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+--- Thread: The road so far... (/showthread.php?tid=1950)
The road so far... - Dean Winchester - 07-05-2015
Stepping out on the other side of the gate, Dean ended up in what seemed to be a savanna, well-travelled it would seem by all the tracks around. It was hot here, and the air was dry. At his feet were trampled patches of grass, and a few other forms of plant life. What there was a lot of were rocks. All around there were boring old rocks of all shapes and sizes. Into the distance he could see the usual desert stuff, like sand and dunes. It did look like as though was some sort of settlement nearby, so Dean decided that it might be best to start there before heading off into the wide blue yonder. Gripping the hilt of the first blade tight he made sure to keep it near him as he walked.
As he continued towards the settlement Dean thought he heard a noise off to his side and as he started to turn to face it he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder. Looking down, he saw the hilt of a crudely made blade in the hand of someone he did not know. Using a burst of demonic speed Dean reaches up with his free hand and tightly grips the hand around the blade in his shoulder, squeezing it until there is a sharp yell. Dean moved the mans hand, and with it brought the metal blade out of his shoulder. Apparently being a demon doesn't make you immune to pain, though Dean did notice that his blood was darker than normal. Shaking the man's wrist, Dean made sure his attacker dropped his blade before letting go of his arm and grabbing his shirt and lifting him up.
Looking up, Dean finally locked eyes with his would be assailant. A man, probably middle aged, in ratty clothing who was probably looking for a new Prime to steal from, looked back at him. As they continued their staring contest Dean forced his eyes to go completely black and stay in a way that caused the man to gasp and struggle to get free.
“Buddy, you picked the wrong guy on the wrong day...” Dean growled, letting the sentence trail off as he brought up his right hand and smashed the hilt of the first blade into the mans nose. Dean felt the warmth of the man's blood as it trickled down his hand. The mark was screaming at this point, it was almost deafening to Dean. The rage was flowing through his veins, and it had spiked in intensity when Dean had hit his prisoner. It was starting to feel good too, every time he gave into the marks lust for blood. This man should die, needed to die. THIS MAN WOULD DIE!
“If you had only threatened me I would have given you the chance to walk away, probably, but now?” Dean brought the hilt of the first blade down on the man's face again, “Now you are going to give me everything I want, if you want to live' pal.” The fear on the mans' face was palpable, Dean knew that he could get what he wanted from this guy. Sadly it seemed like the guy didn't have much to offer so Dean decided to get some information.
“Let's start with something easy. That town over there. What is it?” Dean used his blade to point at it and the man tried to answer as best as he could with a broken and bloody nose.
“C...Carrebore...” the man stuttered to Dean.
“Carrebore? You sure? Pinky swear?” Dean asked causing the man to shake his head. “No?” Dean hit him again, this time a bit harder. “Then why did you say it was!”
“C...Carre....Care..pphhhfff...” It became clear to Dean now what was happening. The man was basically drowning in his own blood or something. Pronunciation might not be a strong point right now.
“Carre...bore...phhhhhfffff...fffffffore? Carrefore?” His prisoner nodded this time and Dean smiled, and lowered his hand a little. “Some place I might want to go?” The man shook his head, so much for the easy road.
“Where should I go then?” As Dean asked this the man pointed off in a direction away from the settlement. “How far?”
“A b..bew biles...” was the chocked response.
A few miles, huh? Dean thought about this for awhile and then decided that the interview was over.
“Good news for you, I am out of questions!” Dean tosses the first blade in the air and then catches the hilt so the tip of the blade was now pointing down at the man's face. “Bad news, I am out of questions.”
Dean brought his arm down hard and fast, bringing the blade into contact with the poor soul's face. He could almost feel as the teeth on this jagged blade bit into flesh, tore through muscle with a sickening sound. The mark of Cain flared to life again, aching for Dean to do some serious violence. Dean raised his arm and paused while he listened to the screams, sobs, and all the other pitiful sounds this man was making. It caused him to smile, though to anyone watching it would like more like he was bearing his teeth in a snarl.
Then he bought the blade down again, and again. He continued this until he was covered in blood from the shoulders up, and only a bit of it was his own. He could feel it through his clothes and on his skin. It was currently the most wondrous thing he had felt in a long time. As for the poor guy who was probably just looking for an easy mark to get his next meal or something? Well, no one would recognize his face now. After the deed had been done Dean felt oddly at peace, as if the mark of Cain had been sedated, for now. His eyes shifted from the all back mark of a demon to his normal human eyes. His shoulder ached, reminding him of the injury had had received. Hopefully it would heal soon. He was pretty sure that was one perk of being a demon.
Dragging the lifeless corpse off to the side Dean dumped it, and he took a few steps away. Hopefully he hadn't been seen, but knowing his luck he was probably going to be a 'hunted man' now. That was if anyone cared for two bit wannabe bandits. Probably something about life being precious blah blah blah. Either way he had to get out of here soon.
He made his way to an open part of the field best suited for his current task, someplace directed at this town he informed was in this general direction. The one that he didn't get a name for. He concentrated on this Omnilium stuff, thinking of a way to get the hell out of here. It swirled around him and then moved in front of him starting to form that which he desired most.
First it formed the tires, then the frame work. Next followed the engine, then the seats, wiring, a mysterious box on one of the seats, body work and then windows. Finally it was starting to take shape.
As he opened his eyes Dean saw in front of him a car that put others to shame. It had a slab-sided body with a small "upsweep" at the rear quarter window, giving it a more formal appearance then most cars of its time. Every line and angel on the body was designed to make this car look bigger, tougher, and they were doing the job perfectly. The exterior was painted black, but not just any old black paint job would do. The paint was so expertly applied the surface was glass-smooth, and had a reflection that was miles deep. The insides were designed to match the outside, as everything that could be was also black. The soft leather seats looking rather inviting to him after all the walking he had been doing. The mysterious box on the front passenger seat contained something that was only important to Dean, cassette tapes. It was his baby, his chariot, it was what people would remember as he caused chaos in these lands. If he was going to ride, he was going to do it in style! Nothing said style better then a 1967 four door Impala.
