To The Waters And The Wild part 14
2/17/09 02:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle:To The Waters And The Wild
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
PairingsDean/Sam
Rating:R
Word Count:2413
Dean thought about what the demon had said. Yeah, demons lied, but he knew they also loved to use threads of the truth to spin a lie. He shouldn't even be angry that Sam had sex with people while he was being ripped apart in hell…it really wasn't his business what Sam did, who he fucked, and Sam sure as hell wasn't supposed to stop living while Dean was down there….
Hell. Sex was…important. He liked sex too. Before he was dragged into the pit, sex was part of life, the good part. But they used that against him, just like they used love, and loneliness, and anger against him there….
Fuck. The more he thought about it, the more it hurt and…he rubbed his head. It was getting too confusing to think. Time to shut down for a bit….
~~~~o0o~~~~
The next day, Sam came home with a couple of boxes of salt. Dean watched him curiously, followed behind him as he spilled salt in thin lines at each window sill, and then pressed duct tape down over the lines. He lifted an eyebrow at Dean and smirked. "Permanent protection, dude. Won't have to re-lay these every day, right?"
Dean shrugged, a furrow wrinkled his brow. "Protection…right…"
"You remember? Every night, no matter where we were, Dad had us lay down salt, at windows, and at the doors…you do remember, don't you?" Sam carefully poured a thin perfect line across the threshold, the only other entrance to the apartment. As the last white crystals filled in the line, Dean felt a shattering explosion in his head. He bit down hard on a gasp of pain, for one brief moment he was paralyzed and then, he moaned, unable to hold the pain at bay….
"Hey, what's wrong—one of those headaches—shit! Dean?" Sam was holding his hand and looking frightened. "Dean, is this—do these hurt?"
Dean watched too as red lines raced over his skin, blowing up and disappearing again, fading to ivory and then to nothing. He gazed at Sam and shook his head. "No." The scars didn't hurt at all…it was his head that hurt, his chest ….
When the last of the lines faded, so did the pain shrieking in his head, faded enough that he could handle it, push it into the same box with everything else. He turned his hand this way and that, staring at the thin white lines still evident on his wrists, between his fingers. "What...are they?"
Sam narrowed his eyes. "I…I don’t know. I know someone who might, but. I don’t know if we're still on speaking terms." Sam smiled sadly.
An echo of the pain he'd felt still flowed through him, throbbing behind his eyes and sticking hot little knives in his joints and chest, but something told him to keep that away from Sam, just like he kept silent the fact he saw everything Sam saw too…he was afraid to tell him. Afraid that something had come out of hell with him, something that made him different than the Dean he was before. "Well, I feel fine." He dredged a smile up out of somewhere and flashed it. "I'm kind of hungry though."
Sam laughed. "Wow, that's a surprise. Help me tape this and we'll go get lunch."
Dean knelt and pressed his hand along the strip of duct tape and it felt like fire. He calmly pulled his hand away and stood again. He'd had three years to learn how to deal with fire.
~~~~o0o~~~~
Sam opened the door to Danny, who stood in the doorway with a grin and a bag of…stuff. He shoved his glasses up his nose, a move that incidentally drew attention to the fact that they were a pretty shade of gray. He whipped off the ugliest hat Sam had ever seen, a tufted, weird, stringed thing that looked like an animal or something had died on his head…was it an owl?
"Hey, I brought some, ah, a book and some snacks—in case I actually get a chance to be bored, though I doubt that, not with Dean." Danny smiled at Dean, snatched the hat off his head and waved, then stood there, shifting the bag and hat in his arms, until Sam took pity on him and led him into the living room.
"I think I can guarantee you won’t be bored. He's been in kind of a mood lately—bit of a bear. Like a mix of Yogi and…um. A Grizzly. It's been…" Sam was worried about the migraines Dean got with more frequency. He glanced over at where he stood against the window, and laughed out loud—Dean was flipping him off. "Okay, okay, but you know it's true."
"Grizzly, okay, Yogi—just—no. No Yogi, Oh wait…" Dean smirked. "Does that make you Booboo?"
Sam laughed, in surprise this time, and turned to Danny with a warm grin. "I really appreciate you helping out, considering…" The crew had had a real ass bite of a day. They'd been called in on a nasty knifing in a bus terminal bathroom—the victim had bled out in one of the stalls, guts purposely spread all over the toilet and the floor, almost in a pattern of some sort. They'd had to search out body parts like a gruesome Easter egg hunt….
