dean winchester Û¶ coming undone (ex_slaughter460) wrote in dust_till_dawn, @ 2009-05-17 20:15:00 |
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He was pretty sure James Bond did not have to apply and interview at the Doublemeat Palace to spy on Goldfinger. In fact, he was putting cash money that he didn't but that didn't make it so that he was doing anything along the lines of the same 'style' of Bond. As James Bond there'd be amazing cars, hot women, some big finale involving a bomb. Some part of him wondered if he could blow up the Doublemeat Palace and get away with it. Some part of him knew it wasn't possible but a guy could hope for the best. The only thing he was capable of making sure didn't happen was that he was someone who could deal with the worst scenarios and make it into something workable. This? Was one of the worst scenarios that he could come up with in his mind that didn't have anything to do with the hunting or anything of the like. He just couldn't open his mouth and complain otherwise he'd be dealing with a lot more than just angry customers. He couldn't just come out and tell someone he'd been in "league" with that he was just suddenly getting a job after almost two decades of saying 'he did not need to work'. For the most part he didn't. There was nothing that was immediate that he needed to pay for. He could sell the house and have people come look at it just over the 'haunting' factor that idiot people seemed to be attracted towards. He didn't need to work.
But that didn't stop the orders he was given from being issued and executed. The cream colored folder that had been delivered to him promised both salvation and damnation for the most part. His brother, someone who trusted him more than anything in the world, didn't know what he was doing. He could only imagine the judging glare he'd get from him if he did. Sammy would hate him for what he was doing. For the trust he was breaking but really what trust was there? Sam found it so easy to replace his family with a new one, he found it incredibly easy to let himself be pulled away by his older brother but he wouldn't hate him for it. It was what he did. He did so in the past, he knew it wouldn't be so difficult to do it in the future. Nevertheless, the present. Dean was no saint either. He didn't exactly go out of his way to reach out for his little brother. Not this time around. They were both losing each other and it didn't really matter. At least to him, he knew in the end he would get the success he wanted out of working with those who may have just been even more evil than Azazel.
Speaking from a man who was not dealing with a dark destiny, or any destiny at all. He figured he was one of the only chess pieces that could even be moved. He was only 'some hunter'. He wasn't a hunter with a destiny, nor was he the slayer. Or someone who had visions. He was someone that they would have visions of coming to save or someone who could take hits like none other when the worst came to worst. He was fully capable of accepting this as his destiny, following the same path his father had set him on years prior to the point where he could have just been someone like Sam. Trying so desperately to claw for his stake in the world. He had the things he always wanted to be when he was growing up. A fireman. A doctor. Hell, one day he wanted to be a lawyer but that was until his dad had given him the disapproving look when he'd left Sammy all alone and almost got him killed. After that, it didn't matter what he wanted. He had to be the good son. The good soldier. He wasn't anything that could make his dad singularly proud that he was just his son. He never got half the opportunities his brother did until this. Until Cleveland.
Dean hated that he found both his staple in the world and the means to his own self-destruction. He was transmorphed from a soldier to a man when he was around Cordelia and the others. Dawn made him feel like he had some importance just by hanging out with the young woman who seemed to have more of a handle in everything than he did. Just like Sammy when he finally started high school. They all had a hand in making him touch normal just to see how it felt like. Shaping it idly in the palms of his hands as he would usually walk around in the dark with Cordy or how he ended up coming by the dance studio as 'Dawn's big brother' just to pick her up and take her out to get something to eat. He let her dance circles around him and he couldn't understand why. Why it took him so long to find Cordelia or why Dawn felt embarrassed about ballet. He remembered thinking the same thing when it came to Sam. Why their dad couldn't come see how amazing he was running across the soccer field or why he couldn't see how smart he was when they were in high school. He honestly did wish he'd grown as attached as he was when it came to them before being drafted by Wolfram & Hart. He could remind himself that it was all just a bad thing and he could always sign himself out of the deal.
But it all came down to thinking of his brother as this dark shadow in this world when he was being anchored simply by a woman with golden hair and a kick ass roundhouse kick. How his dad was doing in Hell, alone and screaming for mercy. Despite his belief that his dad was untouchable when it came to torture. They'd been through worse. But worse wasn't Hell. He didn't try to pretend how that would go down in the long run.
