Light it up.

indie Dean Winchester rp blog Read the rules and about please. Writen by Rayne. 28. They/them. Not (yet) caught up on SPN. Current Episode: SPN 11.01 Highly Selective.

[damnatiinfinem]

thekingsparty‌:

“you’ve heard of me then, i suppose.” or maybe those dean had saved babbled about their leader when bringing dean here. visitors weren’t uncommon these days, but rarely did crowley have a reason to let them stay. he knew drifters didn’t stay, not like crowley and his minions did, but having one on his side would be an advantage. they did the jobs nobody else did, the dirty work most people were too weak for. dean knew how to survive - that much he could say & right now, that was all that mattered. 

shaking the extended hand all too eagerly, crowley couldn’t claim he wasn’t surprised to find the other was rather handsome. a pretty one. those were always dangerous. this life left marks on everybody, but no dirt could mess up the face he found himself in front of. “your help is greatly appreciated. it seems my men got lost - again. you look like you need a bed, a roof over your head - if only for the night & hopefully dinner. you’re welcome to stay. between you & me, jim makes the best venison burgers in the state.”  food, shelter - those were the things men died for these days & crowley had both to offer & more. 

“you can stock up on ammo as well, obviously.” humans were worth more than anything these days. there were only so many left alive. 

“Your men were talking you up on the way over here.” Dean explained, shrugging. He’d never quite been one to settle in one place. Too long and he just felt an itch to move, starting in the center of his back and spreading. “I’m on my way through, but I won’t say no to a dry bed and a hot meal.” 

He knew how this worked. Drifters were an important part of camp survival, even if no one liked to admit it. Drifters ran jobs, transport, cleared out nests, and provided intel that couldn’t be gotten by staying safe. No matter what, the people that were willing to risk their lives were the ones that kept society running. He learned that fighting in the war. Nothing ever changed, not really. 

“Now we’re talking.” Dean grinned at the thought of being able to stock up his supplies. Just a good garage where he could work on his bike...now that sounded like heaven on earth. 

[rp-memes-atyourservice]

Manhandling symbol starters

Send one for your muse to…

★ - drag my muse by the arm ⁂ - grab my muse by the front of their shirt, possibly shoving them back ✱ - take my muse by the hips to carefully move them out of their way ➜ - smack my muse upside the head ⌧ - grip my muse by the back of the neck © - put a hand on my muse’s back to steer them somewhere ✂ - point sternly at a chair and tell my muse to sit down ✉ - push my muse back down when they try to get out of bed (perhaps involving illness, injury, or sleep deprivation) ☛ - press a finger to my muse’s lips to shut them up ♚ - put a hand on my muse’s knee while sitting next to them, to discourage them from standing up ♧ - slap my muse’s hand away from something they shouldn’t touch ♦ - grab my muse’s hair and yank ♤ - slam a door shut before my muse can leave the room ♞ - physically pick my muse up and carry them ♭ - grip my muse’s jaw to make them look yours in the eye ♨ - rub my muse down with a sponge/wet cloth  ☀ - pin my muse with their arms behind their back ☠ - slam my muse into a wall ☾ - wrestle/pin my muse to the ground

Add as much or as little context as you’d like!

[thekingsparty]

@damnatiinfinem || days gone AU as plotted!

the king didn’t often stoop down to greet drifters personally, but in this case - he’d figured, he should make an exception. this very special human being had almost single-handedly saved his group of talented hunters from a horde. it had been an exceptionally small one, which was most likely the only reason every single one of his men had made it out unscathed, but hordes were a recurring problem & crowley had yet to find a way to deal with them. they didn’t stray very far from their nesting places, but crowley’s settlement was growing & they required more food, hence their hunting grounds had to be increased as well, which led him to a problem. eager beavers. hunters wandering too far, too close to infested areas & ended up drawing attention to themselves. it was a dangerous game they were playing, risking their own & other people’s lives. 

still, this guy, had apparently saved them. a drifter. he’d not been spotted in the state before - at least nowhere around his camp, so it was safe to say he was curious. drifters weren’t the helping kind unless money was involved. it wasn’t in their nature - it just wasn’t. the drifter was surrounded by people, everybody was watching him from afar - whispering about what he did & it took crowley a good half minute to remind everybody they had work to do. 

he walked up behind him at the weapons shop, “you must be dean. i’ve heard so much. welcome to camp crossroad.” 

