SPN gen fic: Sweet Caroline 1/11
Sep. 29th, 2008 12:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
superbadgirlTitle: Sweet Caroline
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
superbadgirl
Category: Horror/Mystery, A/A, H/C, Case Fic
Season/Spoiler: mid to late S1
Rating: R
Word Count: @2,600 this chapter/57,900, all told
Summary: Dean and Sam head to a small Minnesota town to investigate the mysterious death of a college student. They struggle to put together the pieces and end the hunt before anyone else gets killed.
Author's Notes: My thanks toldyanne for the alpha and encouragement, and to meg_tdj for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: I don't own Dean or Sam or the Impala. Pity. I do own the OCs. Pity that, too. ;)
Meghan Schmidt couldn’t believe she’d let herself get talked into playing the stupid game in the first place.
Everyone knew taking the dare was pretty much the same thing as admitting the truth. It was, like, written in stone or something. She might as well have spilled her guts instead of being put through this. No, she contradicted herself right away; there were some things too embarrassing to admit out loud. Because of it, she was going to miss the rest of the night because of it. She thought maybe she still had time to renege and go for the truth option. For a fraction of a second, the thought was actually serious in her head. Then she regained her senses. No. It wasn’t going to happen. She was all for dorm bonding, but none of her friends needed to know that particular tidbit about her. It was no one’s business, thanks very much.
“No chickening out,” Iris said, laughing at her from behind the wheel. “We’ll totally know if you blow it off and go to the hotel for the night.”
“Yeah, yeah. You guys have my cell. I can’t call anyone and there’s no way I’m walking all that way by myself in the middle of the night,” Meghan said.
She opened the car door, slid out and shut it quietly behind her. Spring had come early this year, but the March air was chill, making her wish she’d worn an extra layer or two. Meghan shook her head, turned around and leaned down to the open window.
“Try not to have too much fun without me. Think about how cold and miserable I’m going to be out here.”
“We’ll see you at Food Service around 7:30,” Iris said. She lowered her voice and followed with a more dramatic, “Don’t let the dead people bite.”
There was more giggling as the window slid up. Then her roommate’s silver Honda Civic pealed away. Meghan stared after the car, hoping her friends would reconsider and turn around and come back for her. After a few minutes it was apparent she was on her own. She gazed upon her night’s temporary lodging with a glum eye. At least her friends had agreed to let her bring a blanket and pillow, flashlight and a thermos of hot cocoa. It was just cold enough that having something warm to drink would help make her outdoor overnight stay pass more quickly, or at least more comfortably.
Summit Cemetery was well buffered from campus and from the town by a fence of tall pines, which rustled and whistled slightly in the breeze. Calvary was actually a tiny bit closer to the school, nudged right next to Summit, but Gwen had insisted Summit was bigger and more atmospheric. That was all it had taken to convince the rest of the girls, who had laughed in encouragement. Whatever. To Meghan, a cemetery was a cemetery. She shivered and pulled the blanket and pillow closer to her. There was no way she was going very far in. She thought cemeteries were really creepy in the daytime; now she knew they were even worse at night.
Her imagination was already starting to kick in, and she’d just gotten there. She sighed. The moon was a tiny sliver, casting little light on her surroundings. Her heart started beating faster, eyes widening as if that would allow her to see more than the indistinct shapes of grave markers. The only thing that would make it worse, she thought, was if it were foggy. It would be the perfect scary movie setting.
Though she had the flashlight, Meghan was reluctant to use it. She doubted anyone would see her out there, but trespassing charges weren’t something her parents would be happy about. Dealing with shitty small town cops wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time, either. She trailed around the edges of the cemetery, looking for a place that might be somewhat acceptable to hunker down for the next six hours. She squinted, spotting a small stone bench not too far from the gated side entrance. She didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it right away. She moved quickly toward it. Her choice was between cold stone and damp earth, and as far as she was concerned, both sucked out loud. She’d have less chance of some creepy crawly or furry rodenty thing skittering on her if she were elevated a little, so in the long run the decision wasn’t that tough.
She went over and cleared a few scattered leaves off the seat before sitting. Meghan plopped the pillow at the edge, curling her legs up onto the bench. Coldness seeped into her hip and shoulder almost instantly. She shivered again, setting the thermos and flashlight on the ground. She pulled the blanket up to her chin. The breeze picked up, making the trees sing instead of whistle. She brought her left hand close to her face and peered at her watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. Damn, it was going to be such a long night.
