>"You really did a number on that noggin of yours, didn't you? Zachariah. I'm an angel. You've known me for nearly a year now."
Dean frowned, thinking for a second. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed him - but, then again, Castiel had been saying he was an angel, too, so it wasn’t too hard to believe that he knew more than one of them, before he forgot everything. It actually made a little more sense than thinking he knew only one did, because if an angel rescued him from Hell, wouldn’t more than one have been in on it?
>"You should put the gun away before I put you through the misfortune of losing it permanently."
Part of Dean wanted to ignore the ‘suggestion’, keep the gun where it was until he was sure he could trust this Zachariah guy. But he knew if this was an angel, it wasn’t likely the gun was going to do much of anything, anyway... and he kind of liked this gun. He wasn’t sure how he’d end up losing it permanently, but he didn’t really want to find out. He scowled and pointed it away from the man, slipping it back under the seat where it had been.
>"I've been waiting to speak with you alone for some time now. We have some important things to discuss. Things about the apocalypse and how you're the one that's destined to stop it."
...what?
Dean couldn’t help the disbelieving laugh that came out as the angel-guy’s words sunk in. Destined to stop the apocalypse? No, really, that wasn’t even something he could pretend to believe, or ...attempt to pretend to believe. Of everyone here, he was... he wasn’t in any kind of position to stop anything about this apocalypse, let alone the whole damn thing. The laugh faded out after just a second though, because... because why the hell would an angel be screwing with him like this? That didn’t make sense, obviously it wasn’t a joke, so...
A car was coming up behind him, and he pulled the Impala off the road (wincing slightly with every bump, and sending silent apologies to her for any damage this might do - who knew what the hell was in the grass out here?), put it in park and turned it off as the other car flew past. He had a feeling this was going to take a while.
“Look, you’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t have any kind of... freakin’ destiny or whatever.” That’s Sam, not- he didn’t even let himself finish the thought, shied away from the idea that destiny had anything to do with what Sam had been through and done. “And I sure as hell can’t fix your friggin’ apocalypse problem.”