TCM: Ah, so this is my first Fanfiction to ever be posted, so uh… go easy on me?
Balthazar: Don't, it'll only inflate the kid's ego.
Castiel: What are you doing here, Balthazar? You are not even in this Chapter.
Balthazar: Neither are you. So I could ask you the same question.
Castiel: points at Sam and Dean getting ready for the chapter. My boys are here.
Epic stare off starts between the two.
TCM: Uh... Guys… Chapter's starting...
Balthazar: doesn't break his stare. Right, Luam does not own Supernatural or any of its original ideas.
Castiel: also remains starring with an intimidating glare. But I own Dean and Sam.
Balthazar: Oh for fuck's sake Castiel.
Castiel: furrows his brow. I do not understand what intercourse has to do with this discussion.
TCM: sighs and looks at the readers. Just, skip to the chapter, this is gonna take them a while…
Arguing continues between the two.
Chapter 1: Alone on the Road
His voice makes me want to punch somebody, Sam's I mean. I swear if one more person asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches! That's all I ever hear anymore: "Are you okay, Dean?" Dad dies, "Are you okay?" I die and go to hell, "Are you okay?" Sam dies, "Are you okay?" Bobby dies, "Are you okay?" and now I've got that damned Mark of Cain and no! No I am not okay! But would I ever admit it to Sammy, to Cas?
No…
I can't, something just keeps nagging at my mind, whispering for me to ignore their pleas and concerns. And Sammy? Hah, Sammy still doesn't know when to quit. What's worse, he acts all smug about it, "I know Dean, I can see it. You never sleep, and when you do it's always interrupted by nightmares, you're taking way too much anger out on monsters (Not that they don't deserve it), you're drinking more than usual, and sometimes starring off into space. I'm your brother Dean, you can trust me. Tell me are you okay?"
No. I'm not.
But like I said, I'd never tell him that. The thing is, Sam has this knack for always prying things out of me, one way or another, well not this time. I'm not gonna have any more damn chick-flick moments with my own damned brother.
I sat there, starring at the mark on my arm. There's this weird feeling I get when I look at it, think about it. This yearning… I need to kill something, anything. But looking out the window of our current hotel room, I just see humans. Only humans walking around… Wait, humans? Since when did I start labeling them like I wasn't one of them?
Since ya went to Hell, a raspy voice inside me crooned, and don't try to argue, 'cause you know its true Deano. It's not surprisingly Alastair's voice.
For some reason I find myself thinking of my old Master when I think of Hell. It's probably the same reason I think of Bobby when I see baseball caps and hillbillies, or the Impala… Always reminding me of my deadbeat dad. I snorted softly at about the time Sammy came shuffling out of the bathroom, hair still wet as he dried it with a towel and dusty blue jeans pulled up to ride low on his waist. He raised a brow, obviously having heard the noise,
"What is it Dean?" he asked me curiously. I flinched lightly at how loud his voice seemed and rushed to push my sleeve back down to cover the mark on my arm,
"Hmm? Oh, nothin' Sammy, just waiting for you to get your ass out of the bathroom after five fucking hours." Shifting to insults with Sam was tricky. If you said the right thing, he'd just get annoyed and storm off. But if you didn't, he'd start getting suspicious. And as that signature frown curled on his face, I knew that, unfortunately, he was the later at the moment. I wanted to scowl. As usual, when I refuse to tell him something, he starts throwing a hissy-fit interrogation.
"Dean, are you-" Sam started, but I cut him off with a growl,
"Don't ask me if I'm okay! I'm fine!" As soon as I said it a soft, burning, thrum jolted its way up my arm and I snapped my jaws shut to hold back any noise that could alert Sam. In less than a second I was back to the laptop and books scattered out in front of me on the desk that came with the room, trying to concentrate on getting the red to fade from my vision and the adrenaline pumping through my blood to calm down. The clock sounded like it was ticking too loud, the sound of the refrigerator was annoying as all hell, even the little sounds of the people busy outside was driving me nuts; I hadn't even noticed my foot starting to tap loudly, my teeth starting to grind, or that my hand was grasping at my arm where the mark was hiding under my sleeve.
"d…an...dean…Dean!" I blinked. It was like one of those cool slow-motion pauses in the movies where all the ringing in the ears after a bomb went off stops suddenly. I felt a hard grip on my shoulder and another on the arm that had been attached to my other arm, and I turned my slightly bewildered gaze to look at Sam's face. Worry, fear, a little anger… typical puppy dog eyes. It made me sick.
Something clicked. I shot up, knocking the chair back and pushing Sam away so roughly he slammed into the wall nearest to us. I zoomed past him, grabbing my keys and my wallet on the way to the door while Sammy started recovering from the blow I dealt him, "Ugh.. Dean wait! Wai-"
The loud smack of a door being thrown against it's hinges in the small hotel rang clear through the halls and I rushed to my baby, stumbling here and there; un-intentionally glaring at passers-by. When I reached the Impala I ripped the door open, jammed in the keys, and slammed it shut, screeching off on the mostly empty road with Metallica blasting on the radio. I took a last glance up through the rear-view mirror to see Sam run out of the hotel and make an attempt to catch up with me.
"Sorry Sammy." I whispered and steeled my expression, focusing on the road ahead of me and started hoping that the next few hours wouldn't be as much of a hell as I knew they could be.
To be continued.
Meanwhile, with the Author, Balti, and Cas-
Balthazar: How many more times do I have to explain this to you?!
Crowley: Raising your voice is not gonna help Balti, dear, trust me… I've tried.
Castiel: I don't advise putting faith in him.
Crowley: Oh, like you're one to talk mister stab people in the back?!
Balthazar: He has got a point there, Castiel.
Moment of silence…
Castiel: Point not valid.
Crowley: ... You stubborn bloody wanker of an Angel! One of these days I'm gonna cut those wings off an shove them up your-
TCM: I just… -_- Review if you want to everyone… Thanks.