The Third Man. // Dean //

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Sam Winchester
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The Third Man. // Dean // Jun 26, 2016 15:00:20 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jun 26, 2016 15:00:20 GMT -5

ooc; SEASON SIX. EPISODE THREE.

Sam, having not found the need to sleep since returning from the cage, spent his early mornings in a vigorous work out routine. Half-clothed, wearing just a pair of boxers and jeans barely covering them to the fullest extent possible, he performed one hundred pushups, one hundred sit ups and was just finishing one hundred pullups on a steel bar in his motel room when last night's conquest stepped out of the bathroom, fully clothed once more. Sam lowered himself from the bar, grabbing a towel and patting off his sweaty face before draping it over one shoulder. "Don't stop on my account" the woman...what on earth was her name again?...chuckled, watching him with interest. Sam half-smiled. "I'm done" he assured her.

"Last night was a...high point, if you don't mind me saying" she complimented with a sexy smile. Sam's smile was cold, unemotional. "Good." When he volunteered nothing more, she gathered up her purse from the floor and tucked it under one arm. "All right. Well, I see you need to start your day. When did you say you were heading out?" She was clearly just stalling, wanting to spend more time with him. Sam exhaled sharply, indicating his impatience with this tactic. "Right. You didn't." The woman shook her head with an amused smile. "Damn, you know how to play that mystery card." Sam's expression remained impassive. She waited another second and then turned to leave, looking disappointed. She'd only taken two steps when Sam cleared his throat, calling her back without words, and holding up a wad of cash. "Right." She chortled, reaching out to accept her fee. "I almost forgot. Next time..." She reached into her purse and extracted a business card with her cell phone number scrawled across the bottom. "...you can call me on my night off." She offered up the card. "If you want." Sam took it between two fingers. "Ok." He made no mention of if he was going to take her up on that offer or not. "Ok" she repeated, smiling, waiting. When Sam remained silent, she shook her head once more and left. Sam crumpled up the card instantly, with no interest in seeing her again, tossing it into the nearby waste-bin just as his phone sounded from the bedside table. Scooping it up with one hand, he flipped it open and placed it to his ear. "Hey."

"Hey" came Dean's voice, sounding as though he was chowing down on something while talking. "I'm about eight hours out of the Campbell Base." "Change of plans" Sam informed him, reaching for a shirt. "I need you to meet me. I'm in PA. Town called Easter." "What are you doing in Pennsylvania" Dean wanted to know. "Caught a case." Sam tugged the shirt on over his head while balancing his phone between one ear and shoulder. "A case? When? It's been like a day and a half." Dean sounded confused. "I like to work" was Sam's immediate response, chucking the towel into the bathroom for housekeeping to deal with. Dean scoffed. "Apparently." "Glad we hashed that out." Sam's tone was completely deadpan, his expression much of the same. "Call when you roll into town."

And he hung up.

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

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The Third Man. // Dean // Jun 26, 2016 16:58:15 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 26, 2016 16:58:15 GMT -5

Dean stared at his phone with a grumpy expression. "Who died and made you boss" he grumbled in exasperation before hanging up, sliding the phone into one pocket and crumpling up the empty foil that had once housed his breakfast burrito, tossing it into the Impala's back seat. Turning around, he drove off in the opposite direction with his new destination in mind.

About ten minutes outside of Easter, Dean called Sam back, got a 10-20 on his location, and was pulling up next to his shiny new dodge charger within another ten after that. Sam was leaning against the car in a freshly pressed black suit, leafing through some police reports. Dean, in a matching suit, exited the Impala, stretched briefly and then approached his brother. He'd only taken one step however, when his phone rang. Pausing to answer it, Dean had barely gotten the word "hello" out of his mouth when Ben's voice could be heard, whining in a rampage about how his mother was being totally unfair in punishing him for breaking her favorite china bowl when he hadn't done it. "Ben...I know you're lying" Dean informed him, having heard the slight catch in Ben's tone at the end. It was something not a lot of people would pick up on but Dean knew all the signs of lying. Which he explained rather succinctly when Ben asked how he knew that. "Because I lie professionally, that's how."

"But Dean"- "Now tell your mom that you broke the damn thing and take it like a man" Dean instructed, hearing the reluctant sigh in Ben's "ok, fine" that came back over the line. "Good." Dean nodded, hung up, pocketed the phone, and finished approaching Sam, who was watching him with mild amusement. "Wow." "What?" Dean tensed defensively, not entirely sure he could withstand anymore jabs about his new spin on domesticated life. "Nothing." Sam waved this aside and then apparently decided to say what was on his mind anyway, smiling. "Just...you -- molding the minds of tomorrow. Who knew?" Dean couldn't resist a smile of his own, knowing how ridiculous that sounded on paper. "Yeah, tell me about it."

Sam closed the file he'd been scanning, placing his whole focus on Dean. "So how'd it go with Lisa? How'd she take it when you bailed?" The word 'bailed' was not exactly the one Dean would have used seeing as how it had been Lisa's suggestion for him to leave but rather than pick at semantics, he simply answered the question with an impressed nod. "Shockingly cool, actually." He still couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found a woman so damn understanding about all this crap. Sam didn't seem all that surprised by this information. "It's better for everyone this way" he remarked, almost dismissively. Dean considered it for a minute and then half-shrugged, not entirely sure he believed that but he wasn't opposed to it enough to make an argument against it. "Yeah, I suppose." He let his eyes drift down to the car Sam was leaning against, his lips twitching. "Still driving the plastic piece of crap, huh?" Sam raised a challenging eyebrow. "And what's your gas mileage again?" The teasing smile fell flat off of Dean's face, his expression growing all pinched.

"Shut up."

Last Edit: Oct 4, 2016 16:36:57 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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The Third Man. // Dean // Jun 26, 2016 21:08:52 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jun 26, 2016 21:08:52 GMT -5

Sam pat Dean on the shoulder with mock condolence and Dean swatted his hand away, still trying to look pissed off but a smile was definitely fighting its way through. Despite not really feeling much of anything these days, Sam could still at least acknowledge that he'd missed these brotherly banter moments. "Let's go." Sam started for the police station's front door, holding out the top of the two police reports he'd been browsing for Dean to take, filling his brother in as they walked. "Officer Gerald Hatch, 17-year veteran, found dead in the ready room three days ago." Dean cracked open the file, got a facefull of the picture from the crime scene of Officer Hatch's remains...a literal pool of blood...and closed the file, making a face. "Whoa. Someone was over-hydrated." "Basically, yeah." Sam chuckled. "The guy just... liquefied. Most of the meat, bones, dense tissues -- they just turned to blood."

