notcomplete | Log - Hunting Trip

Entry tags:

log,
team archangel

Log - Hunting Trip

What: Hunting trip with his kid brother, except it's less of a hunting trip and more getting to know Sam again. Sorta. Unadulterated violence on some vampires is a bonus.
Who: Sam Winchester (

servedhell ) and demon Dean Winchester (

roads_end /

protodemonic )
When: After [this]
Verse; Team Archangel

Dean isn't sure what to expect.

By now he's used to seeing guys with his face around the place but it's a whole 'nother beast when it's Sam and instead of one, there’s two of ‘em. He knows there's that whole parallel dimension thing going on; it still doesn’t change the fact it’s friggen weird to see this Sam and have to remember that he’s not going to remember the same stuff he does or that there’s a lot of stuff he doesn’t know about the kid anymore. That whole <I>Lilith holds your contract</i> thing is new to him.

He guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. After dying, it’s been a lot of catch up. He probably won’t remember everything about his brother, which sucks, but he deals ‘cause the other option is to be a little bitch in the corner about it and he’s not a little bitch. If he got through Alastair’s “care”, then he can get through this, whether it’s one Sam or two. Dean figures the kid is still Sam no matter what details don’t match up... and that right there is probably partially that freak obedience tethering him to the kid talking, this compulsion to jump for the kid whether he wanted it or not. The other half is probably just instinctive loyalty, something that carried over when he was still breathing. Either way, Dean’s willing to give this Sam a chance – as many chances as it takes – and he’s more than happy to wait for him to get his gear together for a hunt.

Vampires. It was either ganking some vampires or trying to go after some demons. Vampires are a better bet. Unlike demons, vampires just need a good decapitation to put ‘em down all permanent-like. Most of the average demons out there can just smoke out of a corpse and they’re tough as all hell to kill (he knows he can only be a pain in the ass to another demon, which basically means it’s just a demonic slap fight instead of a fight to the death). At least with vampires it’s not the same problem. So if Sam’s going to be putting himself on the line, he’d rather go with vampires and it doesn’t really occur to Dean that they’re hunting his fellow monsters and maybe he should take that objective step back. At this point, they could be family.

That hadn’t stopped him before. They’re not the work of an artist. They’re even more fair game since Sam wants them dead.

Good enough for him.

Dean idles by the porch, hands in his pockets, waiting for Sam. His black eyes flick out toward the Impala, then back toward the door. The proto-demon figures Sam probably needs time to get all the weapons together since there’s no such thing as overkill on this job.

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That one hour had quickly turned to two as Sam got lost in just what he was doing during his time away. He needed to put that distance between himself and Dean, knowing that it wouldn't be much longer before he saw his brother as the very thing he'd been craving during their time together. Finding a demon hadn't been a problem, and when she hadn't been willing to share the wealth, he hadn't hesitated to take it for himself, using his newly amped abilities to make sure she didn't tell a soul after.

She wasn't Ruby, so he knew he couldn't trust her.

Killing off the demon had helped him in another way. With the creature gone, there was a body left behind, long since dead. It gave him access to blood of a different kind, and it's something he now carries with him as he makes his way back to meet Dean again.

Well, one of them, at least. The Deans are an issue in themselves, and while he's willing to consider each one of them his brother, he knows it isn't entirely true. Not when none of them can recall the past year. And with only one of them- two, now -being entirely human, he knows it's unlikely that they've just pushed those memories aside. He knows he wouldn't be able to blame them if that's what they did. He can still remember every single moment he spent watching his brothers attempts at continuing on with his life.

"Hey." He pushes his thoughts aside once Dean comes in to view again; preferring to just focus on the matter at hand. He's spending time with one of the Deans, and that's enough for him right now, whether or not it's the one he's spent the past month looking for. It's only a matter or time, or so he hopes, and if the other Deans are willing to spend time with him, he isn't going to complain. He's still the one person that matters most to him.

"Dead mans blood." He holds the bottle toward Dean, a smile on his face that comes more from being able to stand near his brother than from what they're about to do. "You remember what it does, right?"

Dean takes the bottle, peering at it critically with an inky black eye. The blood inside is this dark, almost black, shade of red and it doesn't slosh around freely like living blood: it's more congealed, closer to his than the usual blood he's seen around before. He swirls the dead man's blood around the bottle, part out of interest, most of it because he needs to buy himself time 'cause "I dunno" isn't a good enough answer.

It takes him a few seconds longer than he'd have liked to remember.

