Sam and Dean then. He glanced back at Dean and nodded his head in approval, "She's good."

"Yeah... she is..." He exhaled. Dean sauntered over and set his hands on the back of Cheryl's chair, which made her flush. She glanced up at him, and he met her eyes and sent her a quick smile that made her insides flutter.

"I’ll tell you something else, too. This is some serious crap you guys stepped in." Bobby tsked, shaking his head. Sam eyed Cheryl and Dean for a quick second before turning to look up at Bobby. "Oh, yeah? How’s that?" He asked.

"Normal year, I hear of, say, three demonic possessions. Maybe four, tops." Bobby explained. Dean swiped his tongue across his top teeth and raised his brows, his grip on the wooden chair Cheryl was sitting in tightened. "Yeah?"

"This year I hear of twenty-seven so far. You get what I’m saying? More and more demons are walking among us – a lot more."

Cheryl's eyes widened, "Twenty-seven? And that's only in the States?"

"Yup, I know it’s something big. The storm’s coming, and you guys, John - you are smack in the middle of it." Bobby sighed.

The dog from outside started to bark, alerting that there may be someone or something outside. His loud barks grew more aggressive and malicious sounding until he cried out and whimpered. Bobby's eyes narrowed and his lips thinned into a straight line, "Rumsfeld..." He muttered. He slowly made his way to one of the windows that overlooked the front, pushing the curtain aside with his finger and peeking out front. Rumsfeld was nowhere to be seen, the chain that once kept him in place was broken - by some inexplicable force. His eyes slowly widened, "Something is wrong."

The front door crashed open and smashed right into the wall - the door knob made a tiny hole, although Cheryl wasn't sure whether or not that was already there. They all jumped - and when Cheryl slowly turned and her eyes landed on none other than Meg, rage filled her to her core. Her nostrils flared and she slid out of her chair, Dean was quick to step in front of her, however - he had no idea what stupid shit she would do right now. The best thing to do was to body-block her. Meg wrinkled her nose, "No more crap, okay?" She hissed. Dean slowly slipped his hand into his pocket, grasping the flask full of holy water tightly before unscrewing the cap and surging forward. Before he even got the chance to throw some of the liquid on her - Meg raised her hand and landed a hard punch to the side of his head, sending him flying into a stack of books.

Sam stepped in front of Bobby, shielding him from Meg while Cheryl remained where Dean left her. Her heart ached when Meg had slapped him, and she hoped to God that he was okay - but he'd live. He'd wake up just fine (hopefully) and would likely be pissed if she rushed to his side, besides, she wasn't the type of girl to rush to a man's side. Meg's eyes landed on Cheryl, and she grinned wickedly for a moment before her face fell. It was as if she was trying to get a rise out of her - which she probably was. She slowly dragged her eyes back to Sam and tucked her tongue into her cheek. "I want the Colt, Sam. The real Colt – right now." She demanded. Meg circled them, and they all stepped back, following her with their eyes. If they turned their back on her for even just a second, she could pounce. "We don't have it on us, we buried it," Sam replied. Cheryl clenched her fists as Meg took another step towards them, everything she thought that might have happened when she saw Meg was wrong. She thought she'd yell, maybe fight her, or at least not be completely silent. Cheryl was a little disappointed with herself, but everything she felt at her sister's funeral was coming back all at once - and it was soul-crushing.

"Didn’t I say “no more crap”? I swear – after everything I heard about you Winchesters, I got to tell you, I’m a little underwhelmed. First Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads. Lackluster, men. I mean, did you really think I wouldn’t find you?" Meg hissed. Cheryl squared her shoulders and sucked in a breath, she couldn't stand around and not say anything. Cheryl's brows raised slightly and she forced a smirk upon her face, "You seem quite stressed. Ever try a massage?" She said coolly. Meg's eyes thinned venomously and her jaw clenched, sure, trying to find the one thing that could put an end to your life was pretty stressful. Especially when it was in the hands of people who would kill you in a heartbeat given the chance. "I'll kill you like I killed your sister, I'll wipe out your entire family!" Meg spat.

Cheryl's smirk widened, "Why don't you come over here and do it then?"

Her eyes darkened and she stalked forward, ready to snap Cheryl's little neck. She took two paces forward, then she lurched back - as if she was pushed by some unseen force. Meg's nostrils flared in anger and she grit her teeth, glancing around for any explanation. Dean, who had gotten up like being thrown was nothing, smirked and crossed his arms against his chest. He sauntered around her, joining Cheryl, Sam and Bobby's side. "Look up, sweetheart." He said proudly. Meg's brows knitted together and her nose wrinkled before she reluctantly looked up, her eyes finally landing upon the devil's trap that kept her in place.

Cheryl poured some salt into a windowsill, which would prevent any demons from entering the house. They sure as hell didn't need any more demons stopping by, they were lucky that Bobby was prepared for Meg's arrival - otherwise, they'd be swamped. She would have helped Sam and Dean with Meg, tying her up and all. But right now she just couldn't deal with Meg's annoying comments - everything she imagined that she would do when she saw Meg went right out the window. Instead of being some fearless badass, she felt quite afraid and sad. Cheryl exhaled heavily and glanced over at Bobby, who was busy salting the other window next to her. He hadn't even looked up, and yet he noticed that she was looking at him. "So, you're friends with the boys, huh?" He said. Her eyes briefly widened before she nodded, she cleared her throat and set the salt canister on the kitchen counter. "Oh, uh, yeah... been on the road with them for about seven months now." She replied. Bobby pursed his lips together and his eyes narrowed before he nodded slowly. He thought about asking her about Meg, and what she had to do with her sister - but that'd be weirdly personal for two people who just met. He'd rather not make her uncomfortable, so he'd ask her about something she already told him herself.

He finally looked at her, studying her for a moment, "So... how the hell do you know the Delgado's?" He asked. Cheryl's brows raised and she nodded slowly, the few times she's mentioned being close with the Delgado's to other hunters, he assumed the cousins or friends. "Oh, uh, I was married to one of Daniel and Isabela's sons." She explained.

Bobby's eyes widened, "Danny and Isabela?"

"Yeah, do you know them?"

"Worked a case with ‘em once." Bobby replied shortly. She nodded and crossed her arms against her chest, Danny and Isabela both retired from hunting about a year ago - but they'd still help with the odd case or two. "They're great, aren't they? Isabela taught me everything there is to know about monster lore."

He chuckled, "Yeah, she's a smart one. You got lucky having 'em as your mentors."

"Yeah, I was."

Neither of them said anything else, there was no need to try and continue the conversation - they finished salting all of the windows and doors, and Cheryl doubted that Bobby actually wanted to know anything about her. He was just being polite by making small talk, that's all, it was nice of him and she appreciated it. Cheryl slowly trodded behind Bobby, and she stared at her boots as she did. She could tell when they entered what was supposed to be the living room because the old kitchen tiles turned into dirty hardwood - and because Bobby started talking to Sam and Dean. "We salted the door and windows. If there are any demons out there - they ain’t getting in." He said. Dean nodded before quickly rising out of his chair, he circled Sam and Bobby before stopping just behind Cheryl. His brows furrowed as he quietly asked if she was okay, he half expected her to attack Meg on sight after all. He never would've guessed in a million years that she would get shy and quiet, she was never that kind of girl - hell, not even when he first met her. Sure, she was private and iced him out, but she was still outspoken and stood up for herself. Cheryl wasn't that girl at all right now.

Her lips parted and she nodded slowly, a silent communication that there were things to be discussed when they were alone. Meg, who was bound to a chair that they pulled out from the round table in the corner, snorted. "Gotta make sure your little girlfriend is okay before you start your interrogation? I pity you." She sneered. Cheryl and Dean's heads snapped over in her direction, he clenched his jaw and she wrinkled her nose - both showing their annoyance and embarrassment in different ways. "Shut the hell up." Cheryl hissed. Meg raised her brows and grinned wickedly, amused by Cheryl's outburst. Dean's lips quirked up into a small smirk, the Cheryl he knows and cares for is back - the super badass one that doesn't take shit. His face then hardened and he crossed his arms as he walked over to stand in front of her, "Where's our father, Meg?" He asked.

"You didn’t ask very nicely." She cooed.

"Where's our father, bitch." He growled.

"Jeez. You kiss your mother with that mouth?" She said. She then smirked and tilted her head, "Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t." Meg was acting like it was her damn job to piss them all off, it was just what demons do - piss people off. It sure as hell didn't help Meg's case, and everyone's patience was wearing thin at this point.

Dean charged forward, setting his hands on the arms of the chair and getting up in Meg's face as he yelled "You think this is a fucking game!? Where is he!? What did you do?" He yelled. Meg grit her teeth and leaned forward, her cruel smirk never leaving her face - which only agitated him more. "He died screaming, I killed him myself." She hissed. Dean's nostrils flared and he rocked back onto his heels, clenching his jaw as he glared down at the demon with such disdain it might just freeze hell over. She was lying - it was obvious, John was the only leverage she had against them to get the Colt. He wasn't dead, because she needed the Colt. Suddenly, he raised his hand and struck her across the face. Meg grunted and rolled her jaw, "That’s kind of a turn-on - you hitting a girl." She breathed.

