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Dean Winchester
19 December 2008 @ 04:00 pm
Sooooo I broke down and bought Dean paid time because of the 100 user pics and really you can only tell Dean Winchester no so long.

However, his new paid account is dude_imbatman Friend that one if you want to read his prompts or any of the other sillyness he participates in because this one is going into retirement. I just like the username for the other account better. Right now all that's in that journal is some rp but prompts will be forthcoming for him soon there.
Dean Winchester
[Fix Something]

”Take care of Sammy.”

“Take care of Sammy.”

“Take care of Sammy.”

He’s gotta save Sammy. He’s gotta erase the way he feels in his arms, going cold and much too heavy. dead weight. He’s gotta get that kid back. He’s gotta take care of Sammy.

It’s more than that though. He was four years old when John gave him a reason to keep going. A reason and a job and a duty and a life but somewhere along the way, Sam became more than that. It nearly killed him when the kid went away to Stanford. The only way, the only reason, he could do it was because he knew that Sam deserved that. His baby brother deserved a chance for a normal life because there was sure no way in hell Dean was going to get one. He can’t stand this though. He can’t stand Sam dead on a stained mattress and he can’t stand the bloodstain on the back seat. He can’t deal with any of that, no if there’s a way to fix it and Dean knows exactly how to make this all go away.

He’s desperate and everyone knows it so he’s not surprised when he doesn’t get ten years and really, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to be left here alone but he’ll leave Sam here alone. Sammy is stronger, better, more stubborn. Sam’s got the one thing Dean lacks: faith. That alone will keep him running when he thinks he’s lost everything and maybe…maybe with all the Winchester’s gone, Sammy will just let the family business die. Maybe he’ll get that picket fence, pretty blonde, Volvo and two point five kids.

At least that’s what Dean’s hoping for when the demon presses cold lips against his.

Don’t let me down, Sammy. Don’t disappoint me this time.
Current Mood: distresseddesperate
Dean Winchester
[People I'd take a bullet for]


-The Impala


[People I'd like to put a bullet in]

-Bela Talbot



-Castiel half the time.


Funny thing, most the people I want to put a bullet in end up dead.
Current Mood: crankycranky
Dean Winchester
24 November 2008 @ 05:12 pm
[Dare: Get rid of something you’ve been holding onto]

Dean isn’t the sentimental type. He never has been. There are certain talismans that a Winchester holds dear like John’s journal, pictures of Mary and a cassette tape of Stairway to Heaven that’s never been played. There are things he keeps outside of those talismans like Sam’s soccer trophy or the plaque commemorating Sam as valedictorian in high school. Those are kept in the trunk, shoved in a corner next to the rock salt and the crosses but in Dean’s duffel bag alongside his socks and his tee shirts he’s got something he doesn’t take out often. It’s stupid really and even if Sam knew, he wouldn’t get it. It’s an old El Sol beer ad that’s been folded and re-folded so many times the creases are worn thin.

The lighter works without fail, paper catching and burning in shades of blue, green, yellow, orange and pink. The flames creep up over her face and Dean holds his breath to keep from blowing it out. The time for dream worlds, what might have been and what ifs is long gone.
Current Mood: pessimisticpessimistic
Dean Winchester
[Win or Lose]

“Poor Dean, he’s a broken baby doll,” Lilith cooed as she paced off the space in front of him. Her Mary Janes clipped sharply on the floor. “I can let you down. You could come play with me. We’d play so many games and you would hurt anymore. Not ever, ever again.”

“Sorry, Honey, I’m not really into dolls but you can run along and have a tea party all by yourself.”

“You are the tea party.”

Sometimes he refused out of spite, sometimes out of terror for what he’d become and sometimes he just did it because Dean Winchester liked seeing people pissed off. Most of the time he said no because of Sam. He’d told Sam to keep fighting and he hoped he knew he’d meant don’t go down that path. He couldn’t very well ask Sammy to do something he wasn’t willing to do himself. He had his own fight down here and maybe somewhere deep inside he hoped that Sam would find a way to get him out and when he did, he’d want his brother back, not some demon wearing his brother’s skin.

