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(no subject)
Apr. 10th, 2012 02:35 pmHe can't remember how he got here.
He'd been walking from the clinic for home. He'd been alone, and then Thrace was there, yelling at him and then grabbing him by the shoulders to push him down. He can still feel her fingers on the back of his sweaty neck, shoving until his head was between his knees. Even now, the simple missive to just breathe is ringing in his ears, but who needs to be told that?
Then he'd been here in Neil's new kitchen, three sets of wide blue eyes on him until they'd been ushered away, and now there's only silence.
The house is empty, Dean realizes. It's been empty for a while now, and there's a bottle in his hands that he thinks that someone gave him, but he can't remember when.
He'd just been walking.
He'd just been walking, and thinking that there was plenty of time. Thirty four weeks of time, two hundred and thirty eight days. It's practically an eternity. He could do anything in that time, make anything, anything could - anything could happen.
Dean doesn't hear his breaths go shallow, nor the wheeze they make on the way back out. He doesn't hear the door open, but it must, because suddenly the air feels a little less close, but it doesn't help. The brown walls are going gray and closing in, and Dean can't even find his feet to stop them.
He'd been walking from the clinic for home. He'd been alone, and then Thrace was there, yelling at him and then grabbing him by the shoulders to push him down. He can still feel her fingers on the back of his sweaty neck, shoving until his head was between his knees. Even now, the simple missive to just breathe is ringing in his ears, but who needs to be told that?
Then he'd been here in Neil's new kitchen, three sets of wide blue eyes on him until they'd been ushered away, and now there's only silence.
The house is empty, Dean realizes. It's been empty for a while now, and there's a bottle in his hands that he thinks that someone gave him, but he can't remember when.
He'd just been walking.
He'd just been walking, and thinking that there was plenty of time. Thirty four weeks of time, two hundred and thirty eight days. It's practically an eternity. He could do anything in that time, make anything, anything could - anything could happen.
Dean doesn't hear his breaths go shallow, nor the wheeze they make on the way back out. He doesn't hear the door open, but it must, because suddenly the air feels a little less close, but it doesn't help. The brown walls are going gray and closing in, and Dean can't even find his feet to stop them.
(no subject)
Mar. 8th, 2012 01:14 pmDean thinks he's doing pretty good. He's drinking more, sure, but he's taking breaks, he's getting shit done. Looking after Cori and the rest, after the clinic, after his studies, he's got it under control. Not eating as much as he could be, if the grousing in his ear is to be believed, but he feels as fine as he's going to, stuck yet again on an island with no way to get to his brother.
Faye's cleaned the half-full plates from beneath his bed, and Dean sits alongside it, ass on the hard bamboo floor with his guitar in his hands. He doesn't really feel like playing, but he doesn't feel like thinking either, so he strums and hums along, old tunes he'd subjected Sam to a hundred times on the roads at home.
Whatever stretch of road Sam is on now, they're probably doing just this, Dean behind the wheel and Sam's long body stretched out beside him, Sam mouthing words to songs he pretends to hate. Playing on his own is nothing like having Sam with him, but for now, it's as close as Dean's going to get.
Faye's cleaned the half-full plates from beneath his bed, and Dean sits alongside it, ass on the hard bamboo floor with his guitar in his hands. He doesn't really feel like playing, but he doesn't feel like thinking either, so he strums and hums along, old tunes he'd subjected Sam to a hundred times on the roads at home.
Whatever stretch of road Sam is on now, they're probably doing just this, Dean behind the wheel and Sam's long body stretched out beside him, Sam mouthing words to songs he pretends to hate. Playing on his own is nothing like having Sam with him, but for now, it's as close as Dean's going to get.
(no subject)
Mar. 7th, 2012 07:17 pmThere are no fewer than four plates of food beneath Dean's bed, all of them in varying states of disuse and decay. Neil's been sending people over with them left and right, as if Dean's sick, as if he's so born down by grief he can't feed himself.
He can, as it turns out. But after feeding and looking after Cori, after checking up on Roger, on the others Sam left behind, on the clinic, on studies he aims to take next school term, after running around after everyone hard enough to keep the grief at his back, Dean finds he has neither energy nor taste for food.
He takes it anyway. After so many losses, a part of him thinks the food is given to comfort the giver as much as he himself, and he can't fault anyone for that. "We keep going," he sighs, lying flat on his back on the bed, "anyway we know how."
His eyes narrow at the telltale creak of the door opening. "I'm eating!" he grunts. "God, you'd think this was my first go round."
