(no subject)
Dean waited for the echoed boom of the shotgun to stop bouncing back to him from the trees before he walked forward, picking up the empty shells. Maybe John wouldn't have cared for him wasting powder this way, but the fact was, after the ups and downs of the last month Dean needed the release, and there weren't any bars on the island he could go find a fight in. At least, no bars that wouldn't make him feel guilty as hell for it afterward.
So. Handheld, controlled explosions it was, and Dean didn't regret it. Loading up a final round, he almost smiled as he squeezed the trigger, the rock of backshock through his body as soothing as that of any mother's against a cradle.
So. Handheld, controlled explosions it was, and Dean didn't regret it. Loading up a final round, he almost smiled as he squeezed the trigger, the rock of backshock through his body as soothing as that of any mother's against a cradle.