Meghan thought again about how no sane nineteen-year-old would play a kids’ game like Truth or Dare with her floormates. She was paying the price for that bad decision now. She sighed. She was a broken record in her own head. Her friends were probably happy to get rid of her and her bad attitude. She knew she’d been a pill all night. She needed to get her mind off the stupidity of her situation, because it wasn’t doing any good.
She tried to get more comfortable. After a moment, she decided the bench wasn’t any worse than the nasty dorm mattress she had. She closed her eyes, reopening them a second later when the night noises around her seemed to get even louder and scarier. That was silly, of course. It was all in her mind and she knew it, but she also knew she wouldn’t get any sleep.
Raising herself up on her left elbow, Meghan leaned to retrieve the thermos. Her hand was only halfway to its destination when she heard it, a loud snap. Well, it seemed loud anyway, amid the softly rustling trees. It sounded like a twig or something. She froze, even stopped breathing for a second.
Nothing. No other sound came.
She shook her head, picking up the thermos. Unscrewing the cap, she was comforted by the sound of plastic on plastic. Iris had laughed her butt off when she’d seen the old Strawberry Shortcake thermos the first time, but it didn’t matter. Meghan had found it at a garage sale when she was about three and had demanded her mother buy it for her. She didn’t know why, but it made her feel happy then, and again every time she used it. Smiling to herself, happy even now in the cold misery, she poured a capful of cocoa and almost forgot she was in a spooky cemetery. The rich, chocolatey smell of cocoa helped disguise the dank odor of dead, wet leaves littered on the ground. She took a sip, wishing she had spiked it with peppermint schnapps. Any kind of liquor would do, for that matter.
A draft of air tickled the back of her neck, making her shiver so hard she nearly spilled the drink. The air almost felt like cold fingers. Heart pounding, she shifted around and looked behind her. Again, there was nothing out of the ordinary behind her, or anywhere. It was her overactive imagination getting to her again. Meghan knew she was playing into every stupid movie cliché out there.
“You’re being an idiot,” she chided herself, pulling the blanket tighter.
She should have brought a book or her latest knitting project. The cocoa wasn’t going to help her avoid the freaked-out feeling very much. Not nearly enough. Not at all. She was left alone to her own already paranoid mental meanderings, and it had only been…she looked at her watch again…half an hour. Great. She just knew this was going to be the longest night ever. Words could not stress that enough.
Meghan tapped her fingernails against the red plastic cap, lifting it to her lips again. The cocoa was already lukewarm. She grimaced, flinging the remaining contents out onto the ground. The temperature around her seemed to drop a couple degrees. Shivering, she screwed the cap on the thermos before setting it back on the ground. And then something moved behind her again.
“Seriously, is anyone there?” she whispered, looking around. Her friends had probably come back after all, determined to scare the shit out of her. It was working. They could totally stop now. “You guys, it’s not funny. Come out.”
She got no response, but swore she caught movement out of the corner of her right eye. Meghan twisted around, noticing a smaller tree’s branches swaying erratically, like someone had been hiding there and had darted off suddenly. She pressed her lips together and stood, staring at the area behind the bench with narrowed eyes.
“Iris? Gwen? Guys? Come on. This really isn’t funny.”
More sounds, definitely footsteps, came from behind her. That didn’t make sense. If her friends were out there, they’d have been in front of her now that she’d twirled to find them. She spun back around, hoping to catch them in the act of dodging back into hiding. There was nothing, except more sounds that she was starting to think were all in her head anyway.
“Screw this,” she muttered. “I’d like to see any of them stick it out all night.”
She bent to gather up her stuff. Her friend Randy didn’t live too far off campus; she could coerce him into not saying anything about her chickening out. She’d sleep at his place and no one else would be the wiser.
That was when she saw a shape she couldn’t mistake for a tree. It was a big black mass, too big to be any of her friends, and it looked solid. A million horrible thoughts flashed through her head, the worst of which had her hacked to pieces at the hands of a small town psycho. One of those strange religious people she saw around town, the ones that made the women only wear dresses and cover their hair with scarves.
She forgot all about her belongings, heading for the cemetery gate. When she got there, she discovered it was now closed. And locked. Meghan rattled the gate in frustration, glancing over her shoulder. The person or whatever looked like he had moved closer. Damnit, she should have grabbed the flashlight. She dashed back to the bench, fumbling around for it. Her hands shook like crazy.
