![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
May. 28th, 2014 09:09 pmCastiel's mouth drops open, desperate to make some sort of apology but they are gone before they can manage.
He turns back to Dean, nodding as tears spill over, mixing with both their blood. "I remember everything," he croaks. "I remember what they had me do. All of it. They are out of my head, Dean..." he trails off, throat tight as he fights the onslaught of grief and terror of what just happened.
"Good," says Dean, eyes drifting closed, and it will have to be enough that he can hear and feel Castiel, exhaustion heavy in every part of him, even his eyelids. "'Cause I'm not sure how many times I can pull off dying before my chips are good and cashed."
He smiles as he says it, tugging Castiel down with him in the dirt, where at least he won't have to reach so far to thumb those tears away. "Are you okay?"
He turns back to Dean, nodding as tears spill over, mixing with both their blood. "I remember everything," he croaks. "I remember what they had me do. All of it. They are out of my head, Dean..." he trails off, throat tight as he fights the onslaught of grief and terror of what just happened.
"Good," says Dean, eyes drifting closed, and it will have to be enough that he can hear and feel Castiel, exhaustion heavy in every part of him, even his eyelids. "'Cause I'm not sure how many times I can pull off dying before my chips are good and cashed."
He smiles as he says it, tugging Castiel down with him in the dirt, where at least he won't have to reach so far to thumb those tears away. "Are you okay?"
(no subject)
May. 2nd, 2014 10:41 amIt isn't quiet in the aftermath.
Dean's blood is pounding in his ears, almost a perfect doubletime to the frantic barks coming from the bathroom. Wind whips through the broken windows, scattering the remnants of what would have been dinner, and Dean lies in the heap he'd fallen in, blood beginning to tack where his hand still rests against the sigil.
He needs help.
He needs to help Cas.
Dean rolls onto his back with a ragged breath, broken ribs too sharp against his insides, and manages to extract his phone from his pocket.
His fingers won't cooperate, but after three tries, he gets close enough.
nd hlp my apt pls hurry
Text sent, Dean exhales, concentrating on the pain to keep from sliding into unconsciousness.
Dean's blood is pounding in his ears, almost a perfect doubletime to the frantic barks coming from the bathroom. Wind whips through the broken windows, scattering the remnants of what would have been dinner, and Dean lies in the heap he'd fallen in, blood beginning to tack where his hand still rests against the sigil.
He needs help.
He needs to help Cas.
Dean rolls onto his back with a ragged breath, broken ribs too sharp against his insides, and manages to extract his phone from his pocket.
His fingers won't cooperate, but after three tries, he gets close enough.
nd hlp my apt pls hurry
Text sent, Dean exhales, concentrating on the pain to keep from sliding into unconsciousness.
(no subject)
Nov. 6th, 2013 08:12 pmFor something as unstable as a bomb, the vial is comfortably warm against his chest, nestled beneath Dean's shirt from a cord knotted around his throat. It's glowing fit to rival the sun, too, even through several layers of cotton, and Dean ignores the curious glances of passersby.
Standing on the sidewalk, he's only got eyes for one thing, her shape familiar enough to squeeze around his heart, even under her tarp. Reaching, Dean pulls it off, revealing inch after inch of shiny black.
He's not ready to drive her. But for the first time, Dean feels like he might could look after her again. "Change her oil, at least," Dean murmurs to himself, fingers resting in the air over the hood of the Impala.
Standing on the sidewalk, he's only got eyes for one thing, her shape familiar enough to squeeze around his heart, even under her tarp. Reaching, Dean pulls it off, revealing inch after inch of shiny black.
He's not ready to drive her. But for the first time, Dean feels like he might could look after her again. "Change her oil, at least," Dean murmurs to himself, fingers resting in the air over the hood of the Impala.
(no subject)
Sep. 17th, 2013 07:56 pmDean's on his ass in the alley and dizzy with pain before he's willing to admit he's made a mistake.
