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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.