“Stay…stay away from me,” she called out, thinking she’d feel like an even bigger fool if she was imagining it or if her friends had rigged a practical joke.
Meghan flicked the flashlight on, no longer concerned about trespassing charges or stupid cops. She pointed it right at the figure, expecting something big and scary and, shit, who knew what else. She was even prepared to use the flashlight as a weapon. Except when she pointed it, the beam revealed nothing. She aimed the light over to the gate, finding it was open. She must have only thought she was at the gate before. She had really just been along the fence somewhere.
“Shit, Meggie, you’re completely losing it.”
She collapsed on the bench, indulging in a fit of relieved, nervous laughter. This bout of overactive imagination would be another thing she wouldn’t reveal if she ever let herself get suckered into Truth or Dare on a boring Saturday night again, or, like, ever. She fingered the stitching on her pillow, the lure of Randy’s house stronger than ever. She reached over to grab her stuff.
She froze in terror. The someone she thought had been no one stood at the head of the bench, large, looming, dark and all the things she’d suspected right from the start. Meghan yelped and stood up quickly, heart beating so fast it actually hurt. The flashlight cut out. She threw it at the person. It produced a strange clanking sound, but the shape didn’t shout in pain. It didn’t utter a sound. It didn’t move. She backed up a couple of steps. She looked up, feeling like she was moving in slow motion. She saw its eyes.
Meghan shrieked. She found her legs, starting to run, but she only got a few steps. In the back of her head, she thought about being a stupid victim in a cheesy horror movie as she fell, hard, onto the ground. Sudden, impossible heaviness on her legs pinned her in place. She kicked and wriggled and couldn’t get away no matter how she struggled. The pressure rose slowly and unavoidably to her stomach, her chest. She could barely breathe anymore. A pervading sense of resignation, strange sadness, washed over her.
“No,” she punctuated over and over with each waning breath, wishing she could scream.
Too quickly, she couldn’t breathe at all. Her head fell to the ground. The last thing Meghan Schmidt saw was her treasured Strawberry Shortcake thermos, tucked underneath the stone bench. For the first and only time in her nineteen years of life, it didn’t bring her happiness.
~~!~~
“I found a few things we could check out. There are reports of strange lights appearing at night in some fields outside of Mishawaka, Indiana.”
“Nah, probably just fireflies. And if it’s not, I doubt it’s a life-threatening situation.”
“How about this, then: In Douglas, Wyoming, authorities have received several emergency calls in the last few weeks, all to report the sighting of an abnormally large rabbit, possibly with antlers.”
“We’re not hunting wabbits, Elmer. Also, it’s not life-threatening, so who cares?”
“Could be a jackalope, you know. Douglas was apparently the birthplace of that lore.”
“I’m saddened but not surprised you know that. It could also be that someone watched Harvey and wanted to have a little fun with people. We’re still not hunting rabbits.”
“Harvey? Really, you went there? Okay, moving on. Bizarre mutilated goats keep appearing around Clovis, New Mexico – sounds like it could be a chupacabra to me.”
“No.”
“Dean…”
“No, Sam. I swear I will never be tempted to find a chupacabra again. Frankly, I don’t think they exist. People talk about those stupid things, but every time we try to hunt one it turns out to be some sicko with a goat fixation. We see enough weird shit as it is, do you really want to deal with a guy named Cletus and his overwhelming desire to screw a goat and then feel so bad about it he kills it? Bah ram ewe, Sam. Uh-uh.”
“Ooookay, I can tell you feel strongly about it. Here we go: ‘Mystery surrounds the death of nineteen-year-old Meghan Schmidt of Eden Prairie, who was found dead on Saturday morning. The University of Minnesota, Morris student was discovered just off campus, near a local cemetery. Cause of death has yet to be determined, but sources say there was no indication of assault.’”
“Samuel. Sam. Sammy. You always lead with the college co-ed story, you should know that.”
“I take it you’re voting for Minnesota.”
“Oh, you betcha.”
to Chapter One
Author:
superbadgirlCategory: Horror/Mystery, A/A, H/C, Case Fic
Season/Spoiler: mid to late S1
Rating: R
Word Count: @2,600 this chapter/57,900, all told
Summary: Dean and Sam head to a small Minnesota town to investigate the mysterious death of a college student. They struggle to put together the pieces and end the hunt before anyone else gets killed.