Thirty years is a long time. Thirty years of flesh flayed from bone is even longer. And one day he says yes. For ten years he was the guy with the knife, the one doing the flaying. At first he apologized with every cut but there’s something human in everyone that tries to shield the mind and the soul from horror. They never let him forget that it once was him up there and he can’t help but feel grateful that it’s not anymore. Some nights when the day job is done he wonders what Sammy would think of him. He doesn’t have to wonder long. He knows that kid like he knows his own skin. Sam wouldn’t say anything, he’d just give him that look.

He’s not on the rack anymore and no one has caused him any physical pain in ten years. Most of his memories are fuzzy , a little waterlogged except for that look that Sam gives him when he’s disappointed, when his hero has stumbled and fallen. That’s how Dean knows he’s still in hell.
Current Mood: indescribableindescribable
Dean Winchester
[Voicemails I’ve saved]

-Dean…it’s Sam. Everything’s fine. Stanford is…great. I just-so how are things there? Is Dad okay? I’ve got this job at a bar down the street. It’s to bar back which means I can study in the back room as long as the bar is stocked. Classes are…wow. There’s so many people and they all know so much. Anyway…I’ll let you go. Call me and let me know something hasn’t eaten you.

Three days later, Dean finds a job in Half Moon Bay. Just an hour from Stanford. Kid is lonely and he needs to see his big brother. Even if he’ll never say it. He’s not the only reticent and reluctant Winchester.

-Dean, its Dad. I heard about the job in Monticello. Nice one. I’ll catch up with you outside of Boston. I’m proud of you, Son.

Sometimes he plays that one over and over. He wonders if John would say the same thing but he doesn’t really want to know. He has a feeling, he wouldn’t.

-Hi. I’m looking for a Dean Van Halen…this is Gina. We-I met him in Dallas. I just-I thought maybe if he were in town.

She wasn’t that special. He can’t even remember what she looks like beyond her legs—Dude, you’d remember them too. They were miles and miles long--She’s the only one who ever tried to get in touch with him later. He never called her back. He never will. It’s better that way.

-Hey, Dean. It’s Jess. I’m sorry to bother you but Sam isn’t answering his phone and since he’s off with you looking for your dad…I thought maybe. Anyway, I’m worried. Have him give me a call.

Sam doesn’t know he has this one and sometimes he’s not even sure why he keeps it. In so many ways, Jess is symbolic of their mother; used and discarded the same way. If he were a psychologist, he’d say he was attempting to hold onto some piece of his mother but he’s Dean Winchester and he’d call bullshit on the psychologist.

-Dammit, Dean. Could you hurry up? It’s friggin’ cold in the car…just-answer your damn phone next time. At least I can bitch at you in person then.

Two weeks later, Sam begged him to never answer the phone while he was having sex again. Of course he didn’t listen. Freaking the giant yeti out was way too much fun.
Current Mood: nostalgicnostalgic
Dean Winchester

Oh he was screwed. Completely and totally fucked.

And not in the good way.

But then that wasn’t anything new for him. Dean Winchester spent a good deal of his life completely screwed.

And why oh friggin’ God why couldn’t they send an angel that looked like Jenna Jameson? Instead he gets a pain in the ass.

“If this is a test of my friggin’ character it’s not funny!” Dean yelled up at the sky. “Great. Now I’m yelling at nothing,” he grumbled under his breath as he raked a hand through his hair.

He had a cranky angel, some kind of freakazoid, uber angel that was beyond cranky and a Yeti with some serious demon powers to worry about. Naturally Cranky and Freakazoid wanted to kill Yeti. Dean’s whole life he’d had one job:

Take care of Sammy.

And there was nothing that was going to stand in the way of that.

Not even angels. Not one. Not two and not a whole friggin’ host of them (and what the hell was a host of angels anyway?)

So he was back to being totally fucked.
Current Mood: pissed offpissed off
Dean Winchester
10 October 2008 @ 10:58 pm
[I came to realize that life lived to help others is the only one that matters and that it is my duty. >> Ben Stein]

“You brought me to an Olive Garden?”

Dean glanced around the restaurant and shrugged. “Hell yeah, never ending pasta bowl.”

Ruby rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. “This isn’t a date.”