Taking a walk around he made sure nothing was out of place before opening the door and getting inside, still covered in blood. He reached for the ignition but stopped, something was wrong. The speedometer only went to 80 miles per hour. Was the a rule of this world or did he mess it up somehow? After a brief moment he decided it didn't matter. Turning the key that was already in the ignition the engine roared to life and all around the immediate area music could be heard.
“There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold, And she's buying a stairway to heaven...” Noooooooope. This would not do. Hitting the eject button on the cassest player on the dashboard Dean took the tape out and tossed it in the box that had formed on the seat before reaching in and taking another tape n its' place. Putting it into the player he waited for a bit to hear what would be offered instead.
“Ain't nothin' that I'd rather do, Goin' down. Party time! My friends are gonna be there too. I'm on the highway to hell...” This was perfect. Turning up the volume Dean forgot all about a quick and quiet escape and put his foot down on the gas pedal. The tires spun, kicking up dirt and grass, before finally catching and sending the Impala rocketing forward.
Re: The road so far..leads to a bar in the Town with no name - Dean Winchester - 07-08-2015
”Nobody gonna take my car, I'm gonna race it to the ground. Nobody gonna beat my car, it's gonna break the speed of sound. Ooh it's a killing machine it's got everything! Like a driving power, big fat tires, everything.” Dean had decided to take his time on the drive to town and had switched tapes a little while ago. The windows were rolled down all the way to try and create some sort of forced breeze, Dean wasn't sure how gas stations figured into this place so using the AC was out.
”Nobody gonna take my head I got speed inside my brain. Nobody gonna steal my head now that I'm on the road again. Ooh I'm in heaven again I've got everything! Like a moving ground, throttle control and everything.” Dean was tapping his fingers on the steering with along with the beat of the song. It sure was quiet out here, usually he would have Sammy or Cas filling up the silence. This was different though, much different. They weren't heading down the roads of America to save the world, this time it was just Dean. As for the world? He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do to it, but he sure as hell was going to enjoy the ride. Whatever he was going to do he knew Sammy wouldn't approve.
Dean growled at the thought. No, this was his time to shine. No rules, no boundaries, and sure as hell no Sam to try and 'make him better'. Dean felt great, better then he had in his entire life. He was faster, stronger, he felt like he could take on anything and win! At this point he could probably take on God! Not the little gods he had hunted in the past but God God, capital G.
“Or at least the closest thing this place has to one” he growled before realizing he was starting to talk out loud. He was thinking too much, time to change the mix. Ejecting the Deep Purple tape and tossing it into the box Dean got a new one and popped it in the player. He listened until a familiar sound started off the song, he couldn't help but sign along.
”It's all the same, only the names will change. Everyday it seems we're wasting away...”
..............
“And I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back. I play for keeps, 'cause I might not make it back.” Dean was still singing along as his black Impala pulled into town. As he drove through the streets of town folks just seemed to stare at him, as if this wasn't the strangest thing they had seen. Hanging out the window as he drove, he started pointing at random townsfolk as he sang.
”Cause I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride! I'm wanted, WANTED, dead or alive! As the song finished Dean turned off the radio and pulled over next to a couple townsfolk. The duo, who were apparently playing checkers or something, didn't even look up at him. Dean was even sure that one of them had spit at his car! His anger started to rise to the surface, but he used everything he had to push it back down. Killing someone in the middle of town might have a slightly different reaction then in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't the townspeople that made Dean hesitant, he just had no idea how many so called 'Primes' were around. Then again maybe these other folks would want him dead just as much if he started causing too much trouble. It was probably best to get the lay of the land before raising Cain.
”Would either of you classy gents know where I can get a beer 'round here?” As expected all Dean got for an answer was a gesture down one of the near by streets. ”Right. Thanks.
Putting his foot down on the gas pedal Dean intentionally spins the tires, kicking up dirt and rocks at his less then helpful guides. A string of curses followed him as he drove down the street, at least he got them to talk!
It took him asking three other people on the way but Dean finally pulled up to what he assumed was the bar. He pulled the Impala up in front of one of those things you saw in Westerns, the posts where they tied horses up. It would do in the place of any actual parking spots. Getting out Dean locked the doors and went inside, heading straight to the bar.
”I need a beer and a freaking bottle of whiskey. The sooner the better.” Dean turned his back to the bar, not really seeing who the bartender was, to take a look around. There seemed to be a few folks here of varying sizes and colour. This place was getting stranger by the moment. When he turned to face the bar again there was still no sign of a bartender, but there was a beer and a bottle of something he was assuming was whiskey. Whoever this bartender was, Dean was starting to like them a bit! Now if he could only get a cheeseburger too.
Re: The road so far... - Gildarts - 07-10-2015
Scorning scowls flashed up to the newcomer, who had entered the bar in a gentle yet confident stride. The soft chatter and stirring of motion stopped with the screech of the chair and as the door of the bar hung open before slamming shut.
One person stopped mid-guzzle as he slapped down his drink against the bar and turned to give Dean a not-so-warm welcome. The reception didn't seem very open, as the Prime would notice, and the many seething eyes that immediately followed the cowboy's singular confrontational stare seemed the mutual agreement of the entire bar.
The silence drew on for a moment before it nearly hit a precipice, but was suddenly interrupted by the bartender who arrived with his spurs clacking against the hollow wooden panels with each heavy step.
Fresh from a western movie, the man had an ebony leather holster wrapped around his waist, dust-covered pants, and a button-up patterned shirt. The man who conquered the room removed his stetson, hung it on a hook at the door and the atmosphere noticeably began to stir once more.
