Don't Tell Sammy

Chapter 12: It's Not Awkward Unless You Make It Awkward

It was with greatly unfortunate timing that Sam called as soon as they'd stepped into the crowds on the boardwalk. Dean murmured a swear at his phone as he answered it and Castiel made a gesture that signaled he would be quiet and they continued to walk, background noise coming at them from all directions.

'Hello?' Dean called, hoping it wouldn't be difficult to hear Sam with everything going on around them.

'Hey,' Sam responded and Dean could hear him just fine. 'Where are you?'

People on bicycles and skateboards zipped by and a heard of walkers were in front and behind. There was a stall just ahead that seemed to be selling something.

'Shopping,' Dean lied. 'Out of food. What's up?'

'Kevin found something on what that black stuff could be,' Sam told him. 'It's ... let me just read this passage ... "sometimes a substance can be excreted. It's nameless, black and smells of rot. The creatures that usually excrete this substance have been dead for a long time, their bodies inhabited by a paranormal being or veiled lifeform. Sometimes, a witch who has sustained life threatening injuries, only being kept alive by their own powers, can excrete this substance although the latter is rarely seen." Sound helpful?'

'Very helpful. Thank you. And thank Kevin.'

'I will,' Sam promised. 'I won't distract you from shopping too long. It sounds busy there.'

'Apparently it's even busier in summer,' Dean told him, talking about their true location although he supposed it could be true for anywhere. 'So we should just be lucky this thing decided to strike in winter. Less crowds to face.'

'Yeah, yeah, true,' Sam replied, sounding amused. 'I'll let you get back to your shopping. Call with an update or if there's anything you need.'

'I will,' Dean swore. 'Bye, Sam.'

'See you. Happy shopping.'

Dean gave a thankful chuckle in response as he hung up and proceeded to tell Cas what Sam had told him. Castiel nodded as he digested the information.

'So we're looking for, essentially, either a zombie-like possession, or a witch.'

'Pretty much. We should keep an eye out for someone who looks dead.'

'I think that should be easy. The dead can be easily spotted if they look ... well, dead.'

'Basically,' Dean agreed. 'But for now ... let's check this stall out.'

They put the case out of their minds as they wandered from stall to stall. Many were selling things, which they bypassed, but there were a few serving entertainment. There was a magic show involving card tricks and sticking pins into flesh without pain and a mysteriously floating soda can, then a soda can that was picked out of the trash being revived, the dents vanishing and the drink inside mysteriously managing to pour into a glass, although the can had been empty.

There were face painting stalls and temporary tattoo stalls, and fake piercing stalls. Here and there a musician was dotted around, and there was a mime doing a wonderful impression of someone who was being beaten up. After watching the magic show they lingered by a guitar player for a while, then they watched the mime and promptly moved on someone doing tricks on a unicycle. The farther they went, the stranger things got and they frequently stopped to watch performances and shows or simply watch artists at work.

There may have been less crowds than in summer or perhaps than on a weekend even, but the early afternoon attracted even more attractions to be beheld. There was even a man selling perfumed white roses for a dollar and many people seemed to be buying into that, and right next to him ...