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Have a Little Heart"Dean We shouldn't be here. We should be taking care of that monster." Castiel announced
"Cas, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm human. I need food, sleep and " Dean looked past Cas as he saw two young women " And some girls" Dean got up.
"We don't have time for this Dean." Objected Cas.
Dean looked back at Cas. "Don't worry; I'll hook you up with the other." Dean left.
"Dean!" Cas frowned.
Dean walked over to the two young girls. One girl had brown eyes, long brown hair, she was about five feet and three inches tall. She was wearing a red hoodie, blue jeans and black boots. She was talking to the other girl. The other girl has brown eyes as well, medium length red hair, she was about five feet and six inches tall. She was wearing a black shirt, blue jeans, and brown boots.
Dean leaned on the bar between the two. "Hello ladies," Dean smiled. "You two have a name?"
"I'm Nicole, and this is Ellie," Introduced the red-head she continued. "And you are?"
Reunion"Cas?" Asked Dean looking around as the beasts started closing in on him, Dean looked around more hoping to find his crazed friend in a trench coat. "Cas?!" Yelled Dean again hoping for an answer. An eariee silence. The only noises Dean could hear were the low grumbles of the beasts, and the crunching of twigs and leaves.
"Cas! Where are you?!" Still nothing, Dean runs his hand through his hair. "Goddamnit..."
"Well hello Dean Long time no see " Came a voice behind Dean. Dean looked around seeing the beasts back away. He turned to the voice. The man is slender, but tall, his hair is a light brownish color, but his eyes. Dean knew those eyes anywhere. Those eyes he came to fear and hate. Eyes that he saw faded as the life was drained out of them. Now those same eyes are staring at him. He thought he'd never see those hellish, yellow eyes ever again. Dean tried to speak, but all he could mutter was.
"Like I said, long time no see," Mocked Azazel who was now circling Dea
The King"My dear, would you like a drink?" He asked, his voice sends chills down my back. I've never really cared for a Scottish accent but him. He is different. I look at him and nod. He smiled, "Good, I'd hate to share this with anyone but you," He gets two glasses, pours the burgundy color liquid in each glass. He offers one to me, I take it. He then snaps his fingers and the fireplace lights up. As the flames start to warm the room on this chilly fall night, we sit on the floral couch in silence. He looks at me. "Now love, what's your name?"
"_______" I say nervously.
"What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman," I look at him, blush and look at the buttons on my coat, and examine the threads like they were the most important thing in the world. I always do that when I'm nervous. He put his hand under my chin and tilted my head up so he could see my face. "Darling, you shouldn't look down. Then I can't see your beautiful face." I smile and blush again. For the King of Hell, he
Fly In The Ointment - 7x15He peels away from the hospital, leaving Nora and her 'short one ear' kid at the emergency room doors. The fight mode his body had adopted starts to wane, replaced by a permeating stiffness in his joints and the feel of drifting out on the road somewhere, lightheaded and numb.
Well what should he expect? After all, he was strapped to a damn chair after being stabbed in the neck by the guy he was there to save and oh, let's not forget about being sliced and relieved of his blood. Seeing his blood in a bowl, man, that never gets old, always a great time. He snickers at that.
A quick glance to the rear view mirror and the realization that he looks like a warmed up piece of leftover demon chow and he is thrust back into the scene he just escaped from. What the hell was wrong with that guy? Him and Sam, they were so gungho on saving some piece of crap that got off on killing innocent women? It's just since when do humans want to be demon playthings? It's not right. It's dead wrong and
DozenThey wait, crammed against each other in the dark, a constant and pervasive chill turning their once warm skin to match the temperature of their environment; of ice.
They remain silent save for the occasional moment when their surroundings tilt; as one of them stumbles and lists to the side, the clang of their body against the wall left to reverberate through the enclosed space before silence takes hold once more.
They wait for the next time the latch will be lifted, signalling the moment when another will be taken.
The squeak of a rusty hinge rattles through their confines and the compartment is flooded with light from above. Not a word is spoken as one more of their kind is grabbed roughly by the neck and pulled through the opening so quickly that they barely feel a ray of sunshine before they are again thrust into darkness.