He can, as it turns out. But after feeding and looking after Cori, after checking up on Roger, on the others Sam left behind, on the clinic, on studies he aims to take next school term, after running around after everyone hard enough to keep the grief at his back, Dean finds he has neither energy nor taste for food.
He takes it anyway. After so many losses, a part of him thinks the food is given to comfort the giver as much as he himself, and he can't fault anyone for that. "We keep going," he sighs, lying flat on his back on the bed, "anyway we know how."
His eyes narrow at the telltale creak of the door opening. "I'm eating!" he grunts. "God, you'd think this was my first go round."
(no subject)
Feb. 23rd, 2012 10:43 pm"I don't even get this dress," Dean admits, though in his defense, it's been many long moments since he's seen it, the lights of the Compound long since left behind for the quiet and dark near the barn.
He rubs his cheek alongside Faye's own, breathing deep and doing his best to get himself under control. It's no easy task, with Faye pressed sure and tight between him and the wooden walls, all long, dark hair and breathless heat. "It's all lace, I can practically see all your skin." Framing her hips with his fingers, Dean holds her close. "It's all I can think about, god, Faye."
He rubs his cheek alongside Faye's own, breathing deep and doing his best to get himself under control. It's no easy task, with Faye pressed sure and tight between him and the wooden walls, all long, dark hair and breathless heat. "It's all lace, I can practically see all your skin." Framing her hips with his fingers, Dean holds her close. "It's all I can think about, god, Faye."
(no subject)
Oct. 10th, 2011 02:07 pmFaye lives far out, the distance between her hut and Dean's sprawling almost to the sea, but he finds he's glad for it. The long walk serves to settle his nerves. By the time Dean's halfway there, his thoughts no longer feel like they're clanking together like the too crowded bundle of his pack, slung over his shoulder and rattling with all that's inside it.
Could be he gets there and is turned away, in which case he'll have way too much food for one, and plenty of wine with which to drink away his sorrows. Could be he gets there and she agrees to the impromptu study date, in which case Dean will fall right back into nerves but hopefully not make too big a fool of himself. Could be...he gets there and never knocks on the door, but Dean's determined that won't happen. If he's going to throw his life back into uncertainty, heartbreak and chaos, he'll damn well be at the helm of it all.
Looking up, Dean realizes all at once that he's all but at her door. "Well," he murmurs, shifting his backpack, "Here goes," and knocks.
Could be he gets there and is turned away, in which case he'll have way too much food for one, and plenty of wine with which to drink away his sorrows. Could be he gets there and she agrees to the impromptu study date, in which case Dean will fall right back into nerves but hopefully not make too big a fool of himself. Could be...he gets there and never knocks on the door, but Dean's determined that won't happen. If he's going to throw his life back into uncertainty, heartbreak and chaos, he'll damn well be at the helm of it all.
Looking up, Dean realizes all at once that he's all but at her door. "Well," he murmurs, shifting his backpack, "Here goes," and knocks.
(no subject)
Mar. 1st, 2011 08:20 pmHe should be at the Catscratch.
A few hours into his shift by now, he thinks, even if it's hard to keep track of time, every moment of today somehow the same one, the moment Dean had rolled over and discovered she was gone.
She should be here now, asleep already, the sheets warm and soft when he crawled in next to her, but her side of the bed is cold, the ring still on the pillow where he found it.
He curls his pinkie into it, smells her there on the sheets and pretends. Her pinkie curled around his, quick breath of a sigh against his ear as she laments the hour, warmth all along his front when he folds himself around her.
He can't remember where anyone is. Who he's told. What he told them. Cori isn't here, but. Somewhere. Safe, or he'd be elsewhere, not here still in this bed.
He knows it's nighttime, at least. Too dark now to go out and look, and for the first time, Dean accepts that there will be no one to find without searching every inch of the island first.
It's supposed to be like this. He doesn't want to feel it, but he does, right down to his bones. His bed is supposed to be a twin, set alongside another in a shitty motel somewhere, never wide and warm, never safe, just an old mattress and a knife beneath his pillow, someone, maybe Sammy, snoring just outside of arm's reach.
Outside the door, Dog is whining.
Dean turns and faces the other way.
A few hours into his shift by now, he thinks, even if it's hard to keep track of time, every moment of today somehow the same one, the moment Dean had rolled over and discovered she was gone.
She should be here now, asleep already, the sheets warm and soft when he crawled in next to her, but her side of the bed is cold, the ring still on the pillow where he found it.