"Knocks a vampire out of commission," Dean looks up from the bottle just in time to see Sam smiling at him. Hey, he was right. Dean's almost surprised he got that one. "Like poison." It comes out more like a question.

Buffy said you staked 'em but he guesses there's different kinds of those fanged freaks out there and these could use a good dosing of dead man's blood and a round of decapitation to finish it off. Dean hands back the bottle, leaning over slightly to check out the luggage. It's not as much as he expected but that's Sam for you. The kid knows how to travel light.

"Need help carrying anything?"

He seems that much happier by Dean's response, relieved that he still remembers the basics. They may not have spent much time around each other since his arrival, but Sam knows enough to realize that he has issues with his memory. It's why he's willing to be so lenient when it comes to things like this.

"If you get it in their system, it'll buy you time." Which is something he thinks they're going to need if they plan to do this the normal way. Decapitation takes time the human way, and whatever abilities Dean has at his disposal, Sam knows he can't match them. Not when he's trying to keep so much under wraps.

Following Dean's gaze, he grins, already having a good idea what's on his mind. The one pack he does have doesn't hold much. He hasn't taken the time to start picking up any weapons beyond the basics, knowing that it'd be pointless for him to start. There are blades, a few guns, but that's it. The few other items he owns stay buried in the trunk of the car he's 'acquired' along the way. Right now, it's out of sight and out of mind.

"I can manage. You ready?"

Dean shrugs. "Yeah. You got yourself a car? Mine's still on blocks."

He's heard the other Deans call that black Impala their "baby" (sometimes there's a "sweetheart" thrown in for good measure), but for him, it's still just a car. He's not surprised. Didn't make much sense to let him get all cuddly about a car when old White-Eyes wanted his full attention and he still agrees the monster went through all the right steps. Still, that also means he's got a useless car and right now he's real shaky on the driving front, even if his instinct is to make a charge for the driver's side instead of having to go sit in shotgun.

"It's about ten minutes walk from here." He sounds distracted when he replies; instead more interested in finding out just what happened to the Impala. It's one of the few things that other hunters remembered about the man, no matter how briefly they've met him for. You never touch his car. Even Sam knows that the few times he's been allowed near the thing for anything other than being a passenger, it's something he has to cherish. It doesn't come around often, after all.

"What happened to your car?" And how many people has he killed for touching it.

"It got trashed back home," Dean says with a shrug. It wasn't the only car they'd found in that lot, either. He guesses he wasn't the only person abducted from a car at the Institute. "Your car's a better bet."

Ten minutes walk doesn't sound that bad. The more he thinks about it, the more he has to admit he doesn't mind killing some vampires, morals or not. It'd be different if anyone but Sam told him to do it. They could screw themselves. He didn't care one way or another if some vampires chew on some humans: it isn't his problem. But Sam telling him, that makes all the difference. He's still leery on the whole killing thing but what else are you supposed to do? He doesn't think they deserve torture, not a bunch of randoms who didn't do anything to earn that right. That really just leaves sitting pretty or killing 'em, so it's not like there's a whole lot of options there in the first place.

The proto-demon nods toward the street, eager to get this show on the road.

It doesn't take much of a suggestion before Sam starts to lead the way, back toward the deserted alleyway he'd hidden the car in. He didn't bother doing much beyond parking it there, honestly not caring whether it was there when he got back or not. But now, it matters. Now that he knows the two of them actually need it for something. Which is why he looks a little nervous with his first step.

"You're trying to fix it though, right?" He's searching for a sign that he already knows is pointless to look for. Whether or not this Dean reacts the same way as the one he knows, he's still his brother, and he's long since accepted that. "I mean, if you're planning to get her back on the road, you taught me a few things. I could help?"

Dean just looked at Sam, corpse's face going even more still as he focused all his attention on the kid. Maybe back then he would've known what the right answer was. It's not coming at him now, and he's not sure if it's better to insist he stand on his two feet or read some kind of suggestion in Sam's question and take it to mean Sam wants to help.

Times like this he wish he knew if it was one way or another. That's the problem with being a free man so long: he can't tell what's what anymore and it's nothing like how orderly it was back home with the cadaver table.

"She's real beat up," Dean says. "I figure you'll know better than me what kind of shape she's in."

After all, she's just a hunk of metal to him. Dean takes a few instinctive steps toward the driver's side of Sam's car before he catches himself. He's not exactly used to driving anymore and it's not like how it used to be. The proto-demon instead goes for shotgun.

