Dean is just on his way back from finding out that really, no really, for real, he can't get back to the Impala. It should be easy in the snow, he can clearly see where he and Shadow walked, he can see where their two tracks met up, and then his own just... disappears.
He's turning over the possibilities for what and who might be able to do that, the considerably longer list of who might want to, when he hears the sound of someone running, glances up just in time to catch sight of...
Okay, that's weird, and it would be even without the impact a moment later and his name being shouted in joy. That... doesn't happen to him anymore. Ever.
"What the-" Dean is a big, sturdy guy, but he faceplants before he can even catch himself, and even he doesn't really know why he doesn't go for the gun in his waistband or the knife in his boot.
"I am being squashed!" he complains right back, scrambling to get some leverage on the ground and throwing up snow in the process. What in the crap is even going on right now.
"That is only because I have jumped on you," Billy replies, logically. "I meant that I thought you had been crushed to death when there was an earthquake and the house fell down."
And he's still on top of Dean. He's so busy talking that he's forgotten to move.
"Okay, okay!" Dean can definitely vouch for the one; he's definitely been jumped on, even if of the various and sundry impossible things that have happened to him in the past year do not include having been anywhere near an earthquake that he's aware of.
Dean stops flailing. His shirt is soaking through with snow and breath is getting hard to come by. "I haven't. Can we talk with both of us on our own feet?"
"Dean!" he shouts, and he's going to come up from behind and try to glomp him. Which could be a bit awkward, since Dean doesn't know who he is.
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He's turning over the possibilities for what and who might be able to do that, the considerably longer list of who might want to, when he hears the sound of someone running, glances up just in time to catch sight of...
Okay, that's weird, and it would be even without the impact a moment later and his name being shouted in joy. That... doesn't happen to him anymore. Ever.
"What the-" Dean is a big, sturdy guy, but he faceplants before he can even catch himself, and even he doesn't really know why he doesn't go for the gun in his waistband or the knife in his boot.
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"I thought you had been squashed!" he exclaims, happily.
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And he's still on top of Dean. He's so busy talking that he's forgotten to move.
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Dean stops flailing. His shirt is soaking through with snow and breath is getting hard to come by. "I haven't. Can we talk with both of us on our own feet?"
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