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obiwanning September 20 2010, 01:14:29 UTC
Enjoying the sunlight. Dean couldn't help the tempered look of judgment that crossed onto his features over how gay that sounded, but he had to remind himself that sometimes, it was better to keep those things inside. When he finally got around to finding Sam, maybe he'd make mention of it, but for now, he was just gonna keep his thoughts on Spike's dubious sexuality inside. He worked past the judgment and just shrugged him off, moving past the guy and into the bar -- assuming he'd followed him since they both had intentions to go in for the same reason, he continued talking.

"Doubt it's totally beerless, but after the way it looked like somebody combed through the whole damn town and took anything worth a dime, bets aren't on there being much of anything left." He moved past a few tables -- a few of the chairs surrounding them had broken or missing legs, and the place looked overall about as dusty as the shop had. Nothing in sight was left, and Dean took his time heading around the bar to head back into the stock room, not feeling altogether too optimistic about anything being left under the bar itself.

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breakmychest September 20 2010, 01:50:44 UTC
Spike hadn't really had a chance to walk in the sunlight since before he died. It had been a very, very long time, and he didn't care if Dean judged him. He followed Dean into the bar, glancing around. "Cheery place," he commented dryly.

Spike went behind the bar, just in case, and checked to see if anything was left. There wasn't. He scowled a little and headed towards the back. "I really want to hurt whatever it is that brought us here," he growled. "And I'm Spike, by the way," he added in a more normal voice.

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obiwanning September 20 2010, 02:26:03 UTC
Yeah, join the club, Dean wanted to comment when Spike voiced his frustrations with whatever brought them there, but he knew damn well that screwing over the Trickster or an angel would be a lot harder than that. Besides, if it were the latter, they were there for a reason. And a damn good one, at that -- or so he hoped. He wanted to believe that Cas was done dragging him around just to rub it in his face what he'd screwed to Hell. At the introduction, he turned to give him a look as if he was wondering why he was supposed to care over his shoulder.

"Good to know." The whole thing seemed sketchier now that he wasn't stranded in the woods with people who he'd known to be in the same position he was, and the fact that Spike had followed him back into the store room wasn't helping. There were a few scattered bottles of alcohol that looked like they'd been opened and sealed again. It was debatable if they were even any good to drink, but Dean grabbed a small bottle of whiskey regardless and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket before turning to look at Spike again.

Right. He should probably introduce himself, regardless.

"Dean Richards," he said through a smile that reeked of douchebaggery. His pulse didn't even adjust to indicate that it was a lie -- he'd gotten to the point where it was such second nature, that he didn't come close to worrying about getting caught. "And I think you're in the majority in wantin' someone's head on a stick for this, but maybe you oughtta wait till you know what did it to go makin' threats."

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breakmychest September 20 2010, 03:52:18 UTC
Spike shrugged and glanced up at him. "Yeah, well, I haven't come across anything I couldn't face yet, and I don't intend to start cowering in fear from some nameless danger." And if he died, well, so long as Buffy was all right, he could deal with it.

He picked up a bottle of liquor and sniffed it before wrinkling his nose and putting it back down. "I wouldn't drink any of this. I've been in crypts that smelled better."

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obiwanning September 20 2010, 04:12:55 UTC
"Not that I don't appreciate the advice 'n all," he didn't, "but you keep your crypt-sniffin' experiences to yourself, and I'll keep mine." All the same, Dean took a sniff of one of the bottles that had been cracked open, wincing at the smell. Eh. What didn't kill you made you stronger, and at this point, he was just hoping the blatant aging had made the shit strong enough to knock him on his ass like he was gonna need it to, at this point. Setting the foul-smelling, broken bottle back on a shelf, he turned to fix a suspicious stare on Spike.

"The hell have you faced that made you so damn cocky? Can't imagine you've run into a whole lotta trouble if you spend most your time hangin' around dead people." So far, Dean's assertion of the situation was that he'd been lucky enough to run into some skeevy looking grave-keeper who had a fetish for Billy Idol and didn't get enough Vitamin D.

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breakmychest September 20 2010, 05:00:02 UTC
"I'm just saying, I've gone to some very low-end bars, and they wouldn't touch this. Not even for the customers you don't waste the good stuff on." That wasn't quite true, but the demons that would drink it also liked yak piss. It hardly counted.

Spike eyed Dean thoughtfully, then shrugged. They were already in a different dimension in some bizarre forest with plenty of non-human people. If Dean hadn't had his fragile human preconceptions shattered, he probably wasn't about to now. "All sorts of nasties. Everything from vampires to hellgods. None of 'em have done me in." Well, technically one of the vampires had, but that was an entirely different situation.

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