Author's Notes: My thanks to
ldyanne for the alpha and encouragement, and to meg_tdj for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine. Disclaimer: I don't own Dean or Sam or the Impala. Pity. I do own the OCs. Pity that, too. ;)
Meghan Schmidt couldn’t believe she’d let herself get talked into playing the stupid game in the first place.
Everyone knew taking the dare was pretty much the same thing as admitting the truth. It was, like, written in stone or something. She might as well have spilled her guts instead of being put through this. No, she contradicted herself right away; there were some things too embarrassing to admit out loud. Because of it, she was going to miss the rest of the night because of it. She thought maybe she still had time to renege and go for the truth option. For a fraction of a second, the thought was actually serious in her head. Then she regained her senses. No. It wasn’t going to happen. She was all for dorm bonding, but none of her friends needed to know that particular tidbit about her. It was no one’s business, thanks very much.
“No chickening out,” Iris said, laughing at her from behind the wheel. “We’ll totally know if you blow it off and go to the hotel for the night.”
“Yeah, yeah. You guys have my cell. I can’t call anyone and there’s no way I’m walking all that way by myself in the middle of the night,” Meghan said.
She opened the car door, slid out and shut it quietly behind her. Spring had come early this year, but the March air was chill, making her wish she’d worn an extra layer or two. Meghan shook her head, turned around and leaned down to the open window.
“Try not to have too much fun without me. Think about how cold and miserable I’m going to be out here.”
“We’ll see you at Food Service around 7:30,” Iris said. She lowered her voice and followed with a more dramatic, “Don’t let the dead people bite.”
There was more giggling as the window slid up. Then her roommate’s silver Honda Civic pealed away. Meghan stared after the car, hoping her friends would reconsider and turn around and come back for her. After a few minutes it was apparent she was on her own. She gazed upon her night’s temporary lodging with a glum eye. At least her friends had agreed to let her bring a blanket and pillow, flashlight and a thermos of hot cocoa. It was just cold enough that having something warm to drink would help make her outdoor overnight stay pass more quickly, or at least more comfortably.
Summit Cemetery was well buffered from campus and from the town by a fence of tall pines, which rustled and whistled slightly in the breeze. Calvary was actually a tiny bit closer to the school, nudged right next to Summit, but Gwen had insisted Summit was bigger and more atmospheric. That was all it had taken to convince the rest of the girls, who had laughed in encouragement. Whatever. To Meghan, a cemetery was a cemetery. She shivered and pulled the blanket and pillow closer to her. There was no way she was going very far in. She thought cemeteries were really creepy in the daytime; now she knew they were even worse at night.
Her imagination was already starting to kick in, and she’d just gotten there. She sighed. The moon was a tiny sliver, casting little light on her surroundings. Her heart started beating faster, eyes widening as if that would allow her to see more than the indistinct shapes of grave markers. The only thing that would make it worse, she thought, was if it were foggy. It would be the perfect scary movie setting.
Though she had the flashlight, Meghan was reluctant to use it. She doubted anyone would see her out there, but trespassing charges weren’t something her parents would be happy about. Dealing with shitty small town cops wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time, either. She trailed around the edges of the cemetery, looking for a place that might be somewhat acceptable to hunker down for the next six hours. She squinted, spotting a small stone bench not too far from the gated side entrance. She didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it right away. She moved quickly toward it. Her choice was between cold stone and damp earth, and as far as she was concerned, both sucked out loud. She’d have less chance of some creepy crawly or furry rodenty thing skittering on her if she were elevated a little, so in the long run the decision wasn’t that tough.
She went over and cleared a few scattered leaves off the seat before sitting. Meghan plopped the pillow at the edge, curling her legs up onto the bench. Coldness seeped into her hip and shoulder almost instantly. She shivered again, setting the thermos and flashlight on the ground. She pulled the blanket up to her chin. The breeze picked up, making the trees sing instead of whistle. She brought her left hand close to her face and peered at her watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. Damn, it was going to be such a long night.
Meghan thought again about how no sane nineteen-year-old would play a kids’ game like Truth or Dare with her floormates. She was paying the price for that bad decision now. She sighed. She was a broken record in her own head. Her friends were probably happy to get rid of her and her bad attitude. She knew she’d been a pill all night. She needed to get her mind off the stupidity of her situation, because it wasn’t doing any good.
