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Post by |D| e a n s t e r on Dec 1, 2008 23:12:52 GMT -5
DEAN was dreading his father's words. Ones he knew would come soon enough and send him off his rocker. Because there wasn't anyone else in the world he feared more then his father. His dad was the fear or ALL fears. And with in front of him he felt like he was in a horribly scary horror movie. Or just one fucked up nightmare. "She's a vampire?" his father questioned, but his voice made it sound more like a statement then an actual question. There was no way in hell Dean was going to answer him. But he did feel such a horrible memory-infused urge to bark back 'Yes sir'. Like the old days. Like the old morbid-killing-life-ruining- days. No. "And she's pretty. But it wonder..." he said, Dean feeling horribly sick hearing his father describe her like some model on T.V. or a picture in a magazine. Just hearing his father talk about Sunday made him sick to his stomach, dread pouring over him like a wave. "How long will it last before you rip her apart like all your other pretty little girlfriends, Dean?" his father said, his words so painfully that it made Dean double take, his body sending a instinctive quiver down the full length of him, ending with his shaking hands and knees. He felt like he was really going to break now. "Shut up" he said, but his words were so weak they sounded like he was crumbling. Like a light whisper, but all he was able to say. He didn't want Sunday hearing this. He didn't want Sunday to know about him. That was the last thing that he wanted. Because, frankly, if she knew about him like his father did she might just be a little more hesitant about being around him. And he had a nasty problem with loving people. In the end he is the one with the broken heart, and the girl filled with broken bones. Sometimes he just couldn't get a hold of himself. And he just...exploded. Like he did with Josh. She was lucky to even be alive, just a thick scar accounting for it. The other girl's weren't so lucky as Josh, and almost all of them were... dead. Most of them torn apart by wolf's fangs. "I wonder if she would scream more or less like the other girls-" his father mused, a thoughtful look on his face. But he caught himself at Dean's response, an amused expression replacing his malevolent one. "...She doesn't know does she?" Dean snapped, his mind exploding into a flame of fire and rage, his body almost convulsing in reaction to his father's words. His mouth opened in a flame-spitting yell, like the devil itself. "SHUT THE FUCKING HELL UP YOU BASTARD!" he screamed at him. It wasn't long before Dean lost control, his body flowing length wise, hands lowering into muscular legs and paw into the dirt. Within a blink of an eye a wolf was standing where he once was. His heart literally thumped twice against his now grey-furred chest before throwing himself forward -- jaws wide to seek human flesh. As his claws tore up the soft brown dirt he destroyed it, running in lighting fast speeds to collide with his father. But he wasn't met with a human flesh, like he wanted. Instead his body collided with a equally similar colored wolf, his father's part-canine a more regal looking creature. Daddy Winchester was so much bigger then him it was overwhelming. And everything about him screamed 'i am alpha, i am boss'. And even for the few brisk seconds before the two of them hit -- his father's wolf-like brilliance was overwhelming. He was so much more clean, perfect, darker colored. Dean felt horribly useless, his once beautiful wolf body looking mangled and un-kept next to his father. He didn't have a chance.
COLLISION was a fury of violence. Fur rubbed against fur, jaws snapping so loudly that it sent a violent CRACK! exploding into the air. You could almost hear their bones crushing as they rammed into each other, jaws wide and seeking soft flesh to tear and rip. They were a hurricane of grey and black, the two of them snapping and tearing so violently it was almost a blur. The sound of their fight was horrible, so much worse then any two cat's fighting -- even with their loud caterwauls or protest. As father fought son it was filled with frightening snarls, often followed by slight whines and snorts of pain as flesh collided with fang. There was so much pain rippling about his body he couldn't tell where he was hurting. And the whole thing was just blinding, his muzzle snapping and tearing at anything that got too close to his face, claws sharp and gouging as best as he could. He was trying his best to get a hold of himself, make something out of this whole mess. He could taste blood in his mouth, oddly unable to realize if it was his or his father's. When he was finally able to think over the blinding hot white rage and fury of the first collision he found himself under his father, fangs tearing into his shoulder and shooting convulsing shock waves up into his head. He yelped painfully, his cries so pained it sounded like some dying animal where he lay. The huge black mass of his father ripped and tore without mercy, Dean gouging upward from his pinned position against his father's stomach as best he could. His father snarled in pain, his stomach reduced to shreds as his son violently wiggled out of his grip. But Dean heard a faint snap in his shoulder as he did so, his body crunching slightly to the side, lifting up his right paw and shoulder in a limp as he stood off a few meters from his father, his head bobbing back and forth in a pacing manner, limping at every step to and fro. His father was eerily still, the two of them facing each other with a sudden break in their fight, as if it was reduced to a stare down. Both of them were bleeding badly, Dean's shoulder feeling like it was almost broken as he faced his father and fighting the blackness. The smell of blood was overwhelming, the many tears and wounds on his body dripping blood onto the grass. He was aware of Sunday being there, but couldn't and wouldn't dare leave this stare down with his bloodied father. Patrick could feel the blood flow down between his eyes, tasting it on his lips as he continuing to toss his head back and forth. As if trying to be more intimating then he really was. But his father, just standing there -- his 'I'm the boss' like gaze made him crumble. That would be something he could never achieve. No matter how much he tried. His head was suddenly dizzy, as if the fatigue over took him. "Sunday" he said, and in wolf it translated as a extremely high pitched whine. Almost apologetic. He felt horribly...useless. He blinked his pitch black eyes slowly, fighting back unconsciousness. But his body couldn't hold himself up any longer, and he fell to his knees, his broken shoulder falling first with the rest of his body following suit. He just hit the ground in a bloody mess, grey fur torn and matted with bright fresh crimson blood. He whined again, horribly submissive -- but it was filled more of regret and guilt more then anything. Sensing victory, his father flashed his tail up ward, a banner of once again another battle he was so violently won. Dean had tried. He had doubted he would have won in the first place. But...but...he couldn't help it.
