st_eampunk: (omg)
[personal profile] st_eampunk
Takes place after this



It wasn’t that Molly was out of her league with the magic, she wasn’t. This was something that she would have handled easily on her own in Chicago. What she needed help with was the second component not connected to the mind. While it was delicate working in a mind, especially a child’s mind, and she wanted help with that; the last thing that she wanted to happen was to screw him up. The artifact definitely needed extra help with it. There was no way she could do both. Not to mention, even with Kash’s help in training, she would be more of a hindrance than a help if anything would go to hell and knowing her luck, it would.

She’d heard bar talk in the Inn and she wasn’t sure if it was just talk or actual fact of the skillset. Whichever way it panned out, Molly was sure that River Song would be more help with the artifact than she would, so she’d sent a message to her, Kash and Corbie to meet her in an abandoned building in the village. They would need to be filled in without being overheard and it was the best place that Molly could find to do that.

As Molly waited, she laid out a copy of the old map from the book she’d found on a big dusty box – her makeshift table. It was supposedly to the catacombs under the church where the artifact needed to be returned. Molly didn’t want to destroy it, she wasn’t sure how it would affect the kid, what the connection was to him until she could see the tendril in his mind. So, the next best thing would be to bury it deep. The catacombs had ‘urban legends’ attached to it and who knew what was real and was bullshit, so she’d told them come prepared for anything. The artifact had been in another book, well actually more than one because Molly couldn’t believe the crap in the first one and had to make sure there was more than one account. There had been. Even that hadn’t prepared her for actually seeing it. It was certainly different, but it didn’t look like it would have caused as much trouble as it had.

Mind Games )
st_oriedqueen: (behind these eyes)
[personal profile] st_oriedqueen
Date: end of Halloween Town
Summary: Regina's heart is still her own, but Dyson's thinking about her offer. He meets her in the mist and they talk about her children.

Am I late already, wolf? )
st_oriedqueen: (cute smile)
[personal profile] st_oriedqueen
Date: October 27
Summary: Coby makes a very unexpected friend and no one expects that less than Regina.

Where is Miss Fisher when I actually need her? )
st_oriedqueen: (gorgeous profile)
[personal profile] st_oriedqueen
Summary: Regina enlists Odo in her quest to supply the inn.

Odo. Just the man I wanted to see )


Summary: Regina runs into Jane in town. A flashback and uncomfortable truths are shared.

Less exploring, more pillaging. The town has resources the Inn needs. )


Summary: On their quest for sulfur for Snow's bullets, a dog is found, Abby is Gibbsed, and Regina is Abbied.

I'd ask what a Gibbs is, but I'm afraid you might tell me. )
st_eampunk: (Default)
[personal profile] st_eampunk
Molly hated Fate, the Inn, Life, whatever, when she learned the door that led to the Other place was Harry’s room. At first she’d been filled with Hope thinking it would lead to him and the reality that he went to. She should have known that wouldn’t be the case, but that didn’t stop her from thinking that. Even when she stepped out into what appeared to be a New England town, Molly hadn’t given up hope. It was only later that she saw it for the dangling carrot that it had been for her, which was why she had a few – okay more than a few alcoholic drinks at the dive bar.

Except in a John Carpenter movie, fog wasn’t really dangerous )
st_andingtall: (dead gorgeous)
[personal profile] st_andingtall
After a full day of research, Sam had a solid lead on the haunting of Magnus Parr's shipping lines. A pirate ship had gone down off the coast with all hands, back in the colonial era, and Parr's ancestor, a whaler, had refused to rescue the crew when he encountered the wreck before it took them all to their graves. A salvage company had bought the rights to the Palatine back at the beginning of the year and they'd just last month gotten around to diving and bringing pieces back up.

Back in his room, Sam cursed his inferior collection of hunting weapons in the Inn. He had the Colt, but no Ruby to make bullets or fix it if it got broken. He had a knife, and he'd picked up another diver's knife in Bonesville, he had the hunting rifle and rock salt, but the idea of going after a ghost pirate crew with just what he had wasn't sitting well. If it was an actual ghost pirate, salt pellets would do, but if it wasn't...

What he should do was get some help.

