I am so confused.
I did not allow the review to go through, but what the Hell was that Guest review about? Censoring you...? Was that meant for me? I can't afford your attorney's bill? Uh, wherever you are guest, can you come back and explain what that was about? And possibly work on your writing? You repeated things.
Song: Where'd You Go by Fort Minor (this is for purposes)
He didn't like taking Castiel with him on runs, not lately anyway. It was always one thing after another, whether he just wasn't paying attention to what was going on or he just didn't give a shit; they'd lost three men this week because of him. Dean was pretty sure Castiel wanted to die, he had it written all over his face but Dean didn't really understand why. Usually, when Dean was still raring to go, Castiel was jumping at the chance to fight beside him but now...
The Earth shook beneath their feet and Dean whipped his head up, seeing a violent crack of lighting come down and strike a flag pole tittering in the wind a few blocks ahead of them. The clouds were sudden and rolling, agitated and far with lightning rumbling around their creases. Murmurs started amongst the group of four, Dean looking at Castiel through a side glance but he didn't speak directly to him.
"What the Hell," Dean murmured, clenching his gun tight in his hand.
Wind had begun to pick up and Dean was reminded of a time, not too long ago actually, that an angel had appeared in front of him with the same display. Weather changes, cracks of lightning, violent winds and that annoying ringing in his ear. Dean took a step back, subconsciously moving himself closer to Cas as his hands raised the rifle in his arms. He had a sudden wave of nausea in his gut but shook his shoulders a little, pushing the feeling down as Castiel spoke.
"An angel has fallen," he murmured, ever narrowed eyes moving to slits on the flagpole in the distance.
Dean snorted and shifted his weight. "What the Hell would one of them be doing crashing here," of course, he wasn't denying the similarities of the occurrence.
Castiel shook his head and started walking, eyes cautious on his surroundings. Dean snorted but jerked his chin at the others to follow. They seemed just as skeptical as him, but if Dean said jump, they asked how high. Even if Castiel was the one leading in this case. Dean had already proven time and time again that he was leader and plenty supported him. He'd saved the group plenty of times, even though they all vocalized how protestant they were to his harsh treatment. But there was more than one reason to fear Dean, he just didn't make the affliction public.
Dean's eyes swept around the overgrown garden the lightning had led them too, seeing roses and lilies wilting in growth from mistreatment. The group leeched out but not far, guns raised and eyes vigilant as Dean trekked deeper with Castiel, who was breathing harder. Dean arched an eyebrow at his former best friends back; he never got worked up anymore, this must actually be something. The last time he had seen Castiel like this, the hound of Heaven he used to be and hunting for whatever he was told, was way back in...
"Dean," Cas' gruff voice came from somewhere ahead of him.
Dean blinked a few times and realized he had stopped walking. He adjusted his rifle in his hands and stepped cautiously towards the spot Castiel had stopped on the cracked sidewalk. He was peering into the bushes to Dean's left and then Dean's eyes followed, eyes widening when he saw the small girl between the dying leaves and crackly grass.
She was small, obviously, but he could tell she wasn't much younger than fifteen at the least; stunted growth. Her hair was dark, maybe brown but he could mistake it for black. The back of her head was matted with what he knew was blood on instinct and there was a shotgun clenched in bruised fingers. Her puffy lips were ringed with blood and she was wearing a short nightdress, no shoes. What skin that was exposed had a concerning spattering of bruises and...maybe scars, he couldn't see too good in the sudden lapse of light.
"Shit," Dean murmured as he slipped his rifle onto his back. He stepped over the short bushes and crouched down beside her, sticking two fingers to her pulse, sighing in relief when he found one. "She's alive," he looked up at Cas. "Think she's an angel?"
Cas stared down at the girl, eyes following as Dean hefted her up gently into his arms; he gave the shotgun to Castiel, who ran his eyes over fresh, intricate engraving in the stock and metal. The markings were fresh, still steaming from whatever brand had pressed to them in a fever. They were familiar to Castiel, but he couldn't place where they were familiar from.
"She is not an angel," Castiel looked up from under his brow. "But she is different...we bring her back to camp immediately."
"Cas, we have a run to make," kind of hard to argue when he had an unconscious, bloody girl in his arms.
"We take her back, then we finish the run. Chuck can watch over her until we return."
Dean sighed, wanting to rub the bridge of his nose. "Fine," he gave him the best bitch face he could manage. "We take her back, but I want you to stay with her."
Cas furrowed his brow, opening his mouth to speak but Dean was already walking away, barking orders at the group.
She woke up.
She couldn't think something like 'she woke up with a massive headache' or 'she woke up in a great deal of pain' because she was still stuck on the fact that she had woken up.
Piper blinked slowly from her place on her side, coming face-to-face with an unused fireplace. Her eyes flickered around, finding mute familiarity with the wooden walls towering over her. Yes, her body aches and yes she had a massive headache but she sat up on shaky arms, wet hair (?) falling into her face as she looked around. There were duffel bags and a pool table-turned-conference-table in the center of the room, maps laid out and gun parts on top of them. There were stairs nearby and she wanted to know where they led but the question still lingered: Why was she alive?