PART of him really hoped that he would be able to win. His abyss black eyes couldn't bare too look at Sunday now, whining in soft pained gasps as his father almost marched toward him, twitching his alpha-marked tail like a victory flag. So much for hope.
SHE lost it. What little she had left, it disappeared the moment she saw him lying there in complete submissiveness due to violent force. Sunday couldn’t help it any longer – her eyes welled up to the brim with tears, finally spilling over as she choked out a sob. It was true. He was her weakness. “Dean…” Her one and only weakness other than family – the obvious weakness – he was hers. He was the one who could bring her to her knees if he so desired. Death was her fear. Add the fear and weakness together and you destroyed Sunday. “You… I would much rather give my life for yours, Dean. I know I said it was worth the risk… but I don’t think I can live with another death.” [/color]Her lips reached down to his muzzle, where she kissed him gently, careful not to touch near any cuts or bruises. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. “It might be too soon for this, but I love you.” [/color]She whispered, before continuing. “Not like a favorite food or a new car. I really do love you.” [/color]She figured he wouldn’t say it back – she didn’t expect him to. She had known him for what felt like forever now. She knew that it was too soon for it, but if he died, she didn’t want him to die without knowing that. Lowering her head, the tears continued to fall, her face shimmering against the sunlight. AS soon as her words were spoken, her mindset shifted. “And you…” She looked at the wolf who had ‘conquered’ Dean. “You’re a bloody bastard.” [/color]She didn’t care if he attacked her. At least then the broken wolf wouldn’t have to suffer alone.[/i] CAW! The call of a crow snapped the rougue man back into reality. He blinked back a ragaing tear. Glad he came back before he had gotten to the worst part. An unsteady sigh came from him as he stuck his hands into his pockets. He shivered slightly, and let out another breath. The gust of air seemed to steam from his mouth in the cold winter air. The coldness slowly was ebbing up on his body. His dark eyes looked around the snow covered earth, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. How is past seemed to haunt him. Another shiver went down his spine, and he looked around. "I need a drink..."[/color] He muttered under his breath. But he didn't want to leave just yet. The cool crispy air seemed to pull away his old memories. He didn't need them anymore. His life would be perfectly fine is he never thought of Sunday or his father ever again. And sadly, it was the truth. Slowly he walked over to a tree, and sat down under it, not caring that the snow was getting into the rips in his jeans. He just leaned his head back, and closed his eyes and wished the earth would just open up and swallow him whole. If only... ---- ooc; 4E647Awords; 1860 (-squeel- meh ish proud!) notes; So, you dont have to read the stuff in italics just a memory.. I think I might make him have more here and there througgout the thread, if anyone replies xD SO PLEASE REPLY!!! [/blockquote][/size]
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Post by ``Mickey. on Dec 2, 2008 22:18:16 GMT -5
So maybe it was a little cold and snowy, but Alex could care less. She had slipped on a warm jacket before she left home, but how long would that last her? With a carefree smile she started skipping around in the snow, skipping around without a care. She was bored out of her mind and just needed to keep herself warm before her whole body went numb in the cold. Alex was skipping like a child until her foot got caught under something, forcing her to crash into the snow face first. It didn't take long before the snow was melting and seeping into her jacket, chilling her to the bone. When she looked up she saw someone sitting under a tree not too far away from her. She bet she made herself look like a retard.
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Post by |D| e a n s t e r on Dec 2, 2008 22:43:00 GMT -5
AGONIZING pain was rippling through his body, and it wasn't even listening to him any more. Just crumbling. Like he couldn't even move any more, as if his father had destroyed every muscle and nerve in his legs. He sure felt like that, the smell of his own blood heavy in the air. “I can hardly consider that a compliment coming from you.” he could hear her voice, somewhere. But his head was lost at this point, trying and fighting to stay awake. His body convulsed with pained frustration, wishing with everything in him that he could fight back. But everything about his father was the boss. And it was wolf mentality in his head that made him bend under his authoritative glare. He had tried, and failed, to fight for Alphaship. And frankly, this was all new to him. This had been the first time in his life that he even tried to over throw his father. True, there was no pack to rule here. But the whole thing was still present. Dean was the pack, and his father was the boss. A two 'man' pack or not. Only if there was one wolf could there be a sturdy opportunity to say there wasn't a pack. But no matter what, there was always a leader. Dean had been a mere solider for his entire life. Fighting back never really occurred to him. Half of the fact was that he knew he probably couldn't win. I guess you could call this one of his spontaneous combustions. He just snapped. He couldn't take his father word's any longer. But now he was feeling the familiar feeling of being controlled come over him, the leash tightening on his neck to tight that the breath was pushed out of him. His attack was just the animal reacting to the freedom being suddenly taken away. But now the animal in him was realizing that if he just stopped struggling he could 'die' easier. Loose his freedom without so much pain. Maybe he was past that point, because he could just feel himself bleeding from his open wounds. The once white snow was stained crimson, ruined forever with the blood of the violent illusionist fight. There had been so much ferocity and danger a moment ago that it seemed almost...unbeleibale. I know what you may be thinking -- how could he loose? Dean was supposed to be the strongest. He was supposed to be the killer of them all, probably the most dangerous out of all of them. How could he suddenly loose? I guess you could say any wolf illusionist appeared horribly dangerous. Almost invincible. Until you met another one -- that is. And his father was the most damaging of them all. Because, even those the two of them had almost the same amount of bleeding and injury, Dean was the one that looked broken and ruined. His father still looked fit and dangerous, why his equally hurting song lay in the dirt broken and dead-looking.