“Sweetheart…I don’t date demons,” Dean informed her, one corner of his lips tugging up in a grin.

“No, you just fuck them.”

Dean thought about that a moment and then shrugged, giving her the grin that still removed panties in the blink of an eye. “Sometimes I kill ‘em too.”

The waitress took that moment to interrupt and take their orders. Spaghetti, extra meat balls for Dean, which made Ruby roll her eyes.

“Where the hell are the French Fries?”

“We don’t-“ the waitress started.

“It’s potatoes fried in hot oil, slap on some salt and you’ve got French fries,” Dean said as he stuffed an entire breadstick in his mouth.

The waitress watched in amazement before recovering. “We don’t do…special orders.”

Dean finished his breadstick, took a swig of water and gave the waitress that smile. “Come on, Darlin’ surely you can talk the cook into it. I’d be awful grateful.”

Ruby rolled her eyes and leaned forward on the table, smiling a fairly benign smile at the waitress. “This isn’t a date…me and him.” She wanted her damn deep fried crack.

“Oh,” the waitress said as she glanced from Ruby and back to Dean, her eyes widening and a blush creeping over her cheeks. Dean winked at her for good measure. “Oh! I’ll see-I’ll see what I can do.” She turned and fled for the kitchen, almost tripping over another waitress when she did.

“You’re disgusting,” Ruby told him with a sneer.

“That’s why you love me, Ruby.”
Current Mood: hungryhungry
Dean Winchester

Dean was one with the magic fingers bed. Seriously one with it. If he’d ever wanted to marry someone in his entire life and have little Winchester babies, he wanted to marry that bed. There was nothing prying his ass out of that bed. And he was really friggin’ annoyed when Ruby bust in, the door slamming back against the wall. He knew who the hell it was before she ever came in. (Okay so he knew because she was the only one who had a key to his motel room, but he woulda known even without that clue. Swear it.) Nobody made an entrance quite like Ruby and usually when people say that, it’s a good thing. This wasn’t.

“Get your lazy, old ass out of bed. We have to clean up after Baby Brother.”

Okay, nothing except that.

“God dammit, Ruby.”

“No that would be God damn Sam Winchester. We’ve got about half an hour before the cops show up and a lot of wet work. Leaving now, Shortbus.”

Dean let out a growl of frustration and crawled out of bed, grabbing his pants off the floor as he did. He buttoned the pants up, sans underwear and grabbed a shirt, still buttoning it as he followed Ruby out the door.

“He’s snapping, Dean. I don’t know how much-“

“Ruby, shut up,” Dean snapped. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He had the radio off and the silence ticked along. He glanced at Ruby out of the corner of his eye. She had her head against the window, her nails drumming on the armrest. There were subjects they didn’t touch and Sam was one of them. Oh they skated around Sam and they bitched and insulted but they never talked about Sam. They just followed around and cleaned up his messes.

And this, this one was a hellva a mess- more bodies and blood than Dean knew what to do with. In the end, they just burned everything to the ground and got back on the road.

Sam wasn’t finished yet.
Dean Winchester

This is a version of Dean who’s almost 40. Sam is evil and Dean is just trying to maintain the status quo. Most of the time he’s with Ruby ourslutty_yoda

The room is quiet and Dean can’t sleep. It’s nothing new but the room has been quiet for years now and he’s still not used to it. He crouches in front of the A/C in his boxers, grabbing his pocket knife off the cheap, crooked table next to the window. In five minutes, he’s got the cover on the A/C unit off and he’s fiddling with things inside of it. He turns it back on and there’s a rattling noise as it starts up. The rattling gets louder then levels off so that it sounds a little bit like a broken engine part. A stupid grin spreads across his face as he stands up and crawls back in bed, moving closer to the blonde lying there.

“God…you’re an idiot,” she says in a disgusted tone of voice as she rolls her eyes and lets him pull her closer.

“Too damn quiet. Can’t sleep. Why the fuck don’t you snore or something?” he bitches as he settles in, his arm across her waist.

“Because I don’t have to breathe? You really are a short bus.”

It’s easier to insult than to admit, she misses Sam too.
Current Mood: awakeawake