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I have a super important question, and I figured you would know the answer. Aproxemetly how many lions and how much magic is contained in Sam's hair?

In my brother’s hair? *blinks* Probably one lion and no magic. His hair is pretty tame.

#Grey Spirit #youplayitcoy #voicemail

Return To Sender

By the time John had realized it, he had spent the equivalent of twenty one top-side hours back in Hell, his body stretched to its limits on Alastair's rack. The soul he had replaced had passed on through the levels of Hell it was destined for, leaving John in silence once again.

Tears leaked from the corners of the hunter's eyes; tears shed for the reconciliation he couldn't make with his sons. Tears for the life he was once again leaving behind. Tears of fear when he thought of how angry Crowley would be, to know that his pet had been taken from him.

Only...it had been Crowley who yanked his ass back into the pit, when midnight rang solidly by on Sunday night. John remembered the sound of his own screams as the ground opened up and swallowed him, still dressed in his jogging pants and t-shirt as if he'd been readying for bed.

The clothes were burned off and ruined when he chanced as much of a glance downward as he was able, the scathing winds of Hell tearing at his skin nearly lovingly, in comparison to the blades, with which he was again to become friends with.

#imgonnashoottothrill #youplayitcoy #profitfromtheprophet #open RP #failed deal so John's back in Hell

[text] Sam, I'm sorry. I know it won't matter to you, but I am. I've left the bag you refused last night and an envelope, at the hotel's front desk. I'm a man who knows when he's beat.

[text] I won't ask you to forgive me again, but please take the bag to Dean like you said you were gonna, and the envelope for yourself.

[text] It's not money, so don't think I'm doing things half-assed and just handing things over without a presence. I'll figure out my trouble on my own. Happy Birthday, Sam. I love you.

In the envelope was a photograph of Sam in his mother's arms, Dean standing beside them, the day they brought him home from the hospital. Alongside it, was a hundred dollar bill (despite the fact he had stated there was no money in it) and a note telling Sam to buy himself a decent bottle to celebrate, now that he was legal.

#youplayitcoy

A little sleepy. (Free range on age.)

Dean was watching Bugs Bunny on the TV when John tossed a pillow beside him, needing the older boys' attention without hollering for it. Dean turned and saw immediately why John had stayed silent; Sam was curled up against John's chest, sucking his thumb and finally, blissfully asleep. He turned the Tv down a little bit and went right back to watching it, a tiny smile on his face.

The day--and subsequent evening--had been hard on the trio; John let a monster get too close and had come back with a gash in his shoulder, so Dean had helped to patch him up while Sam watched. At nine years old, Dean was as proficient with a suture as he was with cleaning a handgun, so John had little worry about the quality of the stitching.

Sam, worried about his father and sleepy anyway by the time John had come back, had crawled up against John's uninjured side and laid his head on the man's chest. John didn't have the heart to pull Sam's finger from his mouth since thumbsucking was something he discouraged, so he tolerated it in favour of a quiet, normal night.

#youplayitcoy #john winchester #weechesters #asks