He curls his pinkie into it, smells her there on the sheets and pretends. Her pinkie curled around his, quick breath of a sigh against his ear as she laments the hour, warmth all along his front when he folds himself around her.
He can't remember where anyone is. Who he's told. What he told them. Cori isn't here, but. Somewhere. Safe, or he'd be elsewhere, not here still in this bed.
He knows it's nighttime, at least. Too dark now to go out and look, and for the first time, Dean accepts that there will be no one to find without searching every inch of the island first.
It's supposed to be like this. He doesn't want to feel it, but he does, right down to his bones. His bed is supposed to be a twin, set alongside another in a shitty motel somewhere, never wide and warm, never safe, just an old mattress and a knife beneath his pillow, someone, maybe Sammy, snoring just outside of arm's reach.
Outside the door, Dog is whining.
Dean turns and faces the other way.
(no subject)
Jan. 6th, 2011 03:13 pmIt was easy to forget sometimes.
The island was fixed in eternal summer once more, ice and snow replaced by a bright sun and endless green, gentle breezes stirring the leaves all around them. No hurricanes, no tsunamis, no outbreaks of dinosaurs or other dangerous creatures. It was peaceful and calm, and for all the time that Dean had spent in the last few months in mourning, it was easy to forget the greatest danger on the island for a little while, to forget that the ones you loved could leave you at any time.
It was easy to forget that people could die.
Dean stood for a very long time outside the clinic. The body inside was already cold and covered in a sheet, protected from prying eyes. There was nothing more anyone could do for it, and every moment Dean stood in silence was another moment Neil and Tom and their girls could spend in ignorant joy.
But he had to start moving some time. Word would spread soon, and they didn’t need to hear from a stranger that they were widowers and orphans.
Dead. Mike Pinocchio was dead, with not a mark on him. It'd been a peaceful death to be sure, but it would be a long time before that was any comfort.
Dean sighed, cold sweat on his neck despite the sun. He put one foot forward, and then the other, face tight and pale to the few he passed on his way to the World Tree.
It was a beautiful tree. Dean had never really noticed before, mind taking in only big and green, but now he saw it for what it was. Its roots and branches sheltered a home, and Dean was here to break that home wide open.
He knocked before his nerve could fail him, panic a muted buzz between his ears.
The island was fixed in eternal summer once more, ice and snow replaced by a bright sun and endless green, gentle breezes stirring the leaves all around them. No hurricanes, no tsunamis, no outbreaks of dinosaurs or other dangerous creatures. It was peaceful and calm, and for all the time that Dean had spent in the last few months in mourning, it was easy to forget the greatest danger on the island for a little while, to forget that the ones you loved could leave you at any time.
It was easy to forget that people could die.
Dean stood for a very long time outside the clinic. The body inside was already cold and covered in a sheet, protected from prying eyes. There was nothing more anyone could do for it, and every moment Dean stood in silence was another moment Neil and Tom and their girls could spend in ignorant joy.
But he had to start moving some time. Word would spread soon, and they didn’t need to hear from a stranger that they were widowers and orphans.
Dead. Mike Pinocchio was dead, with not a mark on him. It'd been a peaceful death to be sure, but it would be a long time before that was any comfort.
Dean sighed, cold sweat on his neck despite the sun. He put one foot forward, and then the other, face tight and pale to the few he passed on his way to the World Tree.
It was a beautiful tree. Dean had never really noticed before, mind taking in only big and green, but now he saw it for what it was. Its roots and branches sheltered a home, and Dean was here to break that home wide open.
He knocked before his nerve could fail him, panic a muted buzz between his ears.
(no subject)
Dec. 8th, 2010 08:52 pmDean missed his fucking car.
So goddamn beautiful, that sleek black exterior, holding Dean's weight night after night when he'd drink on her hood, big bench seat cradling him when he slept it off after. Even at rest, Dean thought she might be the best thing that ever happened to him, and he missed her as much as he missed any who'd come and gone on the island.
But she was gone, and now Dean had an emptying neighborhood and a rooftop covered in snow, a hut beneath him threatening to get emptier at any second. He had a parka that wasn't quite doing the trick and a fistful of whiskey bottle, an eyefull of the nighttime sky up above, and it wasn't like the real thing, it wasn't even close, but at the moment...at the moment.
It was what Dean had.
So goddamn beautiful, that sleek black exterior, holding Dean's weight night after night when he'd drink on her hood, big bench seat cradling him when he slept it off after. Even at rest, Dean thought she might be the best thing that ever happened to him, and he missed her as much as he missed any who'd come and gone on the island.
