scarred–sword:

             The emptiness that’s no stranger to Dean is vainly filled with the alcohol; for a few moments, the fuzziness and the warmth that the liquid gives him is enough. It’s enough for the loneliness, for the worthlessness, for the fact that he’s completely and utterly useless— and for a moment, he forgets about Sam entirely, only remembering that yes, his little brother is still alive and sound and within his grasp as footsteps interrupt the awful medley Dean had just begun to get a proper grasp on.

             He arches a brow, and sage hues follow his little brother’s gaze to the bag at his side. Dean chuckles, and tries to brush the fact that he’s completely inebriated aside; instead, he nurses his bottle with more ease, downing half of the alcohol in nearly one gulp. With satisfaction, he licks his lips, and after a moment, he shrugs.

                     The obvious answer is ‘too much,’ despite the fact Dean would argue with ‘not enough.’

                                     ❝Do you h-ave a problem, Sammy?❞

      _{it’s not that sam approves of dean getting stupid drunk, but he’s been there before, and christmas is as good a reason as any to empty a bottle or two. that being said, he’d rather not have to deal with dean’s  b i t c h  of a hangover tomorrow, so he eyes the empty bottles distastefully.  sam knows that when dean has his mind set on something, he won’t budge, and so he doesn’t even try to convince his brother to swap the beer out for a nice, cold glass of water.}

            _{instead, he rolls his eyes at dean’s slurred response and closes the distance between them, turning around so that he’s leaning against the impala’s polished trunk as well. sam is silent for a moment, looking out at the world before them. he’s sure every other average joe is sitting down with his family right about now, having a nice turkey or ham or lasagna and laughing over a glass of mulled wine. there was a time when sam would give anything to have that —- to be done with this hunting thing and to have a normal life. he knows better, now. hunting is in his blood —-  in dean’s too. and he wouldn’t trade their messed up excuse of a life for anything.}

    _{he turns his attention back to dean, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the cooler.}

                                            _{❝ pass me one? ❞}

scarred–sword:

             [ the loud humming is interrupted as dean pauses to take another sip of his beer. he’s leaning against the trunk of the impala, a cooler at his feet; a bag full of empty bottles resides next to the container, and the moment the bottle’s empty it’s tossed aside; long, bruised fingers take another bottle from the cooler and dean slides down to prop against the bumper, the humming picking back up before he fiddles with the cap. ]

                     ❝——baby it’s cold outside—-❞

             [ don’t ask him why he’s singing christmas tunes; it just feels appropriate. he’s a bit bitter about spending the day alone. ]

                _{there’s an inkling of  g u i l t  that trickles down into sam’s stomach when he thinks about dean, alone in the middle of what should be the most joyous time of the year. christmas is about family and faith, but sam has left dean by himself with his demons and his memories. he manages to work through the coldness in his stomach for a good part of the day, using the time to let cool winds clear his head. hours pass, and sam only feels his uneasiness grow, until he finds he’s doing himself more harm than good and retraces his path back to dean.}

      _{the off-tune melody is the first thing to assault his senses.  singing? really? granted, the song choice is decent as far as christmas tunes go, but what the hell? sam chuckles and catches sight of the bag of beer bottles, raising his eyebrows incredulously.}

                                                        _{❝ dude. how much have you had to drink? ❞}

_{xmas–killer:}

❝ Judgin’ by the way she— yeah, yeah she was. ❞

     _{[ sam grins and shakes his head, trying to stifle the chuckles that rise in his throat. he fails, and  l a u g h t e r  bubbles up from someplace deep in his stomach. ]}

naeniaxiii:

_{{☣}—It wasn’t unusual for intruders to find themselves in the ruins of Valhalla. Time was such a fickle thing, after all, and so many people tried to rule it, tried to tie a leash around its neck like an animal and command it.}

  _{That was when they would find themselves here.
And the Guardian would do his work.}

  _{He heard the voice first, and was surprised that the first thing it said was a name. If this man expected someone to be alongside him, he would be sorely disappointed. The Vision had only called for one.}