They rounded a corner. "Ok..." Dean sounded like he was chewing on the word, that's how long he dragged it out before finishing with a puzzled, "I don't get it." "Nobody gets it Dean" Sam pointed out, opening the door to the morgue, located in the back of the station and gestured his brother through first. "No." Dean shook his head, elaborating on his declaration. "I mean, I get that. I'm just saying, if the guy was a mop job, then what are we doing in the morgue? What's left of him to look at?" "We're not here to look at him" Sam corrected, holding out the other file for Dean to take while opening the drawer labeled "Toby Gray" to reveal a plump middle aged man, his face completely covered in oozing pus-filled boils. Dean made another face. "Officer Toby Gray" Sam introduced formally. "They just brought him in. Found him dead in his patrol car, sitting at a speed trap on the outside of town." "Extreme allergic reaction" Dean read off of the file in his hands in disbelief. Sam inclined his head at the corpse. "Yeah. Totally covered in boils." They hadn't just stopped at his face.

"Yeah, on the inside, too" Dean read off, flipping a page. "It says his airways are chock full of them." Closing the file, Dean frowned in thought. "This startin' to look a little witchy to you?" Sam waved down the theory dismissively. "That was my first instinct, but I found zero signs of hexwork anywhere." He'd searched the entire crime scene. Both of them. "Far as I can tell, witchcraft was not involved." "There's got to be some sort of link between, uh, skid mark and bubble wrap here" Dean persisted, handing the files back to Sam who nodded agreeably. "No question." It was way too much of a coincidence to just be totally unrelated incidents. "Well...is there a witness" Dean finally wanted to know after giving the situation a bit of thought. "Yeah." Sam checked the notes he'd made. "Officer Ed Colfax. Saw Hatch go from a solid to a liquid." Dean raised an eyebrow. "Another cop??" "Hatch's partner" Sam explained, closing the drawer. "Let's go see what he has to say." Anything said by a man who witnessed another man turning into a blood puddle had to be at least a little interesting.
~~~

Sam steered his car around the final curve approaching Officer Colfax's house, looking for a spot on the street he could park. Suddenly, from out of nowhere the Impala came skidding around a different corner from the opposite direction, screeching to a halt at the curb outside of Colfax's house. Sam parked his car a bit slower, getting out and giving Dean an odd look. "Dude...were you just...racing me?" "No." Dean paused for a split second and then added triumphantly, "I was kicking your ass." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Very mature."

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

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The Third Man. // Dean // Jun 28, 2016 21:11:13 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 28, 2016 21:11:13 GMT -5

Dean smirked at his brother on the way past, climbing the stairs in front of him to knock three times at the front door. "Officer Colfax" he called out when no one answered. It took another few seconds but finally, the door was opened to reveal a tall thin man, presumably Officer Colfax, dressed in complete police officer attire, complete with the hat. "Looking sharp kojack" Dean praised with an impressed nod. Ed looked between the brothers with narrowed eyes. "Who the hell are you?" The boys removed their fake FBI badges as one unit, holding them up. "We're the fed, Ed" Sam announced grimly as the boys stashed the badges. "We're here to ask you a few follow up questions about your partner's death." "Don't worry about it" the officer mumbled, backing up. "It's nobody's business." He placed a hand on the door. "Officer Colfax" Sam tried again but the door was already swinging shut, a muffled repeated shout of "don't worry about it" echoing. The boys looked at each other. Dean was just barely beginning to run a few ideas of a plan B through his mind when Sam lifted one foot and brought it crashing through the door, sending splinters of wood everywhere. "Dude!" Dean stared speechless for a minute.

Then the minute was over and the two of them were proceeding through the house, following an odd sort of scratching noise which turned out to be Ed, seated at his kitchen table, using a screwdriver to scratch out the faces of everyone in every picture spread out on the table in front of him. "Officer Colfax" Dean began hesitantly as they approached. No answer. The dude seemed a little out of it. Spacy would be the kindest word for it. He waved a hand in front of his face a few times, watching for a reaction and getting none. "Hey man, are you ok?" "Don't worry about it" he mumbled, which appeared to be all he was capable of saying. "Right." Dean gave a clipped nod. "Look, Officer Colfax -- Ed. We think that your partner died of unnatural causes. Did...did he have any enemies that you know of?" Ed scratched vaguely at his head through the felt material of his cap. "You might say that." "Who were they" Sam wanted to know. Rather than answer the question, Ed scratched his head again, mumbling in a monotone, "they both had it coming. Me too. I'll be the next to go, and then it'll be over. And God will be satisfied." "Why does God want you all dead" Dean wondered curiously, trying to ignore the stab of annoyance he felt whenever anyone mentioned God's name. After his lack of appearance during the apocalypse, Dean was not what you'd call in the God fanclub.

"'Cause of Christopher Birch." Ed's tone was still monosyllabic, his gaze off into the distance without really latching onto any one thing. He was totally out of it. "Who's Christopher Birch" the boys inquired in unison. Ed stared straight ahead blankly. It wasn't entirely obvious if he'd heard them and was ignoring them or had simply missed the question alltogether. Both seemed plausible. "Who is Christopher Birch Ed" Sam snapped impatiently. Ed looked straight at Sam, though his eyes were glazed over. "Christopher Birch is a kid with no face... and a planted gun." Dean opened his mouth to try and get some more detail but stopped at the sight of blood trickling out from under Ed's cap at the temple. "Uh, you, uh... you got a little something..." He pointed at his own temple to indicate the spot. Ed lifted one finger, touched the blood, brought it back down and tilted his head to the side, eyes on the bloody finger. "Damn. My head's been itching like a dirty jock." He straightened his head for the briefest of moments and then keeled forward, his face colliding with the table and his whole body going still. "Ed?" Dean stared. Sam took a few steps forward, reaching out two fingers to press gently into the fallen cop's neck, feeling for a pulse. After a few seconds, he shook his head. "Dead." Dean opened his mouth, could think of nothing to say about this incredibly bizarre situation and closed it again. In the newly fallen silence, he could now make out something else. "You hear that?" There was a very quiet, yet audible nonetheless, buzzing in the air that seemed to be coming from Ed. Sam cocked his head, listening, then frowned and lifted off Ed's cap. And instantly dropped it.

Dean's eyes widened at the sight of four spindly legged locusts crawling out of a large hole, which looked kind of like someone had scooped out Ed's brain with a melon baller.

On a much larger scale of course.

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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The Third Man. // Dean // Jun 29, 2016 21:15:44 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jun 29, 2016 21:15:44 GMT -5

The boys retreated to their hotel room, bringing with them a mason jar containing the locusts. Sam plunked down at the table with his laptop, leaving Dean on his bed, leafing through a few articles about Christopher Birch's shooting they'd found. "Blood, boils, and locusts" Dean listed off, recapping what they had so far in deaths. "Three of your more common Egyptian Plagues" Sam pointed out, scrolling through the information on his screen. "Yeah, but these guys..." Dean lifted the mason jar, shaking it slightly to rattle the insects within. "...ate their way out of a cop's melon." He set the jar down again with a wry smile. "I don't quite remember that in the King James." "Meanwhile..." Sam inclined his head at the screen in front of him, trying to get them back on track. "A kid named Christopher Birch WAS shot in the head last month after a vehicle pursuit. Hatch, Gray, and Colfax were the three officers involved, and they all filed the exact same police report." "Suspect exited vehicle brandishing a firearm. We were forced to fire" Dean read off from the pages on the bed, scowling. "Bunch of dicks. So they pop the kid, plant the piece." It did seem to be the only logical explanation drawn from Ed's little "just a kid with no face and a planted gun" remark.