She tried to get more comfortable. After a moment, she decided the bench wasn’t any worse than the nasty dorm mattress she had. She closed her eyes, reopening them a second later when the night noises around her seemed to get even louder and scarier. That was silly, of course. It was all in her mind and she knew it, but she also knew she wouldn’t get any sleep.
Raising herself up on her left elbow, Meghan leaned to retrieve the thermos. Her hand was only halfway to its destination when she heard it, a loud snap. Well, it seemed loud anyway, amid the softly rustling trees. It sounded like a twig or something. She froze, even stopped breathing for a second.
Nothing. No other sound came.
She shook her head, picking up the thermos. Unscrewing the cap, she was comforted by the sound of plastic on plastic. Iris had laughed her butt off when she’d seen the old Strawberry Shortcake thermos the first time, but it didn’t matter. Meghan had found it at a garage sale when she was about three and had demanded her mother buy it for her. She didn’t know why, but it made her feel happy then, and again every time she used it. Smiling to herself, happy even now in the cold misery, she poured a capful of cocoa and almost forgot she was in a spooky cemetery. The rich, chocolatey smell of cocoa helped disguise the dank odor of dead, wet leaves littered on the ground. She took a sip, wishing she had spiked it with peppermint schnapps. Any kind of liquor would do, for that matter.
A draft of air tickled the back of her neck, making her shiver so hard she nearly spilled the drink. The air almost felt like cold fingers. Heart pounding, she shifted around and looked behind her. Again, there was nothing out of the ordinary behind her, or anywhere. It was her overactive imagination getting to her again. Meghan knew she was playing into every stupid movie cliché out there.
“You’re being an idiot,” she chided herself, pulling the blanket tighter.
She should have brought a book or her latest knitting project. The cocoa wasn’t going to help her avoid the freaked-out feeling very much. Not nearly enough. Not at all. She was left alone to her own already paranoid mental meanderings, and it had only been…she looked at her watch again…half an hour. Great. She just knew this was going to be the longest night ever. Words could not stress that enough.
Meghan tapped her fingernails against the red plastic cap, lifting it to her lips again. The cocoa was already lukewarm. She grimaced, flinging the remaining contents out onto the ground. The temperature around her seemed to drop a couple degrees. Shivering, she screwed the cap on the thermos before setting it back on the ground. And then something moved behind her again.
“Seriously, is anyone there?” she whispered, looking around. Her friends had probably come back after all, determined to scare the shit out of her. It was working. They could totally stop now. “You guys, it’s not funny. Come out.”
She got no response, but swore she caught movement out of the corner of her right eye. Meghan twisted around, noticing a smaller tree’s branches swaying erratically, like someone had been hiding there and had darted off suddenly. She pressed her lips together and stood, staring at the area behind the bench with narrowed eyes.
“Iris? Gwen? Guys? Come on. This really isn’t funny.”
More sounds, definitely footsteps, came from behind her. That didn’t make sense. If her friends were out there, they’d have been in front of her now that she’d twirled to find them. She spun back around, hoping to catch them in the act of dodging back into hiding. There was nothing, except more sounds that she was starting to think were all in her head anyway.
“Screw this,” she muttered. “I’d like to see any of them stick it out all night.”
She bent to gather up her stuff. Her friend Randy didn’t live too far off campus; she could coerce him into not saying anything about her chickening out. She’d sleep at his place and no one else would be the wiser.
That was when she saw a shape she couldn’t mistake for a tree. It was a big black mass, too big to be any of her friends, and it looked solid. A million horrible thoughts flashed through her head, the worst of which had her hacked to pieces at the hands of a small town psycho. One of those strange religious people she saw around town, the ones that made the women only wear dresses and cover their hair with scarves.
She forgot all about her belongings, heading for the cemetery gate. When she got there, she discovered it was now closed. And locked. Meghan rattled the gate in frustration, glancing over her shoulder. The person or whatever looked like he had moved closer. Damnit, she should have grabbed the flashlight. She dashed back to the bench, fumbling around for it. Her hands shook like crazy.
“Stay…stay away from me,” she called out, thinking she’d feel like an even bigger fool if she was imagining it or if her friends had rigged a practical joke.
