Doobalydoop he's spending an awful lot of time in 2014hunting_tripJanuary 18 2012, 06:57:30 UTC
[It's quiet, for once. No gunshots, no mission, no screaming or orders or angels, no alcohol or weed. Just... the sky. However many years in the future, after so much death and chaos and madness, and the sky looked the same. Earth tore itself apart, but the planet kept on spinning around the sun, and the stars didn't care. The stars never changed. Long after everyone else was wiped out, they'd still shine down peacefully on this exact field, where the two of them are flopped. It's... a sad but reassuring thought.
Him and Sam would drive out into the country in between cases, lay on the hood of the Impala, drinking beer and just... looking at them. Not even speaking. Just looking, for hours at a time. He doesn't have Sam anymore, but he's got Cas. It's different, but almost equally reassuring. It's... nice.]
[He's not sure where he's going- the fallen buildings, the overgrown roads, he can't really tell where anything is anymore. The world went to hell and took his internal compass with it. He knows the camp is north, though, so he walks south. Fuck that camp, and fuck himself, and fuck the apocalypse, and-]
God damn it, stop following me.
[He doesn't really mean it, though, he doesn't have the heart. He just likes to snark when he's annoyed. He shoves his hands deep into his jacket pockets.]
I just want...
[Everyone to be safe. For like, five goddamn minutes. Happy, and safe, and not dying or fighting the apocalypse or zombies or fucking lime disease in this shitty ass lake camp.]
[He wonders if Dean's aware that he's going in the total opposite direction from the camp, and that the farther away he goes the more dangerous it becomes. Exponentially more dangerous, in fact, especially at night, and especially alone. Which is why Cas is making sure he isn't alone, as much as it's clearly aggravating him further. Although, if Dean'd really wanted him to stop following, Cas supposes he'd make him stop, and so he stays silent, ignoring the comment and hanging back just a bit with his gun hanging loosely at his side.
He glances over at the sound of Dean's voice, though he can't make out what he's saying; he quickens his steps to catch up.]
[He doesn't seem aware of the fact, or even particularly bothered by it as he romps onward prissily.]
I just want a little pea-
[Whatever he's going to say next is cut off rather abruptly by a body flying out from the side of the road, obscured by trees until it tackles him off his feet and into the gravel, hard.
[He's in the process of rolling his eyes at the way Dean's stomping along when a dark mass hurtles into Dean from the woods, knocking him off of his feet. Cursing rather creatively, he draws his gun, taking aim at... Whatever it is, he can't really make it out. Croate, probably, but it doesn't really matter; anything that tackles you in the dark is something that should be promptly shot in the face.]
Close your eyes and cover your mouth!
[It's barked out rather more authoritatively than he's usually given to, and he really hopes that now isn't the time Dean decides to question him. He fires three shots: the first two miss spectacularly, whizzing over the thing's shoulders which isn't surprising in the slightest considering the darkness and his truly abysmal aim; the third catches it on the side of the forehead, taking out a chunk of bone and splattering the immediate area- and probably Dean- with gore. Not the cleanest of shots, but it seems to do the trick, at least as far as Cas can see. He moves cautiously but quickly, gun
( ... )
[He's using his I'm a god damned angel of the Lord voice, and the instinct to obey it is so deeply ingrained in his psyche, it doesn't matter if he's Hairy Cas or Hippy Cas or Future Cas or Past Cas, he does as he's told as instinctively as calling Sam a bitch. It just happens, and his eyes squeeze shut, mouth snaps closed, he thrusts his forearms up to keep the thing away from his face. It struggles, probably why Cas missed those first two shots, but then with a third, the struggling promptly stops.
He shoves it off of him with an annoyed grunt, and it lands in the grass with a thump. Before he's even up, he's wiping the blood away from his face precariously with the bottom of his shirt, careful not to get it in any part of him that could cause infection.
He doesn't want to be a Croat. That would suck.]
Yeeeeup. You know. Can't complain.
[It's dry, stiff, and barked, which means he absolutely can complain. He's a little sobered by Cas's tone, though. Nice to hear him being commanding again. He shoves himself up to his feet
( ... )
[Dean's wisecracking, which Cas takes as a good sign, more than a little bit relieved. He nudges at the croate with the toe of his boot; it's stopped moving, but he's about to fire another shot anyway, just in case. At least he is until he sees Dean peering into the distance, with that look. And then he uses that tone, the one everyone here knows so well... He frowns.]
...Fuck. There are more, aren't there?
[And of course there are, this is 2014. This isn't exactly uncommon, and so Cas isn't as rattled as one might expect... But rattled or no, there's only one option really available to them.]
We should run.
[Definitely. He squints off into the distance, and he's not sure, but he thinks he sees a dark shadow that may possibly be a house of some kind, or a shed. Or it could just be a group of trees, who knows- right now it's looking like that's their best bet.]
That way, come on--
[He takes off, fingers curled around the sleeve of Dean's jacket.]
