Writing's on the Wall Destiel

Chapter 24

A few weeks later

"You can't escape it, Dean! You're gonna die! You're gonna lose this war! And this! This is what you'll become!"

Dean felt his throat close up as he stared into the black eyes of his demon counterpart, lightning flashing, thunder rolling-

Dean's eyes popped open and he sat up in bed, reliving the dream for the tenth time in weeks. He felt his forehead and pulled his hand away, which came wet with sweat. Dean flipped on the light and reached on his bedside table for his glass of water, gulping it down.

As he carefully placed the glass back onto the table, he turned off of the light and snuggled back into the fresh, cold part of the covers, trying to get back to sleep. He was unsuccessful. For two hours he tossed and turned, unable to get his eyelids to close for more than a couple seconds.

He finally decided that he wasn't going back to sleep- at least, not this night. He got up and silently moved around the room, tucking the demon knife into his belt and hiding his ivory handled gun in his belt as well. He scooped his keys off of the table and, after taking a look around, closed the door gently.

Walking outside, he stopped and took a deep breath, looking at the stars. There was so many of them, bright and dim, big and small, dotting the sky. The dark blue of the night sky reminded him of a certain angel's eyes, and that was partly why he looked at the stars.

After five minutes of standing in the fresh night air, he walked over to the Impala, sliding his hand along the hood. "Oh, Baby, it's been a long night."

He hopped in and shut the door, sticking his keys in. "Let's go for a drive."

He turned the radio on, playing Smoke on the Water. He smiled and pressed his foot on the gas pedal, sending the car into reverse and pulling out from Bobby's yard.

He drove until he stopped by a Gas-N-Sip. Getting out, he slammed the car door shut and pocketed his keys, ready to buy some pie.

Suddenly he heard someone, probably a female, screaming and by instinct he ducked down behind a bush. He squinted through the leaves. Who could be making that noise?

The answer was revealed in a conversation. "Dammit, Ed, don't scare me like that!"

"Aw, come on, Harry!" So it had been a high pitched male. "It was fun!"

"I hate you!"

"No, you really don't. Come here."

"Ew, no! Maggie's recording! Come on, Ed, stop hugging me!"

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes. Of course it would be. Harry and Ed. The so-called professional ghost hunters otherwise known as the Ghostfacers. He stepped out of the bush and began walking towards them. "Seriously?"

Harry looked at him and his eyes widened in recognition. "Hey, aren't you one of the assholes from Texas?"

"Yes," Ed answered cheekily.

"Where's your partner?"

"Okay, can we have this reunion somewhere else? What the hell you doing here?"

"What, are we not allowed to have breaks every once in a while?"

"No, because with what you idiots do, there is no such thing as break! You're not even real ghost hunters, for God's sake!"

"Yes we are," defended Harry. "We're the Ghostfacers!"

Almost immediately, the trio broke into song. "We're the Ghost! Ghostfacers! We face the ghosts when others will not! We're Ghost! Ghostfacers! Stay in the kitchen when the kitchen gets hot! Ghost! Ghostfacers!"