DARKNESS had almost overtaken him when Sunday stepped in front of him protectively. He blinked slightly, hearing her words rise up above him. “Dean…” His nose twitched, ears pulling back on his skull almost apologetically. Her words were a choked sob, almost coughed out with her tears. He couldn't help but whine, his could leg and shoulder twitching against the ground uselessly. His father was standing a few feet off, a human smirk curling on his wolfish black lips as he watched them. Clearly feeling the victory of the moment in all its 'glory'. “You… I would much rather give my life for yours, Dean. I know I said it was worth the risk… but I don’t think I can live with another death.” her words rolled into his ripped ears, bloody face lifting ever so slightly to look at her. Death. Sometimes he hoped there was glorified death. Some way to go out in dignity. But there was no dignity in death. You just became a pound of rotting flesh in the ground. Useless expect to feed the little bugs and such waiting for such a wonderful opportunity of a dead flesh sand which. Maybe he was thinking morbidly. Shoot him already. When she leaned down to give him a kiss he wanted to squirm. He felt so useless, laying crumbled on his own legs. Her lips pressing against his muzzle he whined softly, trying his best to just...react. React better then he was now. He could feel his father's surprise radiating off him in waves. “It might be too soon for this, but I love you.” . She...what? She loved him. That words made him want to roll over and die. There was nothing more horrid in his mind then that word. He growled in reaction, a grim look coming over in his face. Love was something he valued the most. He didn't want to see is soiled “Not like a favorite food or a new car. I really do love you.” she added on, her words causing him to stop. Relax. Calm down. His heat skipped an entire beat, his father's snarling from a few feet away. Translating clearly in wolf 'Interesting'. It made him growl faintly, trying his best to gain control of himself. Despite what she said, he needed to protect Sunday. He had too. There was nothing else in the world for him to do but protect her. Simple as that. And his dad was just standing there, studying them. Like a book. “And you…” she said, her voice and mindset suddenly changing from a sick-making love to a violent anger. His father lifted back his head indignantly. I guess he didnt know how moody Sunday could be. If this wasent such a morbid situation he would've laughed. But, you know. Wrong place, really wrong time.
FALLING in the snow wasn't the best of things. Dean new alot about it. He had almost not even noticed Alex fall right infront on him. He shook his head violently, willing his past memories to go away. They still seemed to linger there though. There were like the gomblins that hid in your closet as a child --just waiting for your parents to leave so that they could get you. He shook his head again, loking at Alex. He just sat there for a mintue. Usually he would have laughed and made some sarcsatic joke, but he was clearly not in the mood. Instead he merely pulled himself up, and walked over to her. He hadn't realized that the snow had melted beneath him and sunk into his pants, almost completely numbing his legs. his left knee slightly buckled when he got up, but the rest of the short trip was just fine. He stopped right infront of her, and held out a hand to help her up. "Need a hand?" [/color] His voice sounded hoarse and dry, as if he hadn't spoken in a million years. Hell, it sure felt that way...[/size][/blockquote]
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Post by ``Mickey. on Dec 3, 2008 15:50:23 GMT -5
The snow was soft yet cold under her, chilling her to the bone. Her mind swirled as she laid on the ground, her arms sprawled out in front of her. Alex was the kind of girl to fall and make a joke out of it, but not this time. It was because of the snow seeping into her clothes, and the feeling was unbearable. Words rolled through her ears, and she looked up to see an outstretched hand to help her up. With a groan she managed to sit up, quickly taking his hand, helping herself to her feet. A huge wet mark rested on her butt and almost everywhere else, but being on the butt bothered her most. It was like a blinking sign that seemed to say 'Look here! Isn't that embarrassing?'.
"Thanks." Was all that managed to escape her lips as she stood there, eying her wet clothes through narrowed eyes. Alex hated being the one that had to fall all the time, fall and make herself look like a dork. Fingers only flowed through her hair, trying to fix the knotted mass of black hair on her head. Right now she didn't feel like being all spunky and happy, well, she did before, but that was all ruined when she hit the ground. Crash and burn. She sure did get those a lot, and it never really helped her feel better about herself.
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Post by |D| e a n s t e r on Dec 3, 2008 16:28:47 GMT -5
ANGER coursed through him, almost equal with his worry as Sunday continued. Almost too a point that Dean wanted to just scream a loud, yell at her to just stop and get running already. This was taking too long. “You’re a bloody bastard.” No. Please. Stop. Don't yell at him?! Dean let loose another loud desperate whine, so high pitched it even hurt his ears. His eyes flickered to the side, too his father. His dad's face was oddly...composed. But he suddenly lost it. But not in the way that he afraid of. His father laughed. It wasn't human, like a barking cackle that exploded from his wolfish lips. It was loud, and eerily morbid. But it was obviously a laugh. And he hated it. "She's a funny one Dean" his father said, continuing his barking laugh longer then needed. He was glad Sunday couldn't hear them. He would hate it is she could. "No" he snarled under his breath, his words translating into pure wolf language. He groaned slightly as he propped his good leg under him, his father's words giving him enough strength to force himself into a stand. My god, the pain was horrible. Rippling up his body like repetitive stabbings. He leaned his bad shoulder up against Sunday, trying to ignore the fact that he was getting blood all over her. A sick as it was. 'Do you love her?' his father asked, his lip curling slightly to make it clear he was talking. Dean lowered his head slightly, pitch black eyes glaring back at his father with rage. Did he love her? Part of him wanted to scream at his father, 'YES, YES, YES!'. But he held himself back. He had to think about his replies now if he wanted to save her life. "No" he replied, his insides screaming and his heart nearly skipping a beat -- like it was going to stop any second now. His father looked skeptical, the two of them staring at each other with such intensity it was like a whip could crack. "Say it..." his father barked, Dean recoiling. But quite unsure what he meant. "Say it in front of her then" his father added, grinning wolfishly. Dean nearly fell over in shock at his father's words. My god, his father was so....sadistic. There was no way Sunday could possibly understand this. Patrick wanted to yell back at his dad angrily 'screw you!'. But that could never happen. His dad's words weren't even authoritative. Just challenging. He wasn't even trying to be Alpha. He was letting his son do the choice. What a morbid man. And the thing is, he didn't have a choice. This was going to hurt like hell. His body flickered out of his wolf form, the human Dean kneeling in the blood stained snow. His clothing was tore, his once traditional leather-type jacket he used to always wear torn to shreds, little pieces popping off into the snow as soon as he turned. His face was bloodied, a huge gash down across his eyes down his cheek, matching open wounds around his arms, legs, and sides. His good arm and hand was holding his shoulder tightly in pain, biting down on his lip so hard he felt like he was going to break it in half. "I don't" he said stiffly, winching. Speech hurt. Expressions hurt. Everything hurt. The first words that came out of his father's 'mouth' was a simple curt "You don't what?" he mocked.