"Maybe Colfax is right" Sam theorized somewhat hopefully. It wasn't as though he wanted those three to have died, even as jackass-y as they had apparently been, but if this was the reason they'd died, it seemed there would be no more deaths as Ed had predicted. "You know, maybe heaven has a hate-on for bad cops." Dean quirked an eyebrow. "So...we're listening to the guy with the bug in his custard? That's -- that's the, uh, the theory you want to go with?" Sam knew that maybe it sounded a little...ok a lot...insane to base anything off of what a man who'd recently dropped dead of a bug infested skull had said, but it wasn't a bad hypothesis. Before the apocalypse had been diverted, the angels had been following a strict schedule and plan. They'd had no time or inclination for punishing wayward cops and the like. But that plan had gone up in flames...literally. So now Sam wasn't quite sure what the angels were doing up there. "Dean, angels got to have something to do, right" he pointed out, shrugging. "Now that we're post-Apocalypse?" Dean rose from the bed, crossed to grab a beer from the kitchen's mini-fridge and twisted off its cap with ease. "We should call Cas" was his suggestion. Sam scoffed. "You're kidding, right? Dean, I tried" he reminded his brother, stressing this fact. "It was the first and second AND third thing I did, soon as I got topside." He'd shouted himself horse once he'd realized he was back and after making the surprisingly easy decision not to reunite with Dean. "Son of a bitch won't answer the phone."

"Well, let's give it a shot." Dean shrugged, taking a swig of beer, setting the bottle aside and tipping his head back to address the ceiling. "Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here." He straightened his head, looking around. Sam stared. "You're an idiot." "Stay positive" Dean encouraged him, earning an eye roll. "Oh I AM positive" Sam assured him. Dean let out a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried again, a little less formally this time. "Come on, Cas! Don't be a dick. We got ourselves a... plague-like situation down here, and... do you...do you copy?" He opened one eye and then the other, taking another visual sweep of the still empty, apart from themselves, room. Sam speared Dean with a 'are you happy now' stare while verbally expanding upon that in annoyance. "Like I said, the son of a bitch won't answer the..." He trailed off. Two things had made this occurrence happen. One was the soft sort of flutter accompanied by a slight gust of wind behind him and the other was the look on Dean's face. Sam exhaled sharply.

"He's right behind me, isn't he."

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The Third Man. // Dean // Jun 29, 2016 22:16:42 GMT -5

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Post by NPC on Jun 29, 2016 22:16:42 GMT -5

-- "Castiel" --

As Sam turned to face him, Castiel inclined his head stiffly. "Hello." Sam stared, his mouth gaping open. After a few seconds of stunned silence, he echoed Castiel's greeting with an incredulous expression. "Hello??" "Yes..." Castiel glanced over at Dean and then back to Sam who still looked rather like someone had punched him in the gut. "Hello" he repeated as though he'd never heard the word. "Uh, that is still the term?" Castiel blinked a few times, lost. It was a pretty standard term of greeting. Of course, he hadn't actually spoken to anyone other than angels and Crowley for a year so maybe they'd changed it in his absence.

"I spent all that time trying to get through to you." Sam thew up his hands in frustration. "Dean calls once, and now it's "hello"?!" He used his fingers to place air quotes around the final word. "Yes" Castiel responded simply, not really seeing the problem here. "So...what, you like him better or something" Sam scoffed, still looking rather upset. "Dean and I do share a more profound bond" Castiel reminded him, glancing at Dean in apology. "I wasn't going to mention it." He hadn't wanted to make Sam feel left out or ignored but truthfully, he'd been through more with Dean. It would only make sense he felt a stronger connection there.

Dean held up his hands, stopping that part of the conversation in its tracks and starting a slightly different one, bringing it back around to where it had started. "Cas, I think what he's trying to say is that... he went to Hell for us. I mean, he really took one for the team. You remember that? And then he comes back without a clue, and you can't take five friggin' minutes to give him some answers?" "If I had any answers, I might have responded" Castiel informed them both strongly. "But I don't know, Sam. We have no idea who brought you back from the cage... or why." "So...it wasn't God?" Sam looked marginally disappointed. Castiel shook his head. "No one's even seen God. The whole thing remains mysterious." Sam furrowed his brow. "What's that supposed to mean?" Becoming increasingly annoyed by this roundabout conversation when all he really wanted to do was get to the bit about the locusts, Castiel strode closer to Sam who was now on his feet, and placed himself dangerously close, their noses practically touching. "What part of "I don't know" escapes your understanding" he snapped rhetorically. The two of them stared at each other for a few long seconds until Dean stepped between them, trying to tone down the tension. "Cas, look, if Sam calls, you answer. Okay? You wing your ass down here, and you tell him, "I don't know." Just because we have some sort of a -- a bond or whatever..." Dean looked a touch uncomfortable. Castiel gave his head a scornful shake. Finally a way into the problem at hand. "You think I came because you called? I came because of this." He crossed to the bed, picking up the jar of locusts with a flourish. "Oh well it's nice to know what matters" Dean deadpanned with a perfectly straight face and flat tone. Castiel gave a curt nod, entirely missing the sarcasm after a year away from Dean.

"It does help one to focus."

Sam Winchester
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The Third Man. // Dean // Jun 30, 2016 6:15:32 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jun 30, 2016 6:15:32 GMT -5

Sam held up one hand, trying to steer the wandering conversation back to the issue. "Wait, so -- so you and the Halo Patrol, you guys aren't the cause of these killings?" Well there went that theory. "No." Castiel gave his head a singular shake. "But they were committed with one of our weapons. There's only one thing that could have brought this into existence. You call it the Staff of Moses." The boys exchanged a look. "THE staff" Sam clarified, earning another single nod. "It was used in a dominance display against the Egyptians, as I recall." He glanced absently down at he jar of locusts in his hand. "B-but I thought the Staff turned, like, a -- a river into blood, not one dude" was Sam's hazy memory of the event. "The weapon isn't being used at full capacity" Castiel explained. "I think we can rule Moses out as a suspect." Sam gave the angel a sort of 'duh' nod while Dean wanted to know, "okay, but... what is -- what is Chuck Heston's disco stick doing down here, anyway? I mean, don't you guys put away your toys?" "Before the apocalypse, Heaven may have been corrupt, but it was stable. The staff was safely contained" Castiel began, followed by a heavy sigh. "It's been chaos up there since the war ended. And in that confusion, a number of... powerful weapons were... stolen." The boys exchanged another look, this one wide-eyed. "Wait, you -- you're saying your nukes are loose" Dean summarized, sounding worried. "Yeah, I'm afraid so." Castiel gave a solemn nod. "But you've stumbled onto one of them. We must find the weapon that did this." He moved his eyes to the locust jar and then back to the boys. "I need your help." Sam couldn't help but let out a snort that was half amused and half irritated. "That's rich. Really." After he'd tried and tried and tried to ask Cas for help and was ignored, then basically flat out told that the angel preferred his brother, and now he was asking for help?? Bold move.

Castiel stared at Sam for a minute, then flung the jar at him with no warning. Sam barely caught it, out of pure instinct. "Sam, Dean, my "people skills" are "rusty"" Castiel informed them both, his words heavily dripping with sarcasm as he fixed air quotes around the words 'people skills' and 'rusty'. Sam wanted to point out he'd never had much people skills to begin with but Castiel kept speaking in a highly annoyed tone. "Pardon me, but I have spent the last year as a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. But believe me, you do NOT want that weapon down here. Help me find it. Or more people will die." Sam really had nothing to say so he left it to Dean. "All right. Okay. Well, if the angels didn't pull the trigger, then that brings us back to motive." Some of the anger and annoyance seemed to be melting out of the angel's system. His question of "what" was delivered with far less hostility. Although...it may just have been because he was speaking to Dean again. His favorite.

"Back to the case" Sam clarified, setting the jar of locusts down and holding out one hand. Dean passed over one of the many newsclippings from his bed. "Right now, we got three dead cops. Only thing linking them... is this." Sam read from the paper. "Father of slain suspect calls for investigation."

It sure seemed like a good place to start.

Last Edit: Jun 30, 2016 15:41:56 GMT -5 by Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester
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The Third Man. // Dean // Jun 30, 2016 21:51:07 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 30, 2016 21:51:07 GMT -5