It was just a short trip to the park. He's been making them daily since Castiel went back to work, short stints in the sunshine to get him out of the apartment. He'd even been thinking, as he walked, that he might be up to bringing Annie next time.
He'd thought nothing of using the alley. It's the shortest route home, and he's made it dozens of times. He's a well built man who looks like he can handle himself, and nothing's eveer been dumb enough to jump him here - no vampires, no demons...not even a wandering spirit.
Dean had wondered, when the first boot connected with his face, when it was he stopped seeing humans as a potential threat.
"Your phone, too," grunts the man standing over him, his and his buddy's meaty palms pawing at Dean's open wallet.
"Eat shit," Dean replies through the blood in his mouth, and is rewarded with another kick, this one to his chest. He coughs and goes back to clutching at his side. He could have taken them, he thinks, or at least lasted longer in the scuffle, if one of them hadn't landed a punch directly to his gunshot wound.
It's not bleeding. Dean will thank heaven for small mercies at a more opportune time, say, when he's not staring down two hundred pounds of doughfaced mugger.
"I'm gonna ask you again," says the man, waving Dean's wallet. "Your phone, too, or we keep working you over. Trust me, we got all day."
"No," says Dean, and it's taken an age to reach the knife in his boot, but he's finally got his fingers wrapped around the hilt. "I don't think you do."
Quicker than death, he shoves the knife through the man's shoe and straight to the flesh beyond, past skin and bone to the concrete beneath it. The man rears back with a howl, and as Dean expected, both his attackers are too freaked out by the sight of their own blood to linger. He listens to the sounds of their hurried retreat and curses silently to himself.
"That was my secondbest knife."
But he still has his phone. Fumbling it from his pocket, Dean draws a labored breath, but there's no putting this off. He's not getting up again under his own power.
So he sucks it up, and he texts Castiel.
i fucked up. in Annie's fav pissing alley by the park.
It was just a short trip to the park. He's been making them daily since Castiel went back to work, short stints in the sunshine to get him out of the apartment. He'd even been thinking, as he walked, that he might be up to bringing Annie next time.
He'd thought nothing of using the alley. It's the shortest route home, and he's made it dozens of times. He's a well built man who looks like he can handle himself, and nothing's eveer been dumb enough to jump him here - no vampires, no demons...not even a wandering spirit.
Dean had wondered, when the first boot connected with his face, when it was he stopped seeing humans as a potential threat.
"Your phone, too," grunts the man standing over him, his and his buddy's meaty palms pawing at Dean's open wallet.
"Eat shit," Dean replies through the blood in his mouth, and is rewarded with another kick, this one to his chest. He coughs and goes back to clutching at his side. He could have taken them, he thinks, or at least lasted longer in the scuffle, if one of them hadn't landed a punch directly to his gunshot wound.
It's not bleeding. Dean will thank heaven for small mercies at a more opportune time, say, when he's not staring down two hundred pounds of doughfaced mugger.
"I'm gonna ask you again," says the man, waving Dean's wallet. "Your phone, too, or we keep working you over. Trust me, we got all day."
"No," says Dean, and it's taken an age to reach the knife in his boot, but he's finally got his fingers wrapped around the hilt. "I don't think you do."
Quicker than death, he shoves the knife through the man's shoe and straight to the flesh beyond, past skin and bone to the concrete beneath it. The man rears back with a howl, and as Dean expected, both his attackers are too freaked out by the sight of their own blood to linger. He listens to the sounds of their hurried retreat and curses silently to himself.
"That was my secondbest knife."
But he still has his phone. Fumbling it from his pocket, Dean draws a labored breath, but there's no putting this off. He's not getting up again under his own power.
So he sucks it up, and he texts Castiel.
i fucked up. in Annie's fav pissing alley by the park.
(no subject)
Sep. 9th, 2013 01:55 pmThere's no way he's getting across town.
He's healed up enough for the walk, however exhausting it might prove, but the chances of losing Castiel long enough to get to Ishiah's and getting away with it, even if Cas doesn't see him in action, are slim to none.