EMOTION pulsed through his veins, like he was going to explode. This was going to hurt so much. "I don't...I dont love her" he said weakly. He could almost feel his heart being torn out of his chest, ripping apart into a million pieces at the process. My god. Sunday wouldn't be able to understand. Wouldn't be able to see what the point of this was. He wanted to tell her that he really, truly loved her. And he would be willing to do it in her face. Maybe, just maybe. But you had to understand his father. His Dad loved to cause him pain and horror. His morbid relative would love to see him squirm and be destroyed in himself. He loved it, had such a kick out of it. He was a freak. Maybe even more of a freak then Dean himself. And that was saying something. Dean had say that. Because if he loved anything his father would act quickly to destroy it. Simple as that. And he knew that right away. And he didn't have a choice. His father was surprised that he would even be able to say that. He was expecting his son to falter and give up. By the look on his face it was clear he was miscalculating. Because now he had nothing on his son. Nothing at all. He wanted to scream out in pain, fall in the snow and die. He couldn't bare to look at Sunday, couldn't bare to see her face. Because the words had to be forced out of his mouth had to be truthful sounded. And they were. Morbidly true. He was always the best actor wasn't he. "Well then, that changes everything" his father barked, turning his head away from his son, wolfish alpha eyes finally letting his son loose. Finally. But as his father made his way too leave, Dean hung his head, chin pressing against his chest. His heart was beating so slowly that it felt like he was going to die, the golden necklace so cold against his throat. With his father turned away, him released -- he did let go. Unbelievable. How could this be. Soft white hot tears flowed off his face, mixed with his own crimson blood. The Dean Winchester was...crying.
Alex's hand touched his, and Dean seemed to come into reality.. again. He was trying to hard to get of the memories. But in doing so, he was thinking about them, and they just would not replaying in his head. He helped pulled her up, looking at her wet pans. Atleast they were the same in that style. Dean's ass was soaked and beginning to freeze. He suddenly realized that sitting in the snow was the worst idea that he had ever had. Slowly his right hand came up and scratched the back of his neck. "Hey... your, Alex... right?" The girl looked strangly formilair. He was always bad with names and faces, probably because he fried most of his brains cells by drinking so much. Drinking.. That was it! She was the girl he took to the bar. Those few memories rushed back quickly, making him start to forget the ones that happened only a few years ago. His hands dropped back down to his side as he looked at her. He remembered her as an extemely spunky, hyper kid. What the hell happened to her? "Hey, cheer up, would ya? Seeing you in a bad mood will just put me in a worse mood." And with that the memories started to come back... [/size]
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Post by ``Mickey. on Dec 3, 2008 16:38:40 GMT -5
Wait a second? Did he know her name? She looked at him like he was crazy, and for all she knew, he could be. Soon you could tell she was in deep thought, her brow furrowed as she tried to think of this. Who was he? He was just so familiar it wasn't even funny. "Yes, I believe I am. Hello Dean! Long time no see old geezer!" She teased him, the memories finally fresh in her mind. Alex remembered when they went to the bar and how she started that huge fight. Yeah, she didn't really want to think about the fight... Hearing his words made a bright and cheery smile come to her lips. "I'm sorry that I'm soaked and feeling totally uncomfortable! Why are you so glum? You should really cheer up because I'm here, and you know how much fun we had. Don't make me start that all over again!" She was going on and on, wanting to talk and relive good times. It had been a while since she had seen Dean last, and she was just dying to let words spill from her mouth. Alex hadn't really thought about him except for when he had first left, but after a while the memories just seemed to fade away. It wasn't her fault that he had just slipped away from her mind.
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Post by |D| e a n s t e r on Dec 3, 2008 16:59:44 GMT -5
AFTER he shifted back and began to speak, he had her full attention with brief glances at his father. “I don’t…” Didn’t what? She wanted to know, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure that it was a great thing to be hearing. What if he was saying he didn’t think she should be there? Or what if he found out about the pregnancy? “I don’t… I don’t love her.” Like a bullet from a gun, she jumped away from him, not prepared for his words. She had been expecting no reply, perhaps an ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t feel that strongly yet,’ but not a flat-out, “I don’t love her.” The words echoed in her head several times, not noticing the ringing in her pocket as she felt a fresh new wave of tears flowing over her. Answering the phone without a word, the clinic’s receptionist spoke through the other end while her heart continued to break. “Hi, Sunday, I was just calling to confirm your pregnancy and to schedule your first appointment.” Hanging up, Sunday’s sorrow soon turned to hatred. For shattering her heart after she gave it to him on that damned silver platter. For tarnishing it and chopping up her heart for dinner. For everything.
“YOU son of a bitch, you… were you not there when we were together in the shop? Was I the only one not pretending? Did you just kiss me by the lake for no reason other than the fact that you thought I was ‘pretty’? Did you just date me for the last… oh, I don’t know, for no reason? Did it mean nothing when I said I was willing to take the fucking risk?” Her breathing accelerated before she continued with the biggest bomb yet. “You know what? Maybe I’ll just go back and marry Paul or something. I’m sure he’d like to raise his own child, anyway. Oh yeah, didn’t I mention? I’m pregnant, Dean. As in having a baby. And I was under the very strong impression that you loved me all along. Most guys try to get me in bed before we even start dating. You haven’t done that. I only assumed it was because you loved me. I guess I’ll have to consider that the next time I’m making assumptions about how you feel about me.” Resisting the urge to punch him, grabbed the alcohol bottle, squeezing its neck with all her might. As it broke, she cussed silently before looking back over to Dean with bloody hands, seeing his tears. “Oh… shit, Dean. I’m sorry….” Her eyes went wide as she approached him, her hands resting on his cheeks lightly. Her lips then met his for a brief moment, preferring the flesh over fur. “I love you.” As if that would make it all better.
