@lessthan3 I forgot to bold the words but we'll see if I do it before the deadline.
Come into the woods.
Follow the path.
Go left. Go right. Not that way. No. Nonononono! Stop. Moving. Now!
Yes. Good. That way. I know you can’t see where you’re going in all the mist, but I can promise you’re going the right away.
“I wish that voice would shut up the hell up,” Dean murmured as his shoes melded into the mud with every step, and it took more and more force to get his feet moving. The mist stalked their every move, guided them to the right way.
The moon was a sliver that barely illuminated the mist that surrounded him and Castiel, and the air was cold. Time had moved quickly into the fall months, leading them straight into mid-October when the temperature dropped and leaves on the trees were few and far between.
The woods were vast and quiet at night. An eerie atmosphere had fallen on the world, sucking them into a nightmare with every step, but they had to investigate. Had to stop this paranormal being from existing and killing people.
That was the job. That was the reality of life for them.
Dean’s breath was a mist in front of him that swiftly disappeared. His hand was settled in his jacket pocket, fingers wrapped around the handle of a knife. There were no certainties that they would live, that he would live to see another day.
End my misery. Set me free.
Chills rolled down his spine and Cas placed a hand on his shoulder. A reassuring gesture that didn’t do much to ease Dean’s growing fear. Cas was not the bravest between the three of them, but he was the one who made Dean feel more brave. Made him feel like he could get through anything.
And boy, there were a lot of things to get through.
Soon they were standing in front of a plain log cabin. One-floor, lots of wood, and shifting beings behind the windows. Some were dark, blending into the world, yet just barely noticable. Then there was a pale man staring out at them standing on the porch. His eyes were bloodshot and there was a sadness in his expression that was hard to place.
A desire for the sun. For the city. For freedom to get out of that haunted cabin and try to live the life that had been prematurely stolen from him.
Its mouth was moving, but it didn’t make a sound.
Burn the house. Free me.
Cas grabbed the lighter out of his pocket and glanced at Dean.
“Why would a ghost want to die?” Dean asked, because he couldn’t go without saying something about it.
“I don’t know, but it’s our job to put these restless spirits to bed,” Cas answered as he flicked open the lid.
“But, it doesn’t make any sense.” Dean gestured vaguely at the spirit. The front door and the window remained closed.
“Dean, we don’t have time to sit here and debate whether or not you want to burn a house full of spirits.” Cas eyed him with confusion. This was an easy case. Hell, maybe even a little too easy, but if it needed done, it needed done. This place was powerful with so many ghosts locked inside, and it was everyone who didn’t heed the mist’s warnings that got hurt in the end.
“This is a nice place! I mean, we haven’t seen the inside yet, but it’s charming. Could make a great vacation spot if we go in and burn the bodies--”
“What is going on with you? You’ve been acting strange all day, and it’s beyond your normal level that I’ve grown accustomed to experiencing in our time together.”
Dean shrugged and looked out at the trees. His arms crossed over his chest in a defensive manner and he huffed. “I’m fine. Just burn the house.”
“I don’t get it. You’re giving me mixed signals.”
Dean sighed, a deep, heavy sigh that came from deep inside. A feeling in his chest that slowly built up and escaped.
“I’m not interested in waiting here to see what happens when the mist gets impatient.” Cas flicked the lighter, starting up the flame, watching Dean with an intensity only reserved for the green-eyed male.
“I don’t want to keep doing this, the whole… hunting thing.” The words struggled to come out of his mouth, to let his deepest thoughts out to the ex-angel angel dude in front of him. “I, I don’t know. I want to. Something. Like, get out of the bunker. Find a real place. And retire. Like.” He sighed. Paused a lot. Fought to make sounds come out of his mouth in the form of understandable words. “Like Bobby. He just lived on his own and helped when he could. I’m getting too old for this. Sam’s getting too old for this. I want to settle down.”
Cas nodded, and he understood, just a little, where the eldest Winchester was coming from. Dean’s whole life had consisted of hunting, of searching for the monsters in the dark. The monsters under the bed. The monsters hiding in plain sight.
He extinguished the flames on the candle. “Dean, this is a bad time to discuss things like this, but I support you. You and Sam have earned a break.”
“C’mon, dude, the case is easy. Just hard to see the whole thing burn, you know?” Dean was still unsure about this. The case was too easy. His life was never this simple. Never so cut and dry and he knew that retiring would not last long.
But Cas set the house on fire.
And the two of them stepped away and watched it burn. Cas’ hand brushed against Dean’s, and Dean grabbed the hand and held it in his own.
Thank you.
The last words spoken by the mist.
The blaze was long and it eventually rained and would take care of the fire and the ashes.
The two of them stood and watched and got soaked, and they said nothing on the way back. There was nothing to say. Nothing to discuss. At least, not at that moment. In the future, maybe, when they met back up with Sam at the motel, or maybe it would never get discussed.
It would just be a confession spoken into the mist. A secret kept between two people who loved and trusted each other. Someday, maybe, Sam, Dean, and Cas would catch that break and retire.
