You're only ever just a phone call away, baby.
The Third Time
"Hey Dean, old buddy!"
The hand not tightening around the cell clung to the steering wheel in a death grip, all he could do not to drive the Impala into a ditch. Fortunately he was on a flat, straight stretch of road or they would be roadkill. "How did you get my number?" Dean hissed into the phone, painfully aware of Sam dozing next to him.
"I had to bang a little old lady and twist her granddaughter's neck. Or… wait, was it the other way around?"
"What do you want, Damon?"
Damon made an indignant noise in the back of his throat. "Can't a vamp call his best hunter buddy to ask if the monsters are biting?"
"Well, Damon, are you biting?" Dean snarled.
Damon laughed. "Harsh!"
Dean grit his teeth against the urge to scream. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sam. He was still asleep – or pretending to, he thought grimly. "I'm going to ask you one more time, then I'll hang up and throw this cell away. What do you want?"
There was silence at the other end of the line.
Dean sighed loudly. He wasn't in the mood for games. "I'm hanging up now, Damon…" Even as he spoke, he shook his head at himself, annoyed that he kept giving the monster chance after chance to explain himself. It was only because he needed to know how Damon had acquired his number, he told himself, but he felt no better for it.
"My brother's got himself a girlfriend." He sounded… Dean wasn't sure what he sounded like, actually, but distinctly not like Damon. Sappy might fit it, if sappy came with generous amounts of self-pity and indignation. "She's human, couldn't hurt a fly and looks like Katherine."
It took Dean a while to realize Damon expected him to know who Katherine was and a lot longer to remember. It had been years since that conversation in the bar and at the time Damon hadn't been more than yet another passing bar acquaintance. The only reason Damon had been memorable at all was… Well, knowing what he knew now about Damon, he would rather not think about it. When he finally made the connection, Dean grunted in annoyance. "If you start pouring your little rotting heart out, I'll…"
"Hang up, I know!" Damon snapped. "Sheesh, and they call me a cold bastard!"
"What do you expect? A bouquet of vervain?"
"How about 'sorry I tried to kill you, Damon?'"
"I'm just sorry I didn't get you."
There was a moment of poignant silence. "Kinky."
"What do you want, Damon?" Dean ground out between clenched teeth. He eyed the side of the road speculatively. Open the window, a flick of the wrist…
"Maybe I just wanted to make sure you're alright!" Damon snapped indignantly.
Dean snorted derisively. "Cut the hurt feelings crap; you're wasting your time."
"Alright." All joviality was gone from Damon's voice. "I just called to remind you that I spared your life twice."
Dean's hand gripped the cell phone so hard the cheap plastic casing gave an ominous creak. "I didn't ask you to."
"I didn't do it for you."
Dean sighed loudly, an angry, frustrated noise. He got the distinct feeling that this whole bizarre conversation was turning in circles. "See. I owe you nothing." He gave another explosive sigh. "Look, this is pointless!"
"Of course," Damon agreed readily. "If it was sensible, it wouldn't be fun."
"Whatever made you think I give a damn about your pearls of wisdom?"
There was a moment of silence at the other end of the line. "I reckon it's for the very same reason you're talking to me at all."
Dean's hand ached from the iron grip he had on the cell phone. "I'm done with your crap." His finger moved to end the call.
"Drive safely, sweetheart." Damon made a disgustingly wet kissing noise and the line went dead.
Dean growled with barely restrained anger and punched his fist, still holding the phone, against the steering wheel. "Fuck!"
As soon as Dean had shoved the cell back into his jacket, Sam yawned loudly and stretched.
Dean shot him an unimpressed glare. "Don't even start!"
Sam snickered. "Girlfriend troubles?"
Dean gave a miserable groan. Fucking Damon.
to be continued...
