This is Our Design

Ritardando Part 2

Still dedicated to

This is a short chapter, and I apologize very very much for not updating sooner. If you read my note, however, this would have been expected since I'm behind in updates. This leaves us with two options:

1) one last, very long chapter that will summarize this short, but will take at least until Wednesday to complete

2) short chapters posted periodically through the week, ending either on or before this Wednesday

Which would you like?

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"You've gotta be kidding me."

"Aw balls. Really?"

"This is very...awkward."

"Okay. It's, it's too early for this. I'm going home."

Two weeks earlier.

Dean and Castiel have been on the road for only a few hours, and the angel is already starting to get on Dean's fairly frazzled nerves. He remembers--not very fondly--how Sam used to be the same way; bouncing in the seats, switching the radio station every few seconds, even sticking his shaggy head out the window to let his luscious locks whip with the current. To put it bluntly: Sam is hyper. Or, used to be, seeing as Stanford has smacked some air of responsibility into him. But it never quite crossed the hunter's mind that maybe angels, although pompous, are capable of making Dean want to drive himself and the Impala off a cliff and give him the same level of irritation he made sure to keep in check, once upon a time.

His eye twitches.

"Alright already! Look, can I get some quiet time please?" Dean interrupts, before Castiel can bring up a new topic. The two are about one more hour until they hit the nearest Oklahoma city limit, but still thirty extra minutes from the actual motel.

"Of course, Dean. I...apologize." The angel twiddles his thumbs nervously. He leans back into the seat, disregards the foul stench of manure and compost as endless acres of farmland speed by. "But...."

"Ugh, Jesus Christ." Dean's groans. If he hears about the bible one more time....

"How is your head?"

"Fine."

"What time is it?"

Dean spares a glance at his watch. "Eight."

"You didn't sleep much last night."

"Mmmm."

"Do you feel okay?"

"Sure."

"Dean--" Thank God they're somewhere deserted, otherwise Dean would have put people at risk; the Impala skids to a stop, rubber screeching curses and the hood dipping dangerously low to the ground. The hunter waits until his ears stop screaming bloody murder, ignoring Castiel's concerned questions for the time. He grips his hands along the steering wheel and says, "Get out. Fly, walk, run--I don't care. Get out Cas."

"I don't know where to go--"

"Flag my car then! Just get out!" The hunter has no idea where the sudden aggressiveness has come from, but Castiel's constant nagging and poking and prodding...it's--it's--annoying. Very. Annoying.

Castiel sounds off with a flap of wings; Dean rides on.

"So you're saying that there's something here attracting all the monsters?"

"There must be. I mean, just look at the cases. Cows dropping dead, wolf attacks, people being in two places at once. This place is like a frickin' X Files hotspot." Dean holds up three fingers, highlighting the few examples.

"So what could it be?" Sam tips back his beer. "Do you think there's some sort of gate in the city? Because so far, it looks like these monsters are popping up out of nowhere. I mean, look at the map. Kayla Jane: drained of blood in her home, two fang marks penetrating her jugular. Morice Rit: savagely torn apart out in the woods, his best friend with a chunk of flesh missing from his calf. He said he heard howling around midnight and the next thing he knew, he was crawling back to their trailer with no sign of Morice catching up. And--Dude, you listening?"

"Huh?"

"You just spaced out on me." Sam peers cautiously at his older brother, who is currently staring at the map splayed before them, decorated in red flags and sticky notes, like he has no idea what the guide means. Like it's something he's never seen before. "Do you see something?" he asks anyway.

"Uh..." Black dots spreckle like ants invading pizza (mmm, pizza) and Dean is partially disoriented all of a sudden. He blinks his forest green eyes quickly at hope of batting them away, but they just spread instead. "No, I got... I got nothin'." Blue and red and yellow flash like strobe lights. Dean's heart grows a little colder, beats a smidge quicker.

He looks up, and Alistair replaces Sam's face.

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Hm, I wonder what all of these symptoms are leading up to. Nightmares, intense headaches, insomnia, hallucinations, loss of appetite....What did you get yourself into this time, Dean?

Let me know what you're thinking of in the comments!