But she was gone, and now Dean had an emptying neighborhood and a rooftop covered in snow, a hut beneath him threatening to get emptier at any second. He had a parka that wasn't quite doing the trick and a fistful of whiskey bottle, an eyefull of the nighttime sky up above, and it wasn't like the real thing, it wasn't even close, but at the moment...at the moment.
It was what Dean had.
(no subject)
Nov. 10th, 2010 11:30 amCouncil Bid
Please sign to support Dean Winchester's bid for the Island Council. Also do not laugh.
Please sign to support Dean Winchester's bid for the Island Council. Also do not laugh.
(no subject)
Sep. 3rd, 2010 08:23 pmIt shouldn’t have woken him.
The island was never silent. Even at night, the whoops and trills of birds could be heard among the trees, the chitter of monkeys and the occasional sound kicked up by a nocturnal predator on the prowl ever present. The sounds had long since faded into the background of a life Dean had accepted, the jungle sounds new lullabies to replace the hum of the Impala’s engine, the steady whirr of cheap motel A/C.
The sound of a child crying hundreds of feet away, separated by trees and brush and enforced bamboo walls shouldn’t have woken him, but it did.
Dean’s eyes popped open. He’d worked late yesterday and studied later still, and it was with bleary eyed confusion that he stared up at the hut ceiling, waiting for the cries to cease.
Sooner or later, they always did. Sharon had only to pick Terpsichore up, or Hera to offer her a stuffed bear, and the little girl would quiet.
Not this time, it seemed.
Lips pressed together in worry, Dean rose from the bed, padding out of his hut with feet bare across the grass that separated his hut from Sharon’s and her girls.
The cries grew louder with each passing step, and by the time Dean reached the hut he was running for no reason at all, spurred by a fear he didn’t understand until he stumbled across the threshold to an empty hut, silent and still save for the screaming form of his baby sister on her bed.
“Hey,” Dean crooned, swinging her immediately onto his hip. “It’s okay, kiddo, c’mon now.”
But it wasn’t okay, and Cori only buried her face against his neck and cried harder, little fingers clinging to his shirt as he carried her from room to room, searching for what he knew he wouldn’t find.
They were gone. Sharon. Hera. He could feel it.
Dean’s ass missed the side of the bed, folding legs taking him all the way to the floor, but his arms were steady around Cori.
Was she supposed to be grateful, that her mother was gone but at least she hadn’t died pinned to the ceiling? Was he? Once again clinging to a sibling to protect her from harm, but at least he hadn’t had to run through fire to do it?
Dean’s throat closed up tight, one bewildered sob escaping half-strangled before he got a handle on it. In his arms, Cori’s cries were growing weaker - god only knew how long she’d been wearing herself out with tears, but Dean’s hand was steady on her back, rubbing slow circles against her soft cotton pjs. “Shh,” he murmured. “It’s gonna be okay now. I’m right here, I’m not gonna leave you.”
There’d be time to fall apart when she was sleeping.
[open to Winchester friends and family]
The island was never silent. Even at night, the whoops and trills of birds could be heard among the trees, the chitter of monkeys and the occasional sound kicked up by a nocturnal predator on the prowl ever present. The sounds had long since faded into the background of a life Dean had accepted, the jungle sounds new lullabies to replace the hum of the Impala’s engine, the steady whirr of cheap motel A/C.
The sound of a child crying hundreds of feet away, separated by trees and brush and enforced bamboo walls shouldn’t have woken him, but it did.
Dean’s eyes popped open. He’d worked late yesterday and studied later still, and it was with bleary eyed confusion that he stared up at the hut ceiling, waiting for the cries to cease.
Sooner or later, they always did. Sharon had only to pick Terpsichore up, or Hera to offer her a stuffed bear, and the little girl would quiet.
Not this time, it seemed.
Lips pressed together in worry, Dean rose from the bed, padding out of his hut with feet bare across the grass that separated his hut from Sharon’s and her girls.
The cries grew louder with each passing step, and by the time Dean reached the hut he was running for no reason at all, spurred by a fear he didn’t understand until he stumbled across the threshold to an empty hut, silent and still save for the screaming form of his baby sister on her bed.
“Hey,” Dean crooned, swinging her immediately onto his hip. “It’s okay, kiddo, c’mon now.”
But it wasn’t okay, and Cori only buried her face against his neck and cried harder, little fingers clinging to his shirt as he carried her from room to room, searching for what he knew he wouldn’t find.
They were gone. Sharon. Hera. He could feel it.