"Everything I know about her I learned from you." He shrugs his shoulders a little, trying to make it seem like less of a deal than it really is to him. His memories of Dean are one of the few things that are still intact, despite everything that happened over the past year. Trying to match them up with this Dean when things like this come up only makes it that much harder to deal with. "I guess we could try to work it out together." It's the only compromise he thinks he's capable of making right then.

He smiles to himself when he spots just which side Dean's heading toward, but it's only when he changes his mind that Sam makes up his. Digging the keys out of his pocket, he heads over to the passenger side too, dropping a hand on to Dean's shoulder and holding up the keys. "This one time? You get to drive."

Dean looks at the keys, squinting slightly.

"You sure that's a good idea? I could get us wrapped around a tree or something," Dean doesn't sound like he's joking, not this time. He hasn't exactly had much - okay, any - practice driving since he woke up dead and killing Sam on accident is a very real concern here. His instincts are telling him take the damn keys but common sense right now is still winning over: he'd rather sit shotgun like a little bitch if it means he won't have to risk throwing Sam out the windshield or something. Him, he can walk away from that and if he was by himself, he'd chance it.

Sam, though. Sam changes everything. He always did and Dean can at least say for a fact that that hasn't changed much since he died.

"You're still my brother, man. Some days I swear you learned to drive before you learned to walk. I know this is a good idea." He's aiming to try and keep the conversation light-hearted, but he can't help the note of seriousness beneath it all. Where Dean has his loyalties toward Sam, Sam holds the same in return. He trusts him, despite everything that's happened to each of them, and it's a feeling that he doubts will ever change. Not while he has a choice about it, at least.

"Now take the keys, get in, and let's go." They did still have a hunt to head toward.

That seals it - it doesn't matter if it wasn't an order now, Dean just reacting, his hand reaching out to take the keys.

He slides uncomfortably into the seat - uncomfortable 'cause he's more than worried for Sam and there's also the fact that this feels more right than it should to have Sam sit shotgun and there's a split second where he has to remember what he's seen the others do when they drive. The car doesn't rumble to life like the Impala; the proto-demon's surprised to find he'd been somehow expecting it to and he glances over at Sam instinctively. The kid isn't exactly giving him a cheat sheet.

Maybe he's letting him figure it out on his own.

After awhile, the proto-demon starts to get the hang of it, learning to apply less pressure on the gas since it's more sensitive then the brakes.

"You'll have to tell me where to go," Dean says after a long silence. Most of it was just concentrating on not getting the car wrapped around any poles. Some of it, though, is 'cause he just plain doesn't know what to say to the kid. It's been always weird between Sam, and running into another one just makes it another notch higher on the weird scale there. He figures way back he probably would've known what to say but it's kind of a shot in the dark these days.

He slides into his seat with a grin on his face, grateful that Dean's actually following his suggestion. This time, it's about appeasing the demon as opposed to forging that connection between him and the Dean he knows. He wants to take this Dean separate to the others he knows; even the others here who aren't quite human anymore.

Regardless of him being the one to suggest Dean drive, it still takes Sam a long while to relax properly in his seat. He's too busy trying to keep a surreptitious watch over him, wincing just slightly with each over-acceleration or moment of harsh braking. He does his best to try and hide his reactions though, not wanting to put Dean under any more pressure than he's already dealing with. From what little he's mentioned about the Impala it's obvious that his brother hasn't been driving for a long time, so he wants to give him this chance.

It's only when the question comes that Sam openly looks toward him, nodding slightly. "Head toward the 89 and just keep going. You can't miss it."

It's silent for the most part in the car and he thinks it's not one of those awkward ones - when it's one of those, a lot of humans seem to get real chatty and Sam doesn't seem particularly on edge or nothin'.

They hit the 89, Dean growing more and more accustomed to driving since it's not like he's got to pull any stunts with the car. It's...familiar. He thinks it is, except the wheel doesn't feel entirely right and the car itself smells too new to him, at least compared to the Impala.

It's getting on into the late afternoon, Dean eventually glancing over at his brother in shotgun. His hands are unnaturally steady on the wheel, one of the perks of being dead when you literally can't get shot nervous. "You need to stretch your legs or anything? I could pull off."

Dean's proud to say he even remembered to ask. Him, he'd keep going but humans have all that blood circulation going on and that means it's a problem if they don't keep moving and stretching. Sometimes he has to wonder why Sam wants to stay human in the first place when he'd be so much better off dead like him. Then again, different Sams. He has no idea if this one is still on the Dying Slow Train too.