The crew had done the major part of the work on that job—he'd dropped in with Dean about noon and given them a hand. Scraping coagulated blood from tile wasn't something he'd recommend to anyone.
He had an odd buzz about this one--it had a ritualistic look and feel but that didn’t mean it was necessarily supernatural, humans managed to prey on each other in horrible ways. He hadn't been able to take the time he'd needed to know for sure—Dean hadn't said anything but Sam picked up on Dean's almost non-existent signals anyway--he could tell the crowds and the noise, the scene, had been overpowering him.
That's why he'd planned to head back to the terminal this evening. He'd spun some tale about having a date, and Danny had volunteered to hang out with Dean until he got back. Sam shrugged into his coat and told Danny, "Ah…I'm doing some work in the house so wherever you see duct tape, leave it—it's there for a purpose."
The duct tape had been one of his better ideas—doing its duty keeping his salt lines at the threshold and all window sills nice and straight, and fairly permanent—and necessary. If Ruby had shown up to simper at him, it meant that he was probably starting to register on the demon radar again…and maybe since the outworlders had taken enough interest in him to get him Dean back, it might be rekindling the demons' interest in him. Fuck knew he was way out of practice with this stuff, in no shape to deal with any pissed off Lord of Hell looking for its chew toy back. "I won’t be out too long. If you have any kind of problem at all, call me."
Sam walked back into the bedroom with Dean on his heels. He rifled through the closet, selecting what he figured he'd need for the evening--tucked holy water in one pocket, travel shaker of salt in the other. He glanced over at Dean—he was watching Sam with a frown…it deepened when he saw Sam slide the Taurus into the back of his pants. Sam stopped. "Hey. You gonna be okay?"
Dean gave him a smile carved from ice. "Sure. You go out and enjoy your date. Try not to shoot them," he said dryly and looked Sam squarely in the eye, almost a challenge. Sam coughed and dropped his eyes.
"Ah. Yeah, um. Thanks. I'll see you…later," he said, and felt his cheeks burning. It was weird…he was embarrassed about lying about the date, lying to Dean at all, when it was clear Dean knew he was lying, and was hurt. Pissed off and…maybe a little jealous, too? Sam let himself out into the stairwell, leaned against the wall and let out a long breath. He felt guilty for lying to Dean, and guilty for feeling glad that Dean might be jealous.
~~~~o0o~~~~
Dean watched Danny, watched him move gracefully about the apartment, his slim form weaving around the furniture almost hypnotically, picking up magazines, and clothes—"God, how in the hell can you guys possibly own so many socks? What do they, like, *mate* up in here?" He whisked a couple of mismatched socks off the couch and the coffee table into a laundry basket. "You guys are just disgusting. Ya'll really need a maid…" He looked at Dean. "Hey, you sure you're all right? You've been staring at me all night. You bored—or hungry?"
Hungry? Dean felt like…he might be hungry. Some kind of hunger, maybe…he stared at Danny, thought of the date Sam claimed to be on. He thought of the demon girl, what she'd said, that Sam hadn’t waited...he felt the oddest sense of being two different people, feeling so completely opposite—fiercely angry that Sam didn’t wait but also, puzzled by the feeling--Sam had no reason to wait, there was nothing to wait *for*--
He watched Danny and wondered himself, what it would be like to touch…taste. Was it…did it hurt here like it hurt there? His mouth dropped open, and heat skated under his skin…Danny. He could *make* him. Easy. "Hey."
Danny jumped, startled that Dean had come up on him so silently. "Dean?" He smiled uncertainly. "Would you like burgers? We can go down to that place on the end of the block you liked—um. Hello?"
Dean came closer, moving slowly at Danny with a smile, edging him back step by step as Danny babbled about burgers and other things that slid off Dean like oil off skin. He felt--strong, heavy. It felt good…it slipped down his spine, curled hot in his gut and between his legs…Danny squeaked and it made his skin burn. Dean huffed in a deep breath, open-mouthed to better taste, and smell. Danny was confused, afraid—aroused. Just a little, just enough.
