demonicbeauty | Deer Country Inbox

[ He feels like a zombie, a facsimile of who he was before. He feels strange in his own skin, and isn't sure how to process it. ]

...That's all you have for food? You should've told me, I'd have brought you something.

Well, it's not all...

[She gives him a timid, little shrug.]

I have plenty of fruit. But I don't think that's your favorite. Or has that changed?

No, it hasn't. Is this all you're eating? Bread, chocolate and fruit? That's it?

[ The focus is shifting straight to her as his concern rises. What the hell, Airy. ]

Somehow, I don't think you came here to talk about my diet.

[And while she's perfectly happy to let Dean steer the conversation, the last thing she wants is for it to become about her.

It's not about her.]

No, but now I'm worried about you. Are you getting enough? You know Sammy and I keep a full pantry.

[ Dean - endverse, anyway and now he supposes he, too - was a hoarder by necessity. An apocalyptic world rife with a raging virus and dwindling supplies? Yeah. Their basement looks like the canned section of a grocery store. ]

[She walks over to him, kneeling down on one of the pillows on the floor.]

Dean, I grew up in a rain forest. Right now, I have more food than I imagined existed, when I was a little girl.

And yes, I've seen your pantry.

Okay, but this doesn't seem like a balanced diet--

[ This, coming from mister cheeseburgers and pizza and apple pie. ]

So you know if you need anything, we got you.

[She smiles, tilting her head to one side.]

Of course I know that.

Why would I ever doubt you?

[ He flashes a smile, slightly tentative, lifting a shoulder in a tired shrug. ]

Just making sure. You worry me sometimes.

You're worrying me right now.

[What is going on in that head of his?

The tea kettle whistles on the stove, so Ariadne gets up to take care of it. She has a couple of mismatched mugs handy, quickly pouring two cups and adding the leaves to steep.]

What's troubling you, Dean?

I think, uh.

[ He rubs the back of his head, collapsing a little onto a pillow without grace. ]

I think Cas and I are done. Or--if we ever...were. I don't know what counts anymore.

[She nearly drops one of the mugs, gasping softly.]

No...

[And if she looks horrified, well. A part of it might be because she blames herself.

That stupid conversation. Why did she have to bring it up?]

[ He can immediately sense where her head goes, and he shakes his head. ]

No, it isn't your fault. It's ours. Mine. I wanted to...really see if Sam's soul was gone, and we screwed up the spellwork.

[ His face screws up, looking tired and drawn. ]

Remember the other Dean, the one who was here? The younger one, more of an idiot, kinda rude?

[Sam's soul? Well, that sends a chill down her spine.

She picks up the mugs and carries them over to Dean, setting them down on the floor.]

Yes, of course.

[ He stares down at the mug but doesn't pick it up. ]

I-- we both...shifted back into the original timeline. I'm...him, in a way. The other Dean. And Cas is...

Not a junkie anymore, let's put it that way.

[Wait. What?

Ariadne looks at him, a little line of confusion forming between her eyes.

Until something suddenly sparks with her.]

You...I thought that you looked...different.

Yeah, I'm about five years younger. Give or take a few months, I guess.

[ And he looks massively unhappy about it. ]

There aren't as many lines on your face.

[No offense.

She sits down next to him, gently taking his chin in her hand, turning his face toward the light so she can look him over.

Yes, fewer worries. Even if he seems incredibly worried right now.]

But you still remember everything? The life you had for those five years?

[ He lets her, expression tired, eyes red rimmed, like he's done his share of tear shedding before coming over here. ]

Yeah. I remember it all. It's...hard to pick apart what's real and what was...him.

[ Or if it was all real. He doesn't know. ]

[Poor Dean.

Her heart is aching for him. As is plainly evident on her face.]

Him?

The old me. The older me.

[ He looks down at the mug on the floor and reaches for it, not knowing what else to do with his hands, wrapping his fingers around it and falling quiet. ]

[She lets go, backing off, giving him his space.

Talking about yourself like it's another person? That can't be good.]

I'm not sure his memories are any less real.

I...can't tell. Because they're mine, and it's--

[ He doesn't know how to explain that he both is and isn't that guy. He was, but now he isn't, but he retains all of it, all those experiences, and it's..heavy. ]

I guess it doesn't matter. At least we didn't blow ourselves off the map with crappy spellwork.

Blow yourselves off the...what?

[Way too many figures of speech and metaphors in there.]

[ He smiles. ]

...Nothing. We're alive. That's the important part.

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