Without A Trace >> Dean Winchester

30 | Goodbye Stranger [ As It Always Has ]

30 | Goodbye Stranger [ As It Always Has ]

THE MEN OF LETTERS sure kept a lot of junk in boxes. They were all stacked up in the room just outside the dungeon. Clarissa was sure as hell that she ain't gonna touch those—they were practically collecting dusk by day. But Dean clung unto his manly pride and volunteered to sort them out.

That is why, there he was, rummaging through them. He'd been making unnecessary comments while he was at it— muttering about how he'd want to find a copy of 'BAB'.

" 'Spear of Destiny'. What's this—God's toothpick?" He picks up a knife in a case, as his retort snaps Clarissa out of her slumber. Last night's events replayed in her mind. After hearing Dean's prayer, he brought her to a sad mood. Corny, right? He was the one who's down, yet his mood dragged her along. Who knew Joker Dean was pretty fucked up in the inside?

Well she lacked in the dealing-with-emotions department, so she drank herself to sleep.

When Sam finally tore his eyes away from the laptop, he wheezed heavily, then coughed, quickly covering his mouth with a tissue.

"Doc Colony, you all right over there?"

Sam glanced at the bloodied tissues in his hands before hastily tossing them to the nearby trash bin. "Uh, Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just wrong pipe."

Sam took another gulp of water when he met Clarissa's stare.

"What?" He asked nonchalantly.

She muttered a 'nothing' and heard Dean rummaging through the pile of dusty junks once more.

"Seems like the Men of Letters weren't so bad after all," Dean approached the two with a magazine in his hands, a cheeky smile on his face. "Check this out."

Approaching the two, his lips tugged up to a smirk when he saw Clarissa rub the sleep away from her eyes. Although her chances of having hangovers were thin, she felt groggy. She shots him a glare, as if to ask 'what's so funny?'

He took a good look at her current state. Lips pale, heavy eyelids, her system pleaded for more sleep. Sleep is all what seemed to be on her mind lately; fatigue was getting to her. She didn't know why—it just happened. Her hair was tangled together, and eye bags were under her eyes.

"Hello, Peanut." He slurs with a smirk, "Bored? Suicidal? Both?"

( Author's Note : although it's Crowley's line, I thought if slip it in here :3 )

She didn't respond, instead her eyes travel down to the magazine he was holding.

"Dude, what's wrong with you?" Sam looked at him seriously but Clarissa could see the corners of Sam's mouth twitch. " 'Asian Lovelies'? Are you kidding me?"

"This a first edition, guys. Don't you know how much this will go on e-bay?"

"Nope," Sam popped the 'p', "why, do you?"

"No...? Maybe." He smiled sheepishly, "shut up."

Dean takes a seat across Clarissa, and Sam is seated on the edge of the table, "got anything?"