"Geez, Cas, a little warning next time" Dean grunted as the three of them suddenly just appeared in the Birch family home a few feet away from Christopher's father who was sitting on the couch, holding an article about Officer Hatch's death in one hand, staring at the three newcomers, slackjawed. "What the... how'd you get in here" he demanded. "Mr. Birch, settle down." Sam held up his badge professionally. "Federal Agents." "But...but you can't just walk in here" Mr. Birch stammered, still looking wildly between the three of them. "Quite a collection you got there" Sam observed, inclining his head at the pile of news clippings on the table, along the same lines as the one in Mr. Birch's hand, all about the three deaths of the officers involved in his son's murder. Mr. Birch frowned uncertainly. "What are you trying to"- "Look, we know the truth, all right" Sam interrupted. "Chris didn't have a gun on him when those cops shot him. They set him up." "Yeah." Mr. Birch scowled. "They're all getting theirs." "And who's giving it to them Mr. Birch" Sam accused, stepping forward. Mr. Birch didn't appear to be following. "What?" "Did you kill Toby Gray and the others" Dean inquired, his tone a little less frosty than his brother's, trying to make it easier for the grieving father to confess his guilt. "Me?!" Mr. Birch's eyes rounded wide as dinner plates. "I didn't kill anyone! Look at how they died!" "You smote them with the staff of moses" Castiel declared forcefully, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived. Mr. Birch gave Castiel an odd look. "...the hell kinda fed are you?" Dean opened his mouth to try and explain Cas...though that was a tall order...but the angel spoke again first. "We don't have time for this." Striding towards Mr. Birch with purpose, he demanded, "where is it?" He'd almost reached the baffled Mr. Birch who was shaking his head in a non-verbal, "I don't know what you're talking about", when a shaky voice from the doorway shouted, "leave my dad alone!" Sam, Dean, and Castiel all turned as one unit to find a small african american boy who couldn't be more than ten or eleven years old, holding some kind of branch in both hands like a gun, aiming it in their direction. Dean stared. "Is that..."

"Yes" Castiel confirmed, not needing the rest of the question. Dean tilted his head to the side. Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Shouldn't it...be bigger?" "It's been sawed off" Castiel explained. "Leave him alone! It wasn't him!" The young boy's voice was a bit sturdier now, though his hands were not. "Aaron, get out of here" Mr. Birch ordered, just seconds before Castiel placed two fingers to his temple, knocking him out cold. "What did you do to him" Aaron cried in dismay. "It's ok" Dean assured him quickly, keeping both eyes on the tip of the staff. "He's just sleeping." Startled by Dean's voice, Aaron swung the staff around to point it at him instead. Dean held up his hands, showing he meant no harm. Castiel took a different approach, vanishing and then reappearing next to Aaron where he plucked the staff piece from his grasp. Aaron jumped in fright. "Cas! Take it easy" Dean reprimanded in exasperation before addressing the shaking child. "Listen, we're not here to hurt you, okay? But we need to know... where did you get this thing?" "Please don't kill my dad" Aaron begged, ignoring the question. "It was me. I did it." "Okay, nobody's killing anybody" Dean promised, repeating his earlier question. "We just need to know where you got this." Aaron studied his feet, shuffling them. "You won't believe me" he mumbled. Dean's lips twitched. "Try me."

Aaron looked back up, rushing to get the words out quickly. "It was an angel." Dean blinked, not expecting that answer in the slightest. "An angel??" Aaron's timid expression morphed into an ugly scowl. "Those liars, they killed my brother, and nothing bad even happened to them. It's not fair." He looked from Dean to Sam to Cas and then back to Dean. "So I prayed to God every night he would punish them. God didn't answer. But he did." "His name" Castiel pressed urgently. "Did he give you a name?" Aaron shook his head. "No. He just said I could have justice, but I was gonna have to take it myself. He... he gave me the stick." There was a slight catch in his voice at the end of his sentence. The same kind of catch that had been in Ben's voice when denying breaking the china bowl. Dean's lying radar was going off. "He just... gave it to you" he questioned suspiciously. Aaron gave his head a jerky nod, avoiding Dean's gaze. Dean waited until the darting eyes of the young boy had found him again before giving him a knowing look. "Come on. He didn't just GIVE it to you, did he, Aaron?" "...I bought it" Aaron admitted at last. Dean and Cas swapped a look while Sam raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You BOUGHT it? How much allowance do you get?" "What did the angel want for it" was Dean's follow-up question. "What did you give him?"

Aaron hesitated for another second and then whispered, "my soul." "You sold your soul to an angel" Sam summarized, staring blankly. Dean leaned sideways slightly, whispering, "can that even happen" to Castiel who was frowning in bewilderment. "It's never happened before" he informed them, considering the possibility. "An angel's buying souls....well that could explain why he cut the staff into pieces." The boys looked at each other and then back at Cas. "Why?" "More pieces, more product" came the simple response. "More 'product'" Dean echoed, outraged that an angel would consider human souls, especially those of young grieving, angry boys, something as cavalier as a product worth buying. "Who is this guy??" "We'll find him" Castiel promised, reaching out to touch Aaron on the forehead. The boy collapsed unconscious into Castiel's arms who then slung him effortlessly over one shoulder. "What did you do that for" Dean demanded. "Portability." The word had barely exited Castiel's mouth when their surroundings changed with a gust of wind and they were back in their motel room where the angel lay Aaron on Sam's bed. "Cas..." Dean opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "You realize you just kidnapped a kid?"

"If the angel we seek truly bought this boy's soul, when a claim is laid on a living soul, it leaves a mark, a brand" Castiel explained, glossing right over the felony he'd just committed. "What, like a -- like a shirt tag at camp" Sam wondered, looking interested. Castiel gave him a blank stare. "I have no idea" he finally remarked before diving back into his explanation of soul markings. "But I can read the mark and find the name of the angel that bought the soul." Dean wasn't sure he liked where this was going. "How?" "Well...painfully for him" the angel admitted, rolling up one sleeve and turning to face Aaron's sleeping form. "The reading will be excruciating." Now Dean was sure he didn't like where this was going. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on." Dean placed himself between Castiel and the bed, holding up his hands. Castiel gave him an impatient stare. "Dean." "He's a KID Cas" Dean reminded him heatedly. "A kid. Sam?" He waited for some back up from his brother but instead got a slap in the face from the question uttered. "Any permanent damage?" Dean rounded on his brother, appalled. "WHAT?!"

"Physically minimal" Castiel answered Sam's question, ignoring Dean's outburst. Dean threw up both arms, his tone heavily laden with sarcasm. "Oh, well, yeah, then by all means, stick your arm right in there!" "Dean! If I get the name, I can work a ritual to track the angel down" Castiel stressed, nudging Dean to one side, giving himself clear access once again to Aaron. "And I'm all for that" Dean agreed, looking to Castiel with desperation. "But come on. There's got to be another way." "There is no other way." Castiel's expression was blank. Dean gestured wildly. "You're going to torture a kid." "I CAN'T care about that Dean" Castiel snapped, on edge. "I don't have the luxury." Without another word, he pushed one fist into Aaron's chest. The young boy's insides began to glow red and he thrashed about, screaming in agony. Dean advanced a step, intent to help him, but Sam grabbed his arm, refraining him.

The torture...or as Castiel and Sam would put it, the 'reading'...went on for perhaps ten minutes but it felt much longer to Dean. At one point he literally had to close his eyes and half-turn his head, unable to stand watching the boy's pain any more. Finally, when he felt Sam release his arm, and no longer heard any screams, he felt it was safe to open his eyes again. Castiel was pulling his hand free of Aaron's chest and rolling down his sleeve, the red glow gone. "He'll rest now" the angel informed them. "Did you get a name" Sam wanted to know while Dean wandered off a pace to try and get his head on straight. Castiel looked pensive. "I thought he died in the war." Sam raised an eyebrow. "What, he -- he was a -- he was a friend or something?" "A good friend." Castiel gave a fond smile. "Yeah, well, your frat buddy is now moonlighting as a crossroads demon" Dean remarked tersely, not exactly pleased with either of the other two at the current moment.

