#deanwnchstr

＂      I  THOUGHT  ABOUT  IT.      —      it’s  not  like  there’s  anything  left  here  for  me.      ＂          roadhouse  lies  in  ashes  and  𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝  𝐦𝐨𝐦  is  still  gone,    not  lucky  enough  to  be  brought  back  by  whatever  power      (    she  still  isn’t  sure  who    )      ripped  jo  out  of  her  heaven.      coming  back  from  the  dead  isn’t  anything  like  she  imagined,    but  then,    honestly?      it  isn’t  something  she  gave  a  𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝  𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕  of  thought  to  either,    until  it  happened.          ＂      except      .  .  .      𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴  𝘯𝘰𝘵  𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩  𝘧𝘰𝘳  𝘮𝘦  𝘰𝘶𝘵  𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦  𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.      i  don’t  even  know  where  i’d  go.      ＂          originally,    jo  thought  leaving  was  the  way  to  𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛  ellen.      hunting  isn’t  a  life  she  wanted  for  her  daughter.      not  after  what  happened  to  bill  and  yet,    hunting  is  the  𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲  𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠  she  has  now.      that,    and  two  winchester  boys  who  she  figures  always  need  an  extra  hand.          ＂      besides,    did  you  really  think  i  was  gonna  let  you  have  all  the  fun  without  me?      ＂          it’s  casual  and  light  -  hearted,    nose  wrinkling  in  a  teasing  manner  as  she  looks  at  dean.          ＂      you  don’t  mind  if  i  stick  around  a  little  longer,    do  you?      ＂

@deanwnchstr

@deanwnchstr's  solo  mission  to  have  a  conversation  with  something  he's  cheated  1  too  many  times  was  illogical.  the  pit  of  unease  in  her  stomach  grew  as  their  purely  hypothetical  discussion  dragged  into  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  (  a  welcome  reminder  that  she  could  still  feel  such  a  thing  )  ──  he  was  serious.  fingertips  danced  in  the  thin  layer  of  dust  that  covered  the  motel  room  table,  a  distraction  technique  quickly  proving  to  be  less  successful  than  throwing  knifes,  before  the  silence  became  overbearing.  SHE  WANTED  IN.  "  you  wanna  say  hi  to  death,  fine,  but  i'm  coming  with  you.  "

she agrees. if it weren't for her husband, she never would have been there in the first place, and that alone makes the situation damn near impossible. she'd tough it out, all the apprehension, the segregation; the clear indifference that she feels whenever she enters a room. none of it would outwardly bristle her, she would soldier through it regardless. sarah straightens, lifting her chin slightly; she refuses to let the mixture of irritation and hurt seep into her expression. she keeps it cold. "well, that's too bad, dean," sarah muses, a slight tilt of her head indicating that his comment is a minor detail. "thing is: i am here, and there's only one thing that could make me leave, and it sure as hell isn't you," her words aren't loaded, but cool and collected; almost a last ditch effort to let him know that this argument isn't one she cares to continue having. with him or anyone else for that matter. sarah braeden was there, she'd stay until ben decided otherwise; and she knew there wasn't a chance of that eventuating. "is there anything else you wanted to bring up, or was that it?"

" NO ... Liver tastes good.." she smirks widely and moves in closer. "You taste like daddy issues and self-loathing" a sharp tone as she reaches out to him a finger grazing across his cheek. "But that's not the worst thing I've had in my mouth.. Have you ever bit out someone's throat? totally chewy and nasty.."

( i won't get into my ship thoughts here kdjfsf )

“  You  call  it  what  you  will.  But  what  you,  my  dear  brute-force  friend,  do  not  know,  is  that  I  have  so  many  people  in  so  many  bloody  places,  and  —  ”  His  mouth  turns  up  in  a  small,  small  smile  that  doesn’t  touch  his  eyes.  “  —  trust  me.  The  cover-up  will  be  better  than  anything  your  lot  could  orchestrate.  ”  His  brows  tip  up.  “  Turns  out?  I’ve  been  doing  this  a  little  while.  ”  He  reaches  over,  dumps  more  whiskey  into  a  glass.  “  Stop  fretting.  Sit.  Have  a  drink.  ”