Control - Dean Winchester [1]

12 ; Human Sacrifices & Pagan Gods

           "He's so selfish," Dean sneered, his knuckles gradually converting from his golden pigmentation to an unaccustomed pale variation as his grasp on the wheel tightened. "Always thinking about himself, doing what he wants to do." The intensity of his choleric expression has Odessa concerned for his emotional stability. Sam's absence had altered Dean's behavior immensely, and perhaps the exchanged choice of words had alienated him, and though his raucous shouting was daunting, Odessa didn't have any intention of cowering away. She pressed her lips together, leaning backwards and reclined her back against the leather interior. She understood where his hostility was deriving from, and she abstained the urge to curse and scream her grievance, but internally she knew nothing would change Sam's mind.  

            Odessa sighed softly, glancing at his clenched jaw. "Dean," She uttered, a tentative grin forming. He didn't respond, merely grunted as he continued glaring harshly at the passing trees and ominous bank of clouds.  "Dean Winchester, I am speaking to you."  She said sternly. His attention averted and he swiftly glimpsed at her with a stunned expression. Perseverance is plastered on her facial appearance and he returned his gaze on the road. She continued speaking, knowing she's gathered his attention. 

            "Look, I know Sam hurt you," She said, fiddling with the golden serpent enveloping her forearm. Dean's jaw clenched once more, his eyes blinking repeatedly as he attempted to conceal his frustration from revealing. "What he did, total dick move, but traveling to Indiana is what we need to focus on." His firm grasp on the steering wheel loosened and he apprehensively nodded, ultimately agreeing with her. She smiled pretentiously as her demeanor modified from a tense and cautious posture to an eased and softened stance. There was an outlandish sensation roaming in the atmosphere, primarily evolving from Odessa as she eagerly shuffled through Dean's mass collection of cassettes. Each is laminated with a sheer layer of dust and smudges of fingerprints. She examined one in particular, eyebrows furrowing as she mumbled the name printed. 

            Odessa faced Dean with a befuddled expression, displaying the chalky cassette. "Who's Led Zeppelin," She questioned naively, eyes glistening with curiosity. "Kind of sounds like a nightclub I've been to." She'd never seen Dean's attention been piqued and swivel his head so quickly before, she was certain he'd given himself whiplash. He snatched the cassette from her fingers and flaunted the item as if it were celestial. Dean began explaining his favoritism for the beloved rock band. He informed Odessa his favorite songs; Ramble On and Traveling Riverside Blues. Odessa observes the evident elation forming on Dean's face as he launched a conversation explaining why he favored Led Zeppelin more than the other unusual bands. 

            In merely hours, which consisted of conversation varying from pondering questions of each other's favorite movies, genre of music, foods, and other subjects Odessa couldn't name, they entered the town. She glimpsed outside the window, which was coated with droplets of fallen rain. The size of the town was remarkably minuscule, as were the buildings, and Odessa admired the crowds, or lack thereof, with unfamiliarity. Beeping damaged the tranquil ambiance, and she watched as Dean repeatedly pressed the button on his phone. He intently gazed at the screen, and Odessa assumed he was contemplating whether or not to dial Sam's number. Reluctantly, Dean closed his phone and exited the Impala without another word.