The man next to Dean sipped his amber brew while curious murmurings came from the corner of the quaint pub.
"I know, did you hear about that too?[/i]" One said veiled in shadow.
"I sure did but ain't nothin gonna stop me from finding that loot." Another whispered in response.
"I hear Rolland 'as got 'is hands full." Another swig was taken from a nearly empty bottle of alcohol, "I's what 'e got comin' to 'im, if ya ask me."
"You got that right Andy, I ev'n heard that more people are gettin' shot around here. I mean, things like justice ain't always civil in this 'ere town, but I heard someone found a body roun' one of the gates! Can ye' believe that?"
"What do you say the story is?" Motives were the juiciest part of gossip, and now half the bar seemed to be listening amongst the ample hubbub.
"Oh a'course it had to do with blood money, but the real question is who done it? They could be in this very bar for all we know..."
The conversation faded as the esteemed bartender served his rounds to his customers. One, much too drunk, complained about watered-down booze. The bar silenced and waited for the showdown to begin.
"Thissss tastes like piss!" The drunkard slurred and wobbled from his seat.
Rather than touch his holster, the bartender sighed as one of his patrons shouted, "Go home Steve, you're drunk."
With a few lazy movements, the gruff-looking bartender threw a kick into the back of the man who had more than disrespected his business. Up until now, the owner of the saloon wasn't much of a talker, but during his next "demonstration," he had claimed his authority among the lively low-lifes and left a question hanging in the room with his hoarse voice, "Anyone else got a problem?"
Re: The road so far... - Dean Winchester - 07-11-2015
Dean could feel the eyes on him as he sat there, it seemed that nobody here liked him. It was almost like they hated him for some reason. Maybe it had something to do with this Prime business everyone kept going on about, or maybe someone had seen what he had done when he came through the gate? Nah,couldn't be. Word couldn't travel that fast here, not faster then the Impala at least. Dean just flashed them all that grin of his, the one that said 'Hi! Piss me off and I will break you!'. Turning to face the bartender Dean couldn't help but chuckle. He had known he would like this man, the guy even looked the part! Wild west bad ass extraordinaire, kind of reminded Dean of a cross of John Wayne and Clint Eastwood.
Dean picked up the beer in front of him and started to drink, not in small sips though but rather large gulps. Whatever this beer was it was glorious, better then anything Dean had every had back home. Sure the after taste was a bit rough, but it was great! Bringing the half full glass to his lips Dean tilted it back and finished it off. He then set his sights on the bottle of whiskey, if the beer was anything to go by it would be amazing. As he opened the bottle his ears started to pick up some of the conversation around him. It seemed to be the usual town gossip though, talk of treasure, some guy named Roland, and money. It wasn't anything interesting till someone mentioned a body at the gates. It was about then Dean realized he was dirty as hell and his clothes where somewhat covered in blood, if you definition of somewhat was 'kind of drenched' that is.
”Shit,” Dean muttered into his whiskey, ”The news can out travel my baby.” Dean thought about it, trying to think of a way to get attention off of himself. Instead he brought the whiskey bottle up to his lips and tilted it back, taking a rather large drink and then slamming the bottle down on the bar.
“WOOO! That burns good!” He had been right about this stuff being amazing, though right now that was besides the point. There was going to be some potential trouble here and it was something he needed to avoid. Dean thought that if he started asking questions about it he could feign innocence for now, he could always hunt down whoever had started this rumour later on. He was about to ask about the body that was found when someone started causing a ruckus. Apparently Steve didn't like his drink, there was always one in a group that liked to complain for the sake of complaining. Dean watched in amusement as the bartender 'escorted' the man out and it caused the Winchester brother to laugh. Somethings here were exactly the same as home, at least he found that somewhat charming.
”Anyone else got a problem?' the bartender asked and it caused Deans smile to widen, he couldn't help himself.
”Yeah, actually, I do!” Deans voice broke the silence and all eyes were on him, and by the glances it seemed he better choose his next words carefully. “What self respecting bar doesn't have a jukebox! How the hell am I supposed to listen to really bad country songs?”
The looks he was getting said it all, these people thought he was crazy. This could either be because there was no jukebox and they had no idea what he was talking about, or the fact he was talking back to the bartender like that. Hell, Dean sort of hoped it was just the later because that would mean there was a jukebox! This place could use a bit of livening up. Turning to the bartender he gave the man his most winning smile.
'And what does a growing boy have to do to get a cheeseburger around here?”
Re: The road so far... - Gildarts - 07-13-2015
The bartender cocked an eye and briskly wiped the dust from handling the drunkard from his hands. His tantalizing gaze shifted to the newcomer – no, trespasser – and welcomed him with a smile and narrowed eyes. Those that challenged him would learn his way of doing things as even the bar's most buzzed patrons grew silent at the stilled sound that the man conducted.
"Hey Jimmy you jus' gonna let him talk to you like that?"
The gruff man grunted, and though his name was not 'Jimmy' though he seemed to accept the name with a shortened crescent smirk. Violence creased the air where daring challenges had left off. It could have been the boy's personality, tough, abrasive, convicting, that had caused such a stir in the room. The cowboys and bandits didn't seem to like him, meanwhile, as Dean was beginning to learn, the saloon lacked women just as it lacked a decent tune and a cheese burger to go with it.
Tension fluctuated as the air of the room thickened with the sticky smell of ale and stagnant musk. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of eye contact, 'Jimmy' mentioned to the boy, his southern accent coming out in fractions of words.
"Hah, I like you kid, so I'll give you another go at that one. You got a problem wit' the way I run things boy?"
The bar raved and clinked their glasses upon the table at the untold sound of action they would soon get a front row seat to.
