( cas. cas. stop it. heart pounding, lungs on fire, one last desperate pleading look for cas to listen to him, the fight being assuredly squeezed from him; one last glance at sam, because if this is how he goes (he always thought it'd be in a blaze of glory), at least sam's still alive. they've been down this road before. maybe this time dean's reached a dead end.

and then he startles awake, gasping raggedly for breath.

alright, maybe not a dead end. he wonders briefly who brought him back this time, until he scans the dimly lit room, eyes wild for any sign of sam or psycho cas. all he finds instead is a small window and the sensation of being on a boat. which is strange, considering last he checked kansas didn't have any large bodies of water.

he tries to call for sam, only to find his throat is hoarse, his voice nearly gone. well, that's just great. he pats himself down before he heads toward the window: everything seems to be there that he had in lebanon; no angel blade, but at least he still has his switchblade. he doesn't trust unfamiliar spaces, especially when he's been separated from his brother and finds himself in an empty room on a boat. he squints out into the darkness, barely able to make out the shape of a lighthouse in the distance, then decides it's time to get the fuck out of here. conveniently, there's a lantern next to the bed, and some sort of tablet device which he tucks into his jacket pocket.

on his way toward the main deck, he calls for sam again and again, finding his voice a little better each time, though he still sounds like he's just come from a four hour rock concert and screamed his voice raw. only the song blasting from the speakers manages to distract him from searching for sam, because dean doesn't fuck with what he considers bad taste. )

Oh, come on. Who picks the music around here? ( yeah, beacon, he thinks your music sucks! give him time, he'll have everyone listening to classic rock. gotta get some led zeppelin up in here, or at least some kansas. foreigner. creedence clearwater revival. anything would be better than whatever's coming out of the speakers now.

that's really the least of his worries, though, considering he still has no idea where the hell he is or where his brother is, and neither of those things makes him a very pleasant person to be around. not to mention he's got an archangel literally knocking around inside his skull, which makes it hard to concentrate. his only source of relief (and, yet, at the same time, the source of his constant suffering) is the fact that michael hasn't escaped, even after dean being knocked out for who knows how long. sure, there are plenty of people who want him dead (and plenty who could succeed), but then what's with the ferry? the lantern? none of it makes any sense.

so once they've docked, he'll ask anyone who looks less confused than he is: )

If I'm really dead, which, honestly, not my first rodeo, then where the hell is Death? ( not to brag, but he kind of knows her personally, so like. what gives. billie's usually the first one knocking at his door. ) I'd even be satisfied with a Reaper. Any of that ring any bells?

( he really only shows up to the meeting because sam convinced him they should go, for answers if nothing else. dean isn't so sure they're actually going to get answers, but he supposes it can't hurt to mill around with people who have been here longer than they have and try to suss out who the locals are and what they're up to (even though he'd really prefer to start walking in the other direction and not look back, because surely there are better answers out there than here where they're stuck playing house. dean only believes in teamwork when it involves his family; strangers might be useful for information, but he's more convinced he and sam are gonna find a way out of this on their own because they always have.

before rastus appears, check him picking at the acorns, lamenting over the fact that they are not, in fact, pie. hell, he'd settle for bacon bits. anything but this. ) Really? Would it kill someone to bring h'or d'oeuvres next time? ( he says, assuming this is a regular occurrence, considering there have been people trapped here since before he arrived. and at this point he's really not picky. a tiny sandwich would be a godsend, even if all he really wants right now is a goddamned cheeseburger with extra bacon and a beer (or five). he'll have to settle for a cider instead and try not to complain about the lack of alcoholic content.

and then there's rastus, who puts dean on edge, has him reaching for his switchblade but not actually pulling it out. what the hell is this guy? he wonders if everyone else is seeing what he's seeing and why everyone seems perfectly okay with freaky big bird here. then rastus shuffles back toward the bonfire, telling them to talk to each other. well, that's real fucking helpful. maybe sam will have better luck talking to people; dean's not exactly in the mood, even if this does feel an awful lot like a real case. it doesn't exactly work the same when you're not impersonating law enforcement. all he has at the moment is snark, which he'll direct at whoever's nearby. )

Alright, so we're doing this Kumbaya style, then. Who wants to share first? Don't be shy. We're all dead here, right?

( he grins at his own stupid joke; he thinks he's hilarious. and even if he doesn't believe half of what he's heard about this place, he's willing to play along for now. )

where can a guy get a decent cheeseburger around here

( yeah, that's it. that's the post. )

( feel free to hit me up with anything that fits between the first and the third as well! if you'd like to plot anything specific with ole deano, you can reach me on plurk ( poohsticks ) or on discord ( miyou#1092 ). )