[He nods, his voice low, because they're still ambling, and the lighting is poor. They probably don't have night vision any better than he does, if they can just find a place to hide, at least until morning...
He can't see the mass off in the woods, but he trusts Cas to know the layout a little better than him. Just trusts him in general, really, and doesn't hesitate to follow. He's not so much tugged along by the fingers curled around his sleeve, seeing as he keeps up pretty well, but still he doesn't let go. It's dark, and getting split up right now would be... bad.
Very bad.
Damn. This is his fault for dragging them out here.]
[Smoking so much is catching up to him, it seems; his lungs burn and his voice is a bit strained, coming out in a huff as they run for the shadow that he's really, really hoping is actually a building and not a mass of croates. Or worse, a tank. Running into the military? Worst case scenario, absolutely.]
Do you have a weapon on you?
[He's suddenly painfully aware of how moronic it'd been to go out at night with only his handgun. Even an extra clip or a bottle of water or something would have been smart. If Cas had the breath to spare, he'd sigh; he should really know better. But... Nothing would have killed the relaxing stargazing mood more than an End of the World goodie bag, and so he'd opted for just the gun. Not his best idea.
They're coming up to the woods now, moment of truth. He's taking the fact that they haven't been blown away already to mean that the military option is at least off the table. No bodies running at them either, so not a giant mass of croates-- and yeah, that's clearly a house. Thank God. Well
( ... )
Him and Sam would drive out into the country in between cases, lay on the hood of the Impala, drinking beer and just... looking at them. Not even speaking. Just looking, for hours at a time. He doesn't have Sam anymore, but he's got Cas. It's different, but almost equally reassuring. It's... nice.]
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God damn it, stop following me.
[He doesn't really mean it, though, he doesn't have the heart. He just likes to snark when he's annoyed. He shoves his hands deep into his jacket pockets.]
I just want...
[Everyone to be safe. For like, five goddamn minutes. Happy, and safe, and not dying or fighting the apocalypse or zombies or fucking lime disease in this shitty ass lake camp.]
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He glances over at the sound of Dean's voice, though he can't make out what he's saying; he quickens his steps to catch up.]
Hmm?
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I just want a little pea-
[Whatever he's going to say next is cut off rather abruptly by a body flying out from the side of the road, obscured by trees until it tackles him off his feet and into the gravel, hard.
Oh right, it's the zombie apocalypse.]
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Close your eyes and cover your mouth!
[It's barked out rather more authoritatively than he's usually given to, and he really hopes that now isn't the time Dean decides to question him. He fires three shots: the first two miss spectacularly, whizzing over the thing's shoulders which isn't surprising in the slightest considering the darkness and his truly abysmal aim; the third catches it on the side of the forehead, taking out a chunk of bone and splattering the immediate area- and probably Dean- with gore. Not the cleanest of shots, but it seems to do the trick, at least as far as Cas can see. He moves cautiously but quickly, gun ( ... )
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He shoves it off of him with an annoyed grunt, and it lands in the grass with a thump. Before he's even up, he's wiping the blood away from his face precariously with the bottom of his shirt, careful not to get it in any part of him that could cause infection.
He doesn't want to be a Croat. That would suck.]
Yeeeeup. You know. Can't complain.
[It's dry, stiff, and barked, which means he absolutely can complain. He's a little sobered by Cas's tone, though. Nice to hear him being commanding again. He shoves himself up to his feet ( ... )
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...Fuck. There are more, aren't there?
[And of course there are, this is 2014. This isn't exactly uncommon, and so Cas isn't as rattled as one might expect... But rattled or no, there's only one option really available to them.]
We should run.
[Definitely. He squints off into the distance, and he's not sure, but he thinks he sees a dark shadow that may possibly be a house of some kind, or a shed. Or it could just be a group of trees, who knows- right now it's looking like that's their best bet.]
That way, come on--
[He takes off, fingers curled around the sleeve of Dean's jacket.]
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[He nods, his voice low, because they're still ambling, and the lighting is poor. They probably don't have night vision any better than he does, if they can just find a place to hide, at least until morning...
He can't see the mass off in the woods, but he trusts Cas to know the layout a little better than him. Just trusts him in general, really, and doesn't hesitate to follow. He's not so much tugged along by the fingers curled around his sleeve, seeing as he keeps up pretty well, but still he doesn't let go. It's dark, and getting split up right now would be... bad.
Very bad.
Damn. This is his fault for dragging them out here.]
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Do you have a weapon on you?
[He's suddenly painfully aware of how moronic it'd been to go out at night with only his handgun. Even an extra clip or a bottle of water or something would have been smart. If Cas had the breath to spare, he'd sigh; he should really know better. But... Nothing would have killed the relaxing stargazing mood more than an End of the World goodie bag, and so he'd opted for just the gun. Not his best idea.
They're coming up to the woods now, moment of truth. He's taking the fact that they haven't been blown away already to mean that the military option is at least off the table. No bodies running at them either, so not a giant mass of croates-- and yeah, that's clearly a house. Thank God. Well ( ... )
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