"You're no girl." He said coldly. Cheryl's lips thinned into a straight line and she glanced over at Bobby as he stood up and moved to the next room. When Sam followed after him, she did the same. The mere sight of Meg's face pissed her off, but it was obvious that she was just a vessel for the demon inside of her. The yearbook photos they found, and the fact that Meg Masters is a real person - with her face - all proved that. Although she wanted to put an end to Meg, she didn't want to kill the poor girl that she possessed - she didn't want to be a murderer. Plus, in her eyes, being sent back to hell was a far worse fate than getting the easy way out.

"Dean," Bobby called, jerking his head in a come here motion. Dean spared Meg one last scowl before reluctantly going to meet the three of them. Meg wasn't going to go anywhere, she had no way to harm them - other than with her words. Sam's brows furrowed in concern and he studied Dean's hard expression, "You okay?" He asked. Dean ignored his question, he was too hung up on what Meg had said. "She's lying, he's not dead." He spat out.

"Dean, you got to be careful with her. Don’t hurt her."

"Why?"

"Because she really is a girl, that’s why."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked. Cheryl sighed and pursed her lips together, crossing her arms against her chest. Isabela taught her a lot about demon lore, but growing up she was quite fascinated with demons and learned a lot about them from books and the Bible - although if her father found out he'd smack her upside the head. "Demons don't have a physical form that blends in with humans enough to go unnoticed by hunters - even regular people would notice. So, they take human vessels via possession. Plus, Meg Masters is a real person - we confirmed that with her yearbook photos and her number in the phonebook." She explained quietly. Dean's brows shot up and his lips quirked up into a slight grin, her little blurb of information momentarily distracted him from the situation at hand. "God, you're a nerd." He muttered under his breath. Dean glanced back at Meg, and his face became devoid of any previous emotions. "So there is someone trapped in there? That's good news."

Cheryl cocked a brow and stared at him, clearly unimpressed by him calling her a nerd - but she wouldn't press any further. "Not really, we have to exorcize her... and if we do - her vessel - the real Meg Masters will die." She said.

"What makes you say that?" Bobby asked.

"She flew out a seven-story window," Cheryl answered. Bobby's eyebrows raised and his lips thinned, he then slowly nodded and exhaled heavily. "Yeah, that'll do it." He muttered. Dean scoffed and that caught her attention, she slowly turned her full body to face him and smirked tauntingly. "What?" She asked.

"I thought you wanted to kill her, now you don't even want to exorcize her?"

"I am not a murderer. There is an innocent woman in there, who had to lay idle while she watched this demon hurt people." Cheryl began, hissing through her teeth. "And I never said we shouldn't exorcize her, I think we should - maybe we can get her to a hospital. Or, worst comes to worst she's out of her misery. And for the demon, I think going back to hell is a far worse fate than getting the easy way out." 

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly and he only stared at her, breathing slow and deep. Cheryl didn't want to be a murderer, she didn't want to hurt innocent people - despite everything, she wasn't blinded by rage. Cheryl had far better morals than most hunters out there, and she stood by them. She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip and shrunk back down into herself. "Sam, you're good with Latin, right?"

"Yeah." He answered. She slowly nodded and spared Meg a quick look from over her shoulder. "Let's get this over with and find your dad." She exhaled before she turned on her heel to head back into the living space. She would do the exorcism herself, but she didn't remember the full ritual - and she knew Sam would be better at reading and pronouncing the words than her anyway.

Sam flipped through a book on exorcisms, he studied the particular ritual that he was about to perform on Meg - he didn't want to mess up any of the words and ruin it after all. Dean watched him for a moment, and his brows raised expectantly "You ready?" He asked. Sam's head snapped up and his lips parted slightly, Dean had startled him a bit. He swallowed hard and nodded slowly, "Yeah, yeah I'm ready." He answered. They both sauntered forward and Meg grinned widely, cocking her head to the side. "Gonna read me a story?" She cooed mockingly. Cheryl crossed her arms against her chest and her lips stretched up into a soft smirk. "A little something like that." She replied smugly. Her eyes briefly met Sam's and she sent him a single nod, it was time to begin the exorcism. Meg would be sent back to hell - and she deserved it after all she's done. But, they had to at least try and get some information out of her about John's whereabouts.

Sam sucked in a breath and began to recite the ritual in Latin, his voice loud and clear to ensure that it will work. Meg scoffed and tucked her tongue into her cheek, she turned her head in Cheryl and Dean's direction, raising her brows in an unimpressed manner. "An exorcism? Are you serious?" She asked.

Dean grinned, "Oh we’re going for it, baby - head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards."

"Hopefully you may even piss yourself, that would be funny," Cheryl added with a slight chuckle. Meg's brows furrowed and she squeezed her eyes shut - not even bothering to send a quip their way. She groaned in pain and shook her head before forcing her eyes open again. Her nostrils flared and her lips curled, "I'll kill you - I'll rip the flesh off your bones." She hissed through her teeth. She tossed her head back as the pain quickly became unbearable. Dean grinned at the sight, "No, you’re gonna burn in hell. Unless you tell us where our Dad is." Meg let out a heavy breath and her lips twitched as she smiled up at him. Her silence was aggravating, but they had the upper hand. Dean raised his brows, "Well, at least you'll get a nice tan."

Sam continued the reading and Meg started to shake violently, she let out a pained breath just as Sam stopped again. They kept giving her chances over and over again, but she didn't want to take them. "He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his sons one last time. That’s when I slit his throat." She barked out. Dean's eyes darkened and he leaned down to her eye level, "For your sake, I hope you’re lying. Cause if it’s true, I swear to God, I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God!" He yelled. Cheryl sucked in a breath and her arms dropped to her sides, Dean was getting worked up - like he was going to explode any second now. Sam had paused, practically holding his breath as he watched his brother question Meg. Cheryl's eyes met Sam's, and she gave him a curt nod - telling him to keep going. Meg started to shake again - she grit her teeth and her eyes screwed shut. She didn't want to let out a single noise - she'd rather grind her teeth down to dust than scream. Dean's brows knitted together and his nose wrinkled, "Where is he?"

"You won't just take dead for an answer will you!?" Meg spat.

"Where is he?!"

"Dead!"

Dean clenched his fists and he swiped his tongue across his front teeth. "No, he’s not! He’s not dead! He can’t be!" He turned and ran a hand through his hair, not noticing how Cheryl and Sam were both staring at him with concern. Staring like he was some cancer kid - and he hated it - he hated the pitying looks. "What the hell are you looking at?" He growled. "Keep reading." Sam let out a heavy sigh and ducked his gaze back down to the heavy book in his hands. It only took a few seconds until the chair that Meg was tied to started to slide around the pentacle she was bound in - scraping against the hardwood floors like nails on a chalkboard. Finally, she let out a pained screech "He will be!"

"Wait! What?!" Dean raised his hand towards Sam, telling him to pause once again. She finally admitted it, John wasn't dead - not yet anyway, which was good. Meg let out a pained wheeze and her head bobbed back and forth as she recovered from her previous torments. "He’s not dead. But he will be after what we do to him."

"How do we know you’re telling the truth?"

"You don't."

"Sam!" Dean started.

"A building! Okay? A building in Jefferson City." Meg yelled frantically. She did not want to get sent back to hell - it would quite literally ruin everything. "Missouri? Where, where? An address!" Dean demanded.

"I don't know!" Meg said, exasperated.

Cheryl nibbled on her bottom lip and clenched her fists, her nails dug into the meaty flesh of her palms - creating little half-moon marks. "The demon - the demon they've been looking for - where is it?" She finally spoke up. Meg heaved heavily and her eyes flickered over to Cheryl, her lips bunched up together and she rolled her eyes. "I don’t know! I swear! That’s everything. That’s all I know." Cheryl's lips parted and her eyes briefly met Dean's, she could see the anger - the rage within them. She swallowed hard and straightened her posture once he had told Sam to finish it. Meg didn't deserve to walk free after all she's done, all the people she's hurt. Everything that happened after that was a blur, Cheryl was crushed with grief - she hoped that since she had gotten her "revenge" everything would be okay again. That she'd be able to be happy - but it didn't change anything. Rosità was still dead, and she wasn't coming back.

Cheryl sat on the front porch steps, picking and pulling at the skin on her lips - yet again falling back into her bad habit. It's gotten worse since she quit smoking, she probably had an oral fixation. "Hey." Dean started from behind her. She jumped and glanced over her shoulder with wide eyes, she hadn't heard him come out of the house at all - she stepped out as soon as demon Meg was sent back to hell. She couldn't be in the room when that poor girl died. "You scared me." She muttered before looking away. His lips thinned and his eyes softened slightly, he didn't mean to scare her - he knew how tough this must be for her. "Sorry, uh, we should get going soon." He trailed off, cocking his head to the side. Cheryl rubbed her chin and blinked slowly, only really paying attention to the rise and fall of her chest. "I know. I just need a minute."

"You okay?"

"No." She answered shortly. "I... I thought that when I saw Meg again I'd be more useful, that I'd actually be able to confront her, get answers - maybe land a few punches... but when I saw her I just froze." She whispered. Cheryl exhaled sharply and chewed on the inside of her cheek before continuing. "And I thought once I got some revenge that I'd be happy again, but I'm not. Rosità is still dead and I'm still a shitty sister. I can't go back and fix any of it."