Meghan flicked the flashlight on, no longer concerned about trespassing charges or stupid cops. She pointed it right at the figure, expecting something big and scary and, shit, who knew what else. She was even prepared to use the flashlight as a weapon. Except when she pointed it, the beam revealed nothing. She aimed the light over to the gate, finding it was open. She must have only thought she was at the gate before. She had really just been along the fence somewhere.
“Shit, Meggie, you’re completely losing it.”
She collapsed on the bench, indulging in a fit of relieved, nervous laughter. This bout of overactive imagination would be another thing she wouldn’t reveal if she ever let herself get suckered into Truth or Dare on a boring Saturday night again, or, like, ever. She fingered the stitching on her pillow, the lure of Randy’s house stronger than ever. She reached over to grab her stuff.
She froze in terror. The someone she thought had been no one stood at the head of the bench, large, looming, dark and all the things she’d suspected right from the start. Meghan yelped and stood up quickly, heart beating so fast it actually hurt. The flashlight cut out. She threw it at the person. It produced a strange clanking sound, but the shape didn’t shout in pain. It didn’t utter a sound. It didn’t move. She backed up a couple of steps. She looked up, feeling like she was moving in slow motion. She saw its eyes.
Meghan shrieked. She found her legs, starting to run, but she only got a few steps. In the back of her head, she thought about being a stupid victim in a cheesy horror movie as she fell, hard, onto the ground. Sudden, impossible heaviness on her legs pinned her in place. She kicked and wriggled and couldn’t get away no matter how she struggled. The pressure rose slowly and unavoidably to her stomach, her chest. She could barely breathe anymore. A pervading sense of resignation, strange sadness, washed over her.
“No,” she punctuated over and over with each waning breath, wishing she could scream.
Too quickly, she couldn’t breathe at all. Her head fell to the ground. The last thing Meghan Schmidt saw was her treasured Strawberry Shortcake thermos, tucked underneath the stone bench. For the first and only time in her nineteen years of life, it didn’t bring her happiness.
~~!~~
“I found a few things we could check out. There are reports of strange lights appearing at night in some fields outside of Mishawaka, Indiana.”
“Nah, probably just fireflies. And if it’s not, I doubt it’s a life-threatening situation.”
“How about this, then: In Douglas, Wyoming, authorities have received several emergency calls in the last few weeks, all to report the sighting of an abnormally large rabbit, possibly with antlers.”
“We’re not hunting wabbits, Elmer. Also, it’s not life-threatening, so who cares?”
“Could be a jackalope, you know. Douglas was apparently the birthplace of that lore.”
“I’m saddened but not surprised you know that. It could also be that someone watched Harvey and wanted to have a little fun with people. We’re still not hunting rabbits.”
“Harvey? Really, you went there? Okay, moving on. Bizarre mutilated goats keep appearing around Clovis, New Mexico – sounds like it could be a chupacabra to me.”
“No.”
“Dean…”
“No, Sam. I swear I will never be tempted to find a chupacabra again. Frankly, I don’t think they exist. People talk about those stupid things, but every time we try to hunt one it turns out to be some sicko with a goat fixation. We see enough weird shit as it is, do you really want to deal with a guy named Cletus and his overwhelming desire to screw a goat and then feel so bad about it he kills it? Bah ram ewe, Sam. Uh-uh.”
“Ooookay, I can tell you feel strongly about it. Here we go: ‘Mystery surrounds the death of nineteen-year-old Meghan Schmidt of Eden Prairie, who was found dead on Saturday morning. The University of Minnesota, Morris student was discovered just off campus, near a local cemetery. Cause of death has yet to be determined, but sources say there was no indication of assault.’”
“Samuel. Sam. Sammy. You always lead with the college co-ed story, you should know that.”
“I take it you’re voting for Minnesota.”
“Oh, you betcha.”
to Chapter One
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-10-01 07:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-01 07:49 pm (UTC)I mean, I'm terribly sorry. Dean would kill me for using that song title, no?
no subject
Date: 2008-10-05 02:49 am (UTC)And I loved this: I’m saddened but not surprised you know that.
A very Dean thing to say in response to Sam's weird knowledge. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-10-05 05:45 pm (UTC)I found myself not wanting to kill her off by the end, but I had to. Poor Meghan.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-06 10:01 pm (UTC)And heeeee. Harvey references.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-06 10:43 pm (UTC)Heh. A Harvey reference should never be passed up.