Dean’s ass missed the side of the bed, folding legs taking him all the way to the floor, but his arms were steady around Cori.
Was she supposed to be grateful, that her mother was gone but at least she hadn’t died pinned to the ceiling? Was he? Once again clinging to a sibling to protect her from harm, but at least he hadn’t had to run through fire to do it?
Dean’s throat closed up tight, one bewildered sob escaping half-strangled before he got a handle on it. In his arms, Cori’s cries were growing weaker - god only knew how long she’d been wearing herself out with tears, but Dean’s hand was steady on her back, rubbing slow circles against her soft cotton pjs. “Shh,” he murmured. “It’s gonna be okay now. I’m right here, I’m not gonna leave you.”
There’d be time to fall apart when she was sleeping.
[open to Winchester friends and family]
timed to May 28th
May. 23rd, 2010 03:59 pmThe Winchester was empty.
Dean had wandered past its silent tables before, snuck in after hours in search of pie, but it wasn't after hours. It was seven p.m. on a Friday night, a prime dinner hour on a prime dinner night, and yet Dean stood alone in the doorway, pulling fitfully at the sleeves of his suit.
He'd worn the suit before. It was his favorite, and judging by the way Angua looked at him when he was in it, he looked handsom in it, so Dean couldn't understand why the collar seemed so tight now, or why the jacket seemed so hot. The lights of the Winchester were turned down low and intimate, emitting no heat for him to blame, and the breeze through the windows was fresh and sweet. Touching his hand to the flush on his neck, Dean swore quietly, taking another cool sip of water before he returned to the door.
Any time now, he'd see Angua on the path. She'd be beautiful, because she always was, and the sight of her would stop his breath, because it always did. It was strange to think on now when Dean felt so close to gasping into a paper bag, but he knew, as soon as he saw her everything would fall into place.
He'd begun working at the clinic more than a year ago. This last week he'd gone back to school. He had a best friend and a hobby that didn't involve a gun, he had a little girl who he looked on as a daughter, he had a dog and a home and a life that could be shared someone. Maybe Dean had a long, long way to go towards perfect, but he'd worked hard to be the kind of man a woman like Angua deserved. He loved her. Compared to the life he'd known, the island was still and safe, and there was time, and there was no one to take it away from him.
Leaning his shoulder against the door, Dean watched the path for a sudden spill of long blond hair. He loved her, he could have this, and it was time.
Dean had wandered past its silent tables before, snuck in after hours in search of pie, but it wasn't after hours. It was seven p.m. on a Friday night, a prime dinner hour on a prime dinner night, and yet Dean stood alone in the doorway, pulling fitfully at the sleeves of his suit.
He'd worn the suit before. It was his favorite, and judging by the way Angua looked at him when he was in it, he looked handsom in it, so Dean couldn't understand why the collar seemed so tight now, or why the jacket seemed so hot. The lights of the Winchester were turned down low and intimate, emitting no heat for him to blame, and the breeze through the windows was fresh and sweet. Touching his hand to the flush on his neck, Dean swore quietly, taking another cool sip of water before he returned to the door.
Any time now, he'd see Angua on the path. She'd be beautiful, because she always was, and the sight of her would stop his breath, because it always did. It was strange to think on now when Dean felt so close to gasping into a paper bag, but he knew, as soon as he saw her everything would fall into place.
He'd begun working at the clinic more than a year ago. This last week he'd gone back to school. He had a best friend and a hobby that didn't involve a gun, he had a little girl who he looked on as a daughter, he had a dog and a home and a life that could be shared someone. Maybe Dean had a long, long way to go towards perfect, but he'd worked hard to be the kind of man a woman like Angua deserved. He loved her. Compared to the life he'd known, the island was still and safe, and there was time, and there was no one to take it away from him.
Leaning his shoulder against the door, Dean watched the path for a sudden spill of long blond hair. He loved her, he could have this, and it was time.
(no subject)
Feb. 22nd, 2010 08:40 pmDean's legs ate the distance between Sharon's hut and his own in mere seconds, Dean himself slipping inside quietly, pausing only long enough to arm himself. After this long on the island, some of the necessity burned into him by years of John's training had run out, but Dean's hands and fingers worked by habit well enough, and he was out the door again in less than a minute.
A jog took him to Sam's door, heavy footfalls drowning out the frightened, unsteady beating of Dean's heart. He called Sam's name, then pounded on the wall, pushing through the door to search for his brother inside.
"Sammy?"
A jog took him to Sam's door, heavy footfalls drowning out the frightened, unsteady beating of Dean's heart. He called Sam's name, then pounded on the wall, pushing through the door to search for his brother inside.