His attention has long since been back on the passing scenery by the time Dean breaks the silence again. Even though it's been a long time since he was sitting shotgun with Dean behind the wheel, his experiences are still clear in his mind. It's the fact that there is a silence to break that has him feeling slightly uneasy for most of the time.

"I should be alright till we get there." Hopefully. He shifts in his seat, his legs folding up a little to make space for him to do so. It's not the first time since his return that he's wished he'd picked up a different car; something a little bigger. Or just one with a little extra leg room. But he's made do this long, so he's not about to start complaining now. Not to mention the fact he's used to sitting in the Impala for hours at a time without a break. "It's not much further anyway."

"Haven't been this far out in awhile," Dean says, eyes on the road. Well, there was that time he went back home but that'd been...complicated. And bloody, but most of it hadn't been his, so it wasn't like it counted. Sometimes he regrets going back, 'cause every time he thinks about it, he realizes he still misses it and he's not supposed to miss it.

And just like that, he's changing the subject, 'cause it's just a lot of road and cars.

"What're you gonna do about the others?" he wasn't there for when the Sams met, but he's assuming they ran into each other. Small world, after all, and that house is like a magnet for this kinda thing. He knows how freaky it is to see someone running around with your face.

"Keep avoiding them, I guess. They don't want me there and it doesn't matter if I miss you guys or not; I'm not gonna start screwing things up for you all." It's not entirely the truth, but he isn't about to start sharing that just yet. Other than the Dean's, there really isn't any reason for him to want to go near the house, so he doesn't. It doesn't help that the place seems to be a meeting ground for angels too.

"I've been staying in a building just out of town. You'll always be welcome there." An invite that's that much easier to make given the lack of warding on the building. He hasn't laid down the usual salt lines and devils traps, knowing they'd be nothing but a hindrance if Ruby ever bothered to show her face again. That and his late night snacks.

"I don't think you could screw anything up worse than an angel," Dean says, trying to aim for helpful. Sure, it can get tricky order-wise with two Sams here, but he's not sorry to see the kid, even if there's definitely gonna be a learning period here distinguishing this one from the other one, just from when he walks in through a door. "I'd offer to encourage 'em to be more accepting of you, but the other Sam doesn't like me getting like that."

Which is still odd to him when Sam's (the other one) all for killing but he seems to be anti-torture - especially when it's far more merciful and, y'know, actually leaves the person alive to learn their lesson. It's one of those contradictions that Dean's had difficulty getting over since he woke up a dead man. All this time and he still doesn't get what there is to be hung up about. So no, it sucks, but he can't force everyone to accept this Sam, even if the means are totally there. Dean doesn't speak until they're unpacking the car.

"I should drop by sometime," he suddenly says, as if they'd been talking the whole time, "Do a sweep, make sure it's safe. You need some meat shields."

It's always a good solution, meat shields. Probably won't stop anything gunning for Sam, but it can slow him down and that works for Dean.

"How well do you think an angel's gonna take to having me around? Honestly?" Since his arrival, Sam's done his best to avoid finding out that answer first hand. But he knows, sooner or later, that choice will get taken away from him. Whether it's through his own actions or those of the angels themselves. The short time he spent with the other Sam is enough for him to know that they only get along thanks to the spring cleaning job one of them did on his blood. It's something he refuses to let happen to him too. Not when it's the one thing keeping him around these days.

"The other Sam doesn't want you to make decisions for yourself?" He knows he's warping Dean's statement a little, but he can't help it. "Do you really think that's fair? You're still your own man. You get to choose what you can and can't do. Not him. Not anyone."

The idea of playing a meat shield has a frown on his face, but he covers it up with flipping his pack open and startling to pull out his own, mini arsenal. There isn't much of it, so it doesn't take long for him to slide away the few knives he has. He doesn't bother with the gun, knowing how useless it'd be against vampires. Instead, he focuses on the bottle he'd shown Dean before they left. Soon enough, he has one of his blades back out and he pours some of the congealing mess onto its edge, using his fingers to coat both sides. He holds the bottle back out to Dean again soon after.

"They might not all be there. We need to keep one of them alive long enough to check, and this-" He shakes the bottle a little. "-wont kill them. Just stop them."

He doesn't answer that question. Honestly? Probably not that well. They have a plan and anything demon related is usually on the wrong end of it, even if it's Sam. Dean holds the motel door open for Sam, glancing in the dark room. Looks clean to him, although there's a weird smell that he can't account for. It smells inexplicably like lemon cough drops. He looks back at Sam when he asks that question.

