#scripture.

     kansas is quiet. 

     it’s near midnight —- maybe after by now —- when dean steps inside the motel. just as dark and unassuming as any other he’d ever stayed in —- yet somehow the room seems less homely than he’d ever felt before. perhaps it’s due to what he knows will happen next  —- what act is about to take place. the truth in which his soul knows, yet denies all at once. 

     his soul ....

     that’s a thought that’s almost laughable, as before this moment, he may have even denied it’s very existence. but it seems to beat in time with his heart, pounding in his chest  —- and he hates to admit that what had been pulled up from hell with him, exists in time with him as well. shouldn’t they be separate? he half wonders ... could michael know his soul? find it even here? a random motel room that stinks of mildew and disinfectant  —- does he even care? does dean? nay, should dean? what happens to that part of him, if they should join together to end the very destiny he’s up till now been avoiding?

     but all paths lead here, doesn’t it? someway, somehow. he’s always known. 

     dean’s not going to get on his knees and pray though. as accepting of this as he may’ve become to be, he’s still not one-hundred percent on board. he has ... questions. needs answers. blind faith is bullshit, and the way he’s got it figured is michael wouldn’t want him if he wasn’t who he was. so daddy’s favorite archangel can answer a few damn questions before he says the magic words and open sesame’s his body up for a one way trip to destiny-ville.

    ———————     ❛   you  lit  up  a  city  block  like  the  fourth  of  july ,     injured  five  dozen  civilians ,    gave  three  of  the  DEO’s  strike  team  third  degree  burns  and  you  still  won’t  talk .    don’t  you  get  it ,    i’m  good  cop .    ❜     a  furrow  of  the  brows ,    locks  of  honey  and  dew  pressed  neatly  behind  her  ear .       ❛   we  know  everything ,   fenix .    or  at  least  what’s  on  file  .    ❜