hasperkynipples | [revenge is supernatural] I'm busy in the blissful unaware

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[revenge is supernatural] I'm busy in the blissful unaware

Dean knows when he's been whammied, a lot of the time Most of the time, actually.

Well, seventy-five percent of the time.

He used to be able to tell when he's being whammied. Then he started to work for Fringe Divison, and that percentage went down quite a bit. There were ways of being whammied that he hadn't even thought of and he was doing his best to distinguish between the two. He had thought he was doing pretty well with all of it. At least, until he walked into his hotel room after having drinks with Anna and found Azazel standing there.

Then he promptly proceeded to flip the fuck out.

First of all, he wasn't sure how he got in there. He might have been seventy-five percent out of the game, but he still salted all his doors and windows, so this was very much a no demon zone. Follow that up with the fact that he shot Azazel, right in the heart, three years ago, Dean was starting to wonder if his and Sam stopping the Apocalpyse had gone a little screwy. If it did, Dean's life was about to start seriously sucking. Then there was a struggle, some confusion, and then Dean passed out like a whimpy girl for a reason he wasn't sure about. He knew what he saw. But Dean wasn't exactly trusting his eyes at the moment.

As Dean started to come to, he rolled into a sitting position and glanced around. He was still in his hotel room, but his head hurt like a bitch and ... well, there was a giant Sam doppleganger sitting in the other end of the room. Dean clearly hit his head harder than he thought, or Walter slipped him the happy drugs again. Either way, Dean was pretty sure he was fucked.

" ... This is ... new."

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"Shit," he replied, before getting to his feet and grabbing his gun, not Peter's, and heading for the door. "Anna." He stopped at the doorway, before nodding.

"C'mon -- you have to drive. I flew in."

The realization hit Sam and he was up, reaching for his own weapon that he had stashed on top of the fridge - no need to freak Dean out any more - and his jacket.

"Wait, you flew?" He didn't stop moving as he followed Dean though.

"Olivia tends to like to get to things quickly? Isn't exactly fond on waiting for me to take however long to drive out to a crime scene, and sometimes we go overseas ... " He sighed. "I spend most of it gripping the armrest like a vice and trying not to be sick."

Sam just nodded. It was amazing at how things changed sometimes.

"You could always just ask them to knock you out."

When they got outside, Sam pressed the button on his keychain. Across the street, a black Dodge charger blinked it's lights and the engine started. Sam started right for it.

Dean had a response to that, but he was momentarily distracted by the car. He just sort of ... stared at it, and then looked back at his brother in surprise.

"Seriously, dude? Really?"

He then shook his head and went to slide into the passenger's seat. "No, we tried that. Walter ... slipped me something once -- it didn't end well. He meant well, but ... he tends to make things a little strong."

"Didn't end well how? And dude, what's wrong with my car?"

He got into the driver's seat and buckled up, waiting for Dean to do the same.

"It's made of plastic. And he gave me LSD, dude, you don't even want to know what I was tripping. It wasn't just any LSD, either. It was his own, high grade LSD. I was still tripping by the time we ran into Anna at the crime scene."

Dean did so, but he really wasn't all that happy about the car. If he was going to steal a car, it might as well be one that was at least sturdy. No way this thing would survive getting t-boned by a tractor trailer.

Sam laughed. "And I don't have to stop every hundred miles to refuel. Trust me, she does her job."

He pulled out into traffic, making his way to the interstate and then pushing the speed limits as he headed towards New York.

"I take it Anna wasn't as amused."

Dean shook his head, but let the car conversation drop. "She was more amused than I was comfortable with, actually. She was actually less amused that Fringe was taking over her crime scene."

Then a beat. "Turn up here."

He made the turn, managing not to fish-tale as his sports car kept up the fast turn reputation that he got it for.

"Yeah, she never liked being upsurpred from what she was doing." He looked at his brother. "So how are things going between you two?"

He shrugged. "We're not at each other's throats. Friends, I guess. I mean, I'm still in Boston, so it's not like we see each other all the time."

"Well, not at each other's throats is a good step."

He smiled a bit, then took a deep breath. "She know about what happened to me?"

"About you goin' to Hell? Yeah. I sent her that letter."

"She is so going to shoot me," Sam muttered softly as he kept driving.

"I'll make sure she doesn't shoot you."

"I'm still waiting on the verdict on if you're going to shoot me." Sam looked at Dean.

"Haven't made up my mind yet." It wasn't really all that clear whether he was joking or not.

Sam nodded. "Well, let me know when the jury has reached a verdict."

And they were almost there. Sam drives fast!

"Will do," Dean sighed, before tapping on the window. "It's right up here."

He found them a parking spot and turned the car off. "You want to go to the door and I'll do a sweep of the area?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. She's in 301 if you don't find anything."

"I'll find you two."

And he was off. Because he really wasn't sure he was ready to talk with Anna just yet and needed to gather a bit of courage.

Dean made his way up the stairs and pounded on Anna's door, trying to get her attention. He hoped he wasn't already too late, but he could feel the tightening in his gut, telling him he already was.

"Anna? Open up."

After pulling a double without any sleep, a shower seemed like a slice of heaven. And as per usual, when she got ready for her shower she had her I-Pod docked into the speaker on the counter for some music.

She was halfway through Sara Bareilles' Fairytale when Dean began pounding on her door. Unfortunately for him, though, Anna's singing in the shower drowned out all the outside noise and she didn't respond.

He pressed his ear to the door, trying to figure out if he heard any movement inside, before his impatience got the better of him, and he was tempted to kick the door down.

He didn't.

Instead, he reached for his lock-picking kit, slowly easing the door open, and going for his gun as he made his way inside.

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