  _{But it seemed as though ‘Dean’ could wait.
The stranger undoubtedly had more pressing concerns.}

  _{Leather-clad hands formed tight fists at his side as the Guardian stepped forth from the shadows. The differences in their appearance were almost laughable. One possessed violet tresses adorned with beads and feathers, clad in armor of a shade to match with a mighty broadsword sheathed on his back. The other was much more… muted, with a simple head of chestnut locks and a casual outfit that was unlike anything worn by the people here.} 

_{[ Out of time, indeed. ]}

_{“There is.
             But I am not who you seek.”}

       _{sam is really starting to get tired of this trickster. all he wants is a way to stop the apocalypse —- a short conversation with the guy, maybe, because he knows it’s in the trickster’s best interest to stop lucifer. and yeah, maybe it’s a bit far-fetched and maybe it’s a bit  d e s p e r a t e , but the days are running short and they don’t really have much of a choice. he can’t even get that. instead, sam’s given a scalpel and his brother’s bared back, a steel ball in his junk, and now an abandoned street. he can’t really say he expected better, because sam has always been destined for terrible luck. still, it’d be nice to have things go his way for once - to find an ally who isn’t lying or to have his good intentions stop turning sour.}

                          _{but sam is a winchester, and this is the  a p o c a l y p s e , so his expectations aren’t really all that high.}

        _{he whirls around at the sound of the voice, patting down his pockets in search of a weapon. but, of course, luck has abandoned him again, and he finds nothing but dirt and spare change.}

                                                                                            _{❝ —- who’s there? ❞}

                                                           _{please, please let this guy not be trying to kill him.}

           _{sam edges his way closer to the man, brows knotting together as he takes in the purple hair and tribal thingies. what in the world? he doesn’t recognize the show, but then again, he hadn’t recognized the nutcracker or dr. sexy, either. he can only  p r a y  that this guy means him no harm, as he’s got no means of defense but his own bare knuckles.}

_{casontopofthechristmastree:}

          _{There’s a brief stop in his heartbeat at the tone in Sam’s words. He can still remember when he first met him, how faithful, full of hope and excited he seemed. And the only thing Castiel could say was ‘demon blood’. After all this time, he realised how harsh that might have sounded for him, but not again.}

            _{“Yes, Sam. I am an angel. A real one.”}

     _{something like   h o p e   flutters in his chest, but sam catches it before its paper-thin wings can batter themselves into crumbled dust. he places his faith in what’s before him, but prayers still rattle around inside his skull, begging to be released.} 

              _{this is real, he tells himself. an angel has appeared before him in flesh and blood, living testament to what sam has known all along. but that man —- the priest —- he too thought he was an angel and yet he was nothing more than a pained apparition.}

                                                                            _{❝ prove it. ❞}

                       sam lifts his chin, folding his arms defiantly across his chest in hopes of quieting the rapid  t h r u m  of his heart. no expectations, he tells himself. no disappointment.

bowleghunter:

        _{“I swear, Christmas is full of shit— —”}

       _{❝ —- dude, you’re preaching to the choir here. ❞}

+rexpuerilis

ilaughedicriedipukedinmymouth:

      ^{Now, this is strange. Meg would expect a more informal response — an eye roll, a sigh or even a disgruntled comment — nope, none of the listed. In fact, the younger of the Winchester’s reaction was that of unfamiliarity.}

^{“I don’t know, do you?”} 

      ^{A teasing wiggle of brows followed, the demon taking just one step closer to the hunter; yep, that was definitely him — younger and unfamiliar, but definitely the same tall, plaid-clad guy.}

^{"Try to think back a little. We’ve met before; different clothing style, same black eyes.”}

    _{whoever this is, she’s definitely got an  a t t i t u d e  on her. something stirs in sam’s memory, but he can’t quite reach it. there’s something familiar about her, the way she speaks, the way she teases. his brow furrows, holding his ground as she steps closer. oh.} 

                            _{❝ meg! ❞}

          _{he spits her name like venom, instantly on the defensive. sam takes a step back, hand brushing his knife through the thick green material of his jacket.}