Until then, there were people to save, things to hunt, and a family business to keep alive.
Come into the woods.
Follow the path.
Go left. Go right. Not that way. No. Nonononono! Stop. Moving. Now!
Yes. Good. That way. I know you can’t see where you’re going in all the mist, but I can promise you’re going the right away.
“I wish that voice would shut up the hell up,” Dean murmured as his shoes melded into the mud with every step, and it took more and more force to get his feet moving. The mist stalked their every move, guided them to the right way.
The moon was a sliver that barely illuminated the mist that surrounded him and Castiel, and the air was cold. Time had moved quickly into the fall months, leading them straight into mid-October when the temperature dropped and leaves on the trees were few and far between.
The woods were vast and quiet at night. An eerie atmosphere had fallen on the world, sucking them into a nightmare with every step, but they had to investigate. Had to stop this paranormal being from existing and killing people.
That was the job. That was the reality of life for them.
Dean’s breath was a mist in front of him that swiftly disappeared. His hand was settled in his jacket pocket, fingers wrapped around the handle of a knife. There were no certainties that they would live, that he would live to see another day.
End my misery. Set me free.
Chills rolled down his spine and Cas placed a hand on his shoulder. A reassuring gesture that didn’t do much to ease Dean’s growing fear. Cas was not the bravest between the three of them, but he was the one who made Dean feel more brave. Made him feel like he could get through anything.
And boy, there were a lot of things to get through.
Soon they were standing in front of a plain log cabin. One-floor, lots of wood, and shifting beings behind the windows. Some were dark, blending into the world, yet just barely noticable. Then there was a pale man staring out at them standing on the porch. His eyes were bloodshot and there was a sadness in his expression that was hard to place.
A desire for the sun. For the city. For freedom to get out of that haunted cabin and try to live the life that had been prematurely stolen from him.
Its mouth was moving, but it didn’t make a sound.
Burn the house. Free me.
Cas grabbed the lighter out of his pocket and glanced at Dean.
“Why would a ghost want to die?” Dean asked, because he couldn’t go without saying something about it.
“I don’t know, but it’s our job to put these restless spirits to bed,” Cas answered as he flicked open the lid.
“But, it doesn’t make any sense.” Dean gestured vaguely at the spirit. The front door and the window remained closed.
“Dean, we don’t have time to sit here and debate whether or not you want to burn a house full of spirits.” Cas eyed him with confusion. This was an easy case. Hell, maybe even a little too easy, but if it needed done, it needed done. This place was powerful with so many ghosts locked inside, and it was everyone who didn’t heed the mist’s warnings that got hurt in the end.
“This is a nice place! I mean, we haven’t seen the inside yet, but it’s charming. Could make a great vacation spot if we go in and burn the bodies--”
“What is going on with you? You’ve been acting strange all day, and it’s beyond your normal level that I’ve grown accustomed to experiencing in our time together.”
Dean shrugged and looked out at the trees. His arms crossed over his chest in a defensive manner and he huffed. “I’m fine. Just burn the house.”
“I don’t get it. You’re giving me mixed signals.”
Dean sighed, a deep, heavy sigh that came from deep inside. A feeling in his chest that slowly built up and escaped.
“I’m not interested in waiting here to see what happens when the mist gets impatient.” Cas flicked the lighter, starting up the flame, watching Dean with an intensity only reserved for the green-eyed male.
“I don’t want to keep doing this, the whole… hunting thing.” The words struggled to come out of his mouth, to let his deepest thoughts out to the ex-angel angel dude in front of him. “I, I don’t know. I want to. Something. Like, get out of the bunker. Find a real place. And retire. Like.” He sighed. Paused a lot. Fought to make sounds come out of his mouth in the form of understandable words. “Like Bobby. He just lived on his own and helped when he could. I’m getting too old for this. Sam’s getting too old for this. I want to settle down.”
Cas nodded, and he understood, just a little, where the eldest Winchester was coming from. Dean’s whole life had consisted of hunting, of searching for the monsters in the dark. The monsters under the bed. The monsters hiding in plain sight.
He extinguished the flames on the candle. “Dean, this is a bad time to discuss things like this, but I support you. You and Sam have earned a break.”
“C’mon, dude, the case is easy. Just hard to see the whole thing burn, you know?” Dean was still unsure about this. The case was too easy. His life was never this simple. Never so cut and dry and he knew that retiring would not last long.
But Cas set the house on fire.
And the two of them stepped away and watched it burn. Cas’ hand brushed against Dean’s, and Dean grabbed the hand and held it in his own.
Thank you.
The last words spoken by the mist.
The blaze was long and it eventually rained and would take care of the fire and the ashes.
The two of them stood and watched and got soaked, and they said nothing on the way back. There was nothing to say. Nothing to discuss. At least, not at that moment. In the future, maybe, when they met back up with Sam at the motel, or maybe it would never get discussed.
It would just be a confession spoken into the mist. A secret kept between two people who loved and trusted each other. Someday, maybe, Sam, Dean, and Cas would catch that break and retire.
Until then, there were people to save, things to hunt, and a family business to keep alive.