It was minute, but Jimmy's eyes flicked to the man's blood-stained leather jacket, and then back to the man. For a reason unstated, it seemed Jimmy was actually looking out for Dean. As though action would take the already latent skepticism of the bar's avid audience from the distinguished marks of blood. That saying, one big rumor killed another? Pretty much, that seemed what Jim was going for, though his admirable stance never declared a thing from the obviously displayed hostility.
"Listen here son, this is a fine establishment. None better in these parts. Though I assume you'z one of them new Primes, fresh from the overload's clutches. Well let me tell you, I value any customer that can pay the bill. But if you want a fancy record player... Err... Jukebox, you outta summon one for the whole lot of us. But hey, at least you like m' whiskey."
Jimmy poured another round into the glass and set some ice off to the side. "As for grub, you'll have to order that from Mary Lou. She's in the back and should be out any second now."
As if on cue, a feminine physique burst through the wooden doors hidden in the back. Her curly red hair was ruffled, her skirt folded in uneven seams, and her lipstick was slightly smeared. It seemed the woman had been doing some less-than-honorable things in the back, but none of the men complained and while some stiffened in the room, all eyes fell on the beautiful lass, and a few of the drunker men would catcall in her direction.
"Where's mine sweetie?"
"Yessir, fill me up with another round Mary Lou."
"I could take some steak and grits too, if it ain't much trouble pretty lady." A wink was followed, and Jim seemed to think that his bar had fallen into the way it normally was, and wiped down a few glasses with a dirty white rag before his hands fiddled on the wall with a few papers... No, not papers... Wanted posters.
Re: The road so far... - Dean Winchester - 07-14-2015
Dean sat there and let the man say his piece, never taking his eyes off of him. Other then a few other folks sitting about the other tables, Dean could swear one of them had purple skin, Dean was sure that this man was his biggest threat so far. Not knowing what was going to happen Dean let one hand hover near the hilt of the first blade while the bartender stared him down. No matter where Dean went he was used to getting these sort of looks, even back when he was just a hunter. The tension in the air hung there until the bartender decided to speak.
Apparently he liked Dean, this was a first for Dean since he came back as a demon. Even Crowley didn't really like him, he just wanted to use him. Shaking his head and letting out a little laugh Dean was about to reply but the bartender just kept talking. So it was going to be one of these types of conversation. The other guy did the speaking and Dean was just supposed to sit there and shut up. Dean thought about slamming the mans face into the bar to shut him up but he was out numbered at the moment, and they were expecting trouble. So Dean just smiled a tight lip smile at the man and listened.
Something something Prime something fine establishment something whiskey, at least that is what it all sounded like to Dean. The same old don't make trouble in my bar routine, though this time the bartender had a gun and a lot of angry patrons to back it up. There was also the fact that the man had obviously seen the condition of Deans clothing. There was no mistaking that it was blood that covered most of Deans upper torso but the man said nothing about it.
The one thing the man did that Dean noticed more than anything was refill the whiskey, and rather quickly too. Maybe it shouldn't be burnt to the ground, at least not immediately.
'Well, this is the finest hole in the wall I have ever seen. Good beer, great whiskey, and wow!” Dean let out a low whistle, ”Mary Lou. Very Dukes of Hazzard. I like it.” Picking up his drink Dean finished off the whiskey in one large gulp before turning his attention to the woman who had now graced the bar with her presence and flashed her his pearly whites. It was also probably the closest Dean would get to a genuine smile these days and not one of the 'I'm going to rip your throat out' bearing of teeth. Turning his attention back to the bartender Dean noticed that the man was shifting through some papers.
“Daily paper? Mind if I borrow the funny section?”
Re: The road so far... - Gildarts - 07-15-2015
The man to Dean's other side, right next to friendly Joe, took a flaming shot. The swallow was followed by the hoot and hollerin' bellows of the bar crowd. Thumps drummed on the table in approval, meanwhile Jimmy didn't give the man the time of day. A secondary, no doubt, looking for some cheap thrills.
Jimmy's eyes remains snagged on the Prime, Dean, as Mary Lou retrieved her best 'pick me up' smile and her dilated irises curved around Dean's chiseled features and cleanly cut hair. The two exchanged a glance, perhaps to some of the lesser peddlers for her attention it spoke, 'meet me in the back' but there was nothing to be implied about the way she let her hair away as her shoulders dipped low to give him a good show. No winking was involved, but she had a particular glimmer in her eye that flashed every time her black lashes batted towards him.
A flattering compliment, Mary Lou assumed, though she didn't know who the Dukes were, or what quarantined hazard they were dealing with. "I like it too." She spoke with a steady, charming southern drawl as her eyes spoke of another thing she liked in the room.
Her sweet smile softened the hardy men's untamable flavor, while she worked on softening the room's newest and finest.
"Well, can I get you anything aside from that burger?" The tone in her sweet souther voice was more than welcoming as Jimmy's shaking busboy followed the man's pointed finger to the small, half-assed stack located beneath the wanted posters.
The room continued its lively bustle, matching pace to the classic western picked fiddle and finely keyed piano. Ruffling through the Omni News, the barboy found the classifieds, obituaries, and funnies all wrapped up in the same section. It was as though the writers and editors of the paper themselves had a sadistic sense of ironic humor. Perhaps it would be all the same to the man, is what the fumbling busboy thought as he set the wrinkled paper onto the glossed and stained wood.
Dean's pales eyes remained fixed on Mary Lou, while the busboy seemed rather envious, a fury started in the pit of his stomach as the boy thought the woman of his dreamed deserved a man with a bit more class. Curled hair remained flopping with her movements as she had pulled out her pages to write down the leather-jacketed man's cheeseburger request.
The boss's beckoning words didn't interrupt their little moment together and merely – meaning to or not – enhanced it. Jimmy offered with that classic southern hospitality and at the same time covered for the man with a valid-ish excuse. It was just about as valid as you could get in that sort of bloodied situation, "Mary, why don't you wash his jacket in the back. Looks like he got a little messy gutting out them camels. Din' ya son?"
