ruined: (29)
ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇsᴛᴇʀ | ᴀᴜ ([personal profile] ruined) wrote 2020-08-02 09:33 am (UTC)

[ There's a certain level of familiarity Dean allows himself at his choice of residence in Deerington. It's run-down, abandoned looking. Home away from home, even if at the start of the world going sideways they'd at least tried to make things as good as they could at the camp. But other people's comfort had quickly fallen out of his priorities. He wasn't there to to make people comfortable. He was there to them and kill Lucifer. This place? It had been a tactical decision.

It hadn't taken him long to make the kinds of changes to the house that are basic levels of fortification. It's more habit than anything else, a deeply ingrained knowledge that making sure he can defend himself when the shit hits the fan? It's the difference between life and death.

So when he spots a figure out of a grimy window pane he has no intention of cleaning, he's already reaching for the stash of weapons Sam has given him. And when he finally makes it outside, using his knowledge of the area to sneak up more than well enough on the intruder, he's got a pistol that's definitely not the Colt trained on her this time.

Whatever E.T.'s freaking lovechild is here for, he figures it's not for anything good. ]


What? You thought you could get the drop on me with that kinda approach? Sloppy.

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