(Untitled)
There are days that it really ain't worth getting out of bed. Dean's kinda hoping tomorrow isn't gonna be one of those days, because today was pretty shitty.
Goddamn crazy-ass shapeshifters turning into movie monsters is no one's idea of a good time ( Read more... )
Goddamn crazy-ass shapeshifters turning into movie monsters is no one's idea of a good time ( Read more... )
The bad news is....well, there's an angel in the bar.
Castiel had himself been relieved to duck into Milliways. Sometimes he worries that Zachariah will start to see the number of secrets he's been keeping.
For the moment, he only regards Dean from a distance. Their last conversation here hadn't gone that well.
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Great.
And he thought this day couldn't get any worse.
If he believed in God, he'd be cussing up a --
Strike that.
Though trying this hard not to look at the fucking angel in the trench coat is gonna start getting noticeable real soon.
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He has been chosen by God. He'll have to get used to Castiel's presence (in and out of Milliways) sooner or later.
"Good evening, Dean."
"You seem somewhat worse for wear."
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Tough shit.
Dean takes a deep breath. He can feel the tension headache already starting up.
"Keen eye there, Cas. Keen eye."
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Maybe not observant enough to register lederhosen. But the tension? That's clear enough.
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Dean tries on a smirk for size.
It doesn't do much about the lines of tiredness around his eyes.
"Kinky."
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Blame Meg.
"I do not understand."
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It's really not a question. It may not have been meant to be overheard.
"Never mind. Just -- "
He pinches the bridge of his nose again, then looks up.
"So what do you want this time?"
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Instead he just raises his eyebrows.
"You are assuming that your presence here is the reason for my presence here."
Granted, in the Grand Scheme of Things, this is probably not an untrue statement. His original order to come to Milliways, Castiel thinks, must have had this end game in mind.
But for tonight? Really all Castiel wanted was a little peace.
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"What? You mean they've got you goin' after some other poor schmuck now, too?"
He makes a show of looking around.
"Lookin' to expand business into some other universe?"
Sarcasm, thy name is Dean Winchester.
Well, for now, anyway.
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"No. You are the only 'poor schmuck' to whom I am assigned."
At least officially.
"I was ordered to come to Milliways well before I was ordered to retrieve you from Hell."
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It's been a bad year, give or take.
"And what, you didn't see any of it coming?"
He's got his own ideas of what 'well before' means.
"Thanks for nothing, I guess."
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"Did I foresee that I would be ordered to cross into Hell alone while my brothers and sisters laid siege to the Gates and bring you forth from Perdition? No. I can say in all honesty that, when I received my orders to come to Milliways, that scenario did not occur to me."
The bad mood, it seems, may be contagious.
"I have learned a great deal in Milliways. In retrospect, I thought that perhaps my time here was meant to prepare me for working with humans. Which would be of help with my current assignment."
Namely Dean Winchester.
"If that is the case, it would seem that I ill prepared myself as I never dealt with a human here who is quite as recalcitrant as you are."
In other words, Dean, why can't you be more like Meg?
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It's not actually that good at hiding Dean's increasing lack of sleep. Go figure.
"I'm gonna go with 'really fucking unprepared' for $500, Alex. Hell, a six year old'd do better than you."
He wishes.
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Dry. Very dry.
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Dean rubs his face.
"At least a kid wouldn't go around stickin' innocent people in with a crazy guy."
Yeah, now he looks pissed.
"Especially people who doesn't have a hope in Hell of takin' him down if he decides to take 'em out."
Hope in Hell. Get it?
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