He'd sat in his kitchen the previous night, work application already filled out and in hand and the file before him with everything he needed to know including what to pretend he didn't know. He wasn't some secret agent going in to collect information. He was there to watch as Buffy Summers went about her life in the only public venture other than her nighttime occupation that they both worked together. Saving people, hunting things. It wasn't the family business anymore it seemed. Create and establish a deeper relationship with the slayer. That's what he had to do. It wasn't a bad thing per say as much as it made him feel like shit as he stared at surveillance photos of Buffy. Of Buffy and Dawn. Buffy and her friends. Buffy and Sammy. He'd never seen Sammy smile like that before. His eyes lingered on the dimpled grin on his little brother and the pit of his stomach twisted, reminding him that he was working against his brother on this engagement. He wanted to tell him. He would have told him if he could, back when he'd come over to see how he was. But something always stopped him and it wasn't any threats by Wolfram & Hart. It was him, being ashamed. Sam didn't know but he honestly did feel ashamed to stand there and not tell his brother that he thought he made a mistake but he didn't know what else to do.
He doubted Sammy would give him a hug and tell him he'd make sure he'd get out of that. He'd probably punch him and call him a douche. He figured he deserved it after everything he put Sam through. The 'I don't know if you're a monster or not' looks that he gave him sometimes. He'd done the first plunge into that pool without dipping his toe in to check the temperature of the water. Despite it being the summer, he'd still made a fire in the fire place and tossed the photographs into the hungry flames. Bent before it and watching his brother and Buffy's photo curl into itself as the fire ate at it. He was an asshole.
Dean sat awkwardly in the back room that smelt like over processed food as he lounged back in his seat as the 'film' started. The creepy smiles and the 'Doublemeat Experience' just sort of scared him more than he thought it should as he stared up at the flickering screen. He'd already turned in his application and he knew his 'other place of business' put more than a good word for his employment. He figured if he kept to those guys than he'd never be without a job if he actively wanted to look for one as he folded his arms in front of his chest and set his feet on top of the desk and narrowed his eyes a bit when they got to the...blending. His mouth dropping open a bit and his face screwing in horror more than anything else. He was never going to eat at Doublemeat Palace again. Not like he did anyway. He was more of a Chinese sort of guy than the filthy hybrid of cow and chicken. He swallowed thickly, shifting a little more in his seat before his 'supervisor' stepped right back in. The epitome of fastfood worker was standing before him and he tried desperately not to snicker as he pushed his glasses back and set down Dean's uniform on his desk.
"I see you come with...a lot of recommendations." Coming from a guy who'd never worked an honest days work in his life, he was sure that this was the result of putting his faith in Wolfram & Hart. Dean pursed his lips together, smiling as the supervisor stared at his feet on his desk before clearing his throat. Dean...did not get the message as he tilted his head to the side before following his glare and removing his feet from his table. "Well, I'm an...awesome sort of guy. Real people person." He grinned from ear to ear, eyes practically sparkling as the supervisor took a seat at his desk. "Tell me, Mister...Allens. Why are you here? Really? Doublemeat Palace are looking for devoted people who want to be here a while." He was sure he didn't look like one of those 'devotees' like Dorkzilla seemed to be before Dean shrugged a bit. He could always tell the truth but he doubted 'I'm here to spy on one of your employees' would fly all that well before leaning forward, pursing his lips together. "Because I want to be a part of the Doublemeat Experience, Jim."
"My name isn't Jim." The guy interrupted for a moment as Dean rose to his feet and shrugged a bit. "Whatever. I know my calling in life. My duty. It is frying up those over processed pieces of cow and the mutated pieces of chicken and serving up to the people of Cleveland. That, that Jim, is why I'm standing here right now looking for a job." He leaned against the back of his chair, glancing down at him. "You wouldn't just push me out of the door for being someone so...passionate about this job, would you? Would you, really my man?" The supervisor stared at the glorified burger flipper before pushing himself to his feet and turning to Dean with a smile on his face as he held out the...mutated cow-chicken hat. "I'll see you first thing Monday, Mister Allens." Dean smirked, taking the hat and glaring down at it. "No, no. Call me Dean." He patted his shoulder before stepping out of the office, uniform in hand with a 'God save me' look on his face before stepping out of Doublemeat Palace and calling the cellphone number on his phone.
"I got the job. I'll check in next shift." Dean felt like a tool.