"Balthazar" Castiel mused aloud. "I wonder if"- "Balthazar" another voice interrupted in triumph, a tall man in a black suit appearing out of nowhere across the room. "Thanks, Castiel. We'll make good use of the name." The other man, identified as another angel by the silver angel blade that dropped down out of his sleeve into one hand, lunged forward. Castiel managed to throw up his own blade so that the two weapons crossed in an 'x' in mid-air. "And by the way, Raphael says hello" the attacking angel hissed, aiming a punch for Castiel's jaw with his blade-free hand. Castiel ducked, pushing the other angel away from him, tightening the grip on his blade. The two angels grappled with each other for another minute or so before the pair of them somehow managed to entangle themselves in each other, falling as one unit out the window with a loud shatter, glass going everywhere. "Cas!" Dean gave a start, rushing forward, Sam close behind him. Down at ground level, the two angels had fallen hard onto the car parked below their window, flattening it. The other angel vanished, leaving Castiel by the destroyed vehicle. Sam was staring at it, distraught. "My car" he bleated. "Ok." Dean's lips twitched upwards into a dry smile.

"Silver lining."

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The Third Man. // Dean // Jul 2, 2016 14:22:19 GMT -5

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Post by NPC on Jul 2, 2016 14:22:19 GMT -5

-- "Castiel" --

"He's gone" Castiel announced, reappearing in the motel room behind the brothers. Sam raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Cas, who was that guy?" "A soldier of Raphael" Castiel explained, looking around the room, his eyes landing on the kitchen cabinets. Bowls were usually found there so he set off. "He must have followed me when I answered your call." "Raphael? The archangel" Sam clarified, now looking lost. "I'm sorry, what's going on here?" Castiel got a bowl down from one of the cabinets, bringing it back with him to the lone table. "I can explain later. Right now we have to-" "No, not later, Cas, now" Dean interrupted in exasperation. "Just stop, all right?!" He placed himself in Castiel's direct line of vision, holding up both hands like a traffic cop. "Too many angels, Cas! I don't know who's on first, what's on second"- "What is second" Castiel wondered, pausing in his spell preparation. "Don't start that" was Dean's immediate counter. Castiel sighed and placed the bowl on the table. "It is simple" he explained. "Raphael and his followers, they want him to rule Heaven. I -- and many others -- the last thing we want is to let him take over. It would be catastrophic."

"You're talking civil war" Sam realized in awe. "Technically, yes" Castiel agreed, looking around again. "Which is why we have to find Balthazar and his weapons before Raphael does. Whoever has the weapons wins the war." Spotting one of the boys' duffel bags peeking out from under the bed, Castiel reached down and tugged it out. "Help yourself" Sam commented sarcastically as Castiel bypassed asking for permission and simply plucked two objects from it. A flask of holy water and a sheathed knife. "Well what happens if Raphael wins" Dean wanted to know, furrowing his brow. "What -- what does he want?" "What he's always wanted -- to end the story the way it was written." Castiel conjured up a piece of white chalk and began to draw on the table around the centered bowl. "You mean the Apocalypse" Dean clarified, looking alarmed. "The one that we derailed?" "Yes. That one." Castiel frowned in thought, trying to recollect the last ingredient he needed for the spell. "Raphael wants to put it back on the rails." "Why?" Ignoring Dean's latest question, Castiel announced in sudden memory, "I need myrrh" and vanished.

A few seconds later, he returned to the motel, accompanied by a jug of myrrh he'd managed to steal from Egypt. Setting the jug down next to the bowl, Castiel picked up the knife and unsheathed it. "Cas, why does Raphael want to bring back all this crap" Dean questioned, moving closer. Castiel shrugged. "He's a traditionalist." Dean speared the angel with a worried frown. "Cas, why didn't you tell us this?" "I was ashamed" Castiel admitted in a guilty tone, pouring some holy water into the bowl. "I expected more from my brothers." Pausing in his frenzied activity to look between the brothers, he delivered a sincere, "I'm sorry." He was too. He should have come to them sooner. "Now I need your blood" he informed Dean briskly, grabbing his arm, yanking it towards him and using the knife to slice a relatively deep gash in Dean's palm. The older Winchester flinched at the unexpected cut. "Whoa, whoa! Hey!" He yanked his hand back, making a face. "Why don't you use your own?" "It wouldn't work, I'm not human" Castiel reminded him, gesturing with his eyes towards the waiting bowl. Dean rolled his eyes, held his bleeding palm back out, squeezing it into a fist over the bowl so that a few drops of the sticky red substance mingled with the water, turning it red. As Dean pulled a bandana from one pocket and wrapped it around his palm, knotting it in place, Castiel added the myrrh and began to intone latin phrases, closing his eyes.

The distant sound of wailing police sirens could be heard approaching. Castiel kept his eyes closed, not wanting to break the connection of the spell before he got a location. "Uh Cas...how long is this going to take" came Sam's concerned voice. Castiel ignored both him and the increasingly louder with each second sirens, an address in West Easter springing to the forefront of his mind. He opened his eyes with a set jaw.

"Got him."

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

The Third Man. // Dean // Jul 2, 2016 14:54:23 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 2, 2016 14:54:23 GMT -5

Castiel lifted both hands, reaching out towards each of the boys' foreheads to teleport them. Dean took a step back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what about him?" He inclined his head at Aaron's still unconscious form on the bed. Castiel glanced over and then back impassively. "Don't you think the police will take him home?" The sirens were at their loudest yet. Dean relented, stepping forward again to allow Castiel's fingers to tap against his forehead lightly. The next thing he knew they were standing in a large sprawling green lawn in front of an impressively large stone house four stories high. "Huh." Dean gave the mansion a once-over. "I was expecting more Dr. No, less Liberace."

"I'll go look for Balthazar" Castiel informed them, handing Sam a spare angel blade. "You keep an eye out for Raphael." With his instructions given, the angel vanished from sight. Dean stared at the spot he'd last seen Castiel for a few extra seconds, then shook his head, muttering something he'd expressed multiple times to this day.

"Freaking Angels."

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The Third Man. // Dean // Jul 4, 2016 17:23:14 GMT -5

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Post by NPC on Jul 4, 2016 17:23:14 GMT -5

-- "Castiel" --

Castiel reappeared in an upstairs hallway, lined on either side by elaborately carved wooden doors. The door at the very end of the hallway stood ajar and some kind of unrecognizable music came drifting out of it along with a stream of light, beckoning Castiel closer. He entered the room slowly, eyes peeled for anything out of place. A large disco ball was hanging from the ceiling, spinning, and music blared from a stereo in one corner but there wasn't a sign of Balthazar or anyone else. Castiel took another few steps into the room, nearly reaching its center. Suddenly, the door swung shut behind him and the lights began to flicker. Castiel tensed up, his angel blade dropping down from his sleeve into one hand in preparation.

Then, just as suddenly as the flickering had begun, it ceased. The disco ball vanished and the music cut out. "Cas." The voice spoke from behind him and Castiel turned to find Balthazar standing on top of the grand piano, arms spread wide in greeting. "You're here." Castiel stowed his blade, smiling fondly at his old friend. "Balthazar." "It's so good to see you" Balthazar returned with a fond smile of his own. "He told me you were floating around." Castiel quirked an eyebrow. "He?" "I believe you two have flown together." Balthazar inclined his head at a spot on the floor behind Castiel who turned back around to find the body of Raphael's soldier who had attacked him in the motel room lying there, obviously dead. "Oh, you know, the old frog in the throat" Balthazar went on as the dead angel's mouth opened, a rather sizeable frog hopping out of it and croaking. Castiel lifted his eyes to Balthazar once more, fighting a smile. "Even I know that's a bad joke."

There was a beat of silence and then Castiel fell somber again. "I grieved your death." "Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry about that, you know" Balthazar apologized, waving it aside. "But I wanted them to think, you know, so... they wouldn't come looking for me..." "What... is all this?" Castiel glanced about the room. "What are you doing?" "Whatever I want." Balthazar grinned triumphantly. "This morning I had a ménage à -- what's French for 12?" "You stole the Staff of Moses" Castiel demanded without answering the question, not that he was quite certain Balthazar was actually looking for an answer. "Sure, sure." Balthazar stepped down off the piano, looking proud of himself. "I stole a LOT of things." "You were a great and honorable soldier" Castiel reminded him. "We fought together." "Yes...too many times to count" Balthazar agreed, nodding in remembrance. "I know you" Castiel pressed. "You're not some common thief." "Common, no" Balthazar agreed again, shrugging off the second part of the declaration. "Thief? Eh." Deciding to leave that where it was, Castiel took an urgent step forward. "I need your help."