...It's complicated. He's not even sure how to explain it.

"Y'know, you sound just like him," Dean remarks as he slides into the room after his kid brother. Fine, second kid brother. Maybe that name tag thing wasn't such a crap idea after all. "I'm kinda stuck like this, I figure it could be worse if it was anyone else I gotta keep tabs on."

Hell, it could've been a demon. Or Alastair, except Dean's not so convinced that he wouldn't jump to follow Alastair if the bastard ever popped up. He wisely keeps that to himself, not exactly proud of it. Sam's the opposite of Alastair, insisting Dean hold his own leash and it's almost comforting to see this one's doing the same thing. It's very Sam. The proto-demon moves around the bed to stand at its side, watching Sam root through an arsenal that he was surprised could fit in that pack. Sam's real good at the gun Tetris there, he thinks, black eyes flicking from the bag to the knife in Sam's hand.

"So we heading to the nest or we gonna get a human for bait first?" He saw a bunch of humans already, and he figures it'd be fairly easy to bag one late at night if they're stumbling around ass-drunk.

The comparison Dean's making doesn't sit too well with him, despite it being a positive one. He doesn't want to be seen in the same light as the other Sam, for better or worse. And having it come from Dean himself makes things that much worse. His only reaction though is a slight frown, which is mostly hidden as he wipes his fingers clean in the fabric of his jeans.

"So you're willing to just throw yourself in the line of fire? I don't know how different things really are between us, but you should know by now that I'm not the kinda guy who'd just sit back and let that happen. Not to you." It's one of the biggest things that are still in place since his trip to hell. His feelings toward Dean, whatever shape or form he's in, aren't going to fade. So as long as Dean's willing to let him think that way, Sam isn't going to think of him as anything less than his brother.

The mention of bait has him raising an eyebrow quickly enough, though he shakes his head soon after. "There's no point getting anyone else involved. They're just gonna get in the way. I say we head straight over." He flips his pack shut then, dropping it off of the bed, before kicking it out of sight. The last thing they need is a nosy maid to find a bag full of guns. "Besides, I've got enough fresh blood in me to get their attention."

Dean doesn't see what the problem is. "It's kinda my job last time I checked," he shoots back, some of that old color coming back into his voice. "And last I checked, I'm the guy who can't die, so it's not your call."

Or, actually, it kinda was, if Sam only gave the word. It's as easy as ordering the proto-demon to back down, just a couple of words and that's all it takes. Dean would do it, even if he'd hate having to step down like that and it'd kill him to let Sam run off without him. Normally he's fine with the freak obedience but thinking about scenarios like that suddenly points out that it's not sunshine and roses. The problem is he cares way too much about what happens and that probably wasn't what White-Eyes had planned when he turned him. He doesn't think he was supposed to care, not like that. That's the problem with not finishing what he started.

Dean wants to sigh when Sam shoots down his idea. He thinks it's a great idea. It's not like a human is "anyone", not to him. They're just meat on two legs, so it's not like the bait would've been missed.

Watching Sam kick that big bag under the bed, the proto-demon jerks his head up when he brings up the bait thing.

"You serious? Dude, no friggen way," Dean's already shaking his head, already not jiving with this idea. If they're gonna use bait, it's really easy to use the Anyone Else But Sam option. "I'll do it. You're not getting killed over a bunch of vampires."

"No. Your only 'job' is to be my brother, man. You may not've died again so far, but you're not immortal. And I'm not gonna sit back and let you get hurt because of me. Not again." It's the very reason he and Dean were ever sent to Hell in the first place. One death, one trade-in, and two souls ended up being the payment. He's not putting either of them through that again, even with his current deal in effect.

Any lightness in his tone before is long gone thanks to the topic, which is why his words sound a little more clipped when he continues. It's an anger that's long since been directed toward the both of them since the moment he first found out the truth about Cold Oak and Dean's deal.

"You're a demon, Dean. They wont want your blood. So we're using mine, end of story." And even if any of them are able to make out the taint in his blood, he's pretty confident that they'll still come out to investigate. There's more than enough human left in him to get their attention. "Now are you coming or what?"

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Dean says, pursing his corpse’s lips. It’s tempting to jump right back to the argument. The whole brother thing? He figures if he’s a good brother, he’ll do whatever it takes to protect Sam and it’s kind of a full-time gig there. He figures aside from dismemberment and devil’s traps, there’s not a whole lot out there that can stop him cold. The whole getting hurt thing was kinda the point…and with White-Eye’s instructions, it’s not like he can’t ride it out. Dean shrugs, trying to roll with it. He gets Sam’s priority are family – even dead family – but he wishes sometimes the kid would think of himself for a change.