[damnatiinfinem]

Dean had been on his own what felt like his entire life. Dad had been a drunk for the most part, though he’d given his boys his knowledge of survival, honed through years in the military. Dean had joined up after high school, but been honorably discharged after taking a bullet to the knee. Sam had gone on to medical school, despite their father being an asshole about him moving across the country. The last time Dean had seen Sam, he’d been packing up to join NERO. Now...who knows where the Hell he is, if he was even alive. All Dean had was his bike, the aluminum bat he’d wrapped with razor wire, and a sawed-off shotgun. 

There were even days he preferred this world to the old one. Life was simpler. Straight-forward. 

So when he came upon a group of scavvers trying to outrun a horde, it was simple enough to help them. Pitch a pipe bomb into the center of the beast, follow it up with a couple molotovs, and then ride like hell, gunning them down as he did. They’d brought him back to their camp, wanting to introduce him to their leader. Dean didn’t care. A dry bed and a bottle of whiskey was all the thanks he asked. 

“And you must be Crowley.” Dean stands to offer him a hand. 

[deanwinchesters]

I like it. The whole Clark Kent look.

[damnatiinfinem]

Finding Home || closed.

[codexargentum]

damnatiinfinem‌:

Dean pointed to the sleeping bag where Chris had been laying. He normally slept bundled up in the sleeping bag when it got too cold, with the blanket for really cold nights. The cold was just one more thing he had learned to deal with since running away, but he certainly wasn’t going to deny body heat.

The wolf shuffled forward and curled against Chris’ side, wrapping the blanket around them both and pulling it tight. He closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of another body and a full belly.

Chris had already thought he was occupying Dean’s bed and therefore the least he could do was share. He scooted over a little for him to sit and pulled the blanket in tight. He wasn’t sure he could sleep properly like this, but he could at least rest and give his body time to recover and recharge. He had a long way ahead of him tomorrow, and a lot planned, too. Gerard wouldn’t wait even if Chris was hurt, he’d tell him to man up, wash the dirt out of his eyes and get going. And he would. 

Kate hadn’t slept in the same bed as him in a long time, so having another body next to him was strange and yet familiar and comforting. And yet Chris was a light sleeper, taught to sleep with one eye open and used to waking early. He hardly ever slept past seven in the morning and he wouldn’t start now. 

[damnatiinfinem]

Dean never slept deeply since he’d turned, his Wolf always awake and wary. Still, he was bone tired from the ordeal, and with Chris’ warmth filling the small cave, it was all too easy to slip into unconsciousness. His head slowly slipped onto Chris’ shoulder, sound asleep.

As he slept, the years and worries seemed to slip off of him, leaving just a worn, too thin child forced to survive on his own for too long.

[hellfurred-archive-blog]

damnatiinfinem‌:

Dean leaned back against Nate, trying to stop sobbing but every time he did he could only see the flashes of light, the taste of blood and burning, Lucifer’s laughter in his ears. “He’s gone…son of a bitch, he’s gone…” 

Move. You have to get up. Lucifer is coming. Get to the safe house. Move. Plan. Gone. Gone, he’s gone.

“Nate, we have to move…” Dean gasped, though he made no effort to follow his own orders. “We have to…Oh God…”

He felt Nate’s hand on his back, but the apology shook him enough to get him onto his feet. He pushed himself up, drinking another vitality potion and offering one to Nate. “We have to go. Come on.”

nobody had expected this plan to go south this fast. they’d planned it thoroughly, had ensured safe passage to the new world & crowley had set up guards to keep the doors under constant watch. someone must’ve bribed them, someone still loyal to lucifer. he couldn’t believe it. they were so stupid, those demons - they had no idea how good it was to have crowley as their king. now they’d find out. 

he wasn’t sure if he should just carry dean should the man decide he didn’t want to move any further. if he was so broken, he wanted to die, then nathan would either have to go against his wishes or … no, he wouldn’t let him die. he couldn’t lose him, too. they were family. up on his feet, he pushed the potion back at dean. “’m fine. you need’m.” he could run for longer, dean was mostly human - with a human lung & human body. he needed the artificial help. “let’s go.” it wasn’t far to the closest bus station, they could hitch a ride out of town & make their way to one of crowley’s many safe houses by stealing a car. dean knew how to do that, nathan knew as much.  

