10-09-2015, 02:02 PM
Staring down at the glass in front of him, Dean couldn't help watch the way the blood swirled together with the whiskey he had poured in. Not that Dean was all about drinking blood and shit now, just that after the greeting he had when he walked into the bar the place was just sort of covered in blood now, and finding a clean glass was just impossible. Looking over at the bodies around the place the Winchester just shook his head, he had given them a chance to leave after all.
When he had got to the bar the place had a few bandits in it, about three or so, who seemed to be raiding the place of the food and drink. Dean had, in his own mind, rather politely asked them to leave, possibly also suggesting that they leave the booze or they would find themselves never having the need to eat or drink again. They had of course declined his offer in the form of gun fire that punched a bunch of new holes in his meat suit, so he killed them.
Kill was probably not the right word, slaughtered was more like it. The bodies in general were pretty much intact, just with a few holes, slashes, and the odd missing limb. The blood however, well that had just gone everywhere. Dean sighed and picked up the glass and downed it, slamming it back down on the counter and reaching for the surprisingly non blood drenched whiskey bottle.
Not what you were expecting, was it Squirrel? Dean wasn't sure if he heard the voice or thought it, but looking behind him he saw no one else in the almost demolished bar. Turning back to face forward the demon almost jumped a bit, because standing there was Crowley, the king of hell himself. Boo!
Dean reached forward to grab the Crowleys' shirt and slam his face down into the bar but it just passed through air, nothing was there in front of him. Then a sound to his left make him look and there was the old Kay Oh Hech sitting on the stool beside him.
Not really here Dean my boy, this is all in your head. The imaginary demon reach up and tapped on Dean's forehead. I won't say you have bad taste though if you need to chat and think of me. At least it wasn't Moose. His stuff is getting boring and repetitive, innit?
Dean poured himself another drink, downed it, then turned to speak to the figment of his apparently twisted imagination only to be silence with a raised hand.
I know, I know! Poor wittle Dean got menaced by the big bad Reaper, and now feels bad about what he did. Get over it. Dean could have sworn the imaginary Crowley was staring at the whiskey with longing in his eyes, though again this was probably all in his mind. You're a demon now sunshine, buck up and take a look around! You have already painted this town red, figuratively and literally, and might I add what a splendid job you did of that! You were made for this Dean Winchester, this is who you are, no, who you were MEANT to be! A demon! The biggest, scariest demon around!
Dean had forgotten how much the king of hell liked to talk when you got him going, it was always annoying but sometimes he had a point in there somewhere.
Listen, no more of this half and half shite, either you are a man or you are a demon. Pick one then man the fuck up. Imagi-Crowley got up and patted Dean on the shoulder. Decide soon too, other wise this one foot in the light and one in the dark deal is going to get you killed. Now stop talking to yourself and get out there!
Off in the distance there was a bright flash of yellow light, followed by more explosions and various inhuman sounds.
Otherwise you are going to miss all the fun! Dean picked up his glass and downed the amber-red liquid mix as the fake Crowley faded from sight, before chucking the glass at the wall.
”Fuck it.” With that the Winchester stood up and dusted himself off a bit, which was futile considered all the blood he was covered in, and then headed out of the giant hole in the bar wall. Ten or fifteen steps outside Dean stopped, tilted his head to the side and then ran back in. A few moments later he appeared outside once more, this time with a partially full whiskey bottle in hand.
Time to join the big boy fight.
Dean marched off to find his baby, the car he had left in the middle of town while he had gone to play. It took him a fair bit of time but eventually he found it, luckily the town didn't wasn't really as big as it seemed. Well, it was either that or he was on a mission now and didn't notice time passing the same way as it normally did.
No matter what it was there was his car, just as he left her. Banged up, blood soaked, and full of bullet holes. Getting in he put the bottle of whiskey on the passenger seat and turned the ignition, verbally coaxing it to start, and after the third time the engine turned and roared to life. Putting the impala into gear he pressed down on the gas pedal, and shot off into the streets once the tires caught. He know where he was going at least, the bright yellow beacon and the large monkey monster thing made it impossible to miss.
As he got closer to the fight Dean popped a tape into the deck, and the closer he got the louder it got for everyone around.
Nobody's going to help you
You've just gotta stand up alone
And dig in your heels and see how it feels
To Raise a little Hell of your own
Raise a little hell, raise a little hell, raise a little hell!
Dean pressed the gas pedal down to the floor once the fight was in view, slamming his car into the first bandit that was dumb enough to get in his way. Slamming on the breaks after the man went sailing over his car Dean got out, first blade in one hand and the whiskey bottle in another, as the music continued to play.
