Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hasperkynipples) wrote2008-12-16 12:56 am
hasperkynipples) wrote2008-12-16 12:56 am
[MWR] The Abyss quote
[Set in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
wayward_au, between where we deviate from canon, and where the game picks up. Sam = ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
likely_evil. All other characters featured herein are NPCs.]
“Luck is not a factor.”
Dean was royally fucked.
He had been out in Colorado, going into year six of hunting without Sam. It didn’t get any better, any time he said it, thought it, or did anything of the like, but it was what they needed to do. Dean didn’t like that Sam was using his powers to keep him alive, and Sam seemed to think that them going at this alone was the way to do things, so Dean just kept doing what he did best—hunting where he could find the hunts—and he let Sam and that bitch do what they needed to do, or felt they needed to do. In fact, Dean was starting to get to the point where he didn’t care and didn’t want to know, which was really saying something, considering how attached he still was to his brother, and how much hunting alone killed him inside, but Dean knew that he didn’t have the time to care about things like that.
Especially since this hunt was literally killing him. It was rather ironic, actually. Sam was off trying to save him from demons and hellhounds, and Dean was going to meet his untimely end at the hands of a seriously pissed off poltergeist.
His partners on this one had taken the hex bags to the floors above and below him, and Dean had taken the first floor. He had done pretty well so far, managing to get it into the first three corners without incident, but when he reached the fourth in the kitchen he’d run into a problem of the knife wielding variety. The damn thing had thrown him back against the kitchen cabinets, and Dean could feel the blood seeping out of the knife slice on his chest. It wasn’t deep, he cold tell that much, but it was long and it was bleeding like crazy and hurt like a bitch when he curled onto himself, using his back to protect where he was injured. It was a reflexive instinct, he knew it wasn’t smart, but it was better than nothing. Where the hell were—
“Sonuvabitch, Dean.”
Dean had never been so happy to hear Gina’s voice. Not even when she was complimenting his ass could top this one. He heard the blast of a shot gun from somewhere in the room as things started to get hazy around the edges, and suddenly Gina’s face was in front of his, getting him to look at her.
“C’mon Dean, stay with me.”
“You’re pretty, you know that?” he smirked. In fact, probably the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
She looked up at him for a minute, before smacking him hard across the face. Things snapped back into focus again, and he turned back to her, watching as she shed the sweatshirt she was wearing and held it against his chest.
“Thanks, I needed that,” he sighed, before ducking down, trying to cover them both as a Cuisinart went flying over their heads. He looked up in time to see Noah tossing the last hex bag into the hole in the wall and the bright blue light that flashed through the room, expelling the poltergeist from the house and leaving the three hunters to collapse against the walls that they were leaning against, breathing heavy. They were quiet for a while, before Noah looked over at them and shot to his feet as Dean slumped over a little more to lean on Gina.
“Gina, he’s still bleeding.”
Gina started to shoot up when Dean’s head connected with her shoulder, as she and Noah both struggled to get him to his feet.
“Let’s get him out of here.”
***
The next few days were a blur of Dean coming in and out of consciousness, but he was fairly certain that he wasn’t in a hospital. There was this constant smell of food, and wherever he happened to be lying, it was way more comfortable than a hospital bed. He didn’t have the energy to open his eyes, though, and it was a few days before he could open his eyes more than a minute and actually sit up to get a look at the world around him. He was in what he’s pretty sure was a house. He could feel the stiffness of stitches across his chest, and he started to move a little slower, not wanting to rip them.
“Don’t move too much, baby,” another voice came from somewhere in the room. “Don’t want to rip those stitches out—or we’d have another mess on our hands.”
Dean nodded slightly, slowly moving so that he was sitting up and could get a better vantage point in the room. “Yeah, I know, I just—would feel better if I’m not on my back for a little bit.”
“That’s funny. Here I thought you liked being on your back.” Dean’s eyes looked up and he just smirked back at Gina as she made her way towards him.