Dean's lips parted and his brows furrowed together, he didn't know exactly how to reply - how to comfort her. He swallowed hard and carefully sat down next to her, clasping his hands together over his spread knees. "You're not... a shitty sister, Cher. You're a good sister, you... you care about her a lot, and as far as I can tell you honor her every day." Dean pointed to the little silver hoops in her ears and inhaled deeply, "Like these, and that yummy smellin' rose body wash you use now." He said. Cheryl's lips quirked up into a smile and she breathed a small chuckle. The little hoops were once Rosità's, she had a simple taste in jewelry that was very similar to Cheryl's taste. "You steal my body wash? Is that why you smell so good all the time?" She asked.

"No! I just... it engulfs the bathroom after you shower, smells good and is hard to ignore." He shrugged simply.

"Ah... I see..." She smiled, looking away from him. They were silent for a little while until Cheryl rubbed her thighs and bit her bottom lip. "I want to thank you....for... making me feel less alone, I don't know what I'd do without you." She whispered. Dean's eyes widened briefly and he flushed, he was just being himself... just a little nicer is all. He cleared his throat and waved her off, she didn't have to thank him for shit.

"You don't gotta thank me... but... uh," He hesitated for a moment, should he go for it? This may be his only chance until things get hectic again and they wouldn't be able to talk one on one. Dean would take no for an answer, of course, but he just had to know if her answer would be yes. "You can answer a question for me..." He muttered. Cheryl raised her brows and fully turned to face him, curious about what he had to ask her. "Yeah? What's that?"

"I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go out sometime... you know, after all this." Dean asked. Cheryl's eyes widened comically and her jaw went slack, which worried him greatly, hell, if he had of known she would've reacted like this he would have said nothing. She sucked in a breath and looked away from him, staying silent as she debated her next words. "I... you know I don't have sex on the first date, right? So if that's what you're after-"

"No! No, I know... I just, I think that you're pretty great, and, well, beautiful. And you understand the life so it's not like there won't be a second or third date." Dean rambled. Again, he caught her by surprise - he intended to go on more than one date with her. Dean Winchester - the womanizer - wanted to date her? Cheryl grinned widely, "Second and third date, huh? You must be crushin' hard. I thought you don't "do" second dates - let alone third."

Dean sighed, "Shut up, it was a yes or no question."

Cheryl smiled softly and tilted her head, studying him for a second. She took in his soft eyes, the faint freckles that dotted his cheeks, and the slight blush that was slowly creeping down his neck. "Well..." She started. Dean's brows raised expectantly and he held his breath as he waited for her to continue. This may make or break their friendship - he was anxious, of course. Her eyes flickered up to meet his and she stared at him through her lashes, "My answer is yes, as long as you promise that it doesn't end with us making out in the backseat of the Impala." Dean's face broke out into a wide, happy grin. She said yes - Cheryl said yes to going out with him. "You're not even gonna give me a kiss at the end of the night?" He asked teasingly.

She smirked and shook her head, "Nope, you're gonna have to work for that."

"So... if I'm great on the first date, you'll kiss me?"

"Only if you buy me flowers."

Dean whistled lowly, "Oooh!"

-----------------------------------

"Dude, what are you drawing on my car!" Dean yelled at Sam. Sam continued to scribble on a small devil trap on the hood of the Impala with white chalk, it'd protect everything that's inside the trunk. It'd be a hell of a good spot to store the Colt. "It’s called a Devil’s trap. Demons can’t get through it or inside it." He explained. Dean wrinkled his nose and shook his head, not getting why he had to draw all over his car for this. "So?"

"It basically turns the trunk into a lockbox." Sam sighed as he moved to the other side to draw the same symbol once again. Dean raised his brows, "So?" He asked.

Sam rolled his eyes, "So, we have a place to hide the Colt while we go get Dad."

"What are you talking about? We're taking the Colt with us."

"We can’t, Dean. We’ve only got three bullets left. We can’t just use them on any demon, we’ve got to use them on the demon."

Cheryl sighed, glancing around the area, they parked near some train tracks by some trees. The rushing sound of river water filled the air - bringing back the memory of when she was sent into a freezing plunge on the La Llorona case. The brothers continued to bicker about whether or not they should take the Colt with them - which she'd grown used to at this point. "I’m serious, Dean," Sam said firmly.

"I said fine, Sam," Dean replied shortly. Dean reached into his coat pocket, pulled out the Colt and held it up for Sam to see before tossing it in the trunk. Cheryl raised a brow and tilted her head as she noticed what was across the road. An apartment building with a large sign out front that read Sunrise Apartments. Was this what human Meg meant by sunrise? Is this where John was? 

"You think John's there?" She asked, sparing them a quick look. Dean's head snapped over in her direction almost immediately, the fact that they were going to go on a date soon was still fresh on his mind - just looking at her made him smile. He was a good-looking guy, charming, and funny, but a girl like Cheryl wanted to go out with him. It felt a little surreal. Sam looked to the apartments and walked forward, standing by Cheryl's side. "Son of a bitch. That’s pretty smart. I mean, if these demons can possess people they can possess almost anybody inside." Dean said as he joined Cheryl's other side. She nodded slowly and crossed her arms square against her chest. "And make anyone attack us - we dunno how many demons are in there."

"They probably know exactly what we look like, too. And they could look like anybody." Sam added.

"We're fucked." She breathed.

"Tell me about it. Alright, so, how the hell are we going to get in?" Sammy asked, sparing Cher and Dean a quick look. Dean shrugged, "Pull the fire alarm, get out all the civilians."

"Okay, but then the city responds in, what, seven minutes?"

"Seven minutes exactly." He sighed.

Firetrucks lined up outside the apartment place - a couple of the firemen guarded the entrance, making sure nobody went inside after the renters evacuated. Dean jogged up to one of the firemen with wide terrified eyes, "Hey, what’s happening? Is it a fire?" He asked. The fireman attempted to guide him away from the building just as a fearful Cheryl ran up and clutched Dean's hand tight. "¡¿Lo que está sucediendo?!" She stammered. Cheryl glanced up at Dean, her eyes desperate for an explanation. "¡Mi corazón! ¡El perro!" She panicked. Dean's brows shot up and he looked to the firefighter, "My girlfriend doesn't speak a lick of English - our Yorkie is upstairs - he pees when he's nervous, come on. That dog is practically her baby, man!" He wavered. The fireman sent the couple an empathetic look, while he wanted to help them and their dog - it simply wasn't safe for them to go inside. "Look, tell your girlfriend that she can go inside when it is safe - I'm sure your dog is fine." He said. Dean grit his teeth and starts to vaguely explain what is happening to Cheryl in Spanish - as best as he can with his limited knowledge anyway. The fireman was distracted, giving Sam more than enough time to break into one of the trucks and steal some gear.

The three of them filed down the hallway, all in heavy firefighter gear - the suits, helmets, breathing apparatus and all. Dean clutched an EMF reader in his gloved hand, waving it down either end of the hallway to see if it'd pick anything up. Cheryl panted and gripped the handle of a small axe tight in her hands. "I feel like some pregnant lady, this stuffs heavy." She whined. Dean let out a low chuckle and never took his eyes off of the EMF for even a second. "I dunno, I like it. I wanted to be a fireman when I was a kid."

Sam raised his brows, "You never told me that."

"Don't matter anymore..." Dean trailed off. He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, focusing intently on the EMF reading. Cheryl shrugged and adjusted the heavy water tank on her back - as best as she could anyway. "Firemen are sexy." She said simply. Dean finally took his eyes off of the EMF and shot her a smirk from over his shoulder to which she returned.

Suddenly, the EMF started to beep like crazy - the three of them stopped in front of the door. Sam adjusted the duffle on his shoulder to sit more comfortably and sent Dean a curt nod. He was ready - whatever was in this apartment likely had their Dad. Dean closed his fist and banged twice on the door, "This is the fire department. We need you to evacuate." He boomed. There was some shuffling on the other side of the door until it finally creaked open, revealing a short woman with raven hair. Before the woman may recognize who they are - Sam and Dean burst through the door, sending the woman staggering back. Before any of the two demons inside got the chance to attack them - Sam and Dean sprayed them with the water from the tanks strapped to their backs. Luckily, Cheryl had a habit of carrying a rosary with her everywhere now - so the water in the tanks was blessed, thus burning the demons. The pair let out pained hisses as the water burned their skin - steam rose off of their bodies and a quiet sizzling sound filled the room. Dean raced forward and landed a hard punch into the man's temple - shoving him into a closet before he even had the chance to recover.

"Come on!" Dean yelled through grit teeth. Sam yanked the woman who answered the door by the collar of her shirt and shoved her into the closet as well. Dean pushed his full body weight up against the door, clenching his teeth as the demons pounded at it relentlessly. Cheryl lurched forward and gripped the doorknob tightly, preventing the demons from possibly opening the closet door and overpowering them. "Hurry the hell up!" Dean barked at Sam who was snatching a canister of salt out of the duffel. He quickly rushed over, pouring a generous line at the crack of the door. They all jumped back - the pounding had stopped, it was like they had completely disappeared. Cheryl panted heavily and tore off the gloves that went with the firemen's gear - then worked her helmet off. They all changed out of the gear without another word to each other, discarding it on the floor before creeping towards what looked like a bedroom door.

