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Post by vincentbelmont on Nov 6, 2010 18:50:51 GMT -5
Well, here he was, sitting in a dump of a bar somewhere in Kansas.
His funds were running out, his car was broke down, and it'd been several days since he'd made contact with anyone who could teach him anything. If things continued on this way, Vincent knew he'd have to turn tail and return to Detroit, to his church. He prayed that he'd learned enough to help these people, these hunters...
He prayed he'd learned enough to make a difference.
Vincent shook his head, wondering what he he was doing here. His last contact had told him that if he really wanted to know about hunting, then he had to find a Winchester. Apparently they were some sort of... of hunter dynasty or something. Unfortunately, it seemed like everyone in the "life" that Vincent asked about the Winchesters were pretty vague about who they were and where to find them.
Kansas. That was about all he'd gotten out of anyone. These Winchesters liked their privacy, apparently, and Vincent couldn't really blame them. If he had things out there gunning for him all the time, he’d probably be pretty leery about strangers too. Still, if these Winchesters were people who could teach him something—anything—then he wouldn’t stop searching for them.
At the moment, though, it seemed like he’d hit a road block…
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Post by Ben Isaac Winchester on Nov 13, 2010 22:12:40 GMT -5
Ah, the smell of gun oil and cigarettes in the evening. It was enough to make any guy want to put down some roots and think about a white picket fence. Maybe throw in a dog, a minivan, some little rug rats crawling around the carpet at his feet…
Or a shot of scotch so cheap, that it’d make his eyeballs burn. A guy had to love Friday nights, especially when it came after a particularly long, annoying hunt.
Waltzing into the down home Kansas bar, Ben surveyed the crowd with a half smile etched into his lips. He instinctively took in various bulges around his fellow drinkers’ persons, mapped out paths to the exits and measured distances between the bar and the bathroom. He also pictured where his weapons lay under his own leather jacket, his fingers twitching for the familiar weight of a gun in his palm. All was accomplished in the split second that it took him to walk into the door and spot an empty stool at the bar counter.
Talk about a soldier, born and raised. Or was that just yet another outward sign of paranoia? Damn, he hated it when that happened…next thing he knew, he’d be screaming something about the guy next to him trying to read his mind, and out would come the white, strappy coats.
With a sigh, Ben plopped down onto his stool and leaned forward on his elbows, rubbing at his now aching temples. It had been a long, LONG couple of days, and the thought of downing a few strong gulps of booze had his tongue practically salivating. Gah, what he wouldn’t give for some liquid forgetfulness right then! There was just something about having to put a stake through a 10 year old ghoul that made his stomach shrivel—
“Well, here’s a familiar face,” A voice sounded in front of him, thoroughly interrupting his thoughts.
Looking up, the Hunter caught sight of the bartender, and yet another smile slid across his lips. “Hey, Manny,” He replied, reaching forward to give his friend a firm shake. Manny Gallagher, owner and head bartender of the bar he’d stopped in, was a source of information for the local Hunter community. He traded information between them, let others know when they were being asked for and, on occasion, was everyone’s alibi. After sitting back down, he found himself slowly relaxing. “Been a while, huh? How’s it going?”
“More than just a little while; been a bit since you’ve been down this way.” Manny replied with a grin. Leaning forward, he placed one meaty hand on the counter and nodded at the men behind him. “We actually got someone you might be interested in. Word has it that there’s been someone asking about your family lately. Nobody knows much about him; I did some digging and he seems legit enough. And he made it through the front door, passed all of my Anti-Demon wards, so I’m guessing that he’s human.”
Oh, great, a fan. Just what he wanted to deal with. Groaning, Ben slapped a hand over his eyes and sighed. Things never ended well for his family and the person digging into them, when strangers started asking questions. What, was the dude a fledgling Hunter looking for a mentor? Had one of the Winchesters saved their family member, or…ah gah, please say they hadn’t KILLED a family member. Those reunions just got nasty.
A martyred sigh escaped him as he looked at Manny again. “Point him out for me, will you?”
Slightly bloodshot eyes followed the nod that the bartender gave, and whatever the hunter had been expecting proceeded to fly out the metaphorical window. Holy shit, was that…no. No fuckin’ way that a PRIEST would be asking questions about the Winchesters!
At Ben’s surprised look, Manny just shrugged. “Told you that you’d be interested.”
Big fucking understatement, there.
Suspicion and curiosity warred, as the elder Winchester sibling stood and wandered over to where the priest in question sat. Without waiting for acknowledgement, he proceeded to plop down onto the seat across from him.
“Hey there,” He said, a friendly expression on his face. He always excelled at hiding the ‘KILL, KILL!’ urges he had. “I hear you’re lookin’ for someone?”
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Post by vincentbelmont on Nov 14, 2010 14:05:45 GMT -5
Vincent tugged uncomfortably at his collar.
For the first time in weeks he was clad in his priests' habit, as he'd been doing some work with the local church for a place to stay and a meal or two while his car was being fixed up. He shook his head, smiling wryly as he thought of what old, hide-bound Fr. Robert--the local priest--would think if he knew Vincent was here, sitting in a shit-hole bar with a beer in front of him.