Idling down the hallway outside his apartment, Dean grimaces. This isn't a conversation he wants to have over the phone, and part of him's not convinced it even needs having at all. Dean might be stubborn, but so is Cas, and if Cas really wants to reclaim his grace there will be little Dean can do about it. Maybe he should talk to Robin instead - if anyone knows the tricks to dealing with one's resident angel, it will be him.
Nodding to himself, Dean takes the stairs up to Robin's floor, sweating but triumphant when he finally arrives in front of his door and knocks.
He's healed up enough for the walk, however exhausting it might prove, but the chances of losing Castiel long enough to get to Ishiah's and getting away with it, even if Cas doesn't see him in action, are slim to none.
Idling down the hallway outside his apartment, Dean grimaces. This isn't a conversation he wants to have over the phone, and part of him's not convinced it even needs having at all. Dean might be stubborn, but so is Cas, and if Cas really wants to reclaim his grace there will be little Dean can do about it. Maybe he should talk to Robin instead - if anyone knows the tricks to dealing with one's resident angel, it will be him.
Nodding to himself, Dean takes the stairs up to Robin's floor, sweating but triumphant when he finally arrives in front of his door and knocks.
(no subject)
Jul. 28th, 2013 03:56 pmDean wakes up feeling odd. Nothing hurts, and he isn't sick. There's nothing coming up beyond the usual hunts, no powerful demons or nests of vamps to take out. Cas is all but well, if still human, and Dean doesn't have work today. He just feels odd.
It takes him most of the morning to realize he feels kind of good.
He sits with the feeling for a while, not quite sure what to do with it. Back home, in what feels like someone else's life now, he thinks he might have taken a drive, not for a hunt, but just because. To a diner, maybe, or somewhere else with pie. Dean realizes with a start that he wants to drive right now, and to eat, and he doesn't want the passenger seat to be empty.
"Cas," he says, turning from where he's been seated for ages at the end of the bed. "Cas, wake up."
It takes him most of the morning to realize he feels kind of good.
He sits with the feeling for a while, not quite sure what to do with it. Back home, in what feels like someone else's life now, he thinks he might have taken a drive, not for a hunt, but just because. To a diner, maybe, or somewhere else with pie. Dean realizes with a start that he wants to drive right now, and to eat, and he doesn't want the passenger seat to be empty.
"Cas," he says, turning from where he's been seated for ages at the end of the bed. "Cas, wake up."
(no subject)
Jul. 16th, 2013 07:56 pmIt's the most settled Dean has felt in months.
It's been a rough time, even by his standards. Since the tentative relief of living through a demonic possession, Dean's lost his brother, Castiel has lost his grace, and for a time, Dean couldn't quite hold on to any happiness long enough to keep it.
But it feels like they've broken through something together now, something that's wrecked them both in different ways, but walking through the park with Annie, Dean feels as close to whole as he's felt in a long while. His back is a mess of stripes, red and purple and just beginning to yellow at the edges, welts pulling as tight as Annie's leash everytime she tugs, and all Dean can think of through every flash of pain is Castiel, easing him through. As much as Dean hates that his return to Obsidian upsets Castiel, he has to believe it's worth it.
At his feet, Annie yips, and Dean smiles faintly and bends carefully to let her off her leash. He expects her to bound straight for the open grass, but when he straightens with a wince, he sees her running straight for a familiar face.
Dean raises a hand, nodding at Derek across the path.
It's been a rough time, even by his standards. Since the tentative relief of living through a demonic possession, Dean's lost his brother, Castiel has lost his grace, and for a time, Dean couldn't quite hold on to any happiness long enough to keep it.
But it feels like they've broken through something together now, something that's wrecked them both in different ways, but walking through the park with Annie, Dean feels as close to whole as he's felt in a long while. His back is a mess of stripes, red and purple and just beginning to yellow at the edges, welts pulling as tight as Annie's leash everytime she tugs, and all Dean can think of through every flash of pain is Castiel, easing him through. As much as Dean hates that his return to Obsidian upsets Castiel, he has to believe it's worth it.
