dean winchester ۶ coming undone (ex_slaughter460) wrote in dust_till_dawn, @ 2008-12-19 15:15:00 |
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Generally speaking, staying in one place for too long made him feel antsy about certain things. Primarily being on the FBI Most Wanted list and the fact that demon was in town; they still hadn't moved a step from where they had been. There was no leads, nothing they could go off on. Just dealing with the random vampire and the growing threat of demonic possessions was enough to keep any hunter preoccupied for long periods of time. Dean was pretty sure he memorized Latin incantations after the seventh exorcism. But that only stretched beyond the line that learning eighteen pages of Latin was mandatory as of late. Flipping through pages when some demon was eating its host tongue just out of spite was something he didn't want to deal with. Only with the thought of they would have to deal with lack of tongue when they came back to themselves. Or they were dead. Either way he still had to deal with the thing wearing their meat suit. Something Dean generally didn't take to kindly to dealing with.
Especially with the things he'd dealt with in his life. Sam being possessed. Their father being possessed. He was the only Winchester not to have the aftertaste of a soulless bile rising out from deep instead him. He wouldn't deal with that shit either.
The snow crunched underneath his boots as he walked through the park. His eyes adjusting to the dim lights of the walkway lamps that seemed make the snow sparkle around him. It was nice. But Dean wasn't there for the winter wonderland atmosphere. Half of him was sure he was getting splinters from the stake in his jacket sleeve. He was adjusting to the entire wooden stakes deal when it came to the wrinkly vampires who skipped out on the age makeup when it came to getting their fangs. He'd deal. Classic stake to the heart deal was better than a steel pole to the chest in a grave. It was nothing serious, demonic activity was sort of quiet on the Yellow Eyed Demon front even if he had his eyes and ears out just in case something popped on the radar. Just because he was in one place didn't mean he wasn't going to pull the same work load he did before. It was his job. There was no divine destiny to hunting. Just a string of bad luck. And possibly the 'homely' atmosphere of a truck stop in Alabama. Either way it went he was living the only life he knew how.
The mental check list of things he had done during the day rang up to sleep, coffee, eat, annoy Sammy, eat, sleep just a tiny bit more, eat again; which was something he was doing right now. Generally speaking he wasn't following the mainstay of America; when it was cold eat something fairly warm. The Denny's he'd just left from had put a dent in his faith in humanity by the lack of apple pie (or any pie for that matter). So his hunt for undead blood drainers was also a hunt for something to chance after the breakfast-for-dinner he had back at the restaurant. Finally reaching fruition with a vendor that had some of those churros and more importantly ice cream cones. The cash exchange for an ice cream cone in the middle of what seemed to be the reason for the odd look he received as he took the first lick and started back on his way. At the least he wasn't in a self-pitying mood tonight--he just wanted to kill something and eat his ice cream in peace for the most part. He could hear the soft crunch of footsteps behind him--the snowy landscape apparently giving him more of an advantage than he really once thought. "I'm sort of hoping you don't ruin this private moment between me and my ice cream cone." The crunching stopped, his brow rising on his forehead for a moment. He just didn't know if he was going to turn his body around just to come face to face with the face of another person or someone who thought he was a happy meal on legs. Well, he did always say he was tasty. He loosened his conscious grip on the stake underneath in his jacket sleeve, feeling it slip. The cloud of steam he released when he exhaled hard before he glanced down at the ice cream cone in his hand, mentally grumbling as he stuffed the remainder of it in his mouth and whipping around to face the latter of the two choices in his mind.
The vampire's face remained shifted in its predatory visage, looking at him like he'd just ordered the entire ninety-nine cent menu over at MacDonald's. He canted his head to the side for a moment before rising his fists and motioning with his hands. He swallowed the remainder of the ice cream cone, feeling the ill effects of a brain freeze hitting him before giving a small cough. "Let's get this over with, Chuckles." He nodded his head towards the vampire before just propelling his body forward and tackling it to the ground before it had a chance to reciprocate. The vampire's fist hitting directly with his face before its palm rested firmly underneath his chin, trying to bare his neck out to it before he pushed its hand away. The eldest of the two Winchester brothers punching it in the face before tugging the stake from his jacket sleeve and driving it into the vampire's chest. The quick decomposition of the once living being before it erupted into pale dust occurring right underneath him before he pushed himself to feet and wrinkled his face a bit. He gagged a tiny bit at the dry taste in his mouth as he dusted himself off. Already reminding himself that he didn't like chasing down ice cream cone with charcoal vampire. The taste bitter on his tongue as he picked up the stake again, about to tuck it right back into his jacket sleeve before the slight adjust of weight in the snow caught his attention in the foreground. Apparently the little scuffle attracted visitors as he turned towards the sound again. "Round two," he said under his breath, hand flexing around the base of the stake in his hand.