When the strangers at down across from him, Vincent nearly jumped out of his skin, his hand reaching into his old leather jacket for his gun. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't even noticed the man's approach, and he cursed himself, knowing that a blunder like that could get him killed, especially in a place like this. Still, the man seemed friendly enough when he greeted Vincent, and the priest tried to relax, feeling a bit better as his fingers wrapped around the handle of his revolver.
"Ah... yes, I am in fact," he said, forcing a casual smile. Lowering his voice, Vincent continued. "I've recently been made aware of... of certain things about the world around us that..." He paused, shaking his head and laughing a bit. "I suppose most people would think I'm crazy, but... I'm looking for a... a hunter." He looked into the man's eyes, meeting his stern gaze dead on. "Does that mean anything to you?"
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Post by Ben Isaac Winchester on Nov 17, 2010 8:47:38 GMT -5
((Argh...I just realized that I completely guessed at what the good Father was wearing and forgot to ask you about it. -headdesk- Sorry if you had to run with the priestly-clothes thing. Feel free to throw things at me. XD ))
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Well...there was a reaction he hadn't been expecting from this guy. When the good Father seemed to jump and slide his hand toward his gun, every muscle in Ben's body proceeded to tense up. What the hell? Was this dude some kind of imposter? Someone was definitely taking a one way trip down to 'Fiyah Land.'
His own fingers twitched for his pistol, but he kept his hands folded casually over his arms as he leaned back in his chair, making a show out of some unfelt nonchalance. Someone was a bit trigger happy in the evening, weren't they? He took some quick assessments between calmly glancing at the crowd around them. Moderate height, some serious bags under his eyes, some definite bulges around his person that probably didn't mean that he was happy to have made a bar-friend...
Gah, great; looks like he was on the job again. And here he'd thought that walking into a bar would actually be the start of a relaxing night. Stupid him.
"Certain things, huh?" Ben repeated, some of the amusement leaving his face. Okay, so when he'd sat down, he really hadn't been expecting this kind of conversation. He was half tempted to play dumb, as he really didn't think his world was such a good one to get involved in...but hell, the guy had said he 'needed' a hunter, not 'wanted to be' a hunter. He probably had a ghost haunting his rectory, or something.
Shrugging, Ben took a pull of his beer before replying. "Suppose that I do. What would you need one for? And might I ask; where did you hear about the Winchesters?"
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Post by vincentbelmont on Nov 21, 2010 13:52:55 GMT -5
The Father licked his lips nervously, and took a sip of his beer before answering.
"I'm looking to learn as much about... what's out there as I can," he said, not meeting Ben's eyes. "I want to help people, I guess... I wasn't very good at doing that as a priest, so I thought maybe I could make a difference in a different way." He took a drink again, finishing his bottle.
"As for the Winchesters?" He chuckled a bit, shaking his head. "Try and talk to a handful of hunters without someone bringing them up. Seems like if you want to learn about the supernatural, they're the ones to talk to." He shrugged, leaning back in his seat, trying to look relaxed when he was really anything but. "Not that they're the only ones, mind you. I keep hearing about the Jameses, the Jordans--I've already spoken with one of them--someone named Quicksilver who's nearly impossible to pin down, and others."
Sighing, Vincent shook his head, saying, "I just want to learn what I can. So, why not go to the best?"
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Post by Ben Isaac Winchester on Nov 23, 2010 12:47:14 GMT -5
Ah man, a priest with some faith issues. If he ended up helping this guy, he was going to Hell for sure, man. Great...just what he needed on his resume; turn a man of God into a man of death.
Whoof, he sure did choose the goddamn perfect night to head into the bar. Gah, he knew he should've just crashed in the Impala...
"They get talked about that much, huh?" He couldn't help but chuckle, while inside he was planning on breaking a few heads. "Well, they are some of the more notorious families, along with those others you mentioned. But word to the wise; you don't go hunting for the best, they come hunting for you, if you're anything to shake a stick at. That life has its...ups and downs, and it's really rare for anyone to take an unknown under their wing. Suspicion and all that; you know how it is."
He took another sip of his beer, peering at the guy over the bottle rim. After a minute, he leaned forward, placing the cool glass on the table in front of him. "Why don't you tell me why a guy like you would want to learn the trade, and I'll see if I should give you what you want?"
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Post by vincentbelmont on Nov 26, 2010 19:48:04 GMT -5
Sighing, the priest ran his hand over his face wearily.
"Well," he started, leaning back in his chair and lowering his voice. "A couple months back I... A demon tried to kill me." Vincent shook his head, still finding it hard to say despite everything he'd learned on his journey. Shrugging, he went on. "A hunter saved me, but not before I'd unknowingly killed the demon's host." Vincent looked away in shame, wondering what this hunter must think of him, that he'd killed an innocent person because of his ignorance.