"Dean, quit it—" Danny straight armed Dean, gave him a solid hit to the chest and it hurt. Dean snarled at the pain, and then chuckled. Danny's expression was comically alarmed, he'd had just realized that Dean had him trapped in a corner of the kitchen, pinned between the counter and himself.
Dean shivered, and grinned. Sam had fun, and it was Dean's turn to have fun. He'd missed this smell, this little sour smell of fear. "Sam won’t fuck you, not ever…but guess what, his brother's not that picky…."
"Get *off*! Dean! Don't—" He felt Danny's pulse thud under his fingertips and under his lips as he pressed them against the column of Danny's neck, the thick pulse beat against his tingling lips, his tongue. He traced circles against that pulse, bit down on it, and sucked, rasping his teeth against tender skin. He rolled his hips, ground against his target. He grunted—he was hard, and he felt his own pulse pounding in his veins, it made him feel full, big, and hot--*burning*.
Danny made a sound of protest. Some sound, some word, it was hardly important. The smell of blood, of fear, pulled up memories, alien memories that hurt, bad enough to make him moan…a distant voice echoed, 'we help people.' Heard the voice tell Sam 'it's what we do.' If he hurt Danny, if he hurt him….
Dean backed up and Danny seized his momentary weakness to slip out from between him and the counter like an eel, already digging his phone out of his pocket to call for Sam as he moved. He looked back at Dean with wide gray eyes glassy with fear, and…Dean snorted. Concern. For him--Dean smiled. It was too easy. He licked his lips, and lunged at Danny again. Danny, such an easy target….
Danny hit him, a solid punch to the gut that folded Dean up and dropped him to the floor. His knees hit hard, they both heard the crack and Danny winced and eased away. "Sorry, sorry but…"
Dean couldn't move. Black spots floated in front of his eyes and his gut churned. His head hung between his trembling arms, his palms were flat on the floor and itched to curve like claws around Danny's neck—he tried to shove down the black rush of rage that made him shake, made his teeth grind…he blinked, once, twice, and suddenly he was all there, back in the kitchen, back in his head, back to normal. He heard Danny asking him, "are you okay?" and apologizing, "I'm—I'm sorry but—"
Dean looked up into Danny's frightened eyes and felt…sick. Felt like throwing up, like ripping into himself. He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, so sorry," he croaked. "Fuck…I'm. I don’t know. Why I did that."
It was absolutely true—he had no idea why he'd tried to attack Danny, all he could remember was being so fucking angry, and…and there was Danny, slow, weak, blind….
Dean shook his head, hard--these thoughts, they weren't his--where the fuck were they coming from? Hell…must be Hell, oozing out of his pores like a fucking plague. He was exhaling it and sweating it and contaminating everything with it...terror gagged him. What if this wasn't the worse that he could do, what if he hurt someone worse than this, what if he hurt *Sam*? "You have to know I'm sorry," he gasped. "So fucking sorry."
"Okay, okay…but. I'm calling Sam, all right? I'll ask him to come home, okay?" Danny was doing his best to smile, but it trembled uncertainly on his lips. He'd always looked at Dean with…fondness. That was gone. He looked at Dean like he was dangerous, not to be trusted. Dean wondered at how much that hurt, and was afraid of the part of him that whispered Danny should always have looked at him like that….
Danny came close, and patted Dean's shoulder despite his uncertainty. That he was still willing to be his friend just made the strange pain Dean was feeling even worse. He promised himself that when Sam came home, he'd make it right again. When Sam came home, it would all be better again.
part 15
TBC
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
PairingsDean/Sam
Rating:R
Word Count:2413
Dean thought about what the demon had said. Yeah, demons lied, but he knew they also loved to use threads of the truth to spin a lie. He shouldn't even be angry that Sam had sex with people while he was being ripped apart in hell…it really wasn't his business what Sam did, who he fucked, and Sam sure as hell wasn't supposed to stop living while Dean was down there….
Hell. Sex was…important. He liked sex too. Before he was dragged into the pit, sex was part of life, the good part. But they used that against him, just like they used love, and loneliness, and anger against him there….
Fuck. The more he thought about it, the more it hurt and…he rubbed his head. It was getting too confusing to think. Time to shut down for a bit….
The next day, Sam came home with a couple of boxes of salt. Dean watched him curiously, followed behind him as he spilled salt in thin lines at each window sill, and then pressed duct tape down over the lines. He lifted an eyebrow at Dean and smirked. "Permanent protection, dude. Won't have to re-lay these every day, right?"