Re: The road so far... - Dean Winchester - 07-15-2015
How long had it been since Dean had been with a woman? Weeks, possibly months? The whole thing with Abbadon and Metatron had basically taken up his entire life before he had been dragged here. He became very aware of this fact as Mary Lou got close to him. Maybe this place wasn't going to be so bad after all. Plenty of people to kick around, plenty to drink, and apparently more than a few good looking women if Mary Lou was the standard to gauge them by. He let his eyes wander over every inch of her, and apparently she liked that based on the show she was giving him.
"Well, can I get you anything aside from that burger?" the sound of her voice broke Deans train of thought and brought him back into the present. This caused him smile to smile again, oh there was plenty of things he could think of. He was just about to say so when another voice broke through the conversation.
"Mary, why don't you wash his jacket in the back. Looks like he got a little messy gutting out them camels. Din' ya son?" Dean looked over to the bartender and gave him a grin and a nod. If only he knew the truth, though Dean was starting to think that maybe he did. Taking off the jacket the Winchester brother finally saw just how messy he actually was. There almost wasn't a single spot on upper part of his jacket that wasn't covered in blood. What was he going to say about this? It was definitely not going to be about gutting camels, that was for sure. Dean thought about it and decided to go with the truth, or at least a partial truth.
"It actually happened on a hunt, that is what I used to do. I was a hunter... of sorts.” So maybe it wasn't the truth, but an admission of what he used to do was basically the same thing. “Before that Omni creep brought me here I used to hunt down all the monsters and boogeymen out there that gave humanity a hard time. I've probably been walking around this damn place looking like a bloody fool the whole time.”
At the mention of his old job a lifetime of memories came flooding back. Hunting with Dad and Sam when they were younger, his first hunt with Sam when Dad had gone missing, and many more. At the pinnacle of all these memories there was mom and Azazel, that yellow eyed bastard that took her from him. Dean sort of wished that he was here, then he could kill the damn fool over again. As he started to calm down Dean realized he was clutching his jacket in a tight fist, and his eyes had momentarily flashed black. His anger was getting the better of him and the mark was trying to push it past the breaking point. Dean realized that people where staring at him at this point. Taking a deep breath Dean steadied his nerves and tried to turn the attention to something other then himself.
”The job takes a lot from you, including family. This jacket used to belong to my Dad.” This part was true at least. Even if Dean no longer felt the same attachments for his family he still felt the anger those situations had brought to him. Dean looked at Jim and sort of shrugged at the bartender. 'II should probably just leave the past in the past. Still it's a nice jacket so I think I'll keep it a while longer.”
It was about here that Dean had realized that some surly looking boy had given him the section of the paper he was looking for. He actually didn't want it as it had been more of a joke then anything else.
“Uh, thanks.” This was about all he could get out before turning back to Mary Lou. “Well, since we have to clean this thing mind showing me where to go?”
Dean gave her a wink before nodding his head over at the bartender.
“Jim's orders and all.”
Re: The road so far... - Gildarts - 07-16-2015
Jimmy’s eyebrows raised when the man’s knuckles turned white and his clutch on the jacket became the grasp of hell. Darkness had clouded Dean’s eyes and Jimmy gave the boy a long, suspicious stare before sighing the spooky away. Seemed the man was a bounty hunter of sorts, or maybe he just liked big game. Jimmy thought he might fit in here, and his eyes wandered over to the bounty board before falling back on the Prime with a weary stare.
He knew Mary Lou could take care of herself, and heaven knew she had gotten to know almost every attractive man who had walked through the door. But this was a Prime and he seemed dangerous. Jimmy worried about whether his business would survive if either Mary Lou married this kid or if she went and got herself killed by him. With another look at her curly blonde locks, Jimmy decided she was too good for business, but could not find a way to pull the infatuated girl from her flirtatious affection for the boy.
There goes another one. Jim sighed to himself and polished the lipstick from the edge of a glass as she cradled the brown jacket in her arm and tugged at Dean’s hand.
“So your name’s Mary Lou?” Dean spoke with his confident allure to the beckoning girl as she escorted him to the back and he had intended to introduce himself but she hadn’t followed up the question with her own.
“That’s what they call me,” She said with a enthralling smile and tipped her chin playfully back at him.
Shrouded in darkness, they ventured to the back room, past the small kitchen and into the room where a collection of bar towels had formed, along with where other laundering services seemed to be fulfilled. After wiping most of the blood from his jacket with a cloth, Mary Lou eyed the initials of the deceased J.W. before she struck up conversation with that charming southern drawl of hers and edged her way toward Dean in the close-quartered room.
“Now I know what you must be thinking.” The younger girl said as her hair moved with the swiftness of her chin and she made piercing eye contact with Dean. “And I’ll tell you this,” A small, challenged smile grew on her lips as her body language tempted Dean, “You’re not my first.”
Her chin rose to meet his after her flickering long lashes had baited him closer. The lighting was different in here, dimmed, and had Dean kept his eyes open for just a moment longer, he would have seen the curious glimmer in the girl’s eyes. A soft hand cupped his cheek and that would have been fine and their lips met, but suddenly Dean’s knees dipped from below him, and his eyes opened in a startled flash. His body was immobilized and he looked up to see the source, was Mary Lou.
The wind gusted a shudder open, exposing the room to light, and exposing the body of the reaper’s last victim. Two in one day, there had to be a rule against that.
Mary Lou’s hand remained on his cheek as she drained Dean’s life. Her expression was curious, as she tipped her head to the side. “I think you know what I am now Dean, and unfortunately, my goal in this realm is to deliver those to the natural order of things. You can imagine, as a Prime, what has to happen next?” Her tone played with the words as her blonde hair suddenly flickered into her true form, and while the reaper was still a very beautiful woman, flashes of ghostly pale skin leaked through her veiled mask and pronounced cheekbones offered a much more satisfied expression to her face.
