InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "FANGS UP"

Alastair (inlowplaces) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2011-09-22 02:02:00

Entry tags:

alastair, dean winchester (end!verse)

WHO: Alastair & endverse!Dean Winchester
WHAT: Alastair and endverse!Dean just happen to be passing in the same area. AKA, Alastair is being a stalker.
WHEN: September 21st; Afternoon
WHERE: Downtown Colligo
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: In Progress

It wasn't that hard to follow someone when you were used to sticking to the shadows and playing off as being invisible. The occasional individual to get in his way was shoved rather unceremoniously to the side which, while it didn't do anything to help him conceal his position, saved him a great deal of time in trying to retrack the individual that he was following. Even as a near identical, there were things about this Dean that helped him stand out in the crowd, a certain heaviness that delighted Alastair's eye and a darker air to him than the other Dean present that gave Alastair a certain hope for this encounter to potentially go in his favor. Slipping from one side of the street, playing between the crowd to mask himself, Alastair moved into her was very nearly in this Dean's path before stopping and turning to face him, placing himself in full view as he offered his former protege a twisted smile.

"I never pegged you for being one to behave," Alastair drawled, hands slipping into his pockets as he took a step towards Dean to cut off any direct path that he might have to move right on by him. After all, Alastair knew that given the option to leave, there was a possibility that Dean might take it. Eliminating the possibility of flight only left the man one option. "Especially when you could be so, so much more. Care to give me a few minutes to change your mind?" He'd already done it once, after all. He just needed a repeat performance, one that hopefully wouldn't take thirty years this time, and it would all be coming up roses.

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butiwaswrong
2011-09-23 01:28 am UTC (link)

The gun in the holster at Dean's thigh would do little more than annoy the demon, and Dean knew it. He had no weapons that could do anything more than that. He had knowledge, sure. He knew how to torture and torment with the best of them, thanks to Alistair himself. But that required time, and instruments, and a devil's trap, none of which Dean had.

He felt time slow for a moment, as he considered his options. He could fight, or flee. Fleeing wasn't his style, no matter what promises he had made to Parker. Ellen's words echoed in his head, reminding him that he was denying himself, his true nature, his instinct, by avoiding Alistair. Avoidance wasn't possible right now, and the promises Dean had made went out the window.

He surged forward, hands going for Alistair's neck. He didn't care what sort of scene was made, or who saw it. He wasn't going to flee, the only option he had was to engage Alistair in a physical confrontation.

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inlowplaces
2011-09-24 12:27 am UTC (link)

It was inelegant, crude, but Alastair couldn't help the spike of pride that shot through him at Dean having the courage to come at him in such a way. Courage... or rage. Whichever one it was that was prompting him into such action, Alastair allowed it. Maybe it would give the elder Winchester some feeling of accomplishment to ring his hands around his neck. Even if it wouldn't really do much of anything in the long run, it was the thought that counted. Allowing himself to be railed backwards, taking a sidestep so that he was pushed back into the wall of one of the shops on the street, Alastair grinned down at Dean.

"And the coiled snake strikes," He croaked, stretching his neck back and leaning his head against the building, his eyes stretching out to the horizon. "Only, he's doing little more than biting his own tail. I would have thought Daddy dearest would have taught you better than to shoot yourself in the foot, Dean. Just think of all that I can offer you compared to the pathetic existence you're living now."

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butiwaswrong
2011-09-24 02:18 am UTC (link)

Dean sort of liked the pathetic existence he was living now, aside from the fact that God-Cas had killed his Cas. He wasn't hunting, he hadn't killed anyone, or anything, for months. He hadn't tracked anything supernatural for so long, that it felt like another lifetime. He couldn't deny some measure of restlessness, some part of him would always miss that life and long for the open road, with Sam in the seat beside him, AC/DC on the cassette player. But for the first time in his life, he felt something close to happy and content.

He muttered something, something like 'I'm not going to let you ruin it'. He sneered, his lip curled, his eyes went dark. he was driven by hate, pure hate. Rage boiled in his veins. He was something of a coiled snake, and he was striking the only way he knew how, with brute force. There was no planning, no strategy. It was clumsy, and it wasn't going to get the job done, but it sure felt good to wail on Alistair a bit.

He felt exhilarated, as he rained down blows. He knew he wasn't accomplishing anything. He wasn't hurting Alistair, even a little. The only benefit was the adrenaline high Dean was experiencing.

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inlowplaces
2011-09-24 09:05 pm UTC (link)

A high which would likely wear off whenever rationality got to the point that it overwhelmed the intensity of his feelings or whenever the intensity of his feelings burned themselves out from flaring for so long. While he could feel each impact on his torso, the only lasting reaction that Alastair had to the lingering assault was derisive amusement at Dean's willingness to let his most base desires drive him.

"Feel better?" Alastair asked, a mocking tone in his voice as he pushed back against Dean, just enough to break his rhythm, and flashed him a grin. "My turn?" Alastair asked with a playful undertone before lashing out and cracking Dean across the jaw. He could have done so much more, of course, but why end this so quickly when a good old fashioned brawl would solve just as much.

Extending his arms out to the side and turning himself into a target, Alastair smirked and flicked his fingers to beacon Dean into taking another shot.

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butiwaswrong
2011-09-25 04:21 pm UTC (link)

Dean grunted when Alistair connected a hit to his jaw. It might well have broken, he couldn't tell and he wasn't about to take the time to feel around and assess the damage. He'd deal with it later, if he survived this encounter. He wasn't sure he would survive it, and thinking that just made him more angry and that anger surged with a fresh and new wave of adrenaline.

He launched himself forward with a guttural growl. His jaw throbbed, and he didn't even bother to try and speak. He knew he couldn't form words, whether or not the jaw was broken, it was swollen. His tongue felt thick, and he tried to keep it out of the way of his teeth as he directed another round of physical assault on Alistair.

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