( autoplay ) ;; hiatus.

rattledbybullets !

who the HELL was this guy ?? who did he think he was ?? was this some kind of bullshit attempt at walking into DEAN’S turf ( even if it wasn’t !! ) & showing him who owned the  j o i n t  ?? there was no way the fearless leader was going to let this one slide. his gun comes to a rattle against the holster before  g r a v e l  groans to his boot. ANGER, it comes to taint the very inner workings of his expression.  d a r k e n i n g  lines against his facade before he undeniably, straightens himself & widens an already broad chest. 

the safest thing to do in this situation is give the stranger an answer,  but the soulless man is stubborn & he’d rather get shot before giving the ANSWER the other demanded., though if the situation was switched, wesson would be demanding answers as well. the look of this  ( crimson stained )  guy  didn’t give him an uneasy feeling & the thought of defending himself didn’t  cross his mind. he had NO IDEA what this  guy’s  deal  was  or  why  it  had  been wesson that had ended up getting caught; just a second more and  he  could have been out of here. there’s a sigh followed by the roll of his eyes, shifting on his feet & he can’t help but give a look of pure BOREDOM. just glancing down at his hands, he gives another ( though over dramatic ) sigh while  he lifted his hues to gaze upon the weapon in hand.

               ❛ see, i’d tell you, but there’s a g u n pointed at me. ❜

the annoyance of the fearless leader HIT it’s peak & he  r e a l i z e s  that this man is about  as  stubborn  as   H I S   OWN. there  were  no  answers  to  be taken until dean eased off a bit. if answers WEREN’T  p  r  o  v  i  d  e  d, there would be a PUNCH to be thrown into the d i r e c t i o n  of the other.  without further   adieu, he  pulls  back  the  silver  weapon, aiming  it  toward  the  sky as his gaze drops. dean  MIMICS  the  d r a m a t i c  sigh enough to  get  the point across he was   NOT   happy  about being  compliant  here. there  is  an  idle as  the  man’s  mind  processes  everything in that point in  time. he  sees his own neck being SNAPPED though it wasn’t  HIS   own, it  was  some  sort of version zapped to his time. he could now  only   ASSUME   he  got  thrown  in some different diminution or he was mad, this  was  JUST   a  dream. dean  would just wake up within his nightmare, that’s what  he  was  going  to  hold onto in the long run of this. 

It had been five years now, and it didn’t matter how stupid the idea was, there was this tiny particule inside the former angel that had the hope that one day, one of these days Dean would call him and tell him it was over. That he was going to stop this madness and just give up to the fact that there was no way to get out of this mess. That he would try to live the rest of his days in peace. Or whatever peace you could get in this bloody camp.

He was slightly high and he had been drinking all day, and yet this speck inside of him sparkled once again in hopes that this would be the day.

But it wasn’t. It never is. It never would be.

“Oh, geez, you see, boss…” He said, recurring to the only act of defense he had against these situations: Sarcasm. “I have a busy schedule this week, I have a spiritual sesion tonight and two orgies tomorrow. Why don’t you ask Chuck? I heard he’s free these days. Didn’t want to join me tomorrow.”

dean doesn’t even raise his attention as the other speaks, annoyance beginning to rise. see the OLD dean, would have sniped back with some  WITTY  comment but this one. this wasn’t the OLD MODEL dean, no. this was a cold & much more aggressive version desperate for answers under the surface. desperate to save what little hope he had left for sam. desperate to END the devil’s concurring over the land. desperation would never be shown, the little toy soldier so broken that  no one recognizes him would remain under the surface because dean learned. the little toy should GAVE forth a weakness & for him to be LEADER, he can’t be weak.

finally, a huffed laugh passes through the man’s lips as he pulls free one of the guns. he STEADILY examines it between calloused palms as he rectifies the situation as  dean sees fit. even if it’s not exactly the way it should be. though he would never admit this, not even to castiel. cas was the ONLY person dean will ever be able to trust again,  he was the only familiar face he would keep around. 