Dean shrugged, a furrow wrinkled his brow. "Protection…right…"
"You remember? Every night, no matter where we were, Dad had us lay down salt, at windows, and at the doors…you do remember, don't you?" Sam carefully poured a thin perfect line across the threshold, the only other entrance to the apartment. As the last white crystals filled in the line, Dean felt a shattering explosion in his head. He bit down hard on a gasp of pain, for one brief moment he was paralyzed and then, he moaned, unable to hold the pain at bay….
"Hey, what's wrong—one of those headaches—shit! Dean?" Sam was holding his hand and looking frightened. "Dean, is this—do these hurt?"
Dean watched too as red lines raced over his skin, blowing up and disappearing again, fading to ivory and then to nothing. He gazed at Sam and shook his head. "No." The scars didn't hurt at all…it was his head that hurt, his chest ….
When the last of the lines faded, so did the pain shrieking in his head, faded enough that he could handle it, push it into the same box with everything else. He turned his hand this way and that, staring at the thin white lines still evident on his wrists, between his fingers. "What...are they?"
Sam narrowed his eyes. "I…I don’t know. I know someone who might, but. I don’t know if we're still on speaking terms." Sam smiled sadly.
An echo of the pain he'd felt still flowed through him, throbbing behind his eyes and sticking hot little knives in his joints and chest, but something told him to keep that away from Sam, just like he kept silent the fact he saw everything Sam saw too…he was afraid to tell him. Afraid that something had come out of hell with him, something that made him different than the Dean he was before. "Well, I feel fine." He dredged a smile up out of somewhere and flashed it. "I'm kind of hungry though."
Sam laughed. "Wow, that's a surprise. Help me tape this and we'll go get lunch."
Dean knelt and pressed his hand along the strip of duct tape and it felt like fire. He calmly pulled his hand away and stood again. He'd had three years to learn how to deal with fire.
Sam opened the door to Danny, who stood in the doorway with a grin and a bag of…stuff. He shoved his glasses up his nose, a move that incidentally drew attention to the fact that they were a pretty shade of gray. He whipped off the ugliest hat Sam had ever seen, a tufted, weird, stringed thing that looked like an animal or something had died on his head…was it an owl?
"Hey, I brought some, ah, a book and some snacks—in case I actually get a chance to be bored, though I doubt that, not with Dean." Danny smiled at Dean, snatched the hat off his head and waved, then stood there, shifting the bag and hat in his arms, until Sam took pity on him and led him into the living room.
"I think I can guarantee you won’t be bored. He's been in kind of a mood lately—bit of a bear. Like a mix of Yogi and…um. A Grizzly. It's been…" Sam was worried about the migraines Dean got with more frequency. He glanced over at where he stood against the window, and laughed out loud—Dean was flipping him off. "Okay, okay, but you know it's true."
"Grizzly, okay, Yogi—just—no. No Yogi, Oh wait…" Dean smirked. "Does that make you Booboo?"
Sam laughed, in surprise this time, and turned to Danny with a warm grin. "I really appreciate you helping out, considering…" The crew had had a real ass bite of a day. They'd been called in on a nasty knifing in a bus terminal bathroom—the victim had bled out in one of the stalls, guts purposely spread all over the toilet and the floor, almost in a pattern of some sort. They'd had to search out body parts like a gruesome Easter egg hunt….
The crew had done the major part of the work on that job—he'd dropped in with Dean about noon and given them a hand. Scraping coagulated blood from tile wasn't something he'd recommend to anyone.
He had an odd buzz about this one--it had a ritualistic look and feel but that didn’t mean it was necessarily supernatural, humans managed to prey on each other in horrible ways. He hadn't been able to take the time he'd needed to know for sure—Dean hadn't said anything but Sam picked up on Dean's almost non-existent signals anyway--he could tell the crowds and the noise, the scene, had been overpowering him.
That's why he'd planned to head back to the terminal this evening. He'd spun some tale about having a date, and Danny had volunteered to hang out with Dean until he got back. Sam shrugged into his coat and told Danny, "Ah…I'm doing some work in the house so wherever you see duct tape, leave it—it's there for a purpose."