Cheryl pulled the hem of her black tank top down to cover the slightly exposed skin of her belly as she reached the door. She glanced back at Sam and Dean once with raised brows before slowly opening the door. Once it was cracked open, she lightly booted it open and peered inside. There John was, laid out unconscious on the bed with each wrist tied to the bedpost. Dean let out a heavy breath and pushed past Cheryl, rushing to his Father's side. "Dad?" He whispered. He leaned down and set his head on his chest, focusing intently to see if he was breathing. Dean exhaled a sigh of relief and sat up, pulling out a knife from his coat pocket. "He's still breathing." He announced. Sam and Cheryl both relaxed and their racing hearts calmed, John was alive and okay. Dean shook John in an attempt to wake him, tucking the blade of the knife into his palm so he didn't accidentally knick him. "Dad!" He whisper-shouted. When John didn't rouse, he whipped the knife out once again and raised it to cut the ropes. "Dean! Hold on!" Cheryl nearly yelled.

Dean's eyes widened and he shot her a look, then looked to Sam who agreed with her. He shrugged and pulled out the flask that Bobby had given them. "She's right. Could be possessed for all we know..." He trailed off. Dean's face fell and his jaw clenched, they couldn't be serious - John wasn't possessed. "Are you nuts? He's fine!" He fumed. Sam sighed and twisted the cap off of the silver flask, "Just to be sure, Dean." He splashed some water onto John's unconscious form, watching carefully for any sort of reaction. But John only groaned, lolling his head to the side as he slowly gained consciousness. "Sam? Why are you splashing water on me?" He muttered. Dean sighed in relief and quickly worked the blade against the ropes, at least he was conscious now. "Dad, are you okay?" He asked.

"They’ve been drugging me. Where’s the Colt?"

"Don't worry, it's safe." Dean soothed just as the ropes frayed and finally broke. John's head fell back against the soft pillows and nodded slowly, he was still quite delirious from the drugs they gave him. "Good... good boys." He breathed out.

Cheryl nibbled on her bottom lip and tucked some hair behind her ear, she was glad John was okay for Sam and Dean's sake - she knew they'd be fucked over if he passed. Sam and Dean pulled John up on his feet, heaving each of his arms over their shoulders and they practically dragged him towards the front door. Suddenly, the door was kicked open and it slammed against the wall. Cheryl flinched back, eyes widening as she saw 2 men - one of them being the fireman from earlier. Their eyes were as black as a void - haunting and the greatest sign of possession. Cheryl staggered back, "Fuck! Turn around!" She yelled. She pushed her full body weight into Sam, urging them to take John and their asses back to the bedroom.

Cheryl had just managed to slam the door shut before an axe came crashing through the wooden door. She flinched back, her fists clenching into tight balls - that scared the hell out of her. Dean glanced around the room frantically, still supporting John's weight. Finally, his eyes landed on a window that led to a fire escape - this was probably their only way out of there without getting axed in the face. The axe smashed through the door again - wood cracking and spewing chips onto the carpeted floors. Cheryl sucked in a breath and glanced back at Sam, he still had the duffel, thankfully, and he'd passed John off to Dean. He was strong enough to carry John on his own, it wasn't like it was hard or anything - John was about as big as he is.

"Sam! Salt!" Cheryl hissed. Sam fumbled with the canister before he tossed it to her - which she caught with ease. "You guys go! I got this!" She urged. Dean's lips thinned and he nodded once before he climbed out the window, landing on the metal fire escape before he pulled John out the small window with Sam's help. Cheryl poured a generous line of salt in front of the door, she jumped to her feet - the back of her legs bumping against the foot of the bed. The axe crashed through the door again and she flinched back, the demons wouldn't be able to pass through here - but it was scary nonetheless. "Joder, joder". She muttered under her breath as she hurried towards the window. She climbed out of it, wincing as her thigh got scratched by the split wood on the windowsill.

Cheryl had just made it down the fire escape - jumping down the last couple of stairs when Sam was decked by a guy who was around the same size as him. She gasped as the man started to punch his face brutally - blood spewing everywhere. Dean let out a pained noise as if it hurt him physically to see Sam get hit. He carefully set John down on the concrete, making sure he was fine before he sprinted over to Sam and the man - who was probably some sort of demon. He kicked the man once in the face - his steel toes meeting his cheekbone with an unmistakable crunch.  Unfortunately, it seemed to not affect him - so he was a demon. The man bared his teeth at Dean, rising to his knees and landing a harsh punch to his gut that sent him flying into the windshield of a random car. Dean gasped and then wheezed, he had the wind completely knocked out of him from that hit. He winced as he rolled off of the car, clutching his gut as pain wafted through him. He groaned lowly and grit his teeth, forcing his gaze onto the man on top of Sammy who was going at him again. Without hesitation, he reached back, tugging up the hem of his shirt to grasp the handle of the Colt. He went back for it when Cheryl pointed out the apartment sign, he was quick with that type of stuff - an excellent thief just like her.

Weakly, he raised the Colt - aiming for the man on top of Sam and he didn't hesitate to squeeze the trigger once he lined it up with his head. A loud gunshot rang through the air, the bullet sliced through the man's temple and he slumped over. 2 bullets left - 2 more chances to kill the demon that killed Mary after this. Dean let out a heavy breath and sucked in some air through his nostrils, quickly tucking the gun back into the waistband of his jeans. Cheryl rushed to Sam's side, pushing the man's corpse off of him and cupping his bloody and swollen cheeks. "Hey, you okay?" She asked gently. He nodded and coughed dryly, he felt like he just got pelted with a damn brick. Cheryl's lips thinned and she took his hands, helping him to his feet. She glanced over her shoulder at Dean, "I got him! You got John?!" Dean grunted as he heaved one of John's heavy arms over his neck - it was like he was a complete dead weight. "Yeah, let's get the hell out of here!"

-------------------------------

Cheryl peeked out one of the curtains, her eyes scanning every inch of the woods around and the area around the Impala. They were in some abandoned cabin near the highway, a friend of a friend's place she assumed. It was safe, away from any dangers - gave them some time to get John better before they continued their search. She sighed softly, pulling the curtain shut and tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. "Make sure you salt this one too." She muttered quietly to Sam, jerking her head in the general direction of the window. His face was pretty swollen and bruised, she doubted he could see out of his left eye - that demon dude did a number on him.

Dean crept out from the small bedroom where John was resting and gently clicked the door shut. Cheryl turned almost immediately, her lips parting almost as soon as she saw him. "How is he?" She breathed. Dean shrugged and his eyes briefly met hers before he looked to Sammy. "He just needed a little rest, that’s all. How are you?" He asked.

"I'm okay," Sam answered quietly. Dean's brows raised as he glanced at Cheryl again, urging her to answer as well - he was curious and he cared. She rubbed her faded blue jeans and sighed heavily, "Fine." She whispered. Cheryl bit her lip and tapped her foot frantically against the ground, her silky hair flowing freely down her shoulders and back. "You think we were followed here? I'm a little paranoid." She said.

"I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, we couldn’t have found a more out-of-the-way place to hole up." Dean replied. Sam set the canister of salt on a table in the small kitchenette, moving quite sluggishly. He was still pretty messed up from earlier. "Hey, uh... Dean, you, um...... you saved my life back there." He started.

Dean grinned, "So, I guess you’re glad I brought the gun, huh?"

"Man, I’m trying to thank you here."

"You’re welcome."

Sam crossed the room, tucking his hands into his pant pockets. Dean swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and rubbed the stubble on his chin. He felt awful about shooting that man - not for killing the demon in him, but it was still a human vessel. There was a guy in there, a guy that he killed. His brows knitted together and he glanced down at Cheryl, "Hey, Cher?" He whispered. Her head snapped up almost immediately, her eyes were soft and inviting. Ready to do whatever he asked, ready to comfort him - anything. "Yeah?" She whispered back.

"You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there." Cheryl frowned and stepped forward, taking his hand in hers and gently entwining their fingers together. Dean's breath caught at the softness of her hands, so sweetly and gently holding his like it was glass. "You didn't have a choice, Dean. You were protecting Sam." She soothed. Dean nodded slowly and looked down at his feet, he started to rub his thumb along the back of her hand in small circles. "Yeah, I know, that’s not what bothers me."

"What's bothering you then?"

"Killing that guy, killing Meg. I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t even flinch. For Sammy or Dad - maybe even you, the things I’m willing to do or kill, it’s just, uh .... it scares me sometimes."

Cheryl's eyes softened and she gently squeezed his fingers reassuringly, she wanted him to know that he wasn't alone - that she was here for him. She opened her mouth to say something - until she was cut off by none other than John. "It shouldn’t. You did well." He said firmly. Dean's eyes widened and he slipped his hand out of Cheryl's, dropping it to his side instead. Her lips thinned into a straight line and she flexed her hand, secretly missing the warmth of his fingers laced with hers. "You’re not mad?" Dean asked in surprise. John raised a hand and shook his head firmly, he wasn't mad - why would he be? He saved Sammy, that's been his job since day one. "Why would I be?" He asked.

"For using a bullet..." Dean trailed off.

"Mad? I’m proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you - you watch out for this family. You always have."

