One Poppy For My Witch

Prologue.

Dean Winchester was a really, really good looking lad. Sharp jawline, green eyes, freckles, dirty blonde hair...he made all the straight girls and gay blokes faint. And he was used to it. And enjoyed it. There hasn't been one time that he didn't exited from a bar or pub or whatever wihtout a woman gripped to his lips. Or a man, even if it happened less likely than you think: he didn't grow up in a very supportive area, let's say, since his father, John, was probably "the biggest-ass-dick-homophobe of the world", and ultra Catholic. Indeed, Sammy wasn't really a supporter as well, but he could tolerate this. For Dean, this was a relief. At least he got his brother by his side. Maybe. But anyways, once, something extraordinary happened.

That day, well, let's say night, that night Dean winchester was sitting by the most beautifl beach he had ever been in, sun-bathing and admiring the sea, oh, that sea, of a deep blue, the deepest blue, the warmer blue ever. Sometimes it turned turquoise. But the problem is one, my friend. You see, winter had just kicked in that days, and snow was covering all cars and all streets, and kids were playing, with nice and protective coats, and snowmans. He was sitting in a pub, suddently enchanted by the meeting of his 'till that day poor sight with two stunning blue orbs, so soft yet so full of color, which made him dream of the most realistic dream he ever even thought about. What was that? Why was that?

Dean froze. He couldn't even think, because so many thoughts were eating his brain cells alive, scratching his back skin, pulling it away, leaving the live, bright, red flash pulsing and exposed. He was going mad, because of that little tilt Morpheus' head, the god of dreams, had, while his blue irises were staring back at him in confusion, and it almost looked like a big  "?" sign was lifting upon his head.

Dean decided to pay and go. To go and leave. Leave, escape, leave all behind nothing left nothing stares I meant STAIRS Dean almost flipped of that one stair, he managed to reach his Impala and drive back at home. Who was that man? What was that magnetic feelings that made his heart storm out his chest, breaking all the ribs and all the walls that he created in order to protect himself?

Dean stopped for a moment, his mind went numb, he needed to breathe. But in that exact moment, the stairs which connected him with his appartment,  felt thinner, and the walls wider, and everything darker. He reached the door handle and opened it, almost falling to the ground. Then, he took a sip of his damn whiskey, and stormed into the bedroom. He wanted to sleep over it, but with the thought of that sunny, blue day at the beach, he couldn't, he really couldn't. It was too hard. Lots of questions and confusion were scratching his whole body while he tourtured himself, turning left, turning right, stomach on the bed, eyes wide open. Questions, questions, why was this happening? How did it happen? He had no idea of who the hell that man was, and he didn't want to see him ever again. Did he really, tho? I don't understand. You don't as well, right, Dean? You better stop think about it.

Well, it was hard to fall asleep after that panick attack. Was it even a panick attack? He didn't know. He saw Sammy having some of those, mostly because of school and exams. Why didn't he go to college like his brother? I guess it wasn't the right time to think about it, but intrusive thought kept him far away from resting his body and soul.

But finally, first light, a really strong, white light.

Black.

Goodnight, Dean.

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THE IMAGE IS PROVISORY IM SORRY

HELLOY'ALL THIS IS LIKE MY FIRST FANFICTION EVER SHGFIHEBF DO U LIKE IT?? IF YOU DONT DONT WORRY YOU CAN TELL ME I JUST BRUSTED INTO TEARS AFTER I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE OLD ONE WHO WAS FAR BETTER THAN THIS ONE AND HEY LOOK IM CRYING AGAIN I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK MAX KYS.

Do you like my writing style? Its kind of hard to use it in english, since I usually write for myself in my native language and ksefnj it's all.. more poetic.. I guess uh whatever. I feel like in english it's just confusional.

I'm sorry for thatt gore-y part, but I like to let the feelings show by things, not words. I mean it will happen. It was actually a bit of a vent.

Shall I continue it? I'll update as soon as i can :)