They wait. There were a dozen of them when this started; their numbers since have dwindled down to three. The others have gone; have served their purpose and lik
Those Days Are GoneHe stands up and wavers for a moment, the rush of alcohol swishing its way from his body straight into his head. He steadies himself and motions to the other man that it's his turn.
He's silent as he backs away, no snarky remarks or smile to accompany the victory of sinking four shots in a row.
Angry eyes meet his as the man steps towards the plate, gripping the pool cue so tight he's surprised it doesn't split in two.
He leans against his stool and takes a swig of his drink. He waits, watches and takes another, draining the contents without even realizing he had.
This used to be fun. There used to be a certain rush when they would relieve some hothead of their money by kicking their ass at pool. They would put the act on; a couple of drunk brothers looking for a good time and willing to put their money where their mouths are.
And they would walk out with a buzz and a pocket full of cash.
Not too much of an act to put on at this particular moment. He's drunk and he knows it. He glances
Letting GoThey head out quickly towards the Impala, Sam barely managing to join his brother inside as the car roars to life within seconds. Sam's body jerks back in an almost violent reaction as Dean presses his foot to the floor, ignoring the strain of the engine and the spray of debris and gravel that spits out from under her wheels.
The older brother jams a hand into the pocket of his jacket and retrieves his phone, punching in numbers with an almost uncontrollable haste.
Dean holds a vice grip on the phone against his ear while his free hand taps nervously against the wheel, his left leg joining in to bounce up and down as he impatiently waits for a sign of life from the other end. Darkened eyes scan the horizon and he swallows when dusk seems to rapidly descend upon the earth to give way to the full moon.
"Hello? Mr. Smith? Agent Young. I need you to listen to me very carefully alright? Just okay wait Just please
Should Have, Could Have, Would HaveHe should have never done it.
He could have prevented this whole fricked up thing.
He would have had some sort of peace, eventually.
He should have let him go.
He could have soldiered on, somehow.
He would have saved him from crossing the line separating sanity from debilitating madness.
He should have listened to Bobby.
He could have helped him find his way.
He would have survived without his brother.
He should have, but couldn't.
He could have, but wouldn't.
He would have, if he knew that his deal would turn Sam's fate into something far worse than death.
I want to try"You can't save everyone my friend. Though you try"
- You told me that I can't save everyone. Well maybe... but, Cas, I'm not gonna stop trying. Because that's who I am. I'm an idiot, that's all I know, all I can do. It's my job, and even if it's hard - damn it's freaking hard - but it's my life Cas. I'm an idiot and I'm freaking naive. So I'll never stop trying and never stop hoping to fix everything.
They stay silent for a moment, looking at each other, a sad shadow in Dean's eyes, a familiar heartbroken expression in Castiel's face.
-Dean. You're certainly not an idiot. You are by far the best man I know. And hope is... is a good thing. Dean I... I wish I could help you.
Castiel takes a deep breath looking away for a second. Then fix his eyes back to Dean's, an odd worry in their deep blue. And his next words make Dean choke, wide-eyed.
- I love you Dean Winchester. I wish I could make you happy.
But as soon as he comes back from his shock, Dean grabs
The older Winchester nearly jumps out of his skin and the room seems to be suddenly thrust into a vacuum of silence, broken only by the echo of his glass as it slips from his fingers and hits the table. His body seems to have turned to jelly, accompanied by stomach butterflies and the sensation of increased blood flow as his heart pounds in his chest at the thought. At the thought of the impossible as it threatens to now become possible.
He slowly turns in his seat towards the voice. He isn't sure what he expected to see exactly, but he hears his own sharp intake of breath at the sight that stands just inside the doorway. Sam. Awake. Alive. His throat goes dry and all he can manage to croak out is a raspy "Sam?" in response. After the initial shock and adrenaline rush, Dean rises to his feet and watches his brother approach.
He barely has time to turn to face him before the arms of his younger brother wrap around him with such force that it takes his breath away. And Dean can s
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