Dean sat where Angua had deposited him, staring after Angua's back as she went to rummage for pie ingredients. Sam was still at the bar, still hunched over his glass, shoulders tight and too long hair falling over his ears and into his eyes ( Read more... )

Afer this, which followed this.Angua'd only been gone a moment before Dean got sick of staring at the bedroom wall. He stood up slowly, feeling like he'd gone a few dozen rounds, when in truth all he'd done was welcome his baby brother back to the island. He wasn't sure how great a welcome that'd been, either, but it was hard to think fast when ( Read more... )

The walk to the Winchester was longer than Dean remembered it. Every other step produced a wince, every third an awkward readjustment of his jeans - Dean didn't regret what had gone down earlier that day, but his body was making damn sure he didn't forget about it either. Even his legs were more bowed than usual, and Dean didn't even bother to ( Read more... )

It was the clothes box's fault.

Really.

Tired of his own threadbare collection, Dean had been digging for underwear, hand thrust elbow deep into the clothing box. He didn't expect his fingers to land upon satin. He sure didn't expect to pull said satin out and find it took the form of panties.

"Ho-ly shit," Dean exhaled, pulling them out to ( Read more... )

"There ( Read more... )

Dean's body ached from the inside out, every last part of it wound so tight it was a wonder he had any strength left for walking, but walk Dean did. His feet had carried him to every part of the island at least twice, and now they'd brought him to the tree Sam had taken from the jungle and planted the last time Dean disappeared.

What, you made me ( Read more... )

The tightness in his chest of the first three days had been irritating enough, but now things were just out and out gross. The island was temperate enough that Dean couldn't remember ever taking sick here, but it seemed his body had decided to make up for lost time. He was achy and sore, not enough to be flulike but enough to be annoying as hell ( Read more... )

It wasn't a long walk between the Clinic and the cluster of huts Dean had deemed Winchester Acres, but with the wind trying to shove Dean back a step for every one he took, it sure had become one ( Read more... )

Dean rolled onto his back on the bed.

He'd made it a decent lenght of time, he thought, before cracking the book called No Rest for the Wicked. Having done so now, Dean had to admit it was an engaging read. He'd meant to go slow, decide whether or not he was really going to read it, and before he knew it he was on chapter eleven, and he, Sam, ( Read more... )

It was nearing the end of what Dean had come to think of as his shift at the clinic. In some ways, his help there was as informal as it ever was - Dean came in, Rollie let him observe minor injuries and illnesses as they were tended to, let Dean help when he was qualified, and barked him away again when Dean wasn't. But laid back as it was, ( Read more... )