“Yeah, well—occasionally I do like to change positions,” he said with a small smirk. “How long was I out?”
“Couple days,” she said with a sigh. “It’s the twenty-fourth.”
“Twenty fourth?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Whadaya know? Happy birthday to me.”
“It’s your birthday?” the other voice came again, and another woman stepped into his line of vision.
“Dean, this is Mama,” Gina sighed. “She’s the one who patched you up.”
“Nice to meet you—” he paused when he reached the place where a name would normally go, and she just shrugged slightly.
“Just call me Mama, honey—everyone does,” she sighed. “And you like chocolate cake?”
“Who doesn’t?” Dean said with a shrug. “Why?”
“You’re the one who said it was your birthday,” Mama said with a small smile. “Everybody should get the chance to celebrate a little.”
“I wouldn’t want you to go through any trouble on my—” Dean began. It wasn’t much of a birthday without someone he cared about to celebrate it with. In fact, he’d spent the past couple birthdays getting piss drunk and having meaningless sex. He was good with that as a new tradition if he couldn’t celebrate with his brother.
“Ain’t no trouble, honey,” Mama sighed. “Besides—you haven’t tried the cake yet.”
***
“Oh, dear God,” Dean groaned as he leaned back against the couch, the plate with the remains of a deep, rich chocolate cake in his hand. “That had to be the best damn chocolate cake I’ve ever had.”
“I’m glad you liked it, baby,” Mama smirked, and Gina grinned at him, before leaning back against the couch more, still working on her cake.
“Told you you shouldn’t have argued with her about this.”
“Yeah, I know,” he sighed slightly. “It’s just—holidays haven’t exactly been the same since Sam—”
“Yeah,” Gina said with a soft sigh, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. “I get it. But everybody deserves at least a little cake on their birthday.”
He nodded for a minute, before tilting his head to the side slightly, leaning over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Gina.” She knew what for, he didn’t have to say it.
She turned back to him with a slow nod before taking another bite of her cake. “Anytime. Happy birthday, Dean.”
1221 words
wayward_au, between where we deviate from canon, and where the game picks up. Sam = likely_evil. All other characters featured herein are NPCs.]“Luck is not a factor.”
Dean was royally fucked.
He had been out in Colorado, going into year six of hunting without Sam. It didn’t get any better, any time he said it, thought it, or did anything of the like, but it was what they needed to do. Dean didn’t like that Sam was using his powers to keep him alive, and Sam seemed to think that them going at this alone was the way to do things, so Dean just kept doing what he did best—hunting where he could find the hunts—and he let Sam and that bitch do what they needed to do, or felt they needed to do. In fact, Dean was starting to get to the point where he didn’t care and didn’t want to know, which was really saying something, considering how attached he still was to his brother, and how much hunting alone killed him inside, but Dean knew that he didn’t have the time to care about things like that.
Especially since this hunt was literally killing him. It was rather ironic, actually. Sam was off trying to save him from demons and hellhounds, and Dean was going to meet his untimely end at the hands of a seriously pissed off poltergeist.
His partners on this one had taken the hex bags to the floors above and below him, and Dean had taken the first floor. He had done pretty well so far, managing to get it into the first three corners without incident, but when he reached the fourth in the kitchen he’d run into a problem of the knife wielding variety. The damn thing had thrown him back against the kitchen cabinets, and Dean could feel the blood seeping out of the knife slice on his chest. It wasn’t deep, he cold tell that much, but it was long and it was bleeding like crazy and hurt like a bitch when he curled onto himself, using his back to protect where he was injured. It was a reflexive instinct, he knew it wasn’t smart, but it was better than nothing. Where the hell were—
“Sonuvabitch, Dean.”
Dean had never been so happy to hear Gina’s voice. Not even when she was complimenting his ass could top this one. He heard the blast of a shot gun from somewhere in the room as things started to get hazy around the edges, and suddenly Gina’s face was in front of his, getting him to look at her.