His eyes narrowed, "Thanks." He said curtly.

The wind began to howl and the lights within the cabin began to flicker erratically, an eerie chill settled within - like a dark presence making itself known. Sam glanced up at the light fixtures, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. Cheryl's nostrils flared as she sucked in a breath and her heart started to race. All the windows and doors were salted, there was no way this thing was getting in - but it didn't mean that it couldn't torment them from outside. "It found us. It's here." John said.

Sam's brows raised, "The demon?"

"Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door." He ordered. Sam's lips thinned and he rubbed the back of his head, he was used to John ordering him around - but it didn't make it any less annoying. "I already did."

"Well, check it! Okay?" He demanded. Sam sighed and his eyes flickered over to Cheryl's annoyed ones, with the cock of her brow, he knew she was asking if he wanted her to put him in his place. Sam shook his head discreetly and mouthed a thank you to her before he spun on his heel to check the salt on the windows and doors.

"Dean, you got the gun?" John asked as he peered out a window. Dean clenched his jaw and nodded once, never taking his eyes off of John for even a second. "Yeah."

"Give it to me."

"Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It disappeared." Dean sighed as he pulled the Colt out of the waistband of his jeans. Every single one of his alarm bells is blaring - nothing about any of this felt good. John shot him a scolding look, "This is me. I won’t miss. Now, the gun, hurry." He grumbled, holding out his hand for the Colt, expecting Dean to just hand it off. Dean's brows knitted together and he glanced down at the gun, something told him not to give it to him. "Son, please," John begged. Dean tucked his tongue into his cheek and stared at the gun intently, then, it all clicked. He backed up one pace, then another and he swept a protective arm out to usher Cheryl behind him. "He'd be furious," Dean whispered.

"What?" John scoffed.

"That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn’t be proud of me, he’d tear me a new one." He breathed out. His chest frantically rose and fell with each heavy breath he took, it felt like his heart may pound right out of his chest. Dean pursed his lips together and confidently aimed the gun straight for John's chest. The telltale click of a gun being cocked made Cheryl's eyes widen - he wasn't really going to shoot John - was he? "You’re not my Dad." Dean growled.

Dean inhaled deeply, "I know my Dad better than anyone. And you ain’t him."

John's eyes narrowed venomously and he clenched his fists, he couldn't believe that Dean would be this stupid. Stupid enough to point a loaded gun at him. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Dean snorted. Cheryl gently touched his back in between his shoulder blades. He tensed at her touch, he wasn't expecting it - nor did he want to be calmed down. He knew that this wasn't his Dad. "Dean-" She started.

"Stay back." He demanded. Sam strolled back into the room, obviously not expecting his brother to be pointing a gun at his Dad when he came back. His eyes widened and his jaw went slack as he stopped in his tracks. "Dean? What the hell’s going on?" He asked.

"Your brother's lost his mind," John growled.

"He’s not Dad."

"What?"

"I think he’s possessed. I think he’s been possessed since we rescued him." Dean quickly said, never taking his eyes off John. Cheryl's nose wrinkled in confusion, "But the holy water, Dean. He was fine."

"Listen to her, Dean." John urged. Sam's jaw hardened and he shifted his weight onto his left leg, unsure of what to do. "How do you know?" He questioned. Dean's eyes grew watery and he shrugged his shoulders, fighting off the urge to cry. "He's... he's different."

"You know, we don’t have time for this. Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you’ve gotta trust me."

Sam looked between his Father and Dean, he didn't know who to trust - his loyalty was with them both, no matter who he sided with, someone would be upset. Dean glanced over at him sadly, he didn't say a single word to try and convince him further and that's when Sam knew. He knew to trust him. Slowly, he stepped over to Dean and Cheryl, firmly grounding himself next to his brother. John clenched his jaw and scowled at them as if their mere existence bothered him, "Fine. You’re all so sure, go ahead. Kill me."

John raised a brow and fixed his gaze onto his feet, waiting for Dean to pull the trigger - but it never happened. He held it with a shaky hand, tears threatening to fall, but he just couldn't do it. He couldn't kill his Dad.  John's lips formed a cocky grin and he snorted humorously, "I thought so." He said coolly. He lifted his head, revealing harsh yellow eyes that overtook his original eye colour. The very same yellow eyes that they saw back in the house in Iowa. Sam bared his teeth and lunged forward - he was damn near ready to scratch his eyes out. Before he could even lay a hair on John - he was thrown back against a wall and he let out a pained groan. Cheryl and Dean followed suit, each of them being pinned to different walls - like the demon planned to have them all watch each other die. The Colt clattered the floor and John sauntered toward where it lay discarded on the floor. "What a pain in the ass this thing’s been." He muttered as he felt its weight in his palm.

Cheryl struggled against the force that was pinning her to the wall - she was desperate for her feet to at least touch the ground again, even if that meant she had to die for it. Even the smallest of heights freaked her out. "It’s you, isn’t it? We’ve been looking for you for a long time." Sam panted.

"Well, you found me." He grinned mockingly.

"But the holy water?"

"You think something like that works on something like me?" He chuckled, shaking his head in disappointment. Sam screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, focusing all of his strength on trying to fight against the force. It was too much - there was no use, he was just some human and the demon was much more powerful than him. Sam let out an angry grunt, "I'm gonna kill you!" He yelled.

John smirked and chuckled cruelly, "Oh, that'd be a neat trick. In fact," He raised his finger as if telling him to wait before he set the Colt on the table that was in the middle of the room. "Here. Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy." Sam panted and stared at the gun, willing it to just magically appear in his hand - but nothing happened. John's grin widened and he raised his brows, "Well, this is fun." He said as he clapped his hands together. He was done with taunting Sam, for now, he strode over to Dean - his smile never leaving his face. "I could’ve killed you a hundred times today, but this..." He sighed. "This is worth the wait."

Dean grunted and tried to lunge forward but he failed, it was no use trying to fight against this demon while he had them like this. John glanced over at him, his expression full of boredom and hate. "Your Dad - he’s in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says “hi”, by the way. He’s gonna tear you apart. He’s gonna taste the iron in your blood." He taunted.

"Let him go, or I swear to God-" Dean growled.

"What's he gonna do? This is justice - your little exorcism? That was my daughter." He spat. Dean raised his brows and smirked weakly, amused by the fact that Meg was his daughter. However, this revelation may not be so funny to Cheryl. "And the one in the alley, that was my son." John added. Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed, "You've gotta be kidding me."

"What? You’re the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?" He asked, pursing his lips together and feigning mock pity. Then, he grinned. "Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs don’t make a right."

Cheryl sucked in a breath and swallowed the growing lump in her throat. Of course, Meg was this guy's daughter, it was just her luck. "You're a son of a bitch." She managed to hiss through her teeth. John cocked a brow and turned to face her, he tilted his head and grinned wickedly. "Oh, so she speaks." He cooed.

"I wanna know why. Why’d you do it?" Sam spoke up. He was desperate to know why the demon did it, why he killed Mom, why he killed Jess when they'd done no wrong. "You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty, little Jess?" He asked.

"Yeah." Sammy breathed.

"Because they got in the way." He answered simply.

"In the way of what?"

"My plans for you, Sammy. You... and all the children like you." He answered as if it were obvious. Dean scoffed and lulled his head over to the side, he wished that he would just get this over with. "Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh? Cause I really can’t stand the monologuing."

"Funny, but that’s all part of your M.O., isn’t it? Masks all that nasty pain, masks the truth."

Dean raised his brows, "Oh, yeah? What’s that?" He asked.

"You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don’t need you. Not like you need them. Sam – he’s clearly John’s favourite. Even when they fight, it’s more concern than he’s ever shown you."

Dean clenched his jaw and stared at John (who was really the demon) with such hate that it might just freeze hell over. "I bet you’re real proud of your kids, too, huh?" He grinned and tilted his head, his brows furrowing as he stared into those haunting yellow irises. "Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted ‘em." John's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared once, he was silent for a moment before he took a step back and bowed his head. All of a sudden, Dean let out a pained yell - even though it appeared that nothing was happening. Cheryl's eyes widened and her heart rate quickened as blood started to seep through his shirt - lots of it. "No!" She screamed. Cheryl attempted to thrash around - desperate to get free and help him but it was useless. Dean let out a pained wheeze and shook his head, "Dad! Dad, don’t you let it kill me!" He pleaded. Dean let out another pained scream through his clenched teeth and three long jagged slashes slowly dragged from his neck to his stomach. He threw his head back, squeezing his fists so tight that his knuckles went white. Sam tried to push back against the invisible force - unmistakably wiggling his hand before it was pinned back against the wall. "Dean! No!" He yelled in a panicked state. Dean panted and his brows furrowed as blood trickled out of his mouth - he surely injured something internally if this was happening. "Dad... please..." He said weakly before he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Dean!" Cheryl screamed, her voice cracking painfully and growing raspy. John squeezed his eyes shut and staggered back from Dean, shaking his head slowly. "Stop... stop." He whispered to himself. Unexpectedly, they were released from their invisible prison on the wall and they all fell to the floor. Dean slumped down onto his side and Cheryl was quick to climb to her feet and sprint towards him. He couldn't die, not like this, he was too young - much too young. Sam made a dive for the table, snatching up the Colt and rolling onto his feet. John turned to face him, his irises yellow once again and Sam aimed the Colt right for him. "You kill me, you kill Daddy." John smirked.