"I know." Balthazar nodded solemnly. "I've been hearing all about you, and as far as I'm concerned, you and me, Cas, nothing's changed. We're brothers. Of course I want to help you. Ask whatever you want." Castiel's stiff shoulders sagged a bit in relief. "Thank you. I need the weapons." The smile slid right off of Balthazar's face. "Well don't ask that." "Why take them in the first place" Castiel wanted to know, brow furrowed. "Why run away?" "Because I could!" Balthazar beamed before noticing the discontent on Castiel's face and shaking his head. "What? What?? I me--" He stopped himself, then tried a different tactic. "Look, you're the one who made it possible. The footsteps I'm following -- they're yours." Castiel's consternation deepened, staring blankly at Balthazar, not sure he followed exactly what he had to do with all this. "What you did, stopping the big plan, the prize fight? You did more than rebel" Balthazar elaborated. "You tore up the whole script and burned the pages for all of us." He chuckled. "It's a new era. No rules, no destiny. Just utter and complete freedom." Castiel gave the room another visual sweep uncertainly. "...and this is what you do with it??"

"Hey, screw it, right?" Balthazar gave an unconcerned shrug. "I mean, dad's not coming back. You might as well blow coke and jump on the bed." He pointed at Castiel with one finger. "You proved to me we could do anything...so I'm trying everything." He spread his arms wide. "What difference does it make?" Castiel stared in fury, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Of course it makes a diff--" He cut himself off, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. "It's civil war up there!" Balthazar half-shrugged. "I know." "If we can beat Raphael, we can end this" Castiel insisted heatedly. "Just give me the weapons." "Do you know what's funny about you?" Balthazar's lips twisted up into an amused grin. "You actually believe that you can stop the fighting." His smile faded a touch. "It will never stop Cas. My advice -- grab something valuable and fake your own death." Castiel shook his head in disappointment. "You've gone insane." Exhaling sharply, he squared his shoulders. "Anyway, your little holiday is over. Raphael knows you're alive by now." "Oh, Raphael can try me anytime." Balthazar's tone was far more confident than his expression. "I'm armed." Castiel looked off to one side, having run out of things to say. He was on the verge of simply disappearing when Balthazar spoke again sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Cas. All else aside, I'm really, really happy to see you." He paused a moment and then added with a wry smile, "even though you still have that stick up your ass." Castiel opened his mouth to reply but the sound of rumbling thunder cut him off. Balthazar frowned, looking worried. "Was that you?" Castiel gave his head a singular, slow shake. "Oh, then that's my cue." Balthazar gave Castiel a small salute. "Tell, uh, Raphael to bite me." And he was gone.

Castiel turned to face the pair of doors leading to the balcony which had just sprung open, taking an automatic step backwards as one of Raphael's soldiers stalked through the door, angel blade drawn. "You're making a mistake" Castiel informed the advancing angel, retreating another step and drawing his own blade. "Please. There is another way." The angel kept coming. "Brother, please" Castiel begged, his grip on the blade tightening. "I don't want to hurt you." And yet the angel kept coming. He lifted one arm to strike and Castiel, out of options, was forced to throw his blade straight at the attacker's heart, watching sadly as the other angel screamed, dying in a burst of white light and dropping to the ground. Castiel stared at the corpse with a drawn out sigh. "Why won't any of you listen to me??"

"They won't listen Castiel, because their hearts are mine" said a sudden voice from behind him, two strong hands pinning Castiel's arms behind his back. Castiel winced at the pressure. Raphael then spun Castiel around and grabbed the collar of his trench coat instead, throwing him backwards, through the door and into the hallway. Castiel landed hard on his back, wincing again. Before he could get back to his feet, Raphael was there, using his tie to pull him up and then punch him back down, several times over. On the final punch of the series, Castiel stumbled backwards, his foot hitting the top step of the grand stairwell. Losing his balance, Castiel tumbled halfway down, pausing his fall on the landing where he lay breathing deeply, his face covered in blood and bruises, his ribs on fire. He'd barely even begun to catch his breath when Raphael had teleported to his side and kicked him down the rest of the stairs. Castiel tried to crawl away despite the fact that his whole body felt like it had been crushed by a solar system of planets but Raphael was too fast. Teleporting again, he lifted Castiel up to his knees by the collar of his coat, using the other hand to pull his angel blade free of his own jacket. "Somehow, I don't think God will be bringing you back this time" he announced, lifting it in preparation to strike a final blow. Castiel closed his eyes.

"Hey!" Balthazar's voice rang out through the spacious foyer. Castiel opened his eyes to spot him standing just behind Raphael, holding up a crystal that looked very much like one of the stolen weapons from heaven's arsenal. Raphael was looking at Balthazar now instead of Castiel. Balthazar fixed Raphael with a steely gaze. "Look at my junk." Raphael's eyes widened, obviously also recognizing the weapon and what it was capable of. He dropped Castiel instantly, taking a step towards Balthazar. "No." But he was too slow. Balthazar turned the crystal as though cranking a lever and Raphael's entire meatsuit turned to a pile of salt. "Same thing happened to Lot's wife" Balthazar chuckled, pocketing the spent crystal and holding out one hand to help Castiel up. "Iodize the poor sucker, and your kitchen is stocked for life." Castiel wiped some of the blood from his vision with the back of one hand, staring in awe at Balthazar. "You came back."

Balthazar shrugged modestly. "Well, now Raphael will have to go shopping for a new vessel. Should give me a nice long head start on him. Until next time." "Next time" Castiel echoed faintly, stepping out of the way. "No time like the present" came Dean's voice, almost as if on cue, as he stepped out of the shadows and dropped his lighter to the floor. A circle of holy fire sprang up around the startled angel. "Holy fire. You hairless ape! Release me" he growled, getting as close to Dean as the fire would permit. "First you're taking your marker off of Aaron Birch's soul" Dean ordered firmly. Balthazar narrowed his eyes. "Oh, am I?" "Sam?" Dean spoke his brother's name without taking his eyes off of Balthazar and the younger Winchester made his appearance known next, moving closer and uncorking a jar of oil. "Unless you like your wings extra crispy -- I'd think about it." "Castiel, I stood for you in Heaven" Balthazar reminded him intensely. "Are you gonna let"- "I believe" Castiel interrupted, crossing his arms and shooting the smallest of smiles in Dean's direction. "The hairless ape has the floor."

Dean gave Castiel a grateful nod and then all three of their attentions were drawn back to Balthazar pointedly. After another second, Balthazar nodded reluctantly, closed his eyes and bowed his head. "There" he announced when opening his eyes and straightening his head again. "The boy's debt is cleared. His soul is his own." "Why you buying up human souls anyway" Dean prodded next. Balthazar raised an eyebrow. "In this economy? It's probably the only thing worth buying." He looked between the three of them, his gaze finally landing on Dean again. "Do you have any idea what souls are worth? What power they hold?" There was a heavy silence as everyone let the information sink in before Balthazar ordered harshly, "now... release me." "Suck it ass clown" Dean snapped. "No one said anything about"- Without letting Dean finish the threat, Castiel lifted one hand and then lowered it, the flames dying out as he did so. "Cas, what the hell" Dean bleated, unsettled. Castiel ignored him, turning to face Balthazar with no expression.

"My debt to you is cleared."

Dean Winchester
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The Third Man. // Dean // Jul 4, 2016 20:15:58 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 4, 2016 20:15:58 GMT -5

Balthazar inclined his head. "Fair enough." And with a gust of wind and a flutter of wings he was gone. "Cas are you out of your mind" Dean demanded incredulously. They could have gotten so much more accomplished had they left Balthazar in that trap longer. Rather than answer the somewhat rhetorical question or offer up an explanation, Castiel simply vanished in the same manner of wings and wind. "Cas" Dean shouted at the air around them. "Oh come on!" And they were back to...

"Freaking angels!!"
~~~

