Before the Showdown
It was the night before. Tomorrow they were moving out, and they were going to take the Colt and try to kill Lucifer. Kill Sam. He still didn't like the thought. He understood that in this time Sam was Lucifer's vessel, and he liked to think that he'd done everything he could to find another solution.
But, then again, Dean had decided he didn't much like himself from this time. He was an asshole.
He had no intention of hanging around that cabin looking at his own pretty face when it was paired to a man so broken and callous it made him feel a little ill. There were things he could do differently without resigning himself to fate as Michael's vessel. Maybe he and Sam had been wrong. Maybe the problem with this world was not that he'd said 'no', but that he and Sam hadn't spoken in five years.
He was not looking forward to what happened tomorrow. Either he got to watch Sam die. Or he watched himself die. He didn't particularly like either. And then there was dealing with that smug son-of-a-bitch Zachariah afterward, for icing on the cake.
He stuffed his hands in his jacket as he took a stroll in the cool crisp air, and wandered over to Cas' cabin. He waited a few minutes, not wanting to walk into the middle of Cas in an orgy with enough women that it made him feel just a little bit insecure. When there was a decided lack of giggling, moaning, grunts, groans or anything else, he decided that the coast was clear and knocked firmly on the door.
“Hey, Cas?”
But, then again, Dean had decided he didn't much like himself from this time. He was an asshole.
He had no intention of hanging around that cabin looking at his own pretty face when it was paired to a man so broken and callous it made him feel a little ill. There were things he could do differently without resigning himself to fate as Michael's vessel. Maybe he and Sam had been wrong. Maybe the problem with this world was not that he'd said 'no', but that he and Sam hadn't spoken in five years.
He was not looking forward to what happened tomorrow. Either he got to watch Sam die. Or he watched himself die. He didn't particularly like either. And then there was dealing with that smug son-of-a-bitch Zachariah afterward, for icing on the cake.
He stuffed his hands in his jacket as he took a stroll in the cool crisp air, and wandered over to Cas' cabin. He waited a few minutes, not wanting to walk into the middle of Cas in an orgy with enough women that it made him feel just a little bit insecure. When there was a decided lack of giggling, moaning, grunts, groans or anything else, he decided that the coast was clear and knocked firmly on the door.
“Hey, Cas?”