I Used To be Love Drunk
"I'll love you forever…"
X~X
"I've got something." Sam's voice cut in on Dean's thoughts and he looked up from his paper. He'd been staring at it for ten minutes now, not even reading it.
"What?" dean set the paper aside and took a swing of his drink.
Sam stared at him for a moment, as if he might say something sappy. "Well, the victim went to the same club as Orenda."
"So?" Dean frowned, trying to make the connection. "A lot of people go to that club." Sam shook his head, sighing in slight frustration.
"Orenda's necklace, the arrow through the circle. It matched the mark left on the victim's arm. The image turns out to be the symbol for an ancient god-"
Dean zoned out again as Sam talked, his mind flashing to an old memory that invaded his thoughts. Sweat, mingling breath, soft groans of happiness.
"Dean!" Dean jolted out his thoughts as Sam yelled.
"What?!" Dean snapped, meeting Sam's gaze.
"What the hell dude? You keep zoning out, are you okay?"
Dean took another drink from his beer. "I'm fine Sammy."
Sam looked like he might argue, but the phone on the table rang and he sighed, grabbing it and stepping out. Dean opened his own phone, flipping to a picture hidden deep in his files. A bewildered face, bright blue eyes wide, hair tousled from sleep. He ran his thumb over the screen, shaking his head in agitation. Not at the picture, but himself. This is what it had come to. Memories.
X~X
Dean sat in the bar of the town they had the case in. He'd left Sam to finish his research and decided to hit the alcohol early. Like he hadn't already been doing that. He flagged down the bartender and ordered a whiskey, savoring the harsh burn as he drank.
Eyes ghosting over the other early-bird occupants, he grimaced at the way one woman was trying to seductively get his attention. That might have worked before, but now it was just annoying.
"Hey there." The blonde purred as she sat on the stool next to him, leaning over the counter to show an impressive amount of cleavage. Dean had to wonder, for a moment, at how her thin shirt was holding those in place.
"Hi." Dean said dryly, turning his attention back to his drink. The woman reached out and touched his hand, stroking circles with her fingertip.
"What's you name handsome?" The touch was beginning to piss him off. He thought about just ignoring her, but she seemed like to type to need something more blunt.
"Not interested." Dean stood, leaving behind the now pouting woman. He shoved out of the bar, welcoming the cool air. Had he been the old Dean, he would have taken that one to the hotel and had some fun. Now though, his mind was haunted by another.
He slowed as he passed a small church, stopping to stare at the statue of an angel in the small front garden. Another memory assaulted him and he raised his gaze to the sky.
"Cas..." The name was spoken like a soft prayer. One he never expected to be answered again.
"Dean?"