There was no doubt in her mind that she was still alive, she just didn't understand how she knew that but she was trying to suppress a panic attack so thinking it over and over and over and - what the Hell was that noise?
Piper ducked her head when she heard a fridge open - the rattle of the shelves giving it away - and peered into what was supposed to be the kitchen. There was a man leaning into the fridge, scars highlighted along a fluid back even with his silhouette; for some reason, the sight of him soothed her. It was that sense of familiarity again, like she had seen that back on a regular occasion but that didn't make sense. The man grunted and plucked up half a bottle of cold whiskey, shutting the door and tilting his head back to take a heady swig when he turned around to her.
He had an anti-possession tattoo on his chest.
Piper's breath hitches and he notices on point, piercing green eyes finding her and she squeaks out his name before she can stop herself.
"Dean."
He takes instant defense, slamming the bottle down on the counter and stalking towards her. Everything thumps: Her heart, the floorboards. Piper scrambles back, screaming as she slips off the cot and hits the floor, pain making her seize. She looks up in fear of Dean - she knows its him, she just does but is still stuck on how - and he hovers over her, panting before he reaches down for her. A knee slams up against the apex of her thighs, strong hands gripping her upper arms as he roughly slammed her back against the floor. Hair ruffled around her and she couldn't help but inhale his musk, her heart fluttering for more than one reason. Despite the fear, despite the confusion, Piper was beneath the Dean Winchester.
A position she had always dreamed of being in.
"How the Hell do you know my name," he growled, spittle dotting the tip of her nose.
Piper whimpered and squirmed beneath him. "If I tell you," she arched her back beneath him. "You won't believe me!"
He chuckled darkly in his throat and she could swear his eyes turned black for a minute. "I've seen far more things than you can imagine, dream of, shit you wouldn't believe," he peered up from under his brow. "So - try me."
Piper swallowed, bucking up against him. "I-I'm from a different reality I guess," she stuttered over the words. "You're just a character! You're name is Jensen Ackles, Dean is just a character!"
His eyes popped wide but only for a split second, then they narrowed again; he seemed to believe her a little but it wasn't enough. "What kind of sick fucking trick is this?!"
Piper shook her head fiercely. "I swear to you Dean, please I'm nothing! I just - "
"You know my fucking name," Dean snarled. "You appeared after someone on our team swore an angel fell in lightning - who are you?!"
"I'm a dead girl," she wailed beneath him. "I blew my fucking brains out last night! I blew my brains out and my last thought was that maybe my Heaven will be a part of your life! But I didn't want the pissed off, hard fucking version of you! Its 2014, right? Sam's gone? Lucifer is in his body?"
Dean was completely frozen above her, his fingers so tight around her arms that she could feel the blood stopping in some places. She was going numb, she ached and she was so fucking scared right now. She'd always wanted to be in Supernatural, begged God every night to just bring her there, even for a day but she didn't want to be here in the Endverse. She didn't want to be pinned beneath an empty man with a stick up his ass, a version that actually hurt to see -
"The angels sent you to fuck with me," Dean breathed. "To submit to Michael at last," he shook his head fiercely. "Well, you can go ahead and tell them fucking no for the millionth time."
Piper yelped yet again when he pushed off of her, making her feel so incredibly small; he really was a big man. And half naked. And totally beautiful. And completely effing pissed.
"I don't know what else to say," she whispered softly. "I swear to you, I'm not associated with any angels. Or demons. Or anything else - my name is Piper, I'm from Wiggins, Mississippi and I shot myself with my grandfathers shotgun when my mother was trying to attack me for the hundredth time," she wiggled until she was propped up on her elbows. "Dean, I don't know what I can do to convince you that I'm anything but a dead girl."
Dean stared down at Piper for a long time, broad chest heaving and fingers flexing at his sides. She was scared, reasonably so and she stayed where she was. Piper, like so many people, had wanted to meet Dean Winchester, be in Supernatural...
And here she was, with a pissed off Dean and a twisted version of a world she thought beautiful.
"You're gonna go to Cas in the morning," he snapped. "But, tonight, you're gonna be handcuffed to the rail of my bed until then so I can keep an eye on you."
Piper almost protested, but he snatched her up before she had the chance. She was nothing in his hands, light as a feather. She winced at the handful of splinters she knew were plucking at her tender soles, squeaking and grabbing onto his bare back to keep her balance up the stairs. Dean growled at her but Piper didn't let him go, he got the hint and grumbled his way with her in tow.
"Sleep," he pulled out the handcuffs from a bedside table. "Don't sleep," he shrugged as he pushed her down onto a pillow her tossed beneath her. "Doesn't matter to me," she flinched as the handcuffs bit closed around her wrist. "Just don't fucking cry."
She had no reason, she was too confused.
"Okay," she murmured meekly.
Dean paused and then snorted, clicking off the soft amber light beside his bed. The bed squeaked and swayed slightly as he must have just thrown himself down. Piper curled her lets up beneath her, deciding this was much better than being home with her mother.