❛ should’a known this hippie bullshit would go t’your head, cas. i dunno, maybe    because y’more of m’right hand in camp. though by the looks of it, maybe he   should be the one. y’just free loadin’ & blowin’, isn’t that right ? forget it. 

     his gaze never pulled away from the countenance of the other,      noting how those gruesome specks of BLOOD covered the      innocent freckles beneath. a bitter reminder of the duties that      Dean had to carry through. no, Nolan certainly didn’t agree with      the killing of others, but in a world like this… ravaged by living      corpses and scarce in resources – betrayal and death seemed      to go hand-in-hand.      ever a curious creature, the hound was persistent ( his demeanor      remaining expressionless and calm, though it was difficult to retain      either ) and he carefully stood, an uneasiness heavy within his chest.      truthfully, he was scared of Dean – whether the leader realized that      or not, remained unknown – but he was terrified of him.               the harshness of the other’s features; the way he calloused               himself against the woes and worries of others; convincing               himself of what was       right     and    what   was    wrong.               the hound had to wonder how Dean did it, how he managed               to not completely become a mad man. as much as this fear               coiled in the pit of his stomach, Nolan kept it hidden as best               he could.      having clambered to his feet, forest green hues eventually      lowered a fraction, showing the submission he carried      toward this                                 fearless leader.      a stammering of an apology came tumbling out, nervous and      worried, it revealed everything he tried so hard to keep buried      when around Dean,                “m’sorry – I shouldn’t have – I know I shouldn’t have                  said anythin’ — “ ( but the words spilled out anyway,                  the ill-fated, all dreaded question poured out and stung                  like an acid )                                 “why did y’do it? why did y’kill them?”

     foolish. prodding. those were two ways of describing him,      and Dean had every reason to lash back.    no matter the      instance,   Nolan had to understand the reasoning behind      this killer’s intent. he wouldn’t kill without reason, right?

‘’m sorry.’ the word it’s self makes him recoil & retaliate internally. it makes him really realize the MONSTER he has become enough to have him turn away from the other with pure shame clouding against freckled features. this is the EXACT reason why he turns away from a wandering eye. turning so that he can IMMEDIATELY begin to throw the wall of icy cold  n a t u r e.

             as moments pass on, the silent question begin to pile up within the              white noise. tension comes to RISE within the fearless leader under              DANGEROUS levels. there is nothing anyone can do when it comes              to this point except accept the fatal emotional blow he is about to              unleash. fingertips curve into his palm just to un-flex as he maintains              the anger level for NOLAN’S sake. 

dean is very aware of what would be to come of the outburst looming over the tired man’s aura. he is  AWARE  of what would be to come from both sides & his potential of losing the one anchor that keeps him SOBER even in the darkest & intoxicated of times.  intoxicated by bloodlust, intoxicated by ALCOHOL but most of all, intoxicated by the guilt & desperation of needing resolution. 

             but then there is was, there was the WHY. this is his tipping point, dean               can’t hold himself back & with a slam of his palm against the wooden               cabinet, he turns with a creased brow. anger darkening every aspect of              his facade before crossing the room toward the other. 

❛ because they got infected on my watch, nolan ! that’s why i did it !    i did it t’protect camp, i did it t’protect you, if i would’a BROUGHT    those men back here, HALF of camp would’a been gone by mornin’.   ‘d rather me take out t’weak while i can instead of the weak coming   t’take out all i have left, got it ? ❜

             the man stands there, basically toe to toe with the other, plush lips parted              as he PANTS from the sheer anger & he slowly realizes his outburst at the              other. steadily, broad shoulders slowly lower as INWARDLY he begins to              panic. he is beginning to prepare himself for nolan leaving, he prepares for              another LOSS. he is already replacing the void with alcohol as he gives the              other one last glance before turning to go toward his whiskey cabinet. 

