Title- Walking Wounded
Disclaimer- I do not own.
Warnings- AU, Preseries, Character Death
Character(s)/ Pairing(s)- Dean
Sam ran off to college. Dad's gone off on a hunt, parting words telling me of a job down in Iowa. They've left me and... I just can't do this anymore.
Dean sat in the back of the old honky tonk, clutching his beer with a vice-like grip as he stared off, eyes distant, vacant. The evening crowd was slowly making their way to the local haunt. But as he paid no heed to the increasing activity in the once empty bar, they paid no heed to him. His presence had become ghost-like in it's anonymity. An anonymity he hadn't before tried to relish in. Usually opting for the more boisterous of cocky attitudes.
No, for the moment, he was content to sit in his decrepit corner. Trying not to think. Trying to enjoy the lull his mind had taken. A state that was becoming harder and harder to reach even with the help of alcohol. The waitress stopped by, Marian, making an indecent showing as she asked if he'd like anything. The offer heavily hinting at what he could have if it were just asked for. He shifted, breaking the state he'd been trying for the good part of the day. He slapped on the smile that had yet to fail him in any given situation.
"No, I'm good." he replied with false cheer and waning attentiveness. Marian visibly deflated, a pout she must of thought looked cute plastering on her heavily done up face.
He breathed a sigh. Downing the rest of his beer, as warm as it'd become, he got up and left the smoky establishment. Another time he more than likely would have been all over that. But things had changed. They had changed it. As hard as he tried to keep them together, he had ultimately failed. His family... no not family. His brother and his dad. They weren't family in the sense Dean had wanted them to be. Had needed them to be.
They had left him. Proving that the ties that Dean had always believed them to be bound by were thought of only by him. Were true only for him. And that had him feeling more alone then he'd ever felt in his messed up life. Had hurt him more then any physical blow.
The ignored calls to either of them only seemed to solidify that fact.
He was unwanted.
He was unneeded.
The clenching feeling he'd been experiencing since Sam ditched him, became more prominent at those thoughts. Rubbing a hand along his chest where his heart thudded, Dean walked his way to the hotel he'd been staying in since the hunt his dad sent him a state over. His baby nowhere in sight; safely parked unknowingly in Bobby's Salvage yard.
Within the room, he dropped heavily onto the remade bed, arm already reaching for the bottle of jack left on the nightstand. The room was cleaned, him having no use for the 'Do not Disturb' sign since deciding on this break, had allowed for the luxury. The only items left for the housekeepers to come across anyway were his clothes and a bottle here or there. His personal weapons on his person.
As he took a heavy drink, he gave a cursery thought on the downward spiral he was caught in. To finally being dragged down with no more strength to stay abreast the despair of his miserable life. The drive that had kept him so gone, absent. They didn't even care.
Well into the night, the buzz he'd been nurturing at the local watering hole, flourished with the whiskey he'd started to down. His throat felt knotted. Green eyes staring dully at the wall directly opposite to him lifting an entirely new bottle to his lips. His head bobbing. Body slumped against the bed's headboard, he palmed the cold metal of his trusted partner. The one that had never failed him in all the years he's had it has his own. His Desert Eagle.
He hummed a few bars of a song he'd heard earlier at the bar. A song he only remembered because of the two words that had managed to ring true for him. Walking wounded... Walking... Wounded.
Dean let the bottle drop from suddenly nerveless fingers after a last drink. It thudded against the carpet before spilling it's contents, soaking it through.
He glanced up at the ceiling but for a moment.
He lifted the gun.
The occupants of the Hotel Riviera were woken in the dead of night by the single shot of a gun going off.
One choice was all it took to change the course of the coming Apocalypse. Just one suicide. One death.
DON'T worry. :) This is not the end.
You'll just have to stay tuned for the next installment to see what's gonna happen next. xD I'd just like to say- Welcome to the "Walking Wounded" universe and I hope you enjoy your stay for the duration of this work.
Now... I'm gonna gush...
OMG! I did it. I didn't think I'd ever do it. But by the holy I did it. I killed Dean. I have committed character death. But! xD Is he going to stay dead? :D For me to know and you all to find out!
The song that actually started this whole shebang is Walking Wounded by The Tea Party. Check it out and get a feel for the vibe that inspired this 'bout of writing.
Next installment is in the making.
on a side note. I know... I've done it again. Created something new without doing anything with my other works. But! In my defense, plot bunnies a rabid and clingy.