If you don't like what you've got, why don't you change it?
If your world is all screwed up, rearrange it!
Oh ohoh
When he had got to the bar the place had a few bandits in it, about three or so, who seemed to be raiding the place of the food and drink. Dean had, in his own mind, rather politely asked them to leave, possibly also suggesting that they leave the booze or they would find themselves never having the need to eat or drink again. They had of course declined his offer in the form of gun fire that punched a bunch of new holes in his meat suit, so he killed them.
Kill was probably not the right word, slaughtered was more like it. The bodies in general were pretty much intact, just with a few holes, slashes, and the odd missing limb. The blood however, well that had just gone everywhere. Dean sighed and picked up the glass and downed it, slamming it back down on the counter and reaching for the surprisingly non blood drenched whiskey bottle.
Not what you were expecting, was it Squirrel? Dean wasn't sure if he heard the voice or thought it, but looking behind him he saw no one else in the almost demolished bar. Turning back to face forward the demon almost jumped a bit, because standing there was Crowley, the king of hell himself. Boo!
Dean reached forward to grab the Crowleys' shirt and slam his face down into the bar but it just passed through air, nothing was there in front of him. Then a sound to his left make him look and there was the old Kay Oh Hech sitting on the stool beside him.
Not really here Dean my boy, this is all in your head. The imaginary demon reach up and tapped on Dean's forehead. I won't say you have bad taste though if you need to chat and think of me. At least it wasn't Moose. His stuff is getting boring and repetitive, innit?
Dean poured himself another drink, downed it, then turned to speak to the figment of his apparently twisted imagination only to be silence with a raised hand.
I know, I know! Poor wittle Dean got menaced by the big bad Reaper, and now feels bad about what he did. Get over it. Dean could have sworn the imaginary Crowley was staring at the whiskey with longing in his eyes, though again this was probably all in his mind. You're a demon now sunshine, buck up and take a look around! You have already painted this town red, figuratively and literally, and might I add what a splendid job you did of that! You were made for this Dean Winchester, this is who you are, no, who you were MEANT to be! A demon! The biggest, scariest demon around!
Dean had forgotten how much the king of hell liked to talk when you got him going, it was always annoying but sometimes he had a point in there somewhere.
Listen, no more of this half and half shite, either you are a man or you are a demon. Pick one then man the fuck up. Imagi-Crowley got up and patted Dean on the shoulder. Decide soon too, other wise this one foot in the light and one in the dark deal is going to get you killed. Now stop talking to yourself and get out there!
Off in the distance there was a bright flash of yellow light, followed by more explosions and various inhuman sounds.
Otherwise you are going to miss all the fun! Dean picked up his glass and downed the amber-red liquid mix as the fake Crowley faded from sight, before chucking the glass at the wall.
”Fuck it.” With that the Winchester stood up and dusted himself off a bit, which was futile considered all the blood he was covered in, and then headed out of the giant hole in the bar wall. Ten or fifteen steps outside Dean stopped, tilted his head to the side and then ran back in. A few moments later he appeared outside once more, this time with a partially full whiskey bottle in hand.
Time to join the big boy fight.
Dean marched off to find his baby, the car he had left in the middle of town while he had gone to play. It took him a fair bit of time but eventually he found it, luckily the town didn't wasn't really as big as it seemed. Well, it was either that or he was on a mission now and didn't notice time passing the same way as it normally did.
No matter what it was there was his car, just as he left her. Banged up, blood soaked, and full of bullet holes. Getting in he put the bottle of whiskey on the passenger seat and turned the ignition, verbally coaxing it to start, and after the third time the engine turned and roared to life. Putting the impala into gear he pressed down on the gas pedal, and shot off into the streets once the tires caught. He know where he was going at least, the bright yellow beacon and the large monkey monster thing made it impossible to miss.
As he got closer to the fight Dean popped a tape into the deck, and the closer he got the louder it got for everyone around.
Nobody's going to help you
You've just gotta stand up alone
And dig in your heels and see how it feels
To Raise a little Hell of your own
Raise a little hell, raise a little hell, raise a little hell!
Dean pressed the gas pedal down to the floor once the fight was in view, slamming his car into the first bandit that was dumb enough to get in his way. Slamming on the breaks after the man went sailing over his car Dean got out, first blade in one hand and the whiskey bottle in another, as the music continued to play.
If you don't like what you've got, why don't you change it?
If your world is all screwed up, rearrange it!
Oh ohoh
Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole.
![[Image: yep.gif]](http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y180/captainmolotov/yep.gif)