"I know." Sam said. Then, he squeezed the trigger and a bullet fired - going straight through his leg. John let out a pained grunt and was knocked to the ground by the force and pain from the gunshot, clutching his thigh desperately. Sam glanced over at Cheryl and Dean with wide eyes, catching as she let out a quiet sob and pressed her shaky hands to his wounds - hoping to God that it'd stop the bleeding. "Dean, you've lost so much blood." She choked out. He slowly blinked his eyes open and inhaled deeply as he came to. "Where's Dad?" He wheezed. Sam blinked back some tears and wiped his nose on the butt of his palm. "He’s right here. He’s right here, Dean." He called out. Dean lazily rolled his head in the direction of Sam's voice and licked his bottom lip. "Go check on him."

Cheryl tearfully met Sam's eyes, her face red and full of panic. "Go, go, I'll get him to the Impala..." She whispered. She sniffled as Sam crawled towards John across the room, turning her attention back to Dean. "Don't fucking die on me, Dean." She whispered.

"I wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart." He muttered. She reluctantly smiled and shakily grabbed his hands, not even noticing how they were wet with his blood. "Come, come on, querida." She whispered. She used all of her strength to pull Dean up in a sitting position, grinding her teeth the entire time - he was pretty damn heavy, and she was trying her best not to hurt him any further.

"Sammy! It’s still alive. It’s inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son!" John yelled. He threw his head back and clenched his jaw, focusing all of his willpower on keeping the demon at bay. "Do it now!" He demanded. Dean panted heavily and leaned into Cheryl, his trembling hands grasping any part of his body that he could get at (which was her forearm and thigh.) "Sam, don’t you do it. Don’t you do it." Dean coughed.

"You’ve gotta hurry! I can’t hold onto it much longer! You shoot me, son! Shoot me! Son, I’m begging you! We can end this here and now! Sammy!"

"Sam! No!" Dean managed to shout before having a coughing fit. Sam's lips trembled and tears welled in his eyes as he stared down at his Father. If he shot him, he'd die. He... he couldn't kill his Dad. He let out a sharp exhale and lowered the Colt just as John threw his head back and a black cloud of smoke flew out of his mouth - crashing out the window with an unearthly roar.

Cheryl climbed into the backseat of the Impala with Dean, quickly pulling the door shut and scooting to his side. "Hey! Don't you fall asleep!" She hissed, gently smacking his cheeks. Dean groaned in pain and rolled his head to the side, baring his teeth which were stained with his blood. Her bottom lip wobbled, threatening more tears. "Come on," She whispered, leaning in close to him. "We have to go on that date, remember? Don't leave me hanging, Winchester. Dying would be an awful way to stand a girl up." She smiled reluctantly, running her hands through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. Dean grinned and his eyes fluttered open, settling on her gorgeous yet worried features. "Wouldn't exactly be my fault..." He mumbled, his breath fanning out across her lips. Dean's eyes drooped before they fell shut, slipping into another phase of unconsciousness. Cheryl gasped and glanced up at the front bench, "Sam! Gun it!" She yelled.

"I am! The hospital is ten minutes away!" He called back. John grit his teeth and let out a heavy breath, clutching the leg that he'd been shot in like it was his damn baby. "I’m surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn’t you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this? Killing this demon comes first -before me, before everything." He said weakly. Sam's lips thinned and his grip on the steering wheel tightened, he briefly glanced up into the review mirror. He caught a glimpse of Cheryl stroking Dean's hair and her mouthing what looked like prayers in Spanish to him. "No, sir. Not before everything. Look, we’ve still got the Colt. We still have the one bullet left. We just have to start over, alright? I mean, we already found the demon..."

All of a sudden, an eighteen-wheeler sped out from the intersection on the highway - slamming right into the passenger side of the Impala. It drove a few yards, dragging the Impala with it and causing the hood of the car to curve around it. Metal screeched like nails on a chalkboard and sparks flew as it hit the asphalt road. And inside, all of them, the Winchester family and the Jones' girl, were knocked unconscious from the sheer impact of the hit.

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss

Some notes heading into summertime

OVER LUNCH AT SOME OLD-SCHOOL DINER IN BREEZEWOOD, PENNSYLVANIA: In taking our leave of Ocean City, and on accepting an invite from a certain boon companion of Touché Turtle by name of Dum-Dum to join him and Bristlehound for some houseboating on the Mississippi River, yours truly, along with Huckleberry Hound, as well as Touché "himself," took our leave of Ocean City by way of US 50 unto Baltimore by way of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, and thence on I-70 into this rather crazy crossroads of the Lincoln Highway (as in US 30 in these parts) and the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

In fact, it's on the former that our party of three will be heading out to the Mississippi River for the most part--eventually to come into US 20 through Ohio, Indiana and Illinois, thereby offering a direct (if somewhat out-of-the-way) routing towards Dubuque, Iowa and the Mississippi, whence, it turns out, Dum-Dum is calling us from.

"So how is my devoted Touché Turtle?" asked Dum-Dum in a rather effervescent style, to which the heroic-minded turtle responded, "My apologies if you're catching our company over lunch ... but at any rate, we left Ocean City this morning on our way to the river."

"And did I hear correctly," Dum-Dum remarked, "that those Goofy Guards are pulling off a little fencing exercise in Ocean City?"

"On the Boardwalk there, yes." [Pause] "And for only $20 a pop."

"I can hardly believe it!" was all Dum-Dum could respond.

"Nonetheless," responded I, "we can't wait to be on the river with you and Bristlehound."

"And I hope you can stand small-town tavern fish fry on Friday evenings!" was how Dum-Dum chimed in. This even as we were having chicken-and-stuffing casserole in the Pennsylvania Dutch manner, and rather generous on the portions besides, no skimping!

And even then, Huck was still wondering as to the next ideal Character Convocation, timed to coincide with the July 4th holiday no doubt ... prompting him to suggest no less than Clear Lake, Iowa and their 4th of July celebrations, one of the Midwest's largest such for a small community.

"You still remember that time at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake where I crossed paths with the Cattanooga Cats, and we had quite the performance--"

To which Huck remarked, "I assume they're still talking about especially that tribute you and the Cats did there to Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper."

"Out of sympathy for the Surf being their last performance before that tragic plane crash on February 3, 1959."

"How right you are, Snag ... and I guess it'll be interesting to imagine the Cats as much as The Banana Splits there in Clear Lake as well."

"Not to mention our whole funtastic pantheon."

"At any rate," Huck remarked over dessert, "Clear Lake for the weekend of the 4th 'tis."

"Oh, and let's not forget Peter Potamus' divers; they'll especially find Clear Lake itself worth some diving."

"I never thought of that, Snag."

"Or, as those Cattanooga Cats sang, 'I never knew the way you'd feel.'"

=============

Meanwhile, in deference to the Memorial Day break, next Monday (the 27th) will see no Postcard in this space ... hence, returning on Wednesday the 29th. And at any rate, enjoy what the weekend brings forth.

@warnerbrosentertainment @passionateclown @theweekenddigest @artistic-octopus @iheartgod175 @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @archive-archives @screamingtoosoftly @thebigdingle @themineralyoucrave @thylordshipofbutts @warnerbros-blog1 @indigo-corvus @zodiacfan32 @jellystone-enjoyer @warnerbrosent-blog

[guerrerense]

Smokin' Outta Town por James Belmont Por Flickr: With E9 No. 951 dressed in American Freedom Train colors, Union Pacific's Old Timer's Special departs Evanston, Wyoming at the Lincoln Highway bridge east of town on Sept. 25, 1976.

[weather-usa]

Historic floods in the Midwest have swamped rivers, and the heat is so intense that even Lincoln melted.

Kathryn Barber stood on a closed section of Iowa Highway 141, marveling at the power of the Little Sioux River floodwaters.

Climate and Average Weather Year Round in Virginia:

The water covered all but the roof of a nearby home. Ball fields, usually desert-dusty during droughts, looked like marinas, with only foul poles and scoreboards visible above the water's surface. Barber and her husband, Bill, live on a nearby bluff and were nervously optimistic their home would survive the floods.

"It's very surreal," Barber said. "It’s hard when you’ve got to leave all your stuff behind. I’m not 100% confident."

For over a week, severe weather, including thunderstorms and flooding, has blasted parts of Iowa, South Dakota, Minnesota, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Nebraska. Major flooding has impacted more than a dozen rivers and nearby communities. One river has partially breached a Minnesota dam, swallowed a nearby home, and is threatening a highway bridge.

See more:

https://www.behance.net/gallery/196864235/Weather-Forecast-for-Texas

Swollen rivers feeding into the Mississippi River are expected to cause major flooding in St. Paul, Minnesota, by the end of the week, according to AccuWeather. A high-pressure system over parts of the southern U.S. will result in ongoing thunderstorms and possibly derechos—fierce, powerful, fast-moving, and damaging storms—this week and beyond, says AccuWeather Lead Long-Range Meteorologist Paul Pastelok. This will mean more surges of water and additional flooding.

"There will be an increased threat of thunderstorm complexes, including potential derechos, from the north-central Plains and Midwest to the Great Lakes and Ohio Valley into early July," Pastelok said.