[damnatiinfinem]

“Right,” Dean brushed himself off, scrubbing a hand over his face. The fabric was tougher than it looked, Kevlar woven into the fine clothes Crowley’d had custom made for him. He didn’t argue with Nate about the potion. It’s primary purpose was just for moments like this, when they needed to run and Dean couldn’t keep up. The plan was simple, always had been, but Crowley had always been the one planning. Now...now they were on their own.

The bus station wasn’t too far so Dean set up a brisk walk instead of running, conserving energy, and it looked less conspicuous. Maybe they could steal a car. Dressed like he was, he’d stick out on a public bus.

“Crowls had a car stashed around here somewhere.” Dean murmured, digging an enchanted compass out of his bag.

[damnatiinfinem]

hellfurred‌:

crowley had won over the hellhounds pretty early on, his affection for them had been reciprocated tenfold & nothing or nobody could change that. so when an archangel came along to kill the king they loved, of course they raged. they roared & cried. nathan didn’t think they stood much of a chance against an archangel, but at least they could keep the angels away. nathan had been raised by dean, the king’s consort - he would protect him no matter the cost.

they had a few places to hide at, crowley had several safe houses warded to the brim against angels & the like. then they had to think about what to do next, where to go, who to trust. even the hound was wheezing, his chest rising & falling fast. he dropped to his knees next to dean when he began to sob, a hand against his back & rubbing gently. Up, down, up down in a soothing manner. he wanted to say that maybe crowley had escaped, that maybe he was looking for them as they spoke, but he could still smell his blood in the air & when he closed his eyes to listen he heard the sickening squelch of when that knife pierced his skin & forced its way past his insides. 

how did lucifer find them this quick? shit. “dean..” he was his friend, his mater (if not his king), but he wasn’t sure what to say. instead he leaned against him quietly, “..sorry.” he couldn’t protect him, he couldn’t protect their king.

Dean leaned back against Nate, trying to stop sobbing but every time he did he could only see the flashes of light, the taste of blood and burning, Lucifer’s laughter in his ears. “He’s gone...son of a bitch, he’s gone...” 

Move. You have to get up. Lucifer is coming. Get to the safe house. Move. Plan. Gone. Gone, he’s gone.

“Nate, we have to move...” Dean gasped, though he made no effort to follow his own orders. “We have to...Oh God...”

He felt Nate’s hand on his back, but the apology shook him enough to get him onto his feet. He pushed himself up, drinking another vitality potion and offering one to Nate. “We have to go. Come on.”

[hellfurred-archive-blog]

@damnatiinfinem​ // plotted thing

it all happened so fast. one second they were getting ready to leave & the next there was lucifer with a death grip on his king’s tie & an angel blade buried deep in the demon’s abdomen. the sounds that carried over made his heart throb & his eyes water, but he knew there was only one thing he could do now. protect dean. he loved crowley with all his heart, but there was nothing he could do, the ritual hadn’t been completed so staying here in hell would only result in death. king down, our king is down. protect his beloved. he dragged him away, called for his siblings to help & made for the way out. with dean in tow, he ran & and ran until he thought dean might faint. 

mind racing, he knew they had to hide as soon as possible, wait for the worst to blow over. it hurt knowing hell would fall back into lucifer’s hands, but they all knew it had forever been a possibility. “dean? you hurt?” he didn’t have time to check before, he’d just reacted & didn’t really stop to talk until then.

[damnatiinfinem]

When Crowley had said it was time to run, it was time to run. He had an emergency bag packed, like he always had done, even in his hunter days. Especially in his hunter days. Now, instead of knives and guns, it was full to the brim with emergency spells and hex bags. Of course, it wasn’t short on knives and guns either. 

Crowley said he had a plan, and Crowley always had a plan, so it was easy to follow. He’d come to trust Crowley long ago, fallen head over heels sometime after. While Sam was trying to be a Man of Letters, and Cas was bemoaning the state of Heaven, Dean had found something like bliss. 

It all came crashing down in a second. Crowley had been part way through an incantation when Lucifer was suddenly there, wrapping his hand around Crowley’s tie and impaling him on an angel blade. Dean saw the flashing beneath Crowley’s skin, felt his own heart grow cold, his soul searing as Crowley’s mark inside him burned. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Someone was screaming, and he felt Nate grab his arm, dragging him away from the laughing Lucifer. 