Sam sat at the edge of his bed and reached for the phone. Buffy or Molly, Carlos, Butters... Caroline. Maybe she'd go with him.
st_andingtall: (eyebrow)
[personal profile] st_andingtall
"Did you hear about that sardine boat?"

"Y'mean the one went missing up near the old oil rig?

The conversation floated on the buzz of conversation in The Hangman's Grill where Sam had staked out a booth, a newspaper, and a prime position for hearing the rumors of supernatural stuff happening in the town. A lot of it was turning out to be not-so-supernatural, but that was par for the course.

Dean would love this place. Great cheeseburgers, great pie, and enough hunting to keep them busy for weeks. Sam smiled into his coffee cup. At least thinking about Dean wasn't hurting so much.

"...haunted."

"Load of crap if y'ask me.

"Just saying, it's not the first boat to go missing up there."

That was enough to pique Sam's curiosity. He paid his check with one of the credit cards in his wallet. He didn't feel bad about it being a fake. If they got rid enough of the supernatural activity in Bonesville, The Hangman's Grill would make a lot more money. And if he found any cash, he'd leave it for them.

He saw Sora as he was leaving the grill to do some research and nodded in greeting. "Hey, Sora."
st_andingtall: (dead gorgeous)
[personal profile] st_andingtall
The papers on the table in front of Sam rustled on a breeze. That wouldn't have been out of the ordinary, except that he was sitting in the Copper Cafe and none of the doors to the outside were open. He glanced up to see if maybe Caroline had blurred past, but she generally didn't when there might be someone around to notice. When it happened the second time, he felt the pinch of awareness at the back of his neck that said ghost.

Smiling a little wryly, Sam put his hand over the papers to keep them from flying away. "Yes, Lucy?"

The ghost appeared before him, or maybe just to him. He didn't actually know who else could see her.

"Hey, slow down." Her mouth was moving way too fast for him to read her lips. When she did slow down, he frowned. "Field trip?"

She nodded frantically, her thick curly hair bouncing with the movement. She pointed to herself and then beside her at a tall, lanky young guy who she called Lyle, he thought. And then one by one, more ghosts arrived until there was a group of eight that he could see.

"You want to go through the door and see the new place. Do you want to stay there?" He could understand that. They had to be as bored here as the rest of the guests.

They looked at each other, en masse, and shrugged. Lucy lifted her palms to her shoulders in a clear, I don't know.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay, but only if you promise to behave. No poltergeisting."

Lucy clapped her hands together so hard, he almost expected to hear it. When? was the obvious next question and he answered, "I'll meet you guys back here in an hour. Anyone who isn't ready stays behind."

An hour later, Sam and a parliament of ghosts headed out from the Copper Cafe toward Building 3, Rm. 144.
st_aff: (Halloween Town)
[personal profile] st_aff
By afternoon, the pale blue of the morning sky had bleached and deepened to an icy slate gray. Seagull cries haunted the beach gone missing in an impenetrable fog. Even the lighthouse at the point barely pierced the rolling boil above a choppy, murky, bottle-green sea.

All the living souls in Bonesville clung close to the lights of The Hangman's Grill, like terrified barnacles on a pier. Even the stranger and more criminal folk that made up the population of Bonestown avoided the ocean on days like this. Idiots who beach-combed in fog were how ghosts got made. Well, some of them.

So even had their (mostly) human gazes been able to make out the strange glowing as a new cave mouth opened at the base of the sea cliff, there was no one near the beach to do so. A very few ventured down to the cove on matters of "business" late in the afternoon when the weather settled to something slightly less legendary, but they appeared not to notice the new cave or anyone leaving it until they crossed onto more traveled paths.

For those at the Madonna Inn who had been there the last time a door opened to another world, the experience was familiar. The door to Room 144 had preemptorily sealed itself shut and refused to open until whatever happened beyond it had happened. When it did, the bank of windows that had been at the outer wall had disappeared and the rock walls extended out into a cave.

From within the room, the sounds of screeching seagulls and crashing waves carried and echoed, but none of the coastal moisture crossed the spatial-temporal barrier. And when the first to venture forth emerged, they were greeted by a slowly reddening nautical warning of a sky.

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