Dean moves around the bed, not a fan of Sam’s blood being used to lure in those vampires and hoping he’d at least be close enough to step in as soon as he sees the first one charging for Sam’s balls. He’s ready whenever Sam is. It’s one of the bonuses of being a dead man walking; it’s not like he’s got much (okay, any) stuff to drag around with him.

Heading over to the door, he pauses for a moment there, looking back over toward Dean. Despite all the preparations he'd made, he knows he's fallen short in making sure the same is true for Dean. He waits until he's pulled the door open and started to lead the way further down the street, his blade tucked away and out of sight.

"When we get close, stay down wind and make sure you can't be seen, alright? I'll get as many of them as possible out into the open. Then you need to move in as quickly as you can." Knowing just how well his own Dean used to respond to being told what to do, he's already frowning at himself as he gives out his plans. Any other Dean there might tell him where to shove it, but this isn't any other Dean, and the few times they've already spent around each other has only ever helped to prove the point.

"You know you can tell me if you're not happy with any of this. I want to know what you think."

Dean chews on that for a second, biting the inside of his cheek as he tries to think of a way to approach this. Tact wasn't ever much of a strong point for him and these days he's found it frustrating since it feels like a big old time waster. It's so - so human to pussyfoot around each other. That's now how he was brought up on that cadaver table, Dean fighting off the urge to sneer. Behave. He's trying to be on his best behavior.

It's harder than it looks. Sam's real determined to keep throwing himself at the freaks out there and normally he wouldn't care if it was some other hunter. They're a dime a dozen. Y'know, basically human, which doesn't give 'em a free pass in his book. But it doesn't matter to Dean if there's one Sam or two or three. All he knows is he looks at Sam and he can't just lump him in with all the other humans.

"I think we should just leave the vampires alone," Dean says with a shrug. Feels a bit weird to go against Sam like this. They've had disagreements - well, him and the Sam back at the house - but he never really got used to it. Not since he got busted out of the labs.

"It's not like they're gunning for you," Dean adds after another moment.

That and they had to eat, he supposed. Seemed kind of a dick move to crash in on their dinner and start lopping heads. Then again, he wasn't exactly sure how to torture a vampire, so it wasn't like he could offer Sam lessons on Vampire Reeducation. The proto-demon has followed his brother down the street, remembering to keep his eyes down before anyone gets a real good luck at them. Probably should've brought the sunglasses but hey, he forgot.

The suggestion actually catches him off-guard, and it takes him a solid few minutes before he's able to do anything other than just stare at his brother. He'd been expecting another disagreement about him using himself as bait, or maybe even a suggestion about Dean being the one to flush them out. But not this. Not an actual retreat.

"Weren't you the one who suggested a hunt in the first place?" Granted, it seemed like it'd been mentioned more as a way to unwind some tension; something that'd happened as soon as he'd disappeared off that hour to go feed. He eventually grins, actually seeming a little amused by it all. He's not happy about the idea of calling of the hunt this late in to the game. But if that's what Dean wants, he's not about to ignore it. "You couldn't have said that before we left?"

...it probably helps that he knows he can always come back later to finish the job.

"That was before you told me you were gonna be bait. I figured we'd just snatch a human to pull that job," Dean admits.

Okay, maybe he didn't think it through all the way. He thought killing something would make Sam happy, his own personal feelings on killing aside, and he could've gone with it until Sam turned around and declared he was putting himself on the line. Apparently Dean's moral ground these days was he was fine with whatever murder or torture Sam might want - or need - to resort to, so long as it didn't involve hurting himself.

Maybe Sam would feel better if Dean just went out on his own and brought back a vampire to soften up. At least that way Dean would feel better about being close enough to stop the thing if it made eyes at Sam. He figures if one of those things got stupid and tried to take a bite outta him that they'd get a real surprise.

Dean looks up, squinting in the afternoon sun. From what little he's brushed up on vampires again after dying, he figures they got a few hours before they get too active.

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Log - Hunting Trip

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Dean will shame himself and drive like a little old lady :|

Sam will do his best not to mock. :3

Oop, sorry for the delay

Don't worry about it.

If we need to, we could time skip to reaching the destination? :|a

Can do. iirc it isn't too long a journey anyway. Half a day at most.

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