Developments:

Hot and humid conditions are returning Wednesday across much of the nation's southern tier, the National Weather Service reports. Highs are forecast to reach the mid- to upper 90s across the region, with low 100s expected in parts of South Carolina, Georgia, and the southern High Plains.

Europe is also experiencing record heat. Greece has shut down some of its ancient sites and warned tourists not to "take unnecessary risks" following deaths across Europe due to the heat wave.

A 6-foot wax statue of President Abraham Lincoln, installed outside a Washington, D.C., elementary school, is slowly melting into a headless blob amid soaring temperatures. Sponsor CulturalDC, which noted the wax has a congealing point of 140 degrees, removed the head to protect it while they determine how to proceed.

Family Loses Home to Blue Earth River, Cautiously Watches ‘Beloved’ Café

The Hruska family has owned a small, white, colonial three-bedroom home and a nearby café for more than 50 years. Visitors from around the world flocked to the café to hear Jim Hruska’s stories and be transported to a time without technology, his son David Hruska told USA TODAY.

Their home, which had been in the family for decades, offered a riverfront view of the Blue Earth River. However, on Tuesday night, it was swept away into the river after the Rapidan Dam partially failed, leaving David Hruska and his family speechless.

“You would never think in a million years our house would get washed away,” he said.

Weather Forecast For Florida:

His sister, Jenny Barnes, was baking pies at the café, the Rapidan Dam Store, on Monday night when she overheard the Excel Energy substation explode and saw the water violently pull it into the river.

Hruska said his family and volunteers rushed into the home to grab as many belongings as they could before it collapsed around 9:30 p.m. Tuesday.

“Our store is in danger of collapsing, and while it's not as close to the river as the house was, it's close enough to be a concern,” he said.

The store, renowned for its famous pies, has attracted visitors since it opened. Hruska mentioned that his parents created a guestbook in 1994, which includes entries from the Soviet Union, Germany, Switzerland, and other countries. He is worried about what will happen if the store meets the same fate as their home.

“The house is replaceable,” Hruska said. “But the Dam Store is irreplaceable. We can't create another Dam Store because we're grandfathered in. With new regulations and policies, it's impossible to reopen it as it was.”

The city of Mankato announced in a social media update that the Blue Earth River is receding, which is good news for the family's store. Unfortunately, their home is long gone.

Donations are slowly coming in for the family after Hruska discovered his insurance doesn’t cover mudslides.

Water Threatens Bridge After Rapidan Dam Partially Fails

Minnesota's Rapidan Dam, which partially failed and allowed floodwaters to swamp a home on Tuesday, has experienced "dramatic changes" as floodwaters have widened and deepened a channel cut around one side, local authorities said Wednesday.

See more:

https://weatherusa.app/zip-code/weather-71601

https://weatherusa.app/zip-code/weather-71602

https://weatherusa.app/zip-code/weather-71603

https://weatherusa.app/zip-code/weather-71611

https://weatherusa.app/zip-code/weather-71612

Most of the Blue Earth River's waters are now bypassing the dam's gates and racing through the channel. Although the water flow has slowed slightly, it remains too strong for emergency mitigation strategies and appears to be threatening the nearby Glacier Road Bridge, the Blue Earth County Sheriff's Office reported on social media.

"The focus has shifted from the dam to the bridge due to recent erosion," the Sheriff's Office stated. "We continue to work with downstream communities as the situation develops."

[precisionshedsep]

Shaping the Future in Concrete: A Lifetime of Durability

Concrete is a universal material that plays a critical role in shaping the future of our built environment. From skyscrapers to bridges to highways, concrete is the foundation upon which our modern world is constructed. Its durability and longevity make it a sustainable choice for infrastructure projects that are intended to last for generations. As the population continues to grow and urbanisation increases, the demand for durable and long-lasting materials like concrete will only continue to rise.

One of the key benefits of using commercial concreting in Port Lincoln construction is its incredible durability. Unlike other building materials that may deteriorate over time, concrete actually strengthens as it ages. This means that structures built with concrete can withstand the test of time and the elements, making them a wise investment for the future. Whether it is a high-rise building in a bustling city or a highway that sees heavy traffic, concrete can be relied upon to provide stability and longevity.

In addition to its durability, commercial concreting in Whyalla is also a sustainable choice for construction projects. Concrete is composed of readily available materials such as cement, water, and aggregates, making it an environmentally friendly option for builders and developers. Furthermore, advancements in concrete technology have led to the development of high-performance concrete mixes that reduce the need for steel reinforcements, resulting in more sustainable and cost-effective building material.

As we look towards the future of our cities and infrastructure, it is clear that concrete will continue to play a central role in shaping our built environment. Its durability, longevity, and sustainability make it a valuable asset for construction projects of all sizes.

[rabbitcruiser]

Clouds (No. 864)

Flight 93 National Memorial, PA

[jaygato]

TOP DAT HA!

JAYGATO HAS BEEN A SUPERVISOR ON MONUMENTAL PROJECTS SUCH AS YANKEE STADIUM! WORLD TRADE CENTER REHAB! UNITED NATIONS RENOVATION! BUILT 2 DAMS UPSTATE SUCH AS DIVERTING DAM! GOLDMAN SACHS BUILDING! GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE REHAB! BARCLAYS CENTER DEVELOPMENT! LINCOLN CENTER! WEST SIDE HIGHWAY REHAB! RIDGEHILL! MILLED AND PAVED NUMEROUS HIGHWAYS! DONT LET ME START THE COMPANIES! WHERE HAVE U BEEN IN PAST 20 YEARS CUZ HE DID NOT SEE YOU THERE? CRICKETS! STEP YA BARZ UP WHEN U GREET HIM...GO GET THE MERCH IT IS WELL EARNED WEAR IT PROUD! AYEEEE! PUT SOME ADOBO ON HIS NAME...PLUS BUILT THE HOMES AND APTS U LIVE IN NOW! POINT PROVEN! NOW LEAVE HIM ALONE HA!

[leftcupcakekid]

Original caption: "The Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, loaded onto a barge, makes its way down the Hudson River toward New York City on November 12, 1997. The trip over the George Washington Bridge was getting tougher and tougher. The Lincoln Tunnel was too much of a squeeze. So the tree skipped its annual highway commute and traveled by boat this year to Rockefeller Center."

[the-bridgehunters-chronicles]

Endangered TRUSS: The Lincoln Highway Bridge in Tama, Iowa- Part Deux

For the second time in a row, we have a historic bridge that has been nominated for the Bridgehunter Awards in the category Endangered TRUSS. The Lincoln Highway Bridge spans Mud Creek just east of Tama, Iowa. It was constructed in 1915 by Paul Kingsley of Strawberry Point, Iowa and was supposed to have been restored for reuse this year. Sadly this is not the case, as we see from the photos…

[originaltragedyheart-blog]

Day 1: Arrival in New York City After a long flight, I finally arrived in the bustling city of New York. The energy and excitement were palpable as soon as I stepped foot in Times Square. I checked into my hotel and decided to immerse myself in the city right away. I took a leisurely walk through Central Park, enjoying the lush greenery and iconic landmarks like Bethesda Terrace and Strawberry Fields. In the evening, I explored the vibrant neighborhoods of Lower Manhattan, visited the Statue of Liberty, and walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, taking in the breathtaking views of the city skyline.

Day 2: Exploring Washington, D.C. Today, I hopped on a train and made my way to the nation’s capital, Washington, D.C. I started my day with a visit to the National Mall, where I marveled at the grandeur of the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument. The Smithsonian museums were next on my list, and I spent hours exploring the fascinating exhibits at the National Air and Space Museum, the National Museum of American History, and the National Gallery of Art. I also took a stroll along the historic streets of Georgetown and enjoyed a delicious meal at a local restaurant.

Day 3-4: San Francisco, California I flew across the country to the beautiful city of San Francisco. As soon as I arrived, I could feel the cool breeze and the vibrant atmosphere. I took a scenic drive along the iconic Golden Gate Bridge and soaked in the stunning views of the city skyline and the sparkling waters of the bay. Exploring the vibrant neighborhoods of San Francisco, such as Fisherman’s Wharf, Chinatown, and the Mission District, was a delight. I made sure to visit Alcatraz Island, where I learned about the infamous history of the former prison and enjoyed panoramic views of the city. I also indulged in delicious seafood at the renowned Fisherman’s Wharf.

Day 5-7: Road trip along the Pacific Coast Highway I embarked on an epic road trip along the Pacific Coast Highway, starting from San Francisco and making my way down to Los Angeles. The drive was breathtaking, with rugged cliffs, picturesque coastal towns, and mesmerizing ocean views at every turn. I made stops at beautiful places like Monterey, where I visited the Monterey Bay Aquarium and enjoyed fresh seafood, and Big Sur, where I marveled at the majestic beauty of the coastal landscape. I continued my journey to Santa Barbara, where I relaxed on the pristine beaches and explored the charming downtown area. Finally, I arrived in Los Angeles, where I explored the glitz and glamour of Hollywood and enjoyed the vibrant atmosphere of Venice Beach.

