Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 15, 2009 21:18:04 GMT -4
Dean Winchester had sat outside the motel room, illuminated by the glow of the soda machine and friended only by the insects who came to meet their doom in a nearby bug zapper, for what seemed like forever.
The scene which had unfolded before him seemed like something out of a movie. He wanted to tell himself it wasn't his life, but far stranger things had happened. This was life. This was how things went when you were a Winchester. Demons attacked, you went to Hell-only to get pulled out by angels who would then stumble hurt into your motel room minus their grace, of course, while you were gone your brother became BFFs with a demon....and now had some deep dark secret which angels knew but you didn't.
Great.
At one point, Dean had gotten up from the concrete and called Sam. He'd left a voicemail. He needed to talk to his brother. Dean needed to hear whatever it was that had come up on conversation while everyone was seeing to Castiel. He by no means wanted to hear it, but he knew he needed to.
Dean pushed himself up from the ground. Maybe he was cold, maybe he was tired of the bug zapper, but he needed to go inside and sort out what was left of his world. Walking to the motel room, he could only hesitate for a moment. He really didn't want to open that door.
Dean turned his head, glancing towards the Impala. He could get in it and drive off. Find a bar, girl, something to take his mind off things. But that wouldn't last long. And it wouldn't fix the problem. He'd be back to worrying about his brother in an hour. It was just no use.
Dean turned the door knob and stepped into the motel room. He surveyed the blood, the soaked clothes, and his eyes finally came to rest on the injured angel. He didn't say anything. He pushed the door shut and headed over where his bag had been left hours ago. Reaching inside, Dean came up with a bottle of vodka. He unscrewed the cap and took a long slip before settling down onto the floor in the room's corner.
The scene which had unfolded before him seemed like something out of a movie. He wanted to tell himself it wasn't his life, but far stranger things had happened. This was life. This was how things went when you were a Winchester. Demons attacked, you went to Hell-only to get pulled out by angels who would then stumble hurt into your motel room minus their grace, of course, while you were gone your brother became BFFs with a demon....and now had some deep dark secret which angels knew but you didn't.
Great.
At one point, Dean had gotten up from the concrete and called Sam. He'd left a voicemail. He needed to talk to his brother. Dean needed to hear whatever it was that had come up on conversation while everyone was seeing to Castiel. He by no means wanted to hear it, but he knew he needed to.
Dean pushed himself up from the ground. Maybe he was cold, maybe he was tired of the bug zapper, but he needed to go inside and sort out what was left of his world. Walking to the motel room, he could only hesitate for a moment. He really didn't want to open that door.
Dean turned his head, glancing towards the Impala. He could get in it and drive off. Find a bar, girl, something to take his mind off things. But that wouldn't last long. And it wouldn't fix the problem. He'd be back to worrying about his brother in an hour. It was just no use.
Dean turned the door knob and stepped into the motel room. He surveyed the blood, the soaked clothes, and his eyes finally came to rest on the injured angel. He didn't say anything. He pushed the door shut and headed over where his bag had been left hours ago. Reaching inside, Dean came up with a bottle of vodka. He unscrewed the cap and took a long slip before settling down onto the floor in the room's corner.