Seconds ticked by as Dean fought against the deliverer of the natural order of life and death.
Re: The road so far... - Dean Winchester - 07-16-2015
Dean wished he could say this was the first time he had fallen for a pretty face. He should have known what this woman actually was but apparently this universe was messing with him. Shouldn't demons be able to tell if someone is another supernatural creature? It seemed like here they couldn't, and Dean was finding this out the hard way. This Reaper was different though, this one had gone rouge. Normally they are supposed to talk to you, comfort you, and eventually wait for your permission before they take you. Dean had dealt with them enough to know this. It's funny though, here he was dying at the hands of a beautiful woman and he couldn't help think about Tessa. She was the first Reaper that Dean had ever met, and had almost claimed him too. Now here he was with another beautiful angel, but this one was trying to take him by force. It just wouldn't do.
“Lady, you just got ugly fast.” While this wasn't exactly true Dean felt like it was the right thing to say. There was something totally un-sexy about trying to kill on the first date. That was at least third date material. ”If I were you I'd run, else you are going to end up real dead. Real soon.”
Dean had to focus everything he got on this one. This wasn't some two bit desert punk looking for an easy score, this was the real deal. An honest to god Angel of death. These things were hard to kill but that didn't mean it was going to be impossible. It was going to be harder though since Dean had foolishly let his guard down and let her in close to begin with. Reaching up with his left hand took most of Deans effort, he was not going to let this bitch beat him. Clasping his hand onto the wrist of the hand this chick had placed on his face Dean squeezed it tight. He knew you couldn't break the wrist of an angel, but he sure as hell was going to try.
”There is one thing about me and natural orders you need to know about” As Dean spoke his right hand was moving towards the hilt of the first blade, ”We don't exactly see eye to eye.” He turned his eyes jet black as he said the last part and let out the most unholy growl that had ever escaped his lips as he forced his right hand to grab the hilt of the first blade. On contact all the rage Dean had been holding in since he came to this bar sprang to the surface. The mark of Cain started to glow that creepy red it did when he held the first blade, but this time it also began to pulse. His veins filled with his anger, spreading out from the mark to his arm. This time though they did not stop there, they wove their way up his shoulder and neck until eventually half his face was covered in a red and black pattern that could only be described as hauntingly beautiful. At least it would have been if Deans face didn't look like he was about to tear out the throat of Lucifer himself with his bare god damn teeth.
”This is not going to end well, for you.” His voice was starting to sound a bit off at this point. Not that he didn't still sound like Dean, just that his voice was starting to sound a couple octaves too low. It was also getting to be like he was growling each word in a really bad superhero impression, the really broody type. Freeing his blade from its sheath Dean slashed viciously at the Reapers thigh. The damn bitch saw it coming though as she moved out of the way and was only grazed by the tip of the blade, just enough to draw a bit of blood. This at least gave Dean the momentum he needed as it caused her hand to loose contact with his face. ”You are so boned now.”
Dean yanked down hard on her wrist hard, pulling the woman down closer to him. As he stood up he let go of her arm and brought his other hand up, slamming the hilt of the first blade under her jaw and causing her to stumble back a few steps only. It was not going to be easy to get rid of her, angels were always annoying like that. He was also feeling tired, drained from her earlier attempt to kill him, the only thing keeping him upright was his pure, ever consuming rage.
“You can not stop me Dean Winchester. This place is an abomination and must be p...” Her little speech was interrupted by Deans right foot slamming into her stomach with a loud thud. It sent her flying backwards into a basket full of wet, dirty bar rags that had yet to be washed. The disgust on her face was apparent as Dean looked at her, half his own face covered in glowing red and black veins. His one eye was still pitch black but the other was now glowing a deep red. It was starting to look like there was a dark shadow surrounding him, causing all his features to look sharper, if not a hell of a lot meaner. The next three words that came out of his mouth were said slowly as he emphasized each one while pointing the rough, jagged blade of his weapon at his assailant's face.
”I. Don't. Care.”
Re: The road so far... - Gildarts - 07-18-2015
Mary Lou's avid concentration seemed to crackle in the air as her fingertips grazed Dean's jaw, suddenly her focus was broken – mangled – by the pain he had inflicted with his strong grasp.
The southern belle's eyes widened as a gasp was audibly caught in her throat. Dean's eyes had clouded with ablack storm while blood-thirsting power and immense wrath emanated from his carnivorous expression. Faster than she could move, the man who didn't belong breathed challenges through his seething teeth. Mary Lou's eyes flashed with a hot intensity that matched his own. Her wrist flicked his hand away, but it was too late, and she had already become wrapped up in the coiling of his next movement.
The reaper heard the sleek sound of a silver blade before she felt its burning streak scald into her skin. It tore through faded denim and sliced away muscle from blood. The stain she left on the first knife flung with a spray of speckling droplets as he followed through with his swing. The crimson stained floor was smeared into the etched grooves of wood by the sole of her boot as the girl resisted the ensnaring grapple of his attacks.
Suddenly... White. Behind the shade of her eyelids sparked the pale color as her chin was jolted toward heaven with a dizzying force. Another blow to her diaphragm, knocked the air from her extended speech. The hollow thud as her neck whipped into the wall was disjointing enough to her spinning sense of flipped gravity, but what was truly worrisome was she couldn't seem to get enough of a handle on her ever-fading vision.
Blurred blinks brought her to with the fresh scent of old rum and pungent sour ale. The smudged rags that had toppled over her eyes and covered her rolling curls at least had woken up her senses and prodded back her fleeting consciousness with their weight.
