Breaking Angels: A Supernatural Fan Fiction

Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Dean won’t talk to me.

I keep pretending like I don’t care, like it doesn’t get on my nerves; but it does. We both know it, and I can tell he is reveling in my discomfort. All morning it’s been the same thing. I ask a question and he blatantly ignores me. Even when it’s something important, something that could help us with the demon problem.

                “Have you talked to Bobby today?” I ask him bluntly. I’m stuck on my research and I need a fresh pair of eyes to look at it, I know Dean won’t do it and Sam is at the store; avoiding the two of us like the plague. The minute he realized just how bad the storm brewing between us was, he made himself scarce. Coward.

Dean looks at me for the first time in almost two hours, but I almost wish he hadn’t. His eyes are full of anger and if looks could kill, I’m pretty sure I’d be getting a hunter’s funeral right about now.

I roll my eyes at him, “Will you put away your attitude for one second so we can at least try and get something done.”

Apparently that’s a request he can’t oblige. Without a word, he shrugs on his jacket, grabs his wallet off the table and heads for the door.

                “Dean?” I call after him, “Where the hell are you going?”

                “Out.” His first word in hours, and that’s what he chooses? For god’s sakes. My irritation gets the better of me and I chase him out into the parking lot.

I catch him by the shoulder and spin him around, “We need to do research!” I snap angrily.

He shakes off my hand and heads for the Impala, “Screw off Poppy, I’m just going to pick up beer.”

I stand in the dust and watch him start the car, my arms crossed menacingly over my chest. I’m one hundred percent done, and at this point I don’t care if he leaves, research be damned. Still, I want him to suffer just as much as I am; he doesn’t get to be off the hook just because he’s the one with means of transportation. I curse Sam for taking my Camaro to the store, at the time it seemed like the nice thing to do; but now I just want to take the offer back. I need my car, if only to run Dean over.

                “I hope your engine quits!” I shout after him as he pulls away.

He skids out of the parking lot and the tires kick up a cloud of dust that blankets me in a thick dirty fog. I choke and spit as dirt and sand settles on my clothes and in my hair. I can’t contain the curses that flow out of my mouth as I brush off the grime that is turning my pale skin a hideous shade of grey.

                “God Damn it, Dean Winchester!” I hiss as I stomp back into the motel room. I just want to scream, or kill something; either would be satisfactory.

I don’t get why he’s so pissed off anyways. I’m the one who should be mad; he’s treating me like crap because I saved us both a lot of heartache. You’re welcome, asshole. I think angrily as I pour myself a drink.

A knock on the door startles me and I slosh whiskey over the side of the cup splattering it over my jeans. I slam the glass down and quickly grab a towel from the bathroom, soaking up the liquid as I make for the door. I assume its Dean; he probably forgot his key or something.

                You should be glad I’m even letting you in!” I spit as I pull open the door, but my face falls when I realize who it is that I’m talking to. “Oh my god, Bobby?”

He raises a bushy eyebrow at me and frowns, looking over my shoulder at the whisky on the table. “Its noon Poppy, don’t tell me Dean is rubbing off on you.”