"Wow, I didn't realize I had this much stuff back here" Dean remarked somewhat apologetically as he tried to rearrange the contents of his trunk to give Sam's stuff some room now that he was carless and needed to ride along with Dean again. "Well, I need some space" Sam informed him, adding a few of his own weapons to the arsenal and then indicating his backpack still in one hand. "Kind of picked up some stuff along the way." Dean nodded understandingly and closed the false bottom, covering up the arsenal. Shifting his couple of duffel bags to one side, he helped load Sam's computer case and backpack. As Dean was pulling his hand back, Sam tilted his head to the side and reached past the bags to pull out what he'd noticed. "What the hell is this?" Dean glanced over and half-smiled proudly. "Oh, that's uh, that's Ben's halloween costume." It was a paper mache mask he'd created without any help. Sam gave it a closer look, inspecting it. "Wendigo" he guessed. Dean took the mask back, chuckling. "Yeah." Sam looked impressed. "Accurate."

"Hey, so, uh..." Dean returned the mask to the trunk and closed its lid, locking it securely before pocketing the keys and turning to face Sam head on. "Are you okay?" "Me?" Sam looked confused by the question. "Yeah, I'm great." "Really?" Dean arched a doubtful eyebrow. "'Cause there's been a few times that you got me wondering." "Come again??" Sam blinked, looking thrown by the statement. "Well, like where were you when Cas was, uh, giving the Holy Taser treatment to that kid" Dean inquired, frowning skeptically. Sam looked even more confused. "I was right there..." "Really?" Dean recalled the iron grip on his arm when he'd tried to intervene. "'Cause honestly, I felt like I was the only one raising a card." "Right." Sam gave a strained nod, looking uncomfortable. "Uh, I mean, I was with you, but...I don't know." He shrugged helplessly. "W-we needed the intel." "Yeah, I know, but we tortured that kid to get it" Dean reminded him, still feeling horrible about that. Sam sighed, saying nothing. "I just didn't get the feeling that you -- that you even cared" Dean finished with a twinge in his gut. "Well, y-you're wrong" Sam stammered, his level of discomfort appearing to rise. "Hey man, I'm just trying to figure this out because... something's different with you" Dean observed, watching his brother closely. "You know that, right?" "Yeah, yeah I know" Sam agreed immediately. Dean stared at him blankly. "Really???"