BLANKNESS covered the werewolf's face as he looked at Alex. He had only caught half of her words. His mind straying in and out of his awake nightmare. He le out a light scuff, blinked a few times and turned his head to the side, shutting his eyes along the way. He brought up his hand and rubbed one of his temples, then dropped it back to his side. He slowly turned his head back and opened his eyes, looking at her. A soft sigh came from him. "Sorry kid... I am not really in the sharing mood...." He slipped his hands into his pockets and looking blankly ather for a few more moments. "And by all means... cheer me up... I am so sick being like this." He let out another sigh, his sorrow clouded eyes looking at the younger girl infront on him. He opened his mouth, about to explain things, but deicided against it and shut his mouth. He twitched his nose a little, as a light breeze came by. The air when into his ripped jeans and brushed lightly against his wet skin. He frowned and looked at his legs. He really wasn't that cold, it was just his wet pants. He gave a very light grunt before looking back over at Alex. [/size]
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Post by ``Mickey. on Dec 3, 2008 17:17:27 GMT -5
Why was he being so glum? It was really starting to rub off on her. She let out a sigh, hoping and praying this horrible feeling would go away. "Can't you please cheer up? I don't exactly know how to cheer you up... Will it cheer you up if I fall again?" She asked, her face gloomy as she gazed at him. Alex was about to fall to the snowy ground. As if it mattered, she was already wet, and her clothes were already soaked. So why not just sit back and relax? A pout came to her childish face. Her brain had a big fart, and she didn't know what to do to cheer him up. He had already dimmed her fabulous mood. She felt like acting happy just for his sake, but where would that get her? It would only be lying, and she couldn't do that when he was already so under the weather. Dean was just really making her feel horrible, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
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Post by |D| e a n s t e r on Dec 3, 2008 17:55:21 GMT -5
RINGING? It took him a while to even realize where on earth it was coming from. Sunday's phone. But the pain had him frozen in place, the fear of seeing her expression keeping him from looking up. But he could hear the sound of a hushed voice on the other line, and the soft click as the phone was open and shut quickly. He sniffed lightly, gripping his shoulder tighter to try to fight back the white hot pain coursing in his veins. He couldn't even believe the warm tears on his face, like his entire mind was out of it. Like he was completely and utterly somewhere else, feeling as if the pain wasn't even his. The tears. No, they weren't his. He was just watching someone else cry. There was no way in hell was was possibly...even it it could happen...He didn't want to believe it. Not now. Crying was on his big 'do not do list'. Maybe one of the top. Not because he was a 'man' and whatever he had to protect. It was, more or less, him trying to not be seen as weak. God knows that Dean couldn't be weak. It wasn't allowed. Not in his family at least. But one thing he could make out of all this mess, his father was gone. Long gone, his body leaving his torn son for whatever torture that was coming next. But the fact that his father wasn't dead made him stomach pull a back flip. But, sooner or later, he ran out of time. Because the torture was starting. “You son of a bitch, you… were you not there when we were together in the shop? Was I the only one not pretending? Did you just kiss me by the lake for no reason other than the fact that you thought I was ‘pretty’? Did you just date me for the last… oh, I don’t know, for no reason? Did it mean nothing when I said I was willing to take the fucking risk?” she yelled at him, her voice like a stinging whiplash in the cold air. Enough to actually make him flinch, feeling that damn knife pushing deeper and deeper into his heart. The pain was overtaking him at this point, his body shaking ever so slightly. Then again, his body was probably trying to keep himself awake. Keep itself warm. The cold snow was seeping through his torn jeans was numbing his knees and legs. He felt as if they would crack off if he even tried to move. She just couldnt understand. And his mouth was clamped shut, unable to even try to open and explain it. Half of the reason was because he was afraid of her reaction. The other half was because he really didn't know what to say. How words could explain to her what his fathers-mentality was. The only way you could understand was if you...you had lived with him for your whole life.
GOD speed. He had hoped that she was done. But he could hear her voice accelerate and tension crack once again. Tears still lingered on his face, as if threatening to be frozen in place. Oh no. She wasn't done. There was no way in hell that she was done. “You know what? Maybe I’ll just go back and marry Paul or something. I’m sure he’d like to raise his own child, anyway. Oh yeah, didn’t I mention? I’m pregnant, Dean. As in having a baby. And I was under the very strong impression that you loved me all along. Most guys try to get me in bed before we even start dating. You haven’t done that. I only assumed I was because you loved me. I guess I’ll have to consider that the next time I’m making assumptions about how you feel about me.” The biggest bomb in the history of the world dropped on his head. His closed eyes jerked open, pupils almost struggling to keep focus on the snow underneath him. He literally felt his heart stopping, and he swore he must've died for a moment. He had too. This must be the sign of the Apocalypse. Because, frankly, he thought the tears were unbelievable. But...but now this? He felt like someone had nailed him in the gut with a baseball bat, like reality nailing him like an oncoming train to throw him off balance. "...pregnant?" He almost tumbled over from where he was kneeling in the snow, his breathing supply drastically cut off. Sunday was...pregnant? But the fact was...it wasn't even his. But it hit him harder then it even possibly could be. But...but Paul? Him of all the goddamn people. Last time he checked he was the blood bastard that called her a freak show. Dean felt a flame rise in him, maybe even more violent then rage. Almost jealousy. He would've felt so much better if it was just...someone else. Not the person she had hated. It wasn't even his fault, and he felt like it was. He had no reason too. Off all people he should be the one his anger should be pointed at. Not her. But...but he couldn't help it. He heard the loud shatter of a glass bottle, the noise breaking him out of his trance. Her new words followed soon after, “Oh… shit, Dean. I’m sorry….” she said, her voice drastically changing. Sorry? Sorry?! He couldnt believe what she was saying. Or what she could possibly be sorry for. " You're...sorry?" he said under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper. Like he couldn't even possibly speak, like the words were stuck somewhere between his mind and his throat. When she slowly moved towards him he finally looked up, his good shoulder lifting to run his arm across his blood and tear covered face. As if trying to cover up the damage. He felt her hand rest against his cheek, and his eyes closed. Trying to seek some sort of content feeling. Eyes still closed he felt his lips meet hers, her hand guiding him towards her in the 'dark'. He felt his heart kick back up in a faster heartbeat, dragged out of the death. “I love you.” Her words rolling into his close by ear. His heart felt a jerk, his eyes jerking open. Now so horribly pitch black dark.