; since my jordan/dean feelings have hit, this is where i rant about it. lovedharder

            “ no. “ is all that’s given for a moment. but it falls so HEAVY for one word &  l i n g e r s; laced with a story yet to be told. & as everything comes flooding back gaze will fall to the creaky wooden floor of his cabin.  “ someone in the group ended up gettin’ infected & didn’t tell anyone. – killed  two people  before we got t’her & i put her down. but after that … no one trusted each other anymore & it was TITS UP from there. “ & jordan had to watch it all happen. how quickly the HUMANITY drained right out of these people. saw paranoia EAT them alive before anything supernatural could. “ i wanted t’leave but they didn’t want t’LET me. so when i booked it on my own … they chased me. “ the last bit comes out  breathless, like just mention of it BURNS her lungs all over again. “ i ran outta options … i thought– i thought i was gonna die. “ a wry huff, “ ran them right into a pack of those monsters once we got into town …  “ & a hand is quick to rise. running down exhausted features, wincing slightly as fingers brush too closely to a forming bruise upon her cheek, “… four people. i lead four people to their death – so i could get away. “ syllables fall flat but it’s those downcast eyes that say it all. keeps it hidden. – because there’s no room for guilt & shame in a world like this anymore is there?

he turns on his flashlight, shotgun held tightly on his right hand as he is found laying on the ground of a thick unknown forest.  the last thing he remembers is chasing after  the  MARE  ( a creature that possesses the power of bringing on NIGHTMARES and killing people through them ). that thing should have never been hunted down solo.   he needed back up but dean wasn’t patient enough to wait  out  for  sam.  it  takes  a  few seconds for winchester to comprehend;  he has been CAPTURED.  that creature has him now;        DEAN IS DREAMING.

                                                        “ shit. ”

he groans and proceeds to get up from the ground, trying to familiarize himself with the surroundings.  he begins to walk, trying to find a way OUT ( as if that was an easy task ).  soon,  he spots a figure surrounded by all these trees,  but before he gets the chance to call,  he has already been sought.   he didn’t get a good glimpse of the man, but he did hear  his  WEAPON.   raising his hands in surrender,  dean averts his gaze and steps forward,  away from the shadows to indicate that he meant no harm. 

                                              “ don’t shoot! ”

the fearless leader remains stilled out in front of the forrest line, steel COOL   metal gripping AGAINST calloused palms as the man steadies. ivory hues study carefully at the figure  UNMASKING        himself from within the tree line but it’s not until the VOICE       is dean fully triggered out by something. something screaming at him to shoot, to take out &   murder the other. but something else seemed to linger a dent into the mind of the man. there is a SHUFFLE    against the gravel beneath his boot as the voice beckons him an ADJACENT command to the one given before. 

                                                 not yet. 

the gun however does remain up as the subconscious cloud lifts to reveal    FAMILIAR features unveiled from the shadows.  YOUNGER, they seem but the man does not not stray far from the mirror image. he would know that VOICE even if it was lower in pitch, he would that stance for it was his OWN at one point. though everything SCREECHED & clawed at him to unload his round, the one voice beckoning him to hold on    KEEPS him at bay.                                       for now; that is.

hellspuppet​ just returned to the camp;

“Well, there’s our fearless leader.”

He said with a smirk, as he approached a couple steps.

“Did you call?”

ivory hues  l i f t  at the sound of a familiar voice, the  man drops his gaze once more as   SOON   as he is  able to focus on the approach. he continues to pack up the bag of weapons & artillery  before  there  is  a  nod of  r e c o g n i t i o n. 

                                       ❛ did, ‘m gonna be goin’ out f’a couple days.                                      need y’to look after camp f’me. 

they may have both been at the END of their wits. it was strange to even confer the concept that he was close to arguing with HIMSELF. or so to  speak, he was. they had both gone through too much to share the same  HARSH world. dean hadn’t even intended to START something, but the glare baring into him was hard to brush away for too long. he just wanted a long drink to EASE the searing of the mark and disconnect himself from everything that it bore. out of the frying pan and right into the FIRE.

                           “not or what – you’re STARIN’ right through my skull though.                                 if there’s somethin’ you wanna say just SAY IT.”

the self proclaimed fearless leader listens on intently though  his  actions  may not seems so. alright, if he really WANTED to hear how  the  man  was  feeling; so be it. green jacket smoothens out as he comes to a rise over head. walking over to the life blown reflection of himself, a palm comes down to the  wooden surface of the table to spread & easy his weight down as he leans in. he didn’t care if this WAS his own self, the leadership was HIS  own; not  ( other )  dean. stoic & stone features  l o o m  close as he is legitimately within the face of the other, anger stewing steadily.