"Sammy?"
pre-dated to the night of Nov 20
Nov. 17th, 2009 09:33 pmWell, he hadn't managed to get anyone into a cake - Roger had refused, but there'd been a moment when Dean thought he'd worn down Castiel... - but Dean had still managed to throw together a decent bachelor party for Neil.
That was good. It was better than good, it was important. Dean had never been entrusted with anything like this before, and it felt amazing, getting to be a part of Neil's wedding, hell, getting to be in charge of something, and he'd gone all out. He'd gotten them a corner of the Hub, he'd pulled out his best impression of Sam's doe eyes until they got booze...he'd even made a few paper streamers, which sort of looked out of place now, but as most of the parties Dean had attended had been when he was under the age of five, he still felt they were appropriate.
The only thing that could improve the set up was a stripper, but with the Catscratch closed down, Dean was too afraid to approach Helen on the matter, and had just let it lie. Oh well, with Dean at the helm there was surely plenty of debauchery still to be had, strippers or no, and Dean slammed down the last of his drink, pretending it didn't taste like almond liquor.
"All right, troops, let's get this party started."
That was good. It was better than good, it was important. Dean had never been entrusted with anything like this before, and it felt amazing, getting to be a part of Neil's wedding, hell, getting to be in charge of something, and he'd gone all out. He'd gotten them a corner of the Hub, he'd pulled out his best impression of Sam's doe eyes until they got booze...he'd even made a few paper streamers, which sort of looked out of place now, but as most of the parties Dean had attended had been when he was under the age of five, he still felt they were appropriate.
The only thing that could improve the set up was a stripper, but with the Catscratch closed down, Dean was too afraid to approach Helen on the matter, and had just let it lie. Oh well, with Dean at the helm there was surely plenty of debauchery still to be had, strippers or no, and Dean slammed down the last of his drink, pretending it didn't taste like almond liquor.
"All right, troops, let's get this party started."
(no subject)
Oct. 24th, 2009 08:40 pmDean sat where Angua had deposited him, staring after Angua's back as she went to rummage for pie ingredients. Sam was still at the bar, still hunched over his glass, shoulders tight and too long hair falling over his ears and into his eyes.
It made him look younger than he was, younger then the new lines around his eyes and mouth betrayed, and Dean's heart twisted a little tighter in his chest.
Sam would be okay here. Somehow, Dean could make that happen, and if not Dean than Jess or Dad or Twerp or any combination of people left on the island that loved him. The only person in the way of that was Sam himself, but Dean would find a way around that, too.
He just had to find a way around whatever it was that stood between them, first.
Sam had arrived on the island spitting words like apocalypse and Lucifer from his mouth, and those scared Dean, but not nearly as much as the look in Sam's eyes when he said them.
Dean sighed, tucking himself further into the booth, watching with an anxiousness barely contained while those around Sam came and went. Occasionally he looked away, out into the jungle beyond the Winchester, to his hands and the small but growing marks on his palms his own fingernails had left behind, but always Dean's focus shifted back to Sam at the bar.
"Fuck," he murmured, twitching helplessly as the long line of uncertain questions restarted themselves in his head. What the hell happened to us?
It made him look younger than he was, younger then the new lines around his eyes and mouth betrayed, and Dean's heart twisted a little tighter in his chest.
Sam would be okay here. Somehow, Dean could make that happen, and if not Dean than Jess or Dad or Twerp or any combination of people left on the island that loved him. The only person in the way of that was Sam himself, but Dean would find a way around that, too.
He just had to find a way around whatever it was that stood between them, first.
Sam had arrived on the island spitting words like apocalypse and Lucifer from his mouth, and those scared Dean, but not nearly as much as the look in Sam's eyes when he said them.
Dean sighed, tucking himself further into the booth, watching with an anxiousness barely contained while those around Sam came and went. Occasionally he looked away, out into the jungle beyond the Winchester, to his hands and the small but growing marks on his palms his own fingernails had left behind, but always Dean's focus shifted back to Sam at the bar.
"Fuck," he murmured, twitching helplessly as the long line of uncertain questions restarted themselves in his head. What the hell happened to us?
(no subject)
Oct. 24th, 2009 04:33 pmAfer this, which followed this.
Angua'd only been gone a moment before Dean got sick of staring at the bedroom wall. He stood up slowly, feeling like he'd gone a few dozen rounds, when in truth all he'd done was welcome his baby brother back to the island. He wasn't sure how great a welcome that'd been, either, but it was hard to think fast when his head was suddenly full to bursting with thoughts of the apocalypse.