The duct tape had been one of his better ideas—doing its duty keeping his salt lines at the threshold and all window sills nice and straight, and fairly permanent—and necessary. If Ruby had shown up to simper at him, it meant that he was probably starting to register on the demon radar again…and maybe since the outworlders had taken enough interest in him to get him Dean back, it might be rekindling the demons' interest in him. Fuck knew he was way out of practice with this stuff, in no shape to deal with any pissed off Lord of Hell looking for its chew toy back. "I won’t be out too long. If you have any kind of problem at all, call me."
Sam walked back into the bedroom with Dean on his heels. He rifled through the closet, selecting what he figured he'd need for the evening--tucked holy water in one pocket, travel shaker of salt in the other. He glanced over at Dean—he was watching Sam with a frown…it deepened when he saw Sam slide the Taurus into the back of his pants. Sam stopped. "Hey. You gonna be okay?"
Dean gave him a smile carved from ice. "Sure. You go out and enjoy your date. Try not to shoot them," he said dryly and looked Sam squarely in the eye, almost a challenge. Sam coughed and dropped his eyes.
"Ah. Yeah, um. Thanks. I'll see you…later," he said, and felt his cheeks burning. It was weird…he was embarrassed about lying about the date, lying to Dean at all, when it was clear Dean knew he was lying, and was hurt. Pissed off and…maybe a little jealous, too? Sam let himself out into the stairwell, leaned against the wall and let out a long breath. He felt guilty for lying to Dean, and guilty for feeling glad that Dean might be jealous.
Dean watched Danny, watched him move gracefully about the apartment, his slim form weaving around the furniture almost hypnotically, picking up magazines, and clothes—"God, how in the hell can you guys possibly own so many socks? What do they, like, *mate* up in here?" He whisked a couple of mismatched socks off the couch and the coffee table into a laundry basket. "You guys are just disgusting. Ya'll really need a maid…" He looked at Dean. "Hey, you sure you're all right? You've been staring at me all night. You bored—or hungry?"
Hungry? Dean felt like…he might be hungry. Some kind of hunger, maybe…he stared at Danny, thought of the date Sam claimed to be on. He thought of the demon girl, what she'd said, that Sam hadn’t waited...he felt the oddest sense of being two different people, feeling so completely opposite—fiercely angry that Sam didn’t wait but also, puzzled by the feeling--Sam had no reason to wait, there was nothing to wait *for*--
He watched Danny and wondered himself, what it would be like to touch…taste. Was it…did it hurt here like it hurt there? His mouth dropped open, and heat skated under his skin…Danny. He could *make* him. Easy. "Hey."
Danny jumped, startled that Dean had come up on him so silently. "Dean?" He smiled uncertainly. "Would you like burgers? We can go down to that place on the end of the block you liked—um. Hello?"
Dean came closer, moving slowly at Danny with a smile, edging him back step by step as Danny babbled about burgers and other things that slid off Dean like oil off skin. He felt--strong, heavy. It felt good…it slipped down his spine, curled hot in his gut and between his legs…Danny squeaked and it made his skin burn. Dean huffed in a deep breath, open-mouthed to better taste, and smell. Danny was confused, afraid—aroused. Just a little, just enough.
"Dean, quit it—" Danny straight armed Dean, gave him a solid hit to the chest and it hurt. Dean snarled at the pain, and then chuckled. Danny's expression was comically alarmed, he'd had just realized that Dean had him trapped in a corner of the kitchen, pinned between the counter and himself.
Dean shivered, and grinned. Sam had fun, and it was Dean's turn to have fun. He'd missed this smell, this little sour smell of fear. "Sam won’t fuck you, not ever…but guess what, his brother's not that picky…."
"Get *off*! Dean! Don't—" He felt Danny's pulse thud under his fingertips and under his lips as he pressed them against the column of Danny's neck, the thick pulse beat against his tingling lips, his tongue. He traced circles against that pulse, bit down on it, and sucked, rasping his teeth against tender skin. He rolled his hips, ground against his target. He grunted—he was hard, and he felt his own pulse pounding in his veins, it made him feel full, big, and hot--*burning*.
Danny made a sound of protest. Some sound, some word, it was hardly important. The smell of blood, of fear, pulled up memories, alien memories that hurt, bad enough to make him moan…a distant voice echoed, 'we help people.' Heard the voice tell Sam 'it's what we do.' If he hurt Danny, if he hurt him….
