Destiny ~ Dean Winchester (love story), part two

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xAngie POVx

If someone would've told my 16-year old self that I'd be getting drunk with a group of hunters and an actual angel I would've thought I'd been poisoned or enchanted. The angels have hunted me my whole life and here I was drinking with Castiel as if it had never been any other way. Even Bobby had warmed up to me. The Wodka was still burning in my throat but despite the battle with the angel I wasn't as drunk as the others: Just another nephilim thing. I'd have to try a lot harder because this amount of alcohol wasn't yet sufficient to build up my courage to talk to Dean. To demand the truth.

I wished the other me had just explained to me, or even that Justin would've just told me what he knew because he did hide something and was too responsible to spill someone else's secrets. I shouldn't take it personal, I knew that this was just part of how he was, how he'd always have been. I couldn't be mad at him.

My eyes automatically searched for Dean again. When I glanced back at the sofa, Dean's eyes were on Jo, a softness there that made my heart clench.

At first, I didn't understand where this rage was coming from. It gnawed at me, twisted inside me like a knife. I should be happy for them, for Dean finding someone who could make him laugh like that, but instead, I felt hollow. Like a part of me was being slowly ripped away, replaced with something dark and consuming. Maybe "where the rage was coming from" was the wrong question; maybe it was "who" it was coming from: the version of myself trapped in that desert was jealous. I could feel it clearly when I concentrated enough, could recognize her and her feelings as myself and not myself at the same time. I needed a distraction, something to pull me out of this spiral but my mind was blank.

How many times has she been the source, the reason for my emotions, and I haven't noticed, hadn't known how to place it?

Great, now he was laughing, his hand on her shoulder. Dean tipped his head back, a deep, vibrating laugh I could hear over the loud music, and I knew then what the other me had known for a while: that I was ruined for anyone else. I looked away, unable to bear the sight any longer.

"You guys, can someone get my wallet?" Sam yelled, and I saw my chance, quickly used my telekinesis to grab it and pay the pizza man, avoiding staring at Dean and Jo any longer.

I tipped the guy, then put the change back in. It was so obvious that this was Sam's wallet: It was old, but one could clearly see how mindful he had been in treating it, how much effort he had put into keeping it organized. Ha, how cute—there were even pictures in here.

Not really thinking about it but rather acting out of curiosity, I put the pictures in the back pocket of my jeans, then went back inside to put down the pizzas. I wasn't sure who did the math here, but we had seven huge boxes—this much might last us a week.

Now that I had been outside for a few minutes, I freshly took in the atmosphere again: The room buzzed with warmth and noise—Sam's hearty laugh mixed with the clink of glasses, and the faint scent of alcohol clung to the air. I took another swig of the cheap Wodka. My hand gripped the bottle tighter as I watched Dean and Jo, their heads close together, laughter still bubbling between them. The room felt stifling, the loud chatting of the group only heightening the ache in my chest.

Everyone seemed to be in their own world. Ellen and Bobby were sharing old hunting anecdotes, Sam and Keza were vividly trying to explain something to Castiel. I called everyone to come and eat before the pizzas got cold, so Sam and Keza both rushed straight to get the first slice of pizza. It was weird that Dean didn't bother to get up too, it was like the brothers had switched their roles for a few minutes but maybe this was just how Sam was in his drunken state of mind and Dean in his- well, it was his flirt mode. And I certainly didn't want to stick around any longer to see if he got lucky today or not.