At his feet, Annie yips, and Dean smiles faintly and bends carefully to let her off her leash. He expects her to bound straight for the open grass, but when he straightens with a wince, he sees her running straight for a familiar face.
Dean raises a hand, nodding at Derek across the path.
(no subject)
Jul. 3rd, 2013 08:26 pmIt'd taken him less than five minutes to lose Cas.
They'll have to work on that when Dean gets back. Cas is more vulnerable than ever, newly human and frankly, pretty fucking terrible at it. Given their lives to date, Dean has no reason to believe that every evil creature in Darrow won't be gunning for them both, and if Castiel is going to survive this place, he needs to shape up, and fast.
Doing a final weapons check outside the dilapidated building, Dean makes a mental note to start Castiel's training, and then he breathes out and steels himself.
There are, at minimum, twelve vampires inside. For a nest, it's huge, but it's also high noon, and Dean has it on good authority that a few of them haven't eaten in days. They'll be desperate, but stupid, too, and if it turns into a rough fight, well...these days, Dean will welcome that.
Squaring his shoulders, Dean lets himself in quietly through the rotted door. The first kill is swift and silent, as is the second, but the third...
Dean flies through the wall as easily as a hammer through wet cardboard, but he keeps a hand on his machete, up on his feet and ready for the fourth vampire when it comes for him. His expression doesn't change as he parts another head from its body, but the other vamps are up and closing in, snarling as they form a half circle around him.
Hesitating. Dean quirks a grin he almost feels and wipes his blade on the untorn leg of his jeans. "Did you need an invitation?" he asks, dragging the edge of the blade against his forearm. It's a narrow cut, but the blood weals up, rich and red, and the nest goes mad.
With the sounds pouring out the broken windows, anyone would be insane to come inside.
They'll have to work on that when Dean gets back. Cas is more vulnerable than ever, newly human and frankly, pretty fucking terrible at it. Given their lives to date, Dean has no reason to believe that every evil creature in Darrow won't be gunning for them both, and if Castiel is going to survive this place, he needs to shape up, and fast.
Doing a final weapons check outside the dilapidated building, Dean makes a mental note to start Castiel's training, and then he breathes out and steels himself.
There are, at minimum, twelve vampires inside. For a nest, it's huge, but it's also high noon, and Dean has it on good authority that a few of them haven't eaten in days. They'll be desperate, but stupid, too, and if it turns into a rough fight, well...these days, Dean will welcome that.
Squaring his shoulders, Dean lets himself in quietly through the rotted door. The first kill is swift and silent, as is the second, but the third...
Dean flies through the wall as easily as a hammer through wet cardboard, but he keeps a hand on his machete, up on his feet and ready for the fourth vampire when it comes for him. His expression doesn't change as he parts another head from its body, but the other vamps are up and closing in, snarling as they form a half circle around him.
Hesitating. Dean quirks a grin he almost feels and wipes his blade on the untorn leg of his jeans. "Did you need an invitation?" he asks, dragging the edge of the blade against his forearm. It's a narrow cut, but the blood weals up, rich and red, and the nest goes mad.
With the sounds pouring out the broken windows, anyone would be insane to come inside.
(no subject)
Jun. 14th, 2013 09:36 pmIt helps to know the place is there.
Dean's been standing outside of it for the better part of an hour. Not close, and not where anyone who might recognize him might see him. Just near enough to see the small, nearly invisible sign, hanging there for only willing eyes to notice.
He won't go in. But it helps to know that if he had to, if he really needed to, he could.
Shuffling deeper into his jacket despite the warm night air, Dean looks down at his boots, tongues at the blankness between his ears, the cotton stuffing up his chest. He can stay here, still and quiet, and not think.
It only lasts a moment more before he hears feet beating hard against the pavement, turning the corner and moving fast.
Dean's been standing outside of it for the better part of an hour. Not close, and not where anyone who might recognize him might see him. Just near enough to see the small, nearly invisible sign, hanging there for only willing eyes to notice.
