This? This was not happening. Of all the shitty ass dreams that had haunted Dean's life this last year, this one seemed cruel and unusual. It wasn't just about losing Sam, or the world almost ending: it was about his worst nightmare come straight into his living room.
That it wasn't over.
He lowered the bat, because dream or no, it wasn't gonna do jackshit against an archangel, in its present state.
"This isn't the Best Western," he finally said, doing everything he could to keep his voice level but threatening enough, as he glared down his nose at the angel flung so casually across his couch. "You've got five seconds to scram, and take whatever bad news you're bearin' with you." Because it wasn't as if angels ever dropped for a friendly damn chat. He wasn't sure where Gabriel had gone in the aftermath of what had happened. He hadn't cared. The dick had abandoned Cassie after her mother died, and that didn't exactly leave him in Dean's best books.
"Or what?" Gabriel shifted so that he was staring at Dean over the back of the couch. He didn't have to look threatening- Dean knew what it felt like to get pinned to a wall by something half his size. "Pretty sure you're not keeping holy oil next the vinaigrette, big guy."
He slid off the couch like a lazy cat, but didn't bother to bridge the gap between him and Dean- this was just one of those conversations you needed to be standing up for. "How long did you really think you could keep this up?"
He almost said we, except this wasn't his fucking story- it was always Dean and Sam's. Never mind he lost two brothers in that hole too. Never mind the fact that he left that poor kid, because she deserved better than an angel who couldn't even even save one friggin' human when it really mattered.
"It's over," Dean said, the word cutting through the air between them, as if it might slice through his own uncertainty too. "Don't know if you missed the memo when you cut and ran but Michael and Lucifer took the big plunge. Apocalypse not-now. Crisis averted."
He walked slowly around the couch, leaving an open exit available to the angel, even though he knew he wasn't gonna take it. Or use a door even if he did.
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That it wasn't over.
He lowered the bat, because dream or no, it wasn't gonna do jackshit against an archangel, in its present state.
"This isn't the Best Western," he finally said, doing everything he could to keep his voice level but threatening enough, as he glared down his nose at the angel flung so casually across his couch. "You've got five seconds to scram, and take whatever bad news you're bearin' with you." Because it wasn't as if angels ever dropped for a friendly damn chat. He wasn't sure where Gabriel had gone in the aftermath of what had happened. He hadn't cared. The dick had abandoned Cassie after her mother died, and that didn't exactly leave him in Dean's best books.
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He slid off the couch like a lazy cat, but didn't bother to bridge the gap between him and Dean- this was just one of those conversations you needed to be standing up for. "How long did you really think you could keep this up?"
He almost said we, except this wasn't his fucking story- it was always Dean and Sam's. Never mind he lost two brothers in that hole too. Never mind the fact that he left that poor kid, because she deserved better than an angel who couldn't even even save one friggin' human when it really mattered.
Never mind that his war never ended either.
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He walked slowly around the couch, leaving an open exit available to the angel, even though he knew he wasn't gonna take it. Or use a door even if he did.
It was symbolic, okay?
"And I think I've paid my damn dues twice over."
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