He didn’t know how long they ran, Nate dragging him along, the ever loyal hellhounds leaving a trail of carnage in their wake. The stitch in his side became a gnawing ache, but he ran on, his mind and body numb. When they finally stopped, Dean dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. He quickly swallowed a vitality potion, feeling it restore strength to his exhausted body, and almost immediately began to sob. 

[damnatiinfinem]

heavensacrificed‌:

Gadreel had learned of the difficulty in understanding humankind sometimes and he was aware the Winchesters had known Castiel for much longer, so if it didn’t work for him, he saw how Dean thought Gadreel wouldn’t be able to follow either. “I do trust you, Dean.” And putting his trust in Dean Winchester had not been a bad thing thus far.

Even now he was learning, finding what he liked in human contact was the response he got in return. When he trailed fingers lower, he saw Dean’s eyes close and smiled a little. Dean ground his hips down and Gadreel moaned, his own hips bucking to repay the favor. “I feel aroused, Dean.”

“God, I hope so,” Dean smiled, grinding down against him again. “Else I would think I’m doing a poor job of teaching you.”

Gadreel wasn’t afraid to touch, and that was a good thing at least. Dean leaned down again, keeping his hips in a steady roll as he kissed him, cupping his jaw. 

[damnatiinfinem]

Never Go Home || closed.

[damnatiinfinem]

thekingsparty‌:

So, he’d planned it all through and ended up willingly walking into a trap. Well that sounded great, he really was just that lucky - wasn’t he? “Bad luck, then. I’ve never considered myself lucky, so that seems to carry on into other dimensions, too.” He leaned back with a soft sigh, the brushed a hand through his hair. “Was your as modern as this? Computers, cars et cetera. You’ve got hunters, demons, angels being pricks?”

"Yeah, just...bad luck." Dean murmured, twisting the ring on his finger that Crowley had given him before...all this mess. He ached for his lover back, his companion, his husband. Six years they'd been together, and he'd never in his life been happier. "Yeah, we had...all the usual things. I've been thinking, trying to figure out where this timeline and mine separated. Where the fork is."

[threedragsfromabullet-blog]

Bitter Silence // thekingsparty

[thekingsparty]

damnatiinfinem:

When Crowley spoke, Dean moved a little more insistently, stretching up so he could nuzzle against Crowley’s neck sleepily, surrounding himself in the Alpha’s scent. “Good morning, Crowley,” he murmured. 

He rubbed his eyes sleepily, not quite wanting to wake just yet, but he was already too awake to go back to sleep. Instead of trying to get up, he just rested against Crowley for the moment, his eyes still closed. 

“Take your time waking up, darling. There’s nobody rushing you today.” The nurses wouldn’t bother them for now and Crowley could just watch his almost-mate wake up slowly, colour back on his face with every breath he took and his heart beating steadily. “You can always sleep a little longer if you want, I won’t mind holding you for another hour or two.” Because holding him and knowing nobody would be able to hurt him while he watched over him was the best feeling he could think of. 

And it wasn’t like either of them had to get up just yet, Crowley didn’t have to go to work and Dean.. well, obviously Dean had no duties other than seeing his little pup later. 

[damnatiinfinem]

Dean smiled at the thought, warm and content in Crowley’s arms. He’d never thought he’d be free of that place, and now here he was, safe and free with an Alpha who’d not only promised to protect them, but signed an agreement saying no one could take them away again. He and Thomas were safe. As safe as they could be. Even if the other Alphas came for him, there was nothing they could do. They couldn’t take him away. “Thank you.” Dean said softly. “For everything.”

[damnatiinfinem]

Never Go Home || closed.

[damnatiinfinem]

thekingsparty‌:

“I’d hope not.” Of course he couldn’t know, because apparently Other!Crowley had fallen for a Winchester, which … he had imagined to be pretty much impossible. He didn’t know how it happened or why, but it had happened. 

“Well, I do know about Bartleby, I know you don’t get along with your brother and the angel.” He also knew Other!Crowley had to be a lot more talented at witchcraft than him, because he didn’t know about the spell he used to get Dean here. “Is there anything else I should know?” What about Lucifer? He’d escaped recently, how much longer did he have? Would he die, too? He was … well, he was alone in this universe, would he still die? 