The truth was, he was still suffering nightmares from the incident, still seeing poor old Edna lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood. Knowing that the dead woman's body was buried behind his church in a little patch of garden made the priest feel sick to his stomach, and he wondered if he'd even be able to live there again, if he returned at all.
"So... I suppose I just want to return the favor," Fr. Vincent said softly, still not meeting Ben's gaze. "I can't just sit by and do nothing, now that I know people like you are out there; people who will risk everything to help others, who aren't afraid to combat what lurks in the shadows..." Nodding, the priest finished, "I just want to do whatever I can to make your lives easier, even if its only by a little."
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Post by Ben Isaac Winchester on Dec 8, 2010 22:10:43 GMT -5
Nah fuck, not the ‘killed a host’ story! Ben winced before he could stop himself and gripped his bottle tighter. Oh yeah, he definitely knew how the good Father felt on that score. There were always those exorcisms that went bad, or the necessary death to save a country in his line of work, but it was never easy to deal with. A guy would always be haunted by the doubts, the what if’s, and the bloody, frightened faces of the dead.
Oh yeah, he could relate to the priest. He could definitely relate.
”Well, Padre, if you’re looking for redemption of some kind of killing the host, you’re gonna be disappointed,” The Hunter took another gulp of his beer, then signaled the bartender for another round. ”Being a hunter…it means killing, like the name says, and that includes people who your gut tells you that you’ll be seeing in your dreams for the rest of your life. You’ll never know if what you’re doing is right in the long run, and you just might hate yourself in the end.”
Hell, he sure did. If it wasn’t for his family…Ben cut the thought off before he could get into his emo-mood. He was probably going to Hell for having his conversation with a priest; he’d probably be frikkin struck by lightning if he made the poor guy’s eyeballs bleed. With a martyred sigh, he set his bottle down and leaned back in his chair once more. For a few seconds, he just looked into the other man’s eyes, looking for some kind of lie and sighed when he found none. Almost wearily, he ran a hand over his mouth.
”Okay, no more games. My name’s Ben Winchester, Father; I’m one of the sorry bastards you’ve been looking for. But lemme tell you straight out; I don’t train newbies, and neither does my family.”
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Post by vincentbelmont on Dec 9, 2010 17:48:39 GMT -5
Vincent nodded at Ben's words.
"But... Isn't it better that we suffer, so that the innocents out there don't have to? I... I'm willing to hate myself, if it comes to that, so long as I'm helping them... So long as I'm making a difference." He fidgeted a bit in his seat, knowing that his little speech probably didn't mean much to someone like this hunter, but also knowing that he'd told the truth about how he felt. Vincent had spent most of his life helping people, as a priest, and now he was ready to help them in a different way, to lend those in need a new kind of support...
He had to do it, no matter how hard it was, how many roadblocks he ran into along the way.
When Ben revealed himself as a Winchester, and told Vincent in no uncertain terms that he had no chance of learning from him, the priest actually laughed a bit. Truthfully, Ben's words struck him as funny, and he couldn't help himself. Shaking his head, Vincent smiled as he looked at Ben.
"You don't train newbies?" he asked. "Wouldn't newbies sort... I don't know, be the only ones who really need training?"
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Post by Ben Isaac Winchester on Dec 13, 2010 21:08:37 GMT -5
Oh jeeze, first the guy comes in looking to play student to his Mr. Miyagi, and how he wanted to get philosophical? Man, he so didn’t have the brain power for this tonight…c’mon…
Forcing himself to remain polite, Ben merely nodded, his shoulders relaxing as Vincent went on. ”Well, that makes you a good guy…and a martyr. But believe me, dude, you’ll get worked out of that mindset real quick.” Because nobody in the big, wide world- even the victims of the nasties, sometimes- gave a crap about anything that he and his fellow Hunters were doing. As long as they felt safe and that their world was secure, they could give two farts about the guy bleeding around the corner.
Hell, forget the fact that those in his profession were undeserved and underappreciated; people didn’t care about their normal fellows either! Does anyone actually stop when they see a purse snatcher zoom off with some old lady’s bag? Nope; they just go along with their lives, having seen nothing. Unlike Vincent, who had probably seen bad people do bad things, yet repent in the end, the elder Winchester had seen too much of the darker side of the world to ever wonder if there was a spark of light left.
Yeah, he wasn’t jaded at all. Not at ALL…
He was a bit taken aback at the laugh, and covered up his surprise with a gulp from his bottle. Okay, so he was expecting irritation, shock, maybe some begging…but definitely not the laughing. What was up with that? Tilting his head again at the good Father’s question, Ben raised a brow.
”What, you think that there’s some kind of school for Hunters?” He paused, thinking back to the makeshift ‘Academy’ that he’d gone to as a kid. Neh, the priest didn’t have to know about that one. ”Most of us are either bred for the job from our families, or fell into things and learned along the way. Now, I’m not sayin’ that you should go look for a demon and try to exorcise it on your own, but…hell, man. Don’t you know the rumors about us Winchesters? We tend to live hard and get everyone around us killed.”
A hard smile came onto the hunter’s face then, as he crossed his arms over his chest.
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