Dean backed up and Danny seized his momentary weakness to slip out from between him and the counter like an eel, already digging his phone out of his pocket to call for Sam as he moved. He looked back at Dean with wide gray eyes glassy with fear, and…Dean snorted. Concern. For him--Dean smiled. It was too easy. He licked his lips, and lunged at Danny again. Danny, such an easy target….
Danny hit him, a solid punch to the gut that folded Dean up and dropped him to the floor. His knees hit hard, they both heard the crack and Danny winced and eased away. "Sorry, sorry but…"
Dean couldn't move. Black spots floated in front of his eyes and his gut churned. His head hung between his trembling arms, his palms were flat on the floor and itched to curve like claws around Danny's neck—he tried to shove down the black rush of rage that made him shake, made his teeth grind…he blinked, once, twice, and suddenly he was all there, back in the kitchen, back in his head, back to normal. He heard Danny asking him, "are you okay?" and apologizing, "I'm—I'm sorry but—"
Dean looked up into Danny's frightened eyes and felt…sick. Felt like throwing up, like ripping into himself. He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, so sorry," he croaked. "Fuck…I'm. I don’t know. Why I did that."
It was absolutely true—he had no idea why he'd tried to attack Danny, all he could remember was being so fucking angry, and…and there was Danny, slow, weak, blind….
Dean shook his head, hard--these thoughts, they weren't his--where the fuck were they coming from? Hell…must be Hell, oozing out of his pores like a fucking plague. He was exhaling it and sweating it and contaminating everything with it...terror gagged him. What if this wasn't the worse that he could do, what if he hurt someone worse than this, what if he hurt *Sam*? "You have to know I'm sorry," he gasped. "So fucking sorry."
"Okay, okay…but. I'm calling Sam, all right? I'll ask him to come home, okay?" Danny was doing his best to smile, but it trembled uncertainly on his lips. He'd always looked at Dean with…fondness. That was gone. He looked at Dean like he was dangerous, not to be trusted. Dean wondered at how much that hurt, and was afraid of the part of him that whispered Danny should always have looked at him like that….
Danny came close, and patted Dean's shoulder despite his uncertainty. That he was still willing to be his friend just made the strange pain Dean was feeling even worse. He promised himself that when Sam came home, he'd make it right again. When Sam came home, it would all be better again.
part 15
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
2/17/09 09:43 pm (UTC)Dude.
WTF, Sam'n'Dean? Holing up in this place and play-pretending 'normal' is *not working*, wtf are you two doing? Jayzus!!!
*flails*
(no subject)
2/18/09 02:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
5/14/09 04:02 am (UTC)The way you wrote Dean's advance on Danny is really neat. I could actually tell Dean was kinda confused when he was doing it. Well, not confused, per se, but there felt like there was a definite gap between what he was doing and what he was, er, thinking? Or maybe that's just me. *shrug* :)
Anyway, I really do like the boys in this one. You're not gonna, like, kill them are you? Cos that would make me sad. :(
*hugs*
5/14/09 05:28 am (UTC)there felt like there was a definite gap between what he was doing and what he was, er, thinking?
Absolutely! Dean was definitely torn there. His actions were setting up conflicts that he was trying to deal with, without having the tools to do so,really...and that probably just made it even more confusing, hunh? *G*
We've got one more old section, and then we're caught up and all future posts will be new! Huzzah!
(no subject)
5/14/09 05:17 am (UTC)...
Hey, fucked up Dean! I'm weak and blind! Sam would be SOOOO jealous, doncha know!
Okay, I'm sorry. I'm inappropriate. I'll get it under control.
...
SIKE!
*luffs you*
(no subject)
5/14/09 05:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
5/14/09 06:34 am (UTC)I can't believe that they're lying to each otheer again! GAH! Oh, boys...
(no subject)
5/14/09 03:56 pm (UTC)Thank you so much!
I can't believe that they're lying to each otheer again
They are! I know! Boys!
(no subject)
5/14/09 02:34 pm (UTC)Heee! What's wrong with Dean? What's he going to do next? How can Sammy help him?
*is excited*
(no subject)
5/14/09 03:58 pm (UTC)Oh, more is revealed...in a not very revealy way, I must confess....*koff*
:)