A Mess It Grows ~ Supernatural Fanfiction

Dean Winchester vs The End

He'd been driving all day. He pulled into the curb at the motel, and sighed, looking up at the flickering lights and then at his phone. He had several missed calls from the girls after he'd ditched them back in Maine. At first he felt bad but he knew it was for the best. The four of them together were weaker, not stronger.

As he grabbed his bags, he turned his attention to a man standing nearby handing out pamphlets. The majority of people were ignoring him, but he insistently went about his work just the same.

"Hi. Good evening, brother. Is your soul rapture-ready?" He asked a man walking past, receiving not so much as a glance from the stranger. Dean realized he was preaching. "Thank you, sir," said the man, "God bless."

"Good evening, folks," he asked a couple approaching. "Is your soul rapture-ready? Because what I'd like to do is just show you exactly what God's love is for you." They ignored him. The man seemed a little let down, but nodded. "Okay, God bless."

Dean closed the trunk and hoisted his duffel over his shoulder and then locked up the car. "Excuse me, sir, but have you taken time out to think about God's plan for you?" The religious man asked him as he reached the motel.

Dean stopped to look at him, "Too friggin' much, pal," Dean replied, shaking his head, and then left to his room.

As soon as he'd checked in to his room his phone had started ringing. Cas. All the way up the elevator to his room, Cas talked about finding the latest thing he thought would help Dean win this war. But, Dean was tired, and frankly not in the mood for any more goose chases.

"We're talking about the Colt, right? I mean, as in the Colt?" Dean asked skeptically, he couldn't remember the last time he saw that thing.

"We are," Cas replied.

"Well, that doesn't make any sense. I mean, why would the demons keep a gun around that, uh, kills demons?" Dean asked.

"What? What? Did—I didn't—I didn't get that."

Dean let out a soft sigh that morphed into a small chuckle at the irony of all of this, "You know, it's kind of funny. Talking to a messenger of God on a cellphone. It's, you know, like watching a Hell's Angel ride a moped."

"This isn't funny, Dean. The voice says I'm almost out of minutes."

"I'm telling you, Cas, the mooks have melted down the gun by now." Dean shrugged as he began to get the bed ready, all he wanted to do was drop and sleep for a couple hours.

"Well, I hear differently. And if it's true and if you are still set on the insane task of killing the devil, this is how we do it."

Dean sighed, he was determined, he had to give him that. "Okay. Where do we start?" Dean relented.

"Where are you now?"

"Kansas City," Dean said, crawling back on the bed far enough to grab the room key where he had dropped it. He looked at the tag, putting the phone to his ear again. "Century Motel, Room 113."

"I'll be there immediately." Cas replied.

"No, no, come on, man," Dean said to Cas. "I just drove like sixteen hours straight, okay? I'm human. And there's stuff I got to do."

"What stuff?"

"Eat," He said into the phone. "For example. Then, sleep. I just need like four hours once in a while, okay?" Dean said, already half asleep, laying down on the single bed. He almost didn't want Cas to hang up, he was suddenly aware of how lonely and quiet it was without Sam or the girls with him.