"Dammit," he muttered. Rubbing at his tired eyes, Dean wondered how long it'd take Angua to find Cas, wondered if he even wanted to know what the angel would have to say. Right now, as unbearable as the uncertainty was, Dean thought he'd take it over full knowledge of what had happened to his brother back home. He wandered out into the living area, stopping short when he saw Roger still sitting there, expectant look on his face.
There was something in it that made Dean's heart twitch painfully in his chest, made him want to sit down and spill his guts. Even now it shocked Dean - it'd been almost a year, and he was still getting used to what having a best friend was like.
"Hey," he said quietly.
Angua'd only been gone a moment before Dean got sick of staring at the bedroom wall. He stood up slowly, feeling like he'd gone a few dozen rounds, when in truth all he'd done was welcome his baby brother back to the island. He wasn't sure how great a welcome that'd been, either, but it was hard to think fast when his head was suddenly full to bursting with thoughts of the apocalypse.
"Dammit," he muttered. Rubbing at his tired eyes, Dean wondered how long it'd take Angua to find Cas, wondered if he even wanted to know what the angel would have to say. Right now, as unbearable as the uncertainty was, Dean thought he'd take it over full knowledge of what had happened to his brother back home. He wandered out into the living area, stopping short when he saw Roger still sitting there, expectant look on his face.
There was something in it that made Dean's heart twitch painfully in his chest, made him want to sit down and spill his guts. Even now it shocked Dean - it'd been almost a year, and he was still getting used to what having a best friend was like.
"Hey," he said quietly.
(no subject)
Oct. 18th, 2009 09:58 pmThe walk to the Winchester was longer than Dean remembered it. Every other step produced a wince, every third an awkward readjustment of his jeans - Dean didn't regret what had gone down earlier that day, but his body was making damn sure he didn't forget about it either. Even his legs were more bowed than usual, and Dean didn't even bother to correct them as he made his way inside the bar, walking right up to take a stool.
Jesus. Were they always this hard and unforgiving? The stool didn't look different, but Dean couldn't help but squirm, trying to find some relief for his poor ass.
Fuck. Maybe this had been a bad idea.
Jesus. Were they always this hard and unforgiving? The stool didn't look different, but Dean couldn't help but squirm, trying to find some relief for his poor ass.
Fuck. Maybe this had been a bad idea.
(no subject)
Oct. 2nd, 2009 01:26 pmIt was the clothes box's fault.
Really.
Tired of his own threadbare collection, Dean had been digging for underwear, hand thrust elbow deep into the clothing box. He didn't expect his fingers to land upon satin. He sure didn't expect to pull said satin out and find it took the form of panties.
"Ho-ly shit," Dean exhaled, pulling them out to stretch in front of him. They were a few sizes too large for Angua, and that was a damn shame. He liked satin panties. Pink satin ones in particular, which, come to think of it, he thought he'd seen in Angua's clothes drawer back at the hut, though they'd yet to make an appearance on her body. And Angua was out on patrol.
This presented Dean with some intriguing possibilities.
Forgetting his own shortage of boxers, Dean booked it back to the hut, crossing straight to their room and opening the door. No one was inside, and Dean went to the dresser, looking around one last time before he pulled the top drawer open.
And there they were.
Pink satin panties, right on top, silky and alluring in the same way Rhonda Hurley's had been when she'd made him...Dean brought that line of thinking to a halt, clamping down hard on a nervous giggle.
Still.
He was here.
And they were here.
Reaching down, Dean brushed a finger over the smooth material, blushing to the roots of his hair even as he began to grin.
Really.
Tired of his own threadbare collection, Dean had been digging for underwear, hand thrust elbow deep into the clothing box. He didn't expect his fingers to land upon satin. He sure didn't expect to pull said satin out and find it took the form of panties.
"Ho-ly shit," Dean exhaled, pulling them out to stretch in front of him. They were a few sizes too large for Angua, and that was a damn shame. He liked satin panties. Pink satin ones in particular, which, come to think of it, he thought he'd seen in Angua's clothes drawer back at the hut, though they'd yet to make an appearance on her body. And Angua was out on patrol.
This presented Dean with some intriguing possibilities.
Forgetting his own shortage of boxers, Dean booked it back to the hut, crossing straight to their room and opening the door. No one was inside, and Dean went to the dresser, looking around one last time before he pulled the top drawer open.
And there they were.