Looming daggers filled her sight until they all swirled into one bringer of death. The palm of his hand held her inches from life. She wouldn't be taken so easily by a demon possessed weakling. Mary Lou had defied many horrors greater than any blade in her past. But it seemed the man was insistent on playing Angels and Demons, the gleaming crescent curve of the blade shimmered in her eye as it drew close. A smirk appeared on her rose lips, now glistening with a little blood. Inches turned to centimeters and fragmented into millimeters.. Until the seconds became slow around her.
"Fool. Did you think you could defy me? Did you honestly think you could win? I AM death. And no one can stop me." Her big words were perhaps brought out by his own challenge. But she simply took pleasure in the fact that they fell upon his now slowed ears. Probably not too slow for a comeback though, she thought remorsefully through a wave of flushed movement and a sudden, swinging kick landed in the nook of his neck. His extended arm had locked his grip on his weapon. A sassy snarl released from her as her foot hit what felt like concrete and her swaying hair covered glacial eyes while it swished, falling in the air and landing with a jouncing spring over her steadied shoulders.
Well five seconds are nearly up, her breath began a long, faded exhale that might have reminded Dean of somevery good times he had in Tuscaloosa.
Mary Lou's last order of business was to steal his weapon for her own. It was simple enough, he was practically handing it to her with his arm extended out just enough from his body that she could pry it from his grasp.
Time ticked and blood rushed in flooding pulses in her ears as something caught her eye.
Her chin tilted to the side, luminous curiosity wavered as her gaze skimmed over the glowing molten letter written on his inner arm. It appeared as though an unnatural fire had burnt through his skin, and it also seemed to be the source of his fresh influx of power. Noted. The reaper's eyes viciously narrowed and her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the blade.
The last of the air escaped from her lungs as suddenly an increase of pressure off-balanced the subtle momentum of the blade. Disjointed time hung in the balance, as the blade – the precipice of their clash – was flung from either of their hands and skittered across the dusty floor and skipped to a halt about ten feet away from them both.
Dean's slow eyes registered what happened, as the reaper nearly cursed under her lost breath and her eyes met his. Their movements stilled as their gaze held each other hostage, frozen like the time that once was. While the stand-off that had stilled between melted time suddenly ticked forward once more.
Re: The road so far... - Dean Winchester - 07-22-2015
This whole fight was starting to feel like a really bad action movie to Dean. The entire fight over a weapon, it gets knocked away, and then you stare into each other’s eyes thing was so cliché. Though, he was doing exactly that. The rage that had erupted out of him like a volcano was now simmering under the surface, waiting and begging to be let out once again. As far as the fight was going neither of them seemed to be moving, probably waiting on the other to tip their hand first before acting themselves.
Finally the stalemate was broken as Deans eyes wandered from his opponent for a brief second, as this was the reapers cue to leap forward after the weapon. He went after her, but sadly she was faster than him and would reach the weapon first. This just meant that Dean would have to use his strength to compensate for this. As the angel dove down to grasp the hilt of the first blade, just before her fingers could firmly hold the weapon, Dean reached down and grabbed her by the hair. Lifting her up a bit he slammed her face down into the ground hard.
“Hey now, that's no way to treat a lady!” Her words fell on deaf ears as Dean lifted her up again by her hair and slammed her face into the ground once more.
“Trust me, you are no lady.” Dean let go of her hair and got up to go get his weapon back before he felt a hand around his ankle. Before he could even react, Dean was thrown into a wall and sent crashing to the ground. It was unexpected and had knocked the wind out of his lungs, making him take a few moments to recuperate. Before he could get up though, Dean felt a weight on top of him as Mary Lou straddled him, first blade in hand. She looked down at him a triumphant smile on her face as she brandished his own weapon to use again him. Dean knew that normally the blade was useless without the mark of Cain, but in this universe it seemed that all the rules were tossed out the window. She very well might be able to kill him with it.
“Dean, Dean, Dean. You Winchesters will never learn, will you? You have evaded death for the final time.” She leaned in close so Dean could feel her breath on his ear as she spoke. “Trust me, this is for the best.”
Sitting back up the reaper raised her hands above her head and griping the hilt in both hands brought it down intending to pierce Dean’s corrupted heart. Luckily for Dean he was able to deflect it away from being a killing blow; unluckily it tore right into his left shoulder. That was twice now he had been stabbed in his shoulder since he had got here. Dean clenched his teeth and did his best not to scream.
So that was what it felt like to be stabbed with that thing.
It had felt as if his skin had been pierced by the fires of hell itself, he would have to fight through this pain. Mary Lou yanked the blade out of his shoulder Dean grabbed onto his arms with his own to try and shake the weapon free from her grasp.
Sadly with his shoulder in its current state it was clear to Dean that this was not a struggle he could possibly win the conventional way, so he decided to cheat. Pulling her in as they fought for the blade Dean leaned up and then did something that the angel of death was probably not expecting, he bit her arm. His teeth sunk into her forearm till the drew blood, the shock on her face apparent as he did so.
“YOU BIT ME! WHY WO....” the reaper never got to finish her little complaint before Dean managed to use the distraction to shake the blade from her hand and send it across the room again. He also tried to throw her off of him, but instead it ended up with the two of them rolling around the floor and bashing each other into whatever surfaces they came close to. Dean was wondering why no one was coming to check on the noises made, but based on how Dean had acted earlier they probably were all assuming he was just having a really good time in here.
They wrestled for position until Mary Lou once again asserted her dominance over Dean and had him pinned to the ground once again. She took hold of his shirt with her left hand and lifted him off the ground and then punched him hard square in the mouth.
“I was going to make this easy on you Dean, but I guess we will have to do this the old fashioned way” Dean looked up at her as she was speaking to him and was starting to say something smart before her first connected with his face again. He started to laugh at this, more at the fact he was getting beat up by a pretty girl more than anything else. This, of course, only pissed off the reaper even more, I mean who would dare laugh in the face of Death? Well, other than a Winchester of course. Dean felt her fist connect with his face again and again, feeling a sort of detachment from his body as each blow landed.