I Love You. Three simple words. Words that made his spine prick and his body quiver violently with gathering rage. So much to a point he knew he was going to explode. Not this again. Not with the explosion again. Not with Sunday so close. "Bloody hell...you love me!?" he yelled briskly, pushing himself up into a stand a little too quickly then he should. He was half right about his legs snapping off, because as soon as he rose to a stand his numb legs seemed to crack under pressure. He was on his feet for barely a second before he fell back into the snow again, moved slightly away from Sunday. But he landed on his shoulder, a loud groan of pain rolling out of his mouth as he gritted his teeth together with so much power he felt like his jaw was going to break. "GOD DAMMIT! I hate that word, hate it so goddamn bad. Like they can actually make me feel so much fucking better" he snarled, not even trying to stand up again. He knew what would come of it anyway. His head was starting to throb again, a feeling he was not looking forward too. Worst of all was the pain, like pin needles in his skin. He felt the hot tears well up in his eyes again, and he just wanted to scream and yell. Shoot out every possible curse word he ever possibly knew. "Sunday...Sunday why him? Why Paul?! Maybe i was pretty spot on about you wanting to make Paul jealous back in that stupid alley. That would be one horrible kick in the balls. But he's a human Sunday. And a human that called you a freak -- for crying out loud Sunday! What, did you use him for stud services or some bullshit like that?!" he yelled, his turn to spit fire. He snarled her direction, feeling like he just wanted to die. Get the fucking father back over here and rip out his throat already. He wanted to be over, done. This was the second time he felt this way. The first had been when he first even fell through the portal. This time he just wanted some relief. Anything. His voice was angry, yes, but so desperately afraid. Like he was still unable to talk, too overwhelmed about the whole thing to even speak. "This is just too fucking much" he muttered under his breath, followed by a horrible attempt to gasp for air. This was hell. He just found out.
FRIENDS, you could always trust on them. But then again, you couldn't. It was weird thng, and that was one reason why he had trust issues... A small sigh came from him as he looked at the wet girl infront of him. "No, falling in the snow will not make me feel better..." he said, his voice almost could and lifeless. His hands crammed into his pockets as he paused. And eerie silence seeming to sweep over him. Then suddenly he had a dramatic mood swing. It was like he was pregant or on his perios or something. "And no, I won't cheer up." He looked to the side quickly, in some wierd random rage. Maybe it was the memories still perched heavily on his shoulders. He couldn't see why though. It the movie just played a little longer he would see it all worked out. Didn't it? Suddenly he seemed to loose his thoughts. He couldn't think back that far. He remembered Sunday, and knew she wasn't here with him. What happened? He desperatly ran through his mind, trying to find that long lost faded photograph, linking him back to her. His eyes stared at nothing as he began to zone out, completely forgetting about Alex. He was just in a very weird place right now...
--- ooc; Holy cow.... I hadn't ment for the memory to be that long xD My post is 1710 words!! Heh... I am in a very weird mon right now 8/ [/size][/blockquote]
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Post by ``Mickey. on Dec 3, 2008 18:06:16 GMT -5
An annoyed look came to her face. What had happened to him? Last time she was with him he was actually fun! "What the hell crawled up your ass and died Mr. Moody?" She asked, her arms soon crossed over her chest. Right now she couldn't believe what she had just said, but she was about to get this crap over with. Alex was sick and tired of the dumb gloom that was just pouring from Dean. "I don't like to say that kind of stuff to people, but really... Your doom and gloom is really pissing me off..." She hoped that made sense, hoped that the mood would just stop coming from him. Alex kind of guessed it wouldn't, not with the way she was talking. Instead of standing any long she just plopped down to her butt, not really caring if it got wet. Not like it made a big difference anyways.
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Post by |D| e a n s t e r on Dec 3, 2008 18:28:48 GMT -5
“BLOODY hell… you love me?!” Her eyes widened, not expecting the sudden outburst. Her anger was slowly extinguishing, replaced, instead, by hurt. Her own tears pricked in her eyes, threatening to fall as she watched his rage build. "GOD DAMMIT! I hate that word, hate it so goddamn bad. Like they can actually make me feel so much fucking better." Shrinking away slightly, she felt the tears rolling down her face, her urge to run growing stronger by the moment. She could feel her legs burning as they begged her to run – to chase after anything and everything just to get away from the building rage – the ever-lasting rage that she found in every conversation they had. She didn’t normally mind it; it wasn’t always directed at her. Now that all of his rage was focused on her, it frightened her beyond belief. She was positive he had more built up, though, because he kept talking. "Sunday... Sunday why him? Why Paul?! Maybe I was pretty spot on about you wanting to make Paul jealous back in that stupid alley. That would be one horrible kick in the balls. But he's a human Sunday. And a human that called you a freak -- for crying out loud Sunday! What, did you use him for stud services or some bullshit like that?!" She swallowed the bile in her throat as her own anger faltered and froze, tempting her to just break down in front of him.