“How long has Lucifer run free before he found you?” He’d like to know if tomorrow was his last day on earth, so he could run and hide under a rock for the next few centuries. 

Dean’s face fell at the mention of Lucifer and he looked down at his hands in his lap, feeling cold. If it hadn’t been for him...if Crowley hadn’t come back for him, hadn’t wasted his energy saving him.... “Six months.” He murmured, not looking up. “We were planning to go underground. Crowley said he had a safe house. I stopped at the bunker to pick up some essentials, and Lucifer’s goons grabbed me. Crowley came after me, and...you know the rest.”

[damnatiinfinem]

thekingsparty‌:

Huh. So, Castiel was dead? Was it because of the nephilim? Or Lucifer? Castiel never stayed dead for long though, Dean should know as much. He’d be up and running again before he could finish that bottle he clung to so desperately. And Sam raised the bloody nephilim, of course he did. But ..that was it? He didn’t even get a mention? Not even an ‘I lost people close to me’? Of course not. What had he been thinking?

“Alright, alright. Feisty, can’t say I don’t like it.” Dean playing hard to get was precious, and he wondered if this Dean right here would let the world know he was getting laid by men.

Dean glanced back at the customer, feeling his heart twinge. The man was familiar somehow, and the ache deepened when he realized just who the man reminded him of. Crowley. The pain was as sharp and fresh as it had been months ago, when it sank in just how poorly he’d treated the demon king. Hindsight was 20/20 they said, and damn...it just couldn’t get much worse. Crowley had sacrificed so much for them over the years, and they’d always treated him like shit. Then he had to go and die for them, and it was all his fault. It was all his fault. 

He stared down at his drink, wishing it was something stronger, pushing down the feelings of pain and nausea, but it wasn’t as easy as it had once been. Cas, Crowley, Bobby, Jo, Ellen...the list of people dead because of him went on and on and on and on. He could drown in the blood on his hands. 

Instead he refilled another customer’s beer and blinked until the tears went away and he felt numb again.  

[damnatiinfinem]

thekingsparty‌:

“Oh, hush now, don’t be shy.” Crowley hummed lightly, well aware the Winchester wasn’t known to share his feelings with anybody, least of all strangers, but the Dean he knew wouldn’t be working all by himself in a bar without a motel or brother in sight. “What’s a drink in a bar without some problems, hm? I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever it is that troubles you.” Quite sure, actually. More than just sure as there was nothing the Winchester could tell him that Crowley didn’t know about him.

“The best is, you won’t have to see me ever again, so why not take the offer and let go?”

“I’m not shy.” Dean huffed. Far from it, actually. “Look, my best friend’s dead, my brother’s raising the devil’s kid, and I have been handed bad situation after bad situation and all I want to do right now is pour drinks and get paid. I’m not here to hand out my life story. I’m pretty sure there are plenty of people here willing to chat with you, and if you’re looking for a lay, well, you could do a lot better than me.” 

He stepped back, knowing he shouldn’t have snapped at the customer and not being able to find the will to care. He drained his own drink and refilled it from the marked bottle, the one he had bought and kept under the counter, and turned back to washing glasses. 

[damnatiinfinem]

thekingsparty‌:

He didn’t quite seem like himself, if Crowley was one to judge, and he really began to wonder what he’d missed in his absence. But he couldn’t just ask without blowing his cover and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that just yet. It hadn’t been easy setting up his suicide and it hadn’t been easy accepting that Dean and Sam Winchester didn’t care about the demon King. And so they didn’t need to know he was alive still. They only called when they needed help, they only ever accepted his help when they really didn’t know what else to do. No, he was better off without them and yet here he was, sipping whiskey while wondering if he could help Dean out. 

“I thought so. You look lost, love.” Pretty damn lost, actually. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? The barkeep tending to the customer’s sorrows and offering an open ear? Well, Crowley wasn’t the usual customer, so. “I’ve been told I’m a very good listener.”

“What?” Dean looked at him in confusion. Most of the time, people just came in and started mouthing off about their problems, as if he hadn’t watched his brother and best friend die multiple times, hadn’t been tortured by angels and demons alike. As if they had problems. Slowly, he shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to open that bottle.” 

He turned and brought his own bottle of whiskey out and poured himself a drink. Around here, nobody cared if he drank on the job, as long as he could keep pouring drinks for everybody else. Sam used to say that his alcoholism would kill him. If only. 