He seemed to be saying that a lot recently.

Last Edit: Oct 4, 2016 19:16:09 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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The Third Man. // Dean // Jul 4, 2016 20:28:02 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 4, 2016 20:28:02 GMT -5

"Yeah." Sam nodded slowly. "I mean... I've been hunting non-stop for the past year, kind of... kind of on the wild, you know?" And by non-stop, he meant non-stop. When you didn't sleep or eat much you had a lot of extra time to hunt. "So, yeah, I suppose I'm a little rough around the edges." He wasn't sure why that was a bad thing. "Yeah, I get that" Dean assured him, looking slightly unsettled. "I just don't think I'm getting the whole scoop." There was a pause wherein both brothers looked off to opposite sides. Finally, Dean spoke again in a low, intense voice. "You went to hell, Sam. And believe me, I know what that does to a guy." "To you" Sam corrected, turning his gaze on Dean again in time to see the baffled expression staring back at him. "What??" "You know what it does to you" Sam elaborated bluntly. "It -- it tortured YOU. You know? I think it still does. But, Dean..." He gave his brother the best attempts at an encouraging, reassuring smile he could muster up. "I'm okay."

"So you're saying, what, that -- that you're stronger than me?" Dean looked marginally offended by this idea. "No." Sam shook his head, despite feeling that the answer might have been yes had he given himself proper time to think about it. "Just saying...we're different." And they were.

There wasn't a soul living...or dead...who would argue that point.

[THE END.]

The Third Man. // Dean //

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