#dean ericka

Standing in the garage, sitting on the coolbox, out of which he'd just grabbed a beer, uncapped it with his keys and placed the neck of the bottle against his lips as he drunk from it, the refreshing, alcoholic liquid pouring down his throat, on its way to his stomach. The hunter sighed. Just what the hell was he doing? He was sitting on a cooler in his garage, staring at his car, that for sure, but what /was/ he doing? Wasting his time. The precipis time he could spend on saving lives, doing his job. He'd always made fun of Jared, thought it was douchey to want a normal life like this, but deep down, he knew he wanted the same, even though he had no clue how. People's lives depended on him, the whole world depended on him, he couldn't waste time. He just wanted his life to be centered on something other than death. He's watched too many people die, people he loved, people he was just befriended with, people he didn't even know, and this all started when his mom died because of a demon, Greyson. Truth was, Dean would always be a hunter. Been one since he was four, and the instinct would just never leave. He would always be the man with the huge arsenal in his trunk, fifty different identities just so the cops wouldn't find him, thirty different cellphones for the same reason, blood on his hands, and the life nobody wants, because it sucks. As much as he loves Lexi, because he does, he truly does, he can't step away from his duty. He can't. He's a soldier, fighting against Hell, Heaven, and everything that works slightly against humans. You can take a man out of the job, but you'll never take the job out of the man.

It was a warm day for a day this close to Christmas when Dean Ericka, famous demon hunter and ex-manslut, finished working on that shiny black, classic, 1967 Chevrolet Impala. This car was Dean's home, even though he lived with Lexi now. He had grown up in this car, the toy soldier he had stuck in the ashtray when he was six still being there, and all of those small details that just really made the car special. Dean wiped the back of his hand over his sweat coated forehead, carelessly wiping his hand on the already dirty grey t-shirt he wore. Lexi wasn't home, probably doing some Christmas-shopping right now. As a guy who's lived on the road his whole life, he hated being in the same place for long, and this caused Dean to now and then take off for a couple of days to drive around the state, picking up a few hunts, sleeping in motels like he used to, or just sleep in the car. Yeah, even though he was happier than he's been in those 26 years he's walked the earth, he missed the freedom, the road, those simple things. Dean always claimed not to want a "normal, apple pie life", after all he's been hunting creatures since he could spell the word 'gun', and honestly, he's never really had a problem with it, until he started losing people. But today, Dean just wanted to have some fun with a friend, someone of whom he knew he could have fun with. June? Nah, she'd mock the hell out of him, and go on and on about wanting a puppy. Not the best choice. Logan? Right, because awkward angels are usually good hanging-out company for an out-going, extravert, and fun loving guy like Dean. No. Bella? Yeah, that, in fact, sounded perfect. No complications, no awkwardness, just fun. He dug one of the fifty cellphones he owned for hunter-safety reasons out of the pocket of his ripped jeans, clapped it open, and let his fingers glide over the twelve buttons as he texted her, before pressing the 'send' button. [ Bells, hey. U free today? -D]

Shadow Kissed {RPG} // OT4: DEXI&BELLA WATSON

Basically I got this idea of Dean trying to take on more than he can, and trying to save everyone but in the end, look where it got him.

Do we want to backdate the Thanksgiving thread or make the torture happen now instead?

Your old self. 

Dean.