If only. 

[damnatiinfinem]

thekingsparty‌:

Crowley didn’t like the rugged look on Dean that much if he was being honest. It was a sad sight, really, as he knew Dean to at least somewhat care about his appearance. And this was clearly still fresh, but he’d also not bothered long enough for it to be noticeable. Had something happened to him after Crowley died? Was that why he was here? Had something happened to Moose? Although… Dean wouldn’t probably still wander earth if anything had happened to Sam, again.

“Your best Whiskey, please.” Scotch, love. But that would be too obvious, wouldn’t it? He didn’t want to blow the only cover he had. If word got out Crowley had survived, he’d have to go hide again for a decade, and he really didn’t want to.

If he could find out where Dean was in town for a hunt, or some other reason, Crowley knew he could stay - or had to leave town as soon as possible. Once demons or angels were involved, Crowley was out. He was done with them, all of them. He’d had enough. “Been working here long?” Crowley was dressed in dark slacks, but instead of the usual button up shirt and vest, he was wearing a simple, yet expensive and really nice black sweater underneath a long dark coat.

There was a hollow look to Dean’s eyes, a window into the emptiness in his chest. Occasionally a newcomer would try to chat him up, no doubt trying to impress the old stories of taking the wizened old barkeep home. Had that really been him not too long ago? If they took him home, they’d likely be disappointed. He didn’t have anything to offer. 

He pulled a bottle of whiskey down and scooped some ice into a glass, filling it with the amber liquid and topping it with a twist of lemon for garnish. 

“Not too long.” He answered as he slid the drink over to the newcomer. Out of old habits, he let his gaze travel over the other, gauging, measuring...threat or potential lay? He didn’t even know why he still did it. 

[thekingsparty]

@damnatiinfinem decided they want pain

It had been a good few weeks since Crowley had turned his back to life as he knew it. Or maybe it was months, he wasn’t entirely sure anymore. Life without Hell, life without duty was lacking purpose - he was still searching for a reason to get up in the mornings as most of the time he’d rather not. To say he was lonely now was an understatement. He no longer had his minions to keep him company, to portray a false feeling of belonging when they were around him. Where did he belong now? Hell had never been his home, not properly anyway, but.. at least he could pretend it is. 

Now though, new face, new life, new … everything. He had yet to find out what it was that he wanted from this newly-found life. Could he just move on and start fresh? He’d thought so, but he hadn’t exactly succeeded yet. He didn’t stay too long in every town he decided he wanted to spend the night at, he didn’t look to settle, he just needed some way to spend his time. Bars were a safe place, they reminded him of Dean Winchester the past and it gave him some sort of warmth nothing else could. 

He didn’t fear to be discovered, not with the brand-new body he was wearing. Nobody human would recognize him and he would recognize everybody else before they could know who he was. And he really thought he was safe, that nobody was looking for him (nobody who mattered anyway) and that he would just keep on being a shadow forever, but .. when he set foot into that bar and found a very familiar face behind the counter, Crowley had to reach out to the closest wall to ground himself at first. Good lord, really? 

What was Dean Winchester doing away from home, from Sam? Was he on a hunt? Though, working as a bartender? No.. or maybe? He would probably find out in a few minutes. Strolling closer to grab a seat at the counter, he felt his heart throb at the sight. He’d wanted to leave these feelings behind. Why did Fate have to mess with him time and time again?

[damnatiinfinem]

It had started with a hunt to clear his head. He couldn’t handle being around Jack, not knowing if he could trust the nephilim, if he was responsible for Cas’ death, for...for Crowley’s suicide. Sam was fixated on ‘saving’ the kid, raising him right, whatever that meant. Dean had tried and failed to be a good parent. He wasn’t going down that road again.

The hunt had been relatively simple, and he’d been on his way home when he saw the ‘help wanted’ sign in the window of the bar. He’d stopped for a drink...and never left. The job was easy, routine, monotonous. He knew the regular patrons, but there were enough new ones to keep things interesting. It kept his mind occupied. Off of things more cosmic.

The bell chimed as a customer came in, and Dean turned to clean off a section of the bar and put a glass down on a coaster. Repetition. So maybe his eyes were a little haunted, and maybe most assumed he was a former soldier. In a way he was. Used up and burned out, and now all he had was this. Repetition.