SUNDAY'S tears finally spilled over, using her turn to cry. “What the hell, Dean? I slept with Paul the night before I met you. I was late to work that day, and I got into trouble with the boss, so I left early. That’s the only reason I met you. I found out I was pregnant long before I even liked you. Or, I thought I was pregnant. I didn’t go to the clinic until recently.” She felt her voice shaking by the time she said the p word again, hating the way it rolled off her tongue. “This is just too fucking much.” She nearly laughed. He thought it was a lot? Try the mood swings, the cravings, the insane weight gaining, the constant need to pee. He had no idea. He had no idea how much worse it was – how horrible she felt for even telling him in the first place. With a very serious look on her face, Sunday approached his lying form, placing a leg on each side of his abdomen, her knees on the ground firmly. She leaned down, placing another kiss on his lips before hovering just an inch or two away from his lips to speak. “I think you’re just jealous that you didn’t get to sleep with me first.” EYES narrowed as they peered at Alex. She was right, her words didn't help anything. He was still in a bitchy mood, for God only knows what reason, and now he was just being stuburn. If she was going to demand that he lightened up, of course he wasn't, he was just one of those smart-ass kind of people. All her words did though was tick him off even more. He turned around and walked over to a tree. He pulled back his arm, then his fist came flying forawrd. A loud crack came from his hands as he punch the tree before him. He cursed silently under his breath and shook his arm. He looked at his knuckles, seeing that he broke the skin. Bloody covered them, and he let out a sigh. He turned again and put his back up against the tree. Slowly he slid down onto his butt. He closed his eyes as he hehit his head back against the tree. He swallowed the lump that was slowly beginning to form in his throat, then he cursed again. "Son of a bitch..." Slowly he opened his eyes back up and started up into the trees for no apparent reason. He just felt sick to his stomach with emotions, and he couldn't understand it. It was driving him insane. What the hell was wrong with him? Slowly he looked over at Alex, but didn't look her in the eyes, he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet.[/size][/blockquote]
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Post by ``Mickey. on Dec 3, 2008 18:36:40 GMT -5
The young girl jumped slightly at the sound of the crack. her legs were only pulled to her chest, and she just seemed to huddle into herself. She just wanted to pull her hair out at the moment, ad basically did, she took the ends of her hair and pulled as hard as her hands allowed. When her hands slid away from her hair there were clumps that she had pulled from her head, and now her head throbbed. Her eyes watched Dean, and she only let out a heavy sigh. Alex didn't know that he was going to get all upset and suddenly acquire anger management problems. "I'm sorry..." She wasn't sure if he heard her, and kind of hoped he didn't. Right now she was afraid to speak. All she did was take in a deep breath, trying to keep her heart from leaping out of her chest. She didn't want to talk anymore, didn't want to upset him. "I think I'm gonna go. You look like you need some time to simmer." With that she was on her feet, slipping several times in the process. Alex then just walked away, just turned her back and walked.
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Post by |D| e a n s t e r on Dec 3, 2008 19:01:01 GMT -5
“WHAT the hell, Dean? I slept with Paul the night before I met you. I was late to work that day, and I got into trouble with the boss, so I left early. That’s the only reason I met you. I found out I was pregnant long before I even liked you. Or, I thought I was pregnant. I didn’t go to the clinic until recently.” she said, the soft sound of crying coming off her words. So because she got knocked up, she met him? How ironic was that. Made his stomach form a knot, like he felt like he was going to get sick. Anger formed on his tongue, but his mind unable to figure out the exact words. Everything was harder when your body was racked with stinging, agonizing pain. You would never believe the conflict through his head at this point.
NO one ever could. Eventually, he found the words for the moment. He nearly had to cough them out, just speaking was painful. But more then just a physical sense. "Do you really think it matters whether you liked me or not before...before..." he said, but couldn't finish it. Fill in the blanks, God help him he was bleeding to death in the snow. "Plus, maybe it would've been better if you never met me Sunday" he concluded. Sounded like a good idea to plan. A good 'what if'. He was filled with them these days. What if he never fell through the portal. What if Sam never died. What if his dad never showed up. What if his dad had been a kinder man? And the best one ever -- what if he was never born? Could you imagine how much better the world could be without him? To say the least, a lot more people would be alive. His eyes closed shut, everything becoming a little to bright for him. He forced himself to calm down, breathe in and out. Relax, calm down. Maybe if he just...! His eyes jerked open in shock, feeling Sunday literallyy move her body over his. Legs straddling his abdomen, an odd look formed on his face, as if confused what his reaction should be. Before he could even react her lips shut him up, pressing his and her's together with a new kind of intensity. When she finally pulled away, her face inches from his he was holding his breath. “I think you’re just jealous that you didn’t get to sleep with me first.” she commented, and he just blinked, littearly dropping his jaw. "Possibly" he said, almost under his breath. But she was so close she had to heard him. His eyes were soft green again, couldn't help but stay cold black with so much affection. They flickered over her face, mostly on her position, as if trying to figure out what he should do. Trying to figure her out. "Don't objectify me. Its not like this is going to change anything" he said, but the tone of his voice made his words un-serious. And the expression on his face made it hard for anyone to take him seriously. He was silent for just a few moments before he leaned forward just enough to kiss her again. But his movements were far more passionate then they had been before. Like she had given the go, and he was complying. He even pushed himself upward, almost sitting. His good arm wrapped around her neck, pulling her close. He stopped for a moment, pulling his lips away for a brisk moment, lowering his head to smiling as he shook his head back and forth in disbelief. "You know this wasn't what i was expecting when you said 'we were going to try'" he said, pressing his lips lightly on her cheek. Here he was -- arguing with her one moment, then suddenly...well yeah. Nothing was making sense any more. But only a man like him would accept this as an apology. EXPRESSIONS onehis face changed when he herd Alex speek. His eyes lifted alittle as he watched her speek. 