SoLdier

               Snorting Dean shook his head. ❝It’s probably better you played the Richard Gere role. I don’t think the whole Julia Roberts thing fits you very well. But, I have to admit that I would probably die laughing though.❞ Raising an eyebrow Dean tapped his fingers on the table.  ❝You do realize that that line sounds like the worst tagline for a porn I’ve ever heard right? She helped me find the highway and I bought her a cup of coffee. I’m sure it was coffee Cas.❞ If Hannah would have been with him Dean figured it would have been even funnier. Of course she didn’t have much of a sense of humor however, that was what Dean thought would make it so funny. 

               ❝Wait— Cas it’s not supposed to look like Caesar’s actual palace. I think that’s just the name. Besides most the people there are too drunk and busy wasting money to give a rats ass about the way the building is decorated. Only you would care or notice that.❞ Dean didn’t even want to think about the number of cherubs that were stationed there. To him that was lazy cherub domain. Everyone’s already there for one reason or another and if it isn’t gambling it’s usually love— which seemed weird to Dean but, he wasn’t going to comment on that. ❝At least one of us had some interesting things happen over the summer. I just caused a bunch of crap and didn’t care. But, I vaguely remember a horrible karaoke session. I don’t even know how the hell I knew the words to the song I was singing.❞

              ❝I’m sure Vegas would’ve been more interesting with you around. The cherubs weren’t much help in explaining things, they are just there to do their jobs. And they’re always working. I would like to see a repeat of your karaoke performance. I didn’t know you could sing.❞ Castiel spoke while noticing that they were nearing the end of the bottle. There was only one or two shots left. ❝I don’t think we should go back to Vegas in the summer. The heat was frustrating and I’m not usually affected by temperature.❞

              End of the bottle or not, the bartender was calling last call. They would have to get out of there soon. At least Dean seemed in much better spirits than when they started out the night. ❝We better ask for the number for a cab.❞ Castiel spoke as he looked around and saw they were the only two people left. Once again, he was painfully reminded how much he missed flying.

"Thank you. And yes, ship is the correct term for it. USS Enterprise."

                 ❝Okay? I think we’ve established that I want to be here, will be here and all you have to do is not flake on me.❞ Castiel smiled and leaned back in his chair. ❝Unless you want to start a staring contest, I would win, by the way— we should talk if you’re going to stay in my office for another 30 minutes.❞

          Being asked about the stuff he liked was something that no one had taken the time to ask Dean in a long time and in truth he hadn’t taken the time to think about. Before he left and now his likes were quite different. He was always a fairly active person before and now he-- was confined to a chair and even if he still was more active than most people he still felt as though he didn’t do enough. ❝These days I’m not really all that sure what I like. I mean-- I don’t know what-- I haven’t given that a whole lot of thought. I like the idea of walking.❞ That was the first thing that popped into Dean’s head so instead of keeping it to himself he blurted it out and then wanted to kick himself for it. 

Max felt like hours had passed by the time the man walked through the door.  Logically, she knew it’d only been a few minutes, that she hadn’t sat there for days, anxiously waiting to get some answers, praying that she wouldn’t wind up like those other victims.  The fact that she could be about to have a sit-down meeting with a serial killer hadn’t been lost on her.

When he sat across from her, she couldn’t help but stiffen, swallowing nervously.  The man was right on both points—she was both paranoid and guilty.  She wasn’t supposed to have the pictures she’d taken.  She wasn’t supposed to have been at the crime scenes.  Hell, keeping the pictures from the cops was probably obstruction of justice, even if they had their own photographers.

"Do I look like the murdering type?"  The guy was like a foot taller than her and built bigger than her brothers.  Max was no idiot; picking a fight with him would be pointless.  "And you’ll have to excuse me for not trusting you.  I met you yesterday.  I don’t know anything about you, except that you’re apparently here for work and allegedly want to help stop the murders.”

Okay.  She could do this.  ”If you wanna see my pictures, I need answers.  Starting with who you are and why you’re really here.  You’re not a cop or FBI or anything.  Otherwise you would have flashed a badge already and you wouldn’t have been sneaking around in the woods looking for…”  At this point, she wasn’t sure what.

Dean didn’t want her to trust him-- not now anyways. If she did he wouldn’t think she was very smart. Max seemed smart enough but, Dean couldn’t help but wonder just exactly how smart she was keeping pictures, meeting a stranger. At least he could give her credit for it being in a public spot though. 

❝Listen sweetheart-- I don’t mean to sound like a jerk but, there is no look for the murdering type. Sure people want to think there is because it helps them sleep better at night but, newsflash, there isn’t.❞

Dean could handle some answers but, he wasn’t the full disclosure type. Never had been and never would be. ❝I’m here because there’s something out there killing people. That’s why I’m here and you’re right I’m not with the FBI or the cops. Although I could flash a badge if I needed too.❞ There was no reason for Dean to give his name yet. 

But he’d accept it with a smile. That’s always been his way. He expects it, probably even welcomes it at this point. This is his fault; of course he should be hurt for it. This is how his mind works, as she’s understood it.

But Apadiel also knows what will make him more open to negotiations. Not that she plans to negotiate, but this refusal, this underestimating her… She won’t have it.

She lifts her hand and balls it into a loose fist, and a scream goes up from the other side of the store. Something crashes, perhaps the sound of a body colliding hard with a shopping cart and sending it skidding out of the way.

In the moments before the darkness that flashed in the woman's eyes Dean knew what she was thinking. He hoped for it. Death would have been welcome. 

❝Three minutes?❞ Dean's mind began to spin. In truth he needed to figure out a way to get out of this situation but, if he only had to change his mind in order to save his friend then that's what he'd do. Although he had half a notion to drag this out and make her sweat. Even if it was just a little bit. Glancing at his watch Dean looked at her. ❝Fine-- fine. As long as I know that they're all okay I'll go.❞