Pink satin panties, right on top, silky and alluring in the same way Rhonda Hurley's had been when she'd made him...Dean brought that line of thinking to a halt, clamping down hard on a nervous giggle.
Still.
He was here.
And they were here.
Reaching down, Dean brushed a finger over the smooth material, blushing to the roots of his hair even as he began to grin.
(no subject)
Sep. 30th, 2009 07:59 pm"There."
Dean straightened, wiping the remnants of red chalk from his fingers. He stood inside a large circle drawn onto the hut floor, chalk pocketed out of one hand, and sparkley stick in the other.
It was the best he could find under the circumstances.
Stern look in place, he motioned Angua and Castiel forward. They had some shit to sort out, and Dean had had just about enough of it. "All right," he said, "this is the Circle of Trust, okay? Inside the circle of trust, nobody gets angry. That means no shouting, no growling, and absolutely no quoting of Leviticus."
He raised a hand to quell the mutinous look on Angua's face, stepping in to drag her forward. Castiel, at least, came more willingly.
"And this," he said, holding up the stick, "is the Sharing Stick. Whoever's holding the sharing stick..." Dean paused for effect. "Has to share. Cas?" he asked, turning to the angel. "You wanna start?"
Dean straightened, wiping the remnants of red chalk from his fingers. He stood inside a large circle drawn onto the hut floor, chalk pocketed out of one hand, and sparkley stick in the other.
It was the best he could find under the circumstances.
Stern look in place, he motioned Angua and Castiel forward. They had some shit to sort out, and Dean had had just about enough of it. "All right," he said, "this is the Circle of Trust, okay? Inside the circle of trust, nobody gets angry. That means no shouting, no growling, and absolutely no quoting of Leviticus."
He raised a hand to quell the mutinous look on Angua's face, stepping in to drag her forward. Castiel, at least, came more willingly.
"And this," he said, holding up the stick, "is the Sharing Stick. Whoever's holding the sharing stick..." Dean paused for effect. "Has to share. Cas?" he asked, turning to the angel. "You wanna start?"
(no subject)
Jul. 19th, 2009 12:59 pmDean's body ached from the inside out, every last part of it wound so tight it was a wonder he had any strength left for walking, but walk Dean did. His feet had carried him to every part of the island at least twice, and now they'd brought him to the tree Sam had taken from the jungle and planted the last time Dean disappeared.
What, you made me into Arbor Day?
Sam hadn't smiled then, and Dean didn't smile now. Between Sam's screaming absence and Castiel's news, Dean wasn't sure he'd ever smile again. Not once, back home, not once had he taken Sam for granted, and on the island it'd taken all of a year to relax his guard, let himself reach for things that made him happy, and now his little brother was gone. Back to the worst of all possible futures, and Dean was as powerless to save him as a child.
He pushed his fingers over his eyes, holding back the panic as best he could. Sam was out there, fighting Lilith with only Ruby at his side, and Dean was in fucking Margaritaville. With a grunt of dissent, Dean walked forward, head shaking angrily from side to side. They hadn't been through all of this to be separated now.
The fistful of leaves tore easily away from the branch. Dean stalked north with his prize, to the place where the path split four ways. In times past, a left would have taken them to the baseball field where the both of them had played in a way they'd never been able to as children.
He punched rather than dug the hole in the ground.
When the last leaf was buried in the ground, Dean sat back on his haunches and waited. He didn't have anything left to barter with, even if a demon did come, but he had to know.
He had to know if this was truly done.
What, you made me into Arbor Day?
Sam hadn't smiled then, and Dean didn't smile now. Between Sam's screaming absence and Castiel's news, Dean wasn't sure he'd ever smile again. Not once, back home, not once had he taken Sam for granted, and on the island it'd taken all of a year to relax his guard, let himself reach for things that made him happy, and now his little brother was gone. Back to the worst of all possible futures, and Dean was as powerless to save him as a child.
He pushed his fingers over his eyes, holding back the panic as best he could. Sam was out there, fighting Lilith with only Ruby at his side, and Dean was in fucking Margaritaville. With a grunt of dissent, Dean walked forward, head shaking angrily from side to side. They hadn't been through all of this to be separated now.
The fistful of leaves tore easily away from the branch. Dean stalked north with his prize, to the place where the path split four ways. In times past, a left would have taken them to the baseball field where the both of them had played in a way they'd never been able to as children.
He punched rather than dug the hole in the ground.
When the last leaf was buried in the ground, Dean sat back on his haunches and waited. He didn't have anything left to barter with, even if a demon did come, but he had to know.
He had to know if this was truly done.
