Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 1, 2016 19:47:13 GMT -5
ooc; SEASON ELEVEN -- ROUGHLY A WEEK AFTER "PLUSH"
"I'm telling you, it's the only choice we have available to us" Sam insisted for the thousandth time, pacing the bunker's long library floor. "And I'm telling you, it ain't gonna happen" Dean countered firmly, also for the thousandth time, sitting at one of the two library tables, his feet kicked up, holding a half empty glass of whiskey. "I mean, come on Sam! Going back to the cage??? That has to be your dumbest idea ever...and you've had some doozies." Sam's jaw tightened. "Thank you." Ignoring the heaping pile of sarcasm, Dean smiled wryly and lifted his glass. "You're welcome."
Sam, frustrated, opened his mouth to retort, but Dean's ringing cell phone cut him off. Fishing the phone out of one pocket, Dean flipped it open and pressed it to one ear without checking the ID. "Yo." "Dean." Crowley's familiar british accent met his ear. Dean rolled his eyes. "Crowley." Sam, his interest peaked by the name, quit pacing and took a seat across from Dean, watching and listening intently as Dean activated the speaker phone and tossed his cell down onto the table between them. "What do you want?" "Thought you might like to know" the demon began professionally. "Something strange is going on in Sarasota, Florida." The boys exchanged a look. "Our kind of strange" Dean wanted to know after a second's hesitation. "No, the completely normal kind of strange" Crowley deadpanned before raising his voice waspishly. "Of course your kind of strange! Why else would I call you about it??" Dean made a face. He had a point.
Just as Dean was about to hang up, Sam pitched in. "You don't usually care about alerting us to this kind of thing Crowley" he pointed out. Which was true. Crowley rarely cared if a few humans were killed by supernatural creatures...in fact, he often encouraged it...so he wouldn't be interested in calling in hunters to stop it. "Why now? What's so special about Sarasota?" Crowley hung up. Dean let out an annoyed huff of air, snapping closed his phone and putting it away. Sam, meanwhile, had pulled out his own phone and was browsing the internet for information on weird occurrences in Sarasota, Florida. "I'm betting it has something to do with Amara or Rowena" the younger Winchester theorized, stopping on an article about four local deaths in just over a week, hearts missing, bodies completely drained of blood. "Otherwise Crowley wouldn't give a damn." Dean's heart gave an inexplicit jump at the mention of Amara. He couldn't explain it, just like he couldn't explain the way he'd felt when in her presence. First when they'd met in that field and then again when he'd met her in Crowley's manner as a teenager. That sort of overwhelming bliss. Like nothing was wrong, when in fact almost anything that could go wrong had done so.
Eager to avoid this subject, Dean tossed out a casual, "or maybe he just didn't want to talk to you. You aren't exactly his favorite person after trying to kill him, after all." "You still sound a little too peeved about that fact for my liking" Sam pointed out with narrowed eyes. "I'm not peeved" Dean countered at once. Sam watched him carefully. "You sound like you are." "Well I'm not." Dean straightened up, swinging his feet to the ground with a solid thud, effectively ending their argument. He knew he shouldn't be peeved at the idea of Sam ganking Crowley. He should be overjoyed at the idea of that scum dying. He'd been a thorn in their side for going on six years now. But he'd had his helpful moments. He was the one who'd gotten Rowena the necessary ingredients to get that mark off of his arm.
Which brought his thoughts right back to Amara.
"I'm telling you, it's the only choice we have available to us" Sam insisted for the thousandth time, pacing the bunker's long library floor. "And I'm telling you, it ain't gonna happen" Dean countered firmly, also for the thousandth time, sitting at one of the two library tables, his feet kicked up, holding a half empty glass of whiskey. "I mean, come on Sam! Going back to the cage??? That has to be your dumbest idea ever...and you've had some doozies." Sam's jaw tightened. "Thank you." Ignoring the heaping pile of sarcasm, Dean smiled wryly and lifted his glass. "You're welcome."
Sam, frustrated, opened his mouth to retort, but Dean's ringing cell phone cut him off. Fishing the phone out of one pocket, Dean flipped it open and pressed it to one ear without checking the ID. "Yo." "Dean." Crowley's familiar british accent met his ear. Dean rolled his eyes. "Crowley." Sam, his interest peaked by the name, quit pacing and took a seat across from Dean, watching and listening intently as Dean activated the speaker phone and tossed his cell down onto the table between them. "What do you want?" "Thought you might like to know" the demon began professionally. "Something strange is going on in Sarasota, Florida." The boys exchanged a look. "Our kind of strange" Dean wanted to know after a second's hesitation. "No, the completely normal kind of strange" Crowley deadpanned before raising his voice waspishly. "Of course your kind of strange! Why else would I call you about it??" Dean made a face. He had a point.
Just as Dean was about to hang up, Sam pitched in. "You don't usually care about alerting us to this kind of thing Crowley" he pointed out. Which was true. Crowley rarely cared if a few humans were killed by supernatural creatures...in fact, he often encouraged it...so he wouldn't be interested in calling in hunters to stop it. "Why now? What's so special about Sarasota?" Crowley hung up. Dean let out an annoyed huff of air, snapping closed his phone and putting it away. Sam, meanwhile, had pulled out his own phone and was browsing the internet for information on weird occurrences in Sarasota, Florida. "I'm betting it has something to do with Amara or Rowena" the younger Winchester theorized, stopping on an article about four local deaths in just over a week, hearts missing, bodies completely drained of blood. "Otherwise Crowley wouldn't give a damn." Dean's heart gave an inexplicit jump at the mention of Amara. He couldn't explain it, just like he couldn't explain the way he'd felt when in her presence. First when they'd met in that field and then again when he'd met her in Crowley's manner as a teenager. That sort of overwhelming bliss. Like nothing was wrong, when in fact almost anything that could go wrong had done so.
Eager to avoid this subject, Dean tossed out a casual, "or maybe he just didn't want to talk to you. You aren't exactly his favorite person after trying to kill him, after all." "You still sound a little too peeved about that fact for my liking" Sam pointed out with narrowed eyes. "I'm not peeved" Dean countered at once. Sam watched him carefully. "You sound like you are." "Well I'm not." Dean straightened up, swinging his feet to the ground with a solid thud, effectively ending their argument. He knew he shouldn't be peeved at the idea of Sam ganking Crowley. He should be overjoyed at the idea of that scum dying. He'd been a thorn in their side for going on six years now. But he'd had his helpful moments. He was the one who'd gotten Rowena the necessary ingredients to get that mark off of his arm.
Which brought his thoughts right back to Amara.