He won't go in. But it helps to know that if he had to, if he really needed to, he could.
Shuffling deeper into his jacket despite the warm night air, Dean looks down at his boots, tongues at the blankness between his ears, the cotton stuffing up his chest. He can stay here, still and quiet, and not think.
It only lasts a moment more before he hears feet beating hard against the pavement, turning the corner and moving fast.
(no subject)
Jun. 13th, 2013 09:14 pmA day later, and Dean doesn't let himself hesitate. He takes out his phone and fires a quick text.
got something for you. meet up when you can.
Then he heads outside, head bent against the humid summer air and intent on finding the nearest bar. He's got a few hours before Cas wakes up from his midday nap, and he's sick of trying to drink with that too wide, heavy gaze on him.
got something for you. meet up when you can.
Then he heads outside, head bent against the humid summer air and intent on finding the nearest bar. He's got a few hours before Cas wakes up from his midday nap, and he's sick of trying to drink with that too wide, heavy gaze on him.
(no subject)
Jun. 12th, 2013 09:32 pmHe's listed as his next of kin.
It's this, more than anything, that gets under Dean's skin while he cleans out the apartment, the memory of that tinny voice down the line, saying that he had three hours to clear the place or lose everything in it forever.
He almost doesn't go.
But the Impala's there, and even if it's a place Dean doesn't feel he can go back to anymore, she's still home.
She rumbles when he drives her, purrs that vibrate through the soles of Dean's boots, lift the hairs on his arms. Rattle his teeth. He parks her around the corner from his own apartment, gets out, and doesn't let himself look back. There's a whole life stuffed into the trunk of her, memories of another crammed between the seats and in the ashtrays, and the key hangs heavy in his fingers.
He lets himself into the apartment without a sound and slips the key deep into the bookshelf, nestled between a pair of faded photographs. Then he sits at the table with a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and his phone.
There are precious few numbers there, and the few he thinks of calling are all but strangers, vetted for one purpose only. And Dean doesn't dare.
So he sits, and he drinks, and he does his level best to think of nothing at all.
It's this, more than anything, that gets under Dean's skin while he cleans out the apartment, the memory of that tinny voice down the line, saying that he had three hours to clear the place or lose everything in it forever.
He almost doesn't go.
But the Impala's there, and even if it's a place Dean doesn't feel he can go back to anymore, she's still home.
She rumbles when he drives her, purrs that vibrate through the soles of Dean's boots, lift the hairs on his arms. Rattle his teeth. He parks her around the corner from his own apartment, gets out, and doesn't let himself look back. There's a whole life stuffed into the trunk of her, memories of another crammed between the seats and in the ashtrays, and the key hangs heavy in his fingers.
He lets himself into the apartment without a sound and slips the key deep into the bookshelf, nestled between a pair of faded photographs. Then he sits at the table with a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and his phone.
There are precious few numbers there, and the few he thinks of calling are all but strangers, vetted for one purpose only. And Dean doesn't dare.
So he sits, and he drinks, and he does his level best to think of nothing at all.
(no subject)
Apr. 28th, 2013 08:19 pmDean feels unaccountably nervous when he walks the few feet to Castiel's door. He's been home a week now, and for the first time, finally feels past the need to sleep all day long. It'd been nice to do nothing but lie there and watch every season of Dr. Sexy from his bed, but Dean's sick of his plain white walls, sick of his sickbed. Sick of endless bowls of soup, too, however hilarious it is to make Cas do airplane over and over. Dean wants to see the sky, wants to eat a real meal again, and he wants to maybe make a few things right between them as he does it.
He shifts from foot to foot outside Castiel's door. His belt is set to a slot it hasn't seen in years, and Dean knows it only makes him look skinnier, but he tucks in his shirt, smoothing his hair for the third time since he combed it over. "Well," he says, "M'not getting any prettier," and knocks.
