Dean Awesome Badass Careful DemonKiller Winchester (mellowistheman) wrote in papillonlogs, @ 2011-01-02 02:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | dean winchester (2), jo harvelle (2), sam winchester (2) |
Who? Various: The B-Team | Open to all
What? OMG fire!
Where? Various
When? Right friggin' now
Rating? TBC
As with NuttySam's forest thread, feel free to go nuts! Narratives / subthreads / random Team-ups welcome.
A PIE OF UNKNOWN ORANGES: 409A / 410A (INITIALLY) – THE B-TEAM.
You can't run forever. Personally, Dean always thought that was a stupid phrase – or would have, if he'd not been waist-deep in the waters of denial when it came to admitting that he was running from anything in the first place. 'Run long enough and the thing behind you eventually becomes a blip in the background which you don't have to worry about' would be more accurate, and that approach had served him pretty well – avoiding confronting what was wrong with his 'version' (and yeah, that word still made him uncomfortable) of Sam, for example, or facing the fact that saying Papillon wasn't real just didn't make sense. Avoiding apologising to the Sam here, for another.
Unfortunately running from one thing sometimes brought you into the path of another. Classic example: eventually he'd run out of things to talk about to fill the gap where “so yeah, I was kinda a jerk” would have sat, and he'd had to retreat. And Papillon offered surprisingly few places to do that, so he'd ended up in his apartment, the Powers That Be having decided – whether through some sort of misguided well-meaning belief that he'd be happier there, or (which he thought the more likely) because they couldn't resist another laugh at his expense – to house him in the same one he'd occupied on his last 'visit'.
Except he didn't remember it being quite such a mess. In fact he was pretty sure the windows had been intact, and certain that Jo would have killed him had there been broken glass around for Assbutt and Fucknuts to chow down on.
The mystery of who exactly had such a pressing vendetta against glass would have to wait, though; apparently (who would have guessed?) being kidnapped by Intergalactic Powers kinda sapped a guy's energy. Dean had just about long enough to scrape most of the glass off one of the couches and fire a quick DUDE, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY ROOM? message to the rest of the self-proclaimed B-Team (not that they were a team, you understand. He just figured they'd be the best people to ask. Proximity and suchlike. Yup) before sleep took him.
It was the smell of smoke, followed rapidly by the feeling of panic – somehow both distant and immediate, simultaneously half-remembered and as intimate as a blade between the ribs – which woke him. He didn't need to think - and it was probably a good thing that he wasn't, given the current state of affairs which would no doubt have provoked some mindnumbingly stupid and completely overthought response otherwise - before he was on his feet and across the hallway, beating at door opposite. Instinct's a funny thing like that.