Sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴄᴏᴏʟ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ɪɴ ᴀ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴅʀᴇss

[righteously]

WHO: Dean Winchester and friends
WHAT: Catch-all open post
WHERE: Cadens/Free Cities + the wilderness + the Horizon
WHEN: January
WARNINGS: Typical Winchester-related issues such as alcoholism, self-loathing, hell, torture, etc.

𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑛
𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐹𝐵𝐼
𝑆𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛' 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑎𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑛
𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ

Comments

[baltimores]

[ Amos watches as he answers, impassive, nonjudgmental. He'd asked. It'd be a pretty shitty thing for him to tell Dean off for his answer, especially when it looks like they're both at the point where drinking all the shit away seems like the most viable solution.

So when Dean finishes, Amos takes him in. Downs his shot. Pours them both another one; whenever Dean decides to drink it, he'll have his at the same time, too. Usually when he goes on a self-pitying bender, he's completely alone. This one feels different, because, well. ]

I get it. Things don't make sense, you wanna be somewhere where they do.

[ He decides to start to lean into the drunken feeling. He's not about to start slurring his speech or anything, but his body does relax. There's a looseness to him, a casualness that wasn't entirely there before as Amos really settles onto his stool, into this bar, into the feeling of someone possibly understanding him. ]

Whole world doesn't make sense to me. I mean, it does. I get being a part of civilization, making it work. Only that's not exactly my default. So, you know. Say I kill someone. They got a gun pointed at one of my people; they're gone. [ He shrugs, nonchalant, like that's just what happens, as natural to him as breathing. ] 'cept maybe I wasn't supposed to, and now their friend is pissed, but it's not like I can take it back. It's done. Only choice left is to move on. It's what I do. Other people don't, though, and then it's gotta turn into a whole thing.

[ He inhales, deep. Exhales. It feels nice. ]

Being somewhere you don't gotta worry about fucking up sounds amazing.

[righteously]

( Dean wears what might be a complicated expression as he watches Amos talk. It's empathy and understanding, but it bears a hardness that suggests he wouldn't be all that apologetic about it and he doesn't think