“C’mon Dean, stay with me.”
“You’re pretty, you know that?” he smirked. In fact, probably the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
She looked up at him for a minute, before smacking him hard across the face. Things snapped back into focus again, and he turned back to her, watching as she shed the sweatshirt she was wearing and held it against his chest.
“Thanks, I needed that,” he sighed, before ducking down, trying to cover them both as a Cuisinart went flying over their heads. He looked up in time to see Noah tossing the last hex bag into the hole in the wall and the bright blue light that flashed through the room, expelling the poltergeist from the house and leaving the three hunters to collapse against the walls that they were leaning against, breathing heavy. They were quiet for a while, before Noah looked over at them and shot to his feet as Dean slumped over a little more to lean on Gina.
“Gina, he’s still bleeding.”
Gina started to shoot up when Dean’s head connected with her shoulder, as she and Noah both struggled to get him to his feet.
“Let’s get him out of here.”
***
The next few days were a blur of Dean coming in and out of consciousness, but he was fairly certain that he wasn’t in a hospital. There was this constant smell of food, and wherever he happened to be lying, it was way more comfortable than a hospital bed. He didn’t have the energy to open his eyes, though, and it was a few days before he could open his eyes more than a minute and actually sit up to get a look at the world around him. He was in what he’s pretty sure was a house. He could feel the stiffness of stitches across his chest, and he started to move a little slower, not wanting to rip them.
“Don’t move too much, baby,” another voice came from somewhere in the room. “Don’t want to rip those stitches out—or we’d have another mess on our hands.”
Dean nodded slightly, slowly moving so that he was sitting up and could get a better vantage point in the room. “Yeah, I know, I just—would feel better if I’m not on my back for a little bit.”
“That’s funny. Here I thought you liked being on your back.” Dean’s eyes looked up and he just smirked back at Gina as she made her way towards him.
“Yeah, well—occasionally I do like to change positions,” he said with a small smirk. “How long was I out?”
“Couple days,” she said with a sigh. “It’s the twenty-fourth.”
“Twenty fourth?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Whadaya know? Happy birthday to me.”
“It’s your birthday?” the other voice came again, and another woman stepped into his line of vision.
“Dean, this is Mama,” Gina sighed. “She’s the one who patched you up.”
“Nice to meet you—” he paused when he reached the place where a name would normally go, and she just shrugged slightly.
“Just call me Mama, honey—everyone does,” she sighed. “And you like chocolate cake?”
“Who doesn’t?” Dean said with a shrug. “Why?”
“You’re the one who said it was your birthday,” Mama said with a small smile. “Everybody should get the chance to celebrate a little.”
“I wouldn’t want you to go through any trouble on my—” Dean began. It wasn’t much of a birthday without someone he cared about to celebrate it with. In fact, he’d spent the past couple birthdays getting piss drunk and having meaningless sex. He was good with that as a new tradition if he couldn’t celebrate with his brother.
“Ain’t no trouble, honey,” Mama sighed. “Besides—you haven’t tried the cake yet.”
***
“Oh, dear God,” Dean groaned as he leaned back against the couch, the plate with the remains of a deep, rich chocolate cake in his hand. “That had to be the best damn chocolate cake I’ve ever had.”
“I’m glad you liked it, baby,” Mama smirked, and Gina grinned at him, before leaning back against the couch more, still working on her cake.
“Told you you shouldn’t have argued with her about this.”
“Yeah, I know,” he sighed slightly. “It’s just—holidays haven’t exactly been the same since Sam—”
“Yeah,” Gina said with a soft sigh, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. “I get it. But everybody deserves at least a little cake on their birthday.”
He nodded for a minute, before tilting his head to the side slightly, leaning over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Gina.” She knew what for, he didn’t have to say it.
She turned back to him with a slow nod before taking another bite of her cake. “Anytime. Happy birthday, Dean.”
1221 words