they'll never stay home and they're always alone.
WHO: Dean Winchester, and OPEN!
WHAT: A southern guy with his curiosity piqued checking out the cars in the lot.
WHEN: Shortly after breakfast. Day 44.
WARNINGS: TBA.
The thing that bothered Dean the most was Sam. It wasn't his Sam, it wasn't the guy he was used to and aside from the fact that he was positive his brother had no idea what the "barge," was; he had to be three years from his past. It didn't sit right with him, and try as he might to keep a straight face and remain lucid when talking with him, it fucking sucked to have to.
After having heaps more than his stomachs fill and not feeling at all ashamed about it Dean headed from the boarding house and out for a stroll. He perused the streets as far as they would take him until the used car lot caught his eye. Dean was a guy's guy, he couldn't deny those roots, and without much brain to body consent he was walking through it scanning for anything he could turn on and take for a spin, possibly use to break the barriers of the creepy little bo-dunk town he was faced with.
Nothing worked.
"Fucking figures..." Dean said in one large exhale. "It's like dangling coak in front of a meth addict, messed up."
Irritated and let down Dean was about to leave when a Ford F100 caught his eye. It was pretty banged up, but in better shape than most of the cars there and a truck was something he could get behind in terms of transportation in Peaksville. He lifted the hood to get a look, a dud truck was better than being helpless and on foot.
WHAT: A southern guy with his curiosity piqued checking out the cars in the lot.
WHEN: Shortly after breakfast. Day 44.
WARNINGS: TBA.
The thing that bothered Dean the most was Sam. It wasn't his Sam, it wasn't the guy he was used to and aside from the fact that he was positive his brother had no idea what the "barge," was; he had to be three years from his past. It didn't sit right with him, and try as he might to keep a straight face and remain lucid when talking with him, it fucking sucked to have to.
After having heaps more than his stomachs fill and not feeling at all ashamed about it Dean headed from the boarding house and out for a stroll. He perused the streets as far as they would take him until the used car lot caught his eye. Dean was a guy's guy, he couldn't deny those roots, and without much brain to body consent he was walking through it scanning for anything he could turn on and take for a spin, possibly use to break the barriers of the creepy little bo-dunk town he was faced with.
Nothing worked.
"Fucking figures..." Dean said in one large exhale. "It's like dangling coak in front of a meth addict, messed up."
Irritated and let down Dean was about to leave when a Ford F100 caught his eye. It was pretty banged up, but in better shape than most of the cars there and a truck was something he could get behind in terms of transportation in Peaksville. He lifted the hood to get a look, a dud truck was better than being helpless and on foot.