He had finally bit off more than he could chew and it was honestly pissing him off. Sadly he could not 'smoke out' of his body as normal demons tended to do, probably the side effect of being a human soul corrupted within its own vessel, or it would seem. He was running out of options here. Dean was about to just accept his fate when he felt something boiling under the surface, under all the rage. It was a mix of desperation and a last ditch attempt to not die. He might not be able to smoke out but maybe he could do something. He had all this demonic energy in him so why could he not use it?
Dean started to laugh again, spitting up blood into Mary Lou's face as he did. He continued to laugh as it grew deeper, his voice altering again to something less than human. There was a brief pause in the reapers attack as she started to scream at Dean.
“WHY WON'T YOU JUST SHUT UP AND DIE!” She brought her fist up high in the air intending to bring it down into Deans face in one final, finishing blow. As he watched her do this all that rage and desperation inside of Dean came to a boil and started to spew out of his mouth in the form of a sulphuric smelling smoke cloud. It wasn't like he was leaving his own body, more like he had invested a small portion of his own energy into the cloud that was now swirling around the angel, assaulting her senses and temporarily blinding her. He wasn't sure how long it would last but the Winchester was going to take full advantage of it.
Reaching up he gripped both her shoulders and pulled her down, smashing her face into his own forehead in a ferocious headbutt that caused her to lose her balance so he could toss her aside. Scrambling to his feet Dean made a mad dash to get a grip on the hilt of his weapon. He felt that warm, familiar sensation as his rage sprang back to the foreground and he turned to face his opponent, only to find that she was no longer there. Had she did that angel vanishing trick or had she simply ran after his little cheap shot had worn off?
There was no time to stand around and think about it so Dean grabbed his jacket with his left arm, causing him to wince, and ran out of the room and back towards the main part of the bar. He ran into the room with wild eyes as he stood there looking for his target. To everyone there he looked rather bruised and bloodied, as if he had just went three rounds with a rather unforgiving bear. His eyes finally locked onto the bartender.
“Where is she?! WHERE DID SHE GO?!” The bartender let his hand drop close to his holstered gun as he considered Deans words.
“Son, now calm down and just tell us what th' hell happened to you? You and Mary went out back and now you came racing out all bloodied to hell an' back ranting like a mad man!” Dean looked at the bartender and then made his way closer, tossing his jacket on the bar before slamming the first blade down next to it. He saw the bartender eye his blade and Dean decided to keep his hand away from it before someone did something rash.
“That chick, that Mary Lou was a freaking reaper! That bitch tried to kill me!” Dean saw the confusion on the man's face so he decided to explain it further. “A Reaper, one of Gods' Angels of Death? Come to collect weary souls? Unfortunately this one went rogue and is killing random people for kicks!”
Standing there as he explained this he saw that someone sitting next to him at the bar had just had a drink put down in front of him, so Dean took it and drank it before slamming the glass down on the bar.
“There is already one body back there and if I hadn't gotten in the way there would be a hell of a lot more.” Dean looked down at the glass and saw that there was something in it other then the dregs of the shot he just drank. It was blood, his own blood. Reaching up he wiped at his mouth and chin only to see his hand covered in blood as he took it away. “I am going to kill her....”
As he started to calm down a bit Dean finally noticed that the bar had filled up a bit more since he had disappeared into the back room. He snarled at those who were now staring at him and his eyes flashed black as he considered what he should do. He was in no position to fight but that doesn't mean he wouldn't if it came down to that. Instead he just decided to be his usual brazen self.
“What the hell are you looking at?” A sharp stabbing pain as he spoke reminded Dean that his shoulder was currently killing him, though not literally. It was probably still bleeding a lot too but he wasn't going to show weakness in front of a bunch of strangers. Plus he was pretty sure it was going to heal eventually so why let it bother him now.
Re: The road so far... - Dean Winchester - 07-26-2015
Dean looked around the bar as all the options played through his head, things were not going so well for him. He was angry, sore, in a crowded room, and did he forget angry? Some of the folks around seemed very familiar to him but he could not place from where. He had a feeling something was messing around with his memories.
Calm down Dean, he thought to himself as he noticed he was clenching his fists so tight that his knuckles where starting to turn white. So far the new strangers where mostly keeping to themselves, though one of them had gotten slapped so a fight might be brewing. If that was the case he had to get out of here. There was a time and place to fight, and Dean was sure this was not it. The battle with the Reaper had taken a lot out of him, apparently there was a lot he needed to learn about being a demon.
“Hey Jim, keep my stool warm for me.” With those simple words Dean exited the bar and heading back to the Impala. Dean sighed and shook his head as he noticed a bunch of locals crowded around his ride. They seemed to all be mumbling to each other about it and some of them were even touching it! No one lays a hand on his ride but Dean. Pushing his way through the group he shoved a few of the closer folks out of the way.
“Hands off or you'll lose them!” Dean growled at the crowd. Most of them just shook their heads and walked away, a few had some unkind things to say to him. At least they were leaving his car alone now. He took a walk around to make sure nothing was missing, broken, or had been opened. When he was satisfied that everything was still in place Dean unlocked the driver side door and got in.
The main question he had on his mind as he sat there was what to do next, it's not like he could just sit around here for awhile. There was a Reaper after him now. Maybe that is what he should do, go hunt the bitch down. She probably wasn't in town anymore, which meant she was probably out there in the sand somewhere hiding in a cave. No matter where she was this meant that Dean had to fall back on old ways and do what he did best.
It was time to hunt.
After rolling the windows down Dean turned the ignition and the Impalas' engine roared to life. Ejecting the cassette from the player Dean found a new one and put it in, letting the music start before driving off.
“Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done...”