Haunting - Dean Winchester
Character Name: Dean Winchesteri
Origin: Supernatural
Word Count: 714
Character’s LJ: callmedean
Rating: R for language
October: Haunting...
“You’re shitting me right?” I said as I found myself sitting behind the wheel of the Impala. She was parked in front of Bobby’s junkyard, and inside I could hear Sam crying over my death. I’d died quietly, just like I make them promise to let me go. I’d been so fucking tired. I was sick of hunting. Sick of the family business, I just wanted to rest. But here I was in the car, not that I hadn’t known I’d miss her.
“Fuck I’m a ghost. I’m going to be haunting the god damned car.” I reached to open the car door, surprised when I felt the weight of the Detroit steel in my hand and heard the familiar squeak that reminded me once again that I needed to steal a can of WD-40. “Ok, little solid to be a ghost.”
“Hello Dean,” she was beautiful. Legs up to her nose, full pouting lips painted same red as her tight little red dress, with long silken dark hair that begged to be wrapped around my fingers in the back seat of the Impala. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”
“What? Well my years up. You’re here to take me to hell then?” I leaned against the car, and wished that I’d taken up smoking. I’d only had a year left after all, not like the cancer would have been a problem. But the smell didn’t belong in my baby, and it tended to alert the prey you were coming if you stank like an ashtray. “You’re my personal demon.”
“Oh no, dearest Dean Winchester. I’m not your demon. She’s small potatoes, not worthy of handling your case. I’m the Devil, and you’re mine.” She stroked one long nailed finger down my cheek while her other hand went south to do some other stroking, much to my little brain’s delight. Down boy, this is the fucking devil. Jeez. “Jeez? Really Dean, don’t be disrespectful.”
“So I get a hand job by the devil herself before I’m put in the pit, okay, I can deal with that.”
“You’re not going to the Pit Dean. I have work for you.” She stepped closer to me, brushing her breasts against my chest. She was making it so hard for me to think. “You’re going to be my hunter now.”
“But I don’t want to hunt anymore. I thought I got to rest now?” I was pissed. I even pushed her away from me, but all she did was chuckle with her dark sexy voice. “I’m done with that shit.”
“If you’d gone to Heaven you’d be done, but you sold your soul to save your brother, remember?” She held out an iPod, and on it replayed me making the deal with the crossroads demon to save Sam. “See, you’re mine. So here’s the deal. For the next, oh I don’t know eternity, you will be returning those who fail me to Hell. Think of it, you’ll have carte blanch to kill all the evil sons of bitches you like. Won’t that be fun?”
“No, it won’t be.” I leaned back against the sun warmed rear quarter panel of the Impala, and knew that I’d so totally fucked up. “You goin’ to tell me who I have to kill, leading me around on a leash?”
“Once in awhile I’ll come to you with a special assignment, but until then have at it. But you have to leave now. I had other plans for Samuel, and they do not include you. Get thee to Los Angeles Dean Winchester. There’s work for you there.”
There was a rush of hot wind, and suddenly I was on the I5 heading South into greater Los Angeles. Bobby said there’d be hell to pay for me selling my soul. He’d been so fucking right. I pulled on my sunglasses, as I saw the sun glinting off the high rise buildings that skirted the freeway and popped in Back in Black. “Oh well, fuck it. Let’s go kill some evil fuckers.”
Origin: Supernatural
Word Count: 714
Character’s LJ: callmedean
Rating: R for language
October: Haunting...
“You’re shitting me right?” I said as I found myself sitting behind the wheel of the Impala. She was parked in front of Bobby’s junkyard, and inside I could hear Sam crying over my death. I’d died quietly, just like I make them promise to let me go. I’d been so fucking tired. I was sick of hunting. Sick of the family business, I just wanted to rest. But here I was in the car, not that I hadn’t known I’d miss her.
“Fuck I’m a ghost. I’m going to be haunting the god damned car.” I reached to open the car door, surprised when I felt the weight of the Detroit steel in my hand and heard the familiar squeak that reminded me once again that I needed to steal a can of WD-40. “Ok, little solid to be a ghost.”
“Hello Dean,” she was beautiful. Legs up to her nose, full pouting lips painted same red as her tight little red dress, with long silken dark hair that begged to be wrapped around my fingers in the back seat of the Impala. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”
“What? Well my years up. You’re here to take me to hell then?” I leaned against the car, and wished that I’d taken up smoking. I’d only had a year left after all, not like the cancer would have been a problem. But the smell didn’t belong in my baby, and it tended to alert the prey you were coming if you stank like an ashtray. “You’re my personal demon.”
“Oh no, dearest Dean Winchester. I’m not your demon. She’s small potatoes, not worthy of handling your case. I’m the Devil, and you’re mine.” She stroked one long nailed finger down my cheek while her other hand went south to do some other stroking, much to my little brain’s delight. Down boy, this is the fucking devil. Jeez. “Jeez? Really Dean, don’t be disrespectful.”
“So I get a hand job by the devil herself before I’m put in the pit, okay, I can deal with that.”
“You’re not going to the Pit Dean. I have work for you.” She stepped closer to me, brushing her breasts against my chest. She was making it so hard for me to think. “You’re going to be my hunter now.”
“But I don’t want to hunt anymore. I thought I got to rest now?” I was pissed. I even pushed her away from me, but all she did was chuckle with her dark sexy voice. “I’m done with that shit.”
“If you’d gone to Heaven you’d be done, but you sold your soul to save your brother, remember?” She held out an iPod, and on it replayed me making the deal with the crossroads demon to save Sam. “See, you’re mine. So here’s the deal. For the next, oh I don’t know eternity, you will be returning those who fail me to Hell. Think of it, you’ll have carte blanch to kill all the evil sons of bitches you like. Won’t that be fun?”
“No, it won’t be.” I leaned back against the sun warmed rear quarter panel of the Impala, and knew that I’d so totally fucked up. “You goin’ to tell me who I have to kill, leading me around on a leash?”
“Once in awhile I’ll come to you with a special assignment, but until then have at it. But you have to leave now. I had other plans for Samuel, and they do not include you. Get thee to Los Angeles Dean Winchester. There’s work for you there.”
There was a rush of hot wind, and suddenly I was on the I5 heading South into greater Los Angeles. Bobby said there’d be hell to pay for me selling my soul. He’d been so fucking right. I pulled on my sunglasses, as I saw the sun glinting off the high rise buildings that skirted the freeway and popped in Back in Black. “Oh well, fuck it. Let’s go kill some evil fuckers.”