'I'm sorry..' And yes, he caught it. Being part wolf had its advantages. He let outa sigh. "There is no reason for you to be..." His voice basically mimincked hers in tone quality. It was just under a whisper, and he was certain that she would not hear it. 'I think I'm gonna go. You look like you need some time to simmer.' He closed his eyes for a moment, just thinking. Yet again he had put someone in a damp mood. Why the hell did he keep doing that? It seemed like everyone he talked to he dragged them down to his level. Huh.. if you would even call it a level. It was more like in the dirt, no, past the dirt, past the worms, and the dead dinosuars... His level was even beneath hell. He sighed, and opeend his eyes to see her stand up and walk away. He swallowed what little spit was in his dry mouth before speaking. "Don't go Alex... I will try to liven up..." Slowly he pulled himself to his feet and took a step forward. "You don't wanna leave an old dieing man in the snow, do ya?" A very small, basically fake smirk cracked onto his face. He was just being selfish right now. He just wanted her to stay here so he wouldn't be alone. But really, he was kind of telling to truth. He was sorry...[/i][/blockquote][/size]
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Post by ``Mickey. on Dec 3, 2008 19:19:05 GMT -5
She didn't hear the words that he had spoken so softly, didn't even know he had heard her words in the first place. Maybe meeting up with Dean again was a bad idea, but she couldn't help but feel bad. Why? She didn't do anything. Hearing his words she stopped, and took in a deep breath. He wanted her to stay? But he was over there acting all doom and gloom, and it was getting kind of contagious. She only turned around to look at him as if she could truly tell what was going on by looking at him. "You sure? I don't want you to hurt anymore trees though..." She said, holding back the smile that was begging to break out. Watching him stand up made her smile weakly, hearing his words only made her wrap her arms around her. "I guess it would be kind of mean to leave you, but I'm not convinced..." She said softly, her head down as if she was afraid that he would snap a tree in half right in front of her.
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Post by |D| e a n s t e r on Dec 3, 2008 21:09:06 GMT -5
NATURALLY she had been caught off guard when he was somewhat polite, or when he went along with her lies. She would’ve pegged him as the kind to lie through his teeth and make it very obvious that he was lying if he even lied at all. She was caught off guard when he turned out to be such an excellent actor – almost as excellent as herself, though she’d never admit it. She’d never admit that he was better than her. She’d never admit it until it was the death of her. Of course, she had also been caught off guard when she found herself slowly, but surely, falling for him. Perhaps the moment of truth had been what pushed her further along, so that she really did love him. So she realized exactly how much she felt for him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to push her through the days that would torture her from this day on. It wasn’t enough to stop her ears from ringing with the four words that he had immortalized in her mind just by speaking them to his father. That’s all it took, and that’s all it had been to cause her to disconnect herself from him emotionally, and instead attaching herself physically. Maybe being in love was hard, but it was nothing compared to being physically attracted to someone. That never went away.
SHE knew it would backfire from the moment she performed the first action. From the first moment that she rested above him, her lips threatening to kiss him until he was no longer able to breathe, she knew it was going to end badly. Did that stop her? Of course not. Of course she didn’t stop when she kissed him, or when she hovered above him, teasing him with full knowledge that she was doing so, especially considering her position. The first few words he spoke were a blur, but the next words shocked her beyond belief. “Plus, maybe it would’ve been better if you never met me, Sunday.” Her eyes would have shot open wide if she hadn’t been so involved in her lie – her tease. Instead, she merely ignored the fact that he had said that, knowing that he had to know that she would never wish that. That it was the worst possible thing he could suggest. The thought alone shook her to her very core. Not meeting him would’ve been like not finding her brother. Devastating to her now, but she would’ve found a way to go on without that one that she loved. Perhaps she wouldn’t have known it.
DISCONNECTING her thoughts from interrupting again, Sunday’s focus moved primarily to Patrick. “Possibly.” A smirk caught her lips as she noticed the difference in the color of his eyes – a good sign, definitely. That meant he wasn’t going to start beating her to a pulp or yelling at her until she felt herself go deaf and numb all at the same time. “Don’t objectify me. It’s not like this is going to change anything.” The smirk didn’t leave her face as he spoke, muttering a quick, “We’ll see.” right back to him before she felt his lips embracing hers in a kiss far more passionate than she had ever received from anyone. She noted the change in his positioning and felt his arm close to her. Her hand slipped to his chest before his words were uttered from his lips. “You know, this wasn’t what I was expecting when you said ‘we were going to try.’” Moving her hand from his chest to his bad shoulder, she touched it gently before she firmly grasped it, not expecting the mood change in herself, let alone him. “I’m pregnant, Dean. It’s not going that far.” Glaring at him, she stood, moving over to the log with a limping walk, propping herself up against the nearby trees as she went along. Pausing, she looked back at him with a curious look on her face. “Do you really not love me?” The hurt was obvious in her voice as she prepared herself to leave as soon as she heard his answer, positive that it would be yes, he really didn’t love her.
SURPRISE covered his face when she stopped and spoke back to him. He had just figured she would just shrug him off and go on with her own troubles hanging from her shoulders. 'You sure? I don't want you to hurt anymore trees though...' A laugh came from him when she spoke those words. His gaze drifted down to his bloody knuckle. "I think the tree hurt me more than I hurt it..." He paused for a moment and looked back over at her. "But anyways, I promise I won't hurt any more of the trees. Tree-hugger..." He added the last part in quietly and sarcastically. He was a little bit more cheery, but not completely. 'I guess it would be kind of mean to leave you, but I'm not convinced...' He gave her a weird look. " Hey, I'm not just some physco-pathic killer out on the lose. I am more like an expertly trained serial killer.... " He really had no idea why he had said that.. probably just for shits and giggles and to prove he was feeling better, which he was, a little. His memories still loomed over him, but he was thinking that if he hung around Alex long enough that they would go away. [/blockquote][/size]
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