                                                                 _{❝ what do you want? ❞}

thexrighteousxman:

_{It had broken his heart when Sam had walked out of that motel room. Destroyed him. He’d picked a demon over his brother, and released Lucifer. 
But he was his brother. And no matter how much it hurt, or how angry Dean was with Sam, he wasn’t going to abandon him. He just couldn’t do that to him.}

_{But they had to stop the world ending. That was their job.
But even they deserved a night off once in a while. And that’s what they were doing now. A night off. Away from the apocalypse, away from angels and demons.}

              _{Just them.}

                                 _{”Yeah, it is. It’s nice.”}

_{For once, the silence is nice. Any other time, silence wouldn’t have been nice at all.
Reaching behind him, he grabbed too beers from the cooler, handing one over to Sam before opening his own. Taking a drink, he stared down at the grass, black in the moonlight, before over at his brother.
                                  “It’s gonna be okay, Sam.”}

     _{never in his life has sam felt so much regret. it’s there in the mornings, when dean’s quiet and sleepy and sam’s all alone in the room. it’s there at mid-day, when the sun casts a tall shadow behind the impala that moves and shimmers as they forge their way across borders and states. it’s there at night, when everything is quiet and their only company is the glowing screen of a motel tv and a cold beer.} 

                 _{and the thing is, sam still  c r a v e s  it. his blood aches for the power, the euphoria. the control. he hates that no matter how much he hurts dean, no matter how much he wishes none of this had ever happened, he still wants it so bad his hands shake and his mouth goes dry.}

      _{but sam trusts dean. sam knows dean won’t let him fail again.  sam knows he won’t let himself betray dean again. so he holds on with sweaty fingers, praying for guidance and hoping for salvation.}

         _{he smiles now, soft and secretive and f o r l o r n . he feels lost. ever since he was a child, he was the freak, the odd one out. and now is no different.}

                                                                            _{❝ no, it’s really not. but thank you. ❞}

   _{sammy meets his brother’s gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching up almost against his will  —- an actual, genuine smile. because he knows whatever there is in store, dean will be there to face it with him.}

   _{❝ —- dean? ❞}

         _{well, this can’t be good.} 

   _{sam gets up from the ground, wincing at the  f i s s u r e s  of pain that skate across his shins. okay, where is he  now? a horror show? it’s sure as hell not a sitcom. based on his surroundings, sam guesses he’s somewhere in a city —- and not a nice one. then again, looks can be deceiving. still, there’s something itching in the pit of his stomach, yelling at him to run, to find dean.}

              _{which is something else odd, come to think of it. every other time he’s been transported through the trickster’s godforsaken reality shows of doom, dean’s been right there by his side. but now, unless he’s mistaken, he’s landed hard and a l o n e on a dark, dirty alleyway somewhere on the other side of the moon. even the sky looks strange. sci-fi, maybe?}

     _{well, wherever he is, he might as well get on with it. just go along with the show. then he’ll get back to the warehouse and be able to get on with his plan.}  

                                                          _{❝ hello? anyone out there? ❞}

      _{sam can’t remember the last time he’s been on a case. for months, now, they’ve been tracking the devil and trying to figure out how to shove that bastard back where he came from. it’s nice to slow down and take an actual case, no matter how much he feels like he’s  w a s t i n g  time. still, if they can’t kill lucifer, they might as well kill as many evil sons of bitches as they can.}

                 _{so far, they don’t really have any leads. as a result, they’ve taken to what they know best —- scoping out a bar. it’s late, and there aren’t very many people here, but they fall easily into their usual routine; dean scopes out the chicks and sam does the work.} 

     _{it’s not like they’re under a lot of pressure here, and no one’s in dire need of help, so sam doesn’t feel  t o o  guilty when the first person he decides to talk to is an attractive young girl sitting at the bar. he slides onto the stool beside her and orders a beer.}

                           _{❝ —- kinda quiet for a saturday, isn’t it?  ❞}

                                        _{he turns to the girl in his stool, face morphing into a kind smile.}