He shifts from foot to foot outside Castiel's door. His belt is set to a slot it hasn't seen in years, and Dean knows it only makes him look skinnier, but he tucks in his shirt, smoothing his hair for the third time since he combed it over. "Well," he says, "M'not getting any prettier," and knocks.
(no subject)
Apr. 21st, 2013 05:25 pmIt's a few days before he's allowed visitors. A few days, but Dean is barely aware of them, drifting under a pile of blankets and the steady drip of drugs. Castiel flies in a few times, always with Annie, and she makes Dean feel more like himself than any amount of healing ever could. He must look absolutely wretched the first time the nurses catch her in his bed, because they only smile and let her stay. One even volunteers to take her downstairs whenever she needs a walk, and Dean gives her the shadow of a smile he hasn't worn in years, smiling even wider when she blushes.
It's strange to think that after everything, half-dead in a hospital bed is the place Dean begins to feel alive again.
He's mostly asleep, Annie's head lifting with every rise of his chest, when Nurse Howard peeks in, letting him know he has his first 'official' visitor.
[ooc: open post, if you wanted to tag Dean recovering (Ashley >:E), here's the place!]
It's strange to think that after everything, half-dead in a hospital bed is the place Dean begins to feel alive again.
He's mostly asleep, Annie's head lifting with every rise of his chest, when Nurse Howard peeks in, letting him know he has his first 'official' visitor.
[ooc: open post, if you wanted to tag Dean recovering (Ashley >:E), here's the place!]
(no subject)
Apr. 15th, 2013 01:35 pmThe chapel is small. Built for mourners on the edge of the dead, its walls are clean and white, sturdy, meant for shelter. Wood and brick, not meant to contain the darkness now held within them, twitching in the form of the body strapped prone to a hasty trap made of splintered pews.
It's quiet inside, removed enough from the city that the only sounds are rattling breaths from the body in chains, snatches of anxious voices and the occasional rumble of the floor, creaking and groaning from unseen onslaught, but holding.
There's an energy in the air, an electricity that raises hackles along with hairs, pouring from the ravaged body in an angry throb, but within the trap it can't do more than rattle walls, beneath the chains that smoke its skin, it can't do more than hiss curses on borrowed breath, and promise agonies yet to come.
In the center of the trap, the thing wearing Dean Winchester bares its teeth, blinking black towards any with stomach left to look at him.
It's quiet inside, removed enough from the city that the only sounds are rattling breaths from the body in chains, snatches of anxious voices and the occasional rumble of the floor, creaking and groaning from unseen onslaught, but holding.
There's an energy in the air, an electricity that raises hackles along with hairs, pouring from the ravaged body in an angry throb, but within the trap it can't do more than rattle walls, beneath the chains that smoke its skin, it can't do more than hiss curses on borrowed breath, and promise agonies yet to come.
In the center of the trap, the thing wearing Dean Winchester bares its teeth, blinking black towards any with stomach left to look at him.
(no subject)
Mar. 5th, 2013 09:28 pm There's so much blood.
He wakes up soaked in it, not just blood but stringy sinew, can still feel bones cracking sharp enough to cut beneath his wringing fingers. It's slippery, coats right up to his elbows and Dean can't get it off, seizes sheets damp with sweat and rubs at his arms, but it won't come off.
There's howling, shrill and high and scraping at Dean's ear.
For a moment, it fits, it's hell and it makes sense, and then it doesn't. It's not just blood on his hands.
It's fur.
Dean's heart stops.
He blinks, sucks down a breath to scream, and it's gone. It's just a nightmare, and it's gone. But the howling hasn't.
"Annie!" Dean shouts, falling out of bed in his haste to find her. There's no blood on his hands when he levers himself up, no fur, no nothing, but Annie's howls have turned to growls, and he can't find her, can hear her, but she's not under the bed, not on her own, not in the closet or the kitchen or anywhere that he can think of, and his pulse is so loud in his ears that by the time Dean wrenches his front door open, everything is a dull roar.
"Cas!" he shouts, pounding hard on the wall all the way to his door.
