Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ Til' Death Do Us Part ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. You guys are awesome!! Special thanks to Starliteyes for taking the time to beta for me. One more chapter after this. Let's see if I can keep these guys alive!

 

Til' Death Do Us Part

Chapter Three

Stupid, stupid, stupid. The whole freakin' plan was stupid. First of all it hinged on the crossroads bitch being gun-hoe on collecting his soul herself instead of sending her pet Chihuahuas with shark teeth after him. Yah, `cause she seemed like the kind of girl who believed in an honest day's work and would never send someone or something else to do her dirty work for her. Secondly, they had to cross their fingers and toes that she didn't figure out that it was all just a big freakin' trap. `Cause really, she was just a natural blonde beneath all that dark hair that she usually sported. Dumb as a box of rocks, right? Right?

Oh and let's not forget the real reason that this whole butt-fuck plan was winning the Academy Award for stupid. Umm, let him think. Oh, yeah. Sam had to die! Stupid, stupid, stupid. What the hell was he thinking when he agreed to this shit?

Oh, yeah, now it was coming back to him. Sam pressing a gun to his head, sobbing like a freakin' girl, and swearing up and down that he was just going to kill himself anyways if Dean didn't do what he wanted him to do. Freakin' spoiled little brothers and their guns! Dean knew when Dad handed Sam that .45 all those years ago that he would regret it someday. Dean just always thought that Sam would threaten to shoot him while in some girlie PMS snit, not the other way around.

If they lived through this, Dean was taking away all of Sam's weapons and locking them in the trunk. He wouldn't be allowed to look at them, much less touch them. If they needed to kill something then Sam could just glare at it with his bitch-face petulance and the thing would likely break down and sob right there on the spot.

If Dean had looks that could kill, then Sam had looks that could traumatize for life. Dean was feeling a little bit traumatized himself after dealing with his brother's emotional blackmail. Maybe if they lived through this he should think about getting some therapy. God knew he could use some. Maybe there was someone Hunters used that wouldn't freak out at the mention of demons. Dean thought about it for a good three seconds before he rolled his eyes. The only therapy he needed was a bottle of Jack, a willing woman and the knowledge that his little brother was alive and happy.

Yah, that so wasn't going to happen anytime soon. He was miles from a bar, his brother was in another state probably half-way to dead and the only willing woman that would be strolling by anytime soon was going to have sulfur breath. So, yeah. His night was sucking hardcore.

“Dean, Dean, Dean.”

He hunched his shoulders at the sound of his name being breathed out like he was chocolate bar being waved under a three-hundred pound woman's nose. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, wrapping his fingers around his cell phone. His thumb was already sending out a one word text to Sam and Bobby as he turned to face the bitch that had been kicking him around like a freakin' wounded puppy for the last year and half, since he first summoned her to save Evan Hudson from his ill-fated deal to heal his ailing wife.

Ironic