Day 8-10: New Orleans, Louisiana Leaving the West Coast behind, I flew to the vibrant city of New Orleans. I immersed myself in the rich cultural heritage and unique charm of the city. I explored the historic French Quarter, with its colorful buildings, lively music scene, and delicious Creole cuisine. I couldn’t resist indulging in beignets and café au lait at Café du Monde. I also took a steamboat cruise along the Mississippi River and enjoyed the vibrant nightlife on Bourbon Street, listening to jazz music in iconic venues.

Day 11-13: New York City, New York Returning to the East Coast, I spent a few more days in the captivating city of New York. I revisited some of my favorite spots, like Times Square and Central Park, and also explored new neighborhoods like Greenwich Village and Chelsea. I indulged in diverse cuisines, from food trucks to Michelin-starred restaurants. I visited world-class museums such as the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Museum of Modern Art. I also caught a Broadway show, immersing myself in the magic of live theater.

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss

Just "following the gulls" back to Ocean City

SITTING ALONG THE OCEAN CITY, MARYLAND BOARDWALK: "Follow the gulls" happens to be the motto of the authority behind the Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel complex of some 18 miles northward on US 13 out of Hampton Roads ... and, for that matter, is their symbol. First opened in 1964 and seeing a second two-lane adaptation parallel and in tandem thereto in 1988, at least you have the breezes off the Chesapeake Bay cooling you off in the bridge and causeway sections.

Which was oh so evident when Huck and I picked up some crab cakes worth heating up in the motorhome for the next leg of the journey--back to Ocean City, Maryland. Where, as it turned out, our current motorhome came about during last year's Character Convocation at their Springfest celebrations.

"And you wonder how impressive this motorhome has turned out," Huck was quick to remark over some Cheerwine picked up at some store in Virginia Beach.

To which I responded, "Plenty of opportunities ... not to mention having the likes of Augie Doggie and Doggie Daddy, Hokey Wolf, Wally Gator, &c., joining us."

"Who do you think we might pick up next?" discerned Huck.

Which seemed a little bemusing as, not that far off, those Goofy Guards, by names Yippy, Yappy and Yahooey, were offering for $20 a pop an opportunity for visitors to try their hand at sword play in the regal(?) manner. Over some French fries from a nearby stand, we were able to get the bizarre canine trio over, dress uniform and all, to have a chat.

"So," Huckleberry Hound remarked, "what exactly drives you here, and perhaps for the summer?"

"Call ourselves performance artists, as it were," remarked Yappy, the somewhat midsized, portly and brainy one of the three. "But with a difference."

"As in the opportunity for tourists to try their hand at fencing-type activity in the swashbuckler, Errol Flynn-stylee, manner," added the short and at once smarty Yahooey.

"And," added the tall and lanky Yippy, "who exactly wouldn't want to try the opportunity to discover their inner fencing artist?"

"I just hope people aren't bound to get hurt," remarked I.

"But at least we're filling in a niche which a certain Touché Turtle seems uninterested in," Yahooey remarked.

"Still, fellers," Huck chimed in, "Touché Turtle considers himself more or less the strong, silent type."

"With that bent-tip foil of his?!" was how Yippy parsed it.

Whereupon no less than Touché Turtle "himself" made his presence known, howbeit with the foil sheathed in his shell.

"I assume you were making reference to me?" was how Touché responded to the Goofy Guards' remark. (He probably must have heard it some distance away.) The three nodded their heads in agreement, then prodded their way back to their stand a couple blocks upward.

"Still, guys," Touché chimed in, "I try being modest in offering help." (Pause) "Even if it gets hilarious in the end."

"And I do understand," saith I, "that your compadre Dum-Dum is houseboating these days with Bristlehound on the Mississippi River."

"Which I can accept," Touché responded, "even if he sends me postcards from time to time. Oft making note of Friday-night fish fries he and Bristlehound come across."

"Which, come to think of it," Huck remarked, "might offer something of an opportunity. Maybe a couple days taking in the sea air and sunshine here in OC, Snag and Touché, and perhaps catch up with Dum-Dum and Bristlehound somewhere along the Mississippi for a few days ourselves."

"Heavens to Mark Twain ... perhaps going part of the way along the old Lincoln Highway, at least from Breezewood westbound."

Which had Touché asking what exactly this Breezewood is, to which I explained, "A rather unlikely crossroads in Pennsylvania. Disneyland it isn't." Which had Touché, plumed hat and all, chuckling. But at any rate, folks, stay tuned to see how this unfoldeth.

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @zodiacfan32 @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @jellystone-enjoyer @groovybribri @artistic-octopus @archive-archives @screamingtoosoftly @thebigdingle @oceancitymd @themineralyoucrave @thylordshipofbutts @warnerbros-blog1 @gravy-sammich @funtasticworld @theweekenddigest @indigo-corvus @iheartgod175 @warnerbrosent-blog

[miamoo27]

Hustlers

This Saturday, my boyfriend and I went to New York City to see a show. On our way there, we took the Lincoln Tunnel. The whole time we were in the tunnel, he blabbered on about “Men in Black” and the scene when they drove on the top of the tunnel with that Elvis song blasting. Honestly, if you put me in a car and we go into the city, I won't listen. I will be too busy watching and observing everything. Later on the way home, I was thinking of a thousand different stories to tell for this class. It was only when I passed my favorite building that I settled on this one. He asked me if I would be uncomfortable telling it. I said, “when have you ever known me to be uncomfortable” he responded, “only if you are in crowds.” Thank god this class isn't a crowd. 

Every Sunday, my father would take me to Greenwich Village to visit my half-sister or go to the Guggenheim museum. My brother never went because he had Lacrosse practice or was with friends. My mother was separated at the time from my father; besides, even in the past, she never went because she hated my half-sister. I was a 13-year-old girl with dreams of becoming “Gossip Girls” Blair Waldorf.  Instead of going to 5th ave and eating croissants, we went to Greenwich Village. When my parents graced each others’ presence in the same house, there was always fighting and alcohol, so going to the city with my dad was the only time I would spend any quality alone time with him. 

I remember waiting for my father’s arrival on my porch with my greasy skin and hair pulled back in a bun. My bangs never looked clean despite scrubbing the shit out of them with Herbal Essence. My armpits always smelt no matter how many showers I took or how much Degree Sport deodorant I applied. My eyeliner smudged, making me look like a raccoon, and my pants never fit me correctly (an issue that has followed me into adulthood). I waited with my knocky knees, rubbing them nervously. My mother usually gave me a dirty look behind my back as she muttered some Italian curse words that either only some tiny village in Italy could understand or she made them up entirely. I watched as my dad's red Jeep pulled up. 

I hopped up into my dad’s car and could still feel the beaming tension from my mother on the stoop of my house. I was ready to embark on the 40-minute drive to my sister’s apartment.It was the same drive I would take to go anywhere out of my small town. Nothing new. My dad would play 107.1. He thought that was the “cool channel.” He would sometimes take the top off the jeep, but I would complain my hair would become a mess. He seemed happy, like I said before, despite his failed marriage and failed wife. 

Once we were on the bridge, I liked to look backward at New Jersey, watching Fort Lee disappear in the distance. I didn’t mind what was in front of me because if I turned my head forward, I’d see all of the apartment complexes of Washington Heights beautifully placed on the rolling hills of the Manhattan cliffs.  The ride to the city was overstimulating and beautiful like some urban carnival ride with flashing lights and weird smells. Going from suburban tranquility to the hustle and bustle of the New York streets always intrigued me. I recall finding myself on the edge of my seat, eagerly awaiting the next sight. Sometimes we would see dogs playfully fighting or colorful displays of road-rage insanity. My dad would change gears and try to have a conversation with me at this point. I was too mesmerized by the whole experience I would answer him in a few words (or sometimes less). I only went with you for the ride. I welcomed any opportunity to leave Jersey and see New York. 

There was one particular building I fell in love with. Hustlers. To go to Greenwich Village, we always took the West Side Highway, where I would get the chance to see boobs on a huge sign right off the road. I had no boobs at the time and still don't which is the reality of my experience of being a woman. Sometimes you do not get huge boobs. Sometimes you do.  Despite the building being a hot spot for lonely men (no judgment), the architecture was alluring. A portrait Banksy painted also was on the side of the building. Looking closely on the left side while driving, you could see a "gentleman" pouring flowers on the ground. I wasn't staring just to see Banksy. I also was looking at the girl with crystal blue eyes and huge boobs staring at me. A new girl was on the billboard every month. I did not know if I wanted to be them or if I wanted to be with them. They all had straight, silky hair and huge boobs (always huge boobs), and I wished I could go inside the cement building, say hi to the gentleman with the flowers, and see one of the girls. Staring was a risky choice with two homophobic parents, though.  

When I would stare at them with my father sitting next to me, my cheeks would light up. I would feel my body getting hot with embarrassment and wish my father was not in the car. I knew what my feelings towards the billboard meant because I had the same for men. The questions running through my 13-year-old mind made me nervous that I would always have a stomach on our way back from the city. And I would avoid eye contact with the next girl on the billboard when we went back into the city. 

But my boyfriend didn't care. On Saturday, when we drove past Hustlers, we looked at the girl. Instead of being embarrassed or keeping my thoughts to myself. At 22, my parents may have no clue about my wondering eye for the same sex, but the person I love does, and he embraces it. With love, I accepted that part of myself.