Dean Winchester (dean_wchester) wrote in payline, @ 2014-02-04 08:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | ben braeden (au), dean winchester (au) |
Who: Ben Braeden and Dean Winchester
When: Tuesday, early evening
Where: Ben's room
Rating: TBD
Warnings: TBD
Summary: Dean seeks out Ben
Status: Closed/Incomplete
Sometimes, he still had dreams about them. They generally weren’t very eventful. Lisa cooking dinner...Ben at a baseball game...teaching the kid to work on the impala...holding her hand. Simple dreams about a simple life that Dean hadn’t had the time to know he wanted until then, and had barely had time to miss since. Maybe, for a while, he’d thought it might be possible, but he wasn’t that stupid anymore. Even before crap had gone to Hell and his old life had come knocking, he knew he’d been destroying whatever chance he had at happiness with them. The paranoia, the fear, the constant drinking...he’d been ruining their lives as surely as he’d ruined his. When he’d had Cas take their memories, it had nearly killed him, but it was one of the few things he thought he might have done right in this life. He’d protected them, the people he loved. But now it looked like he’d managed to screw that up somehow, too.
Honestly he’d have been more surprised by Ben if Krissy hadn’t already turned his world a little bit upside down. Once he’d wrapped his brain around the impossibilities of this place, though, it wasn’t such a stretch to think he might be seeing people from different points of time, different versions of reality. Hell, hadn’t he met himself from an aborted timeline once? Other people might have trouble with that idea, but with his life, this kind of thing was starting to be par for the course. Didn’t mean he had to like it. Didn’t mean he could see Ben, a grown man, with his memories intact, and not feel the knife in his gut twist. He didn’t know how this place worked. He didn’t know how or when he might figure out a way to get home, if he ever even started looking. At the moment, that idea didn’t seem very likely. In the back of his mind, a voice that sounded like John Winchester, told him he was abandoning his responsibilities. That he was being selfish and clinging to Sam when there was work to be done. And, for the first time in his life, he told that voice to shut the hell up. He didn’t know how long this would last, but he hoped that when it ended, he’d be able to remember all this. That he could go, find Ben and Lisa, make sure they were okay. Make sure what had happened here hadn’t happened there. And, if it had, maybe he could fix it.
For the time being, though, he was sick of Ben putting him off. He didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish, really, but not seeing the kid was out of the question. Tracking down his room had been easy enough, now he just had to hope he was there. And that he would open the door for him. He hoisted the six pack he’d picked up high enough to be seen through the peephole and tried to arrange his features into something nonthreatening, but his default expression had long since shifted into something sterner, something that turned inward and wasn’t at all happy with what it saw there. Raising a hand, he knocked on the door and waited.