"Aren't we all Damaged?"
Being a Hybrid has its perks, but it also has its disadvantages. Abigael had been on both ends of those sticks, she's been on them for a while. But there was a fraction in the Demon world that would want her dead and another...
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The door to the building was pushed open, Dean and Sam exited the building, as they had finished talking with Mister Garland. I didn't even know if I was out here for an hour or five minutes, I was in my own little world right now.
"Now we know what these are -- road rash," Dean exclaims, as both came down the steps, Sam began to loosen his tie from his neck. "And I'm guessing Luther swallowed some wood chips when he was being dragged down that road," Dean figured out why these types of things were happening to him.
"Makes sense," Sam replies, as both make their way to their representable doors. "You're experiencing his death in slow motion,'' Sam leans on the car roof, his eyes on Dean, who was looking kind of sick. His eyes were sunk, and bags were clearly under them.
"Yeah, well, not slow enough, huh? Say we burn some bones and get me healthy," Dean was eager to get healthy again, but it wasn't that simple.
"Dean, it won't be that easy,"
"No, no. It'll be that easy," Dean carried on to the back end of Sam's comment. "Why wouldn't it be that easy?" He questions, making me give him a 'really' look, was he dumb or just dumb?
"Luther was road-hauled. His body was ripped to pieces. He was probably scattered all over that road," Sam gave Dean a look, he knew that it was true and that it was impossible to find all of his bones. "There's no way we're gonna find all the remains," Sam emitted the sad truth.
"You're kidding me," he states, finding this impossible, and there was no hope for him.
"Look, we'll just have to figure something else out," Sam was optimistic, he wanted to save his brother from this illness.
"You know what? Screw this," Dean raised his voice, storming a bit in towards the hood of the car.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dean,"
"Come on. No I mean, come on, Sam," Dean extended his arms briefly. "What are we doing?!"
"Hunting a ghost, duh," I replied, but he wasn't impressed with my remark.
"A Ghost - exactly. Who does that?!" He dismissed my comment, as he was too wired up to think straight.
"Us," Sam defended, knowing that this is what they do, and I've done it for a while.
"Us? Right... And that, Sam -- that is exactly why our lives suck. I mean, come on. We hunt monsters. What the hell?! I mean, normal people, they see a monster and they run. but not us - no, no, no. We - we search out things that want to kill us. Yeah? huh? Or eat us!" Dean was hypersterical right now, and it was kind of fun to see. His downfall gave me pleasure in many, many ways. "You know who does that? Crazy people! We are insane!" He yells at his brother, pointing his index finger between Sam and himself.
"You're sounding like one," I shot back at him, hoping he would see reason in his madness.
"You know, and then there's the bad diner food, and-and then the skeevy motel rooms, and then the truck stop waitress with the bizarre rash," dean peaced beside the Impala, throwing his hands around as he was going off on one again - but I don't think it stopped. "I mean, who wants this life, Sam? Huh? Seriously? Do you actually like being stuck in a car with me, eight hours a day every single day? I don't think so! I mean, I drive too fast, and I listen to the same five albums over and over, and over again, and I sing along. I'm annoying, I know that. And you!" His eyes shot up to meet Sam. "You're gassy! You eat half a burrito and you get toxic!" he below his hands outwards, gesturing to a bomb going off. "I mean, you know what?" He throws the car keys into the air, and Sam catches them easily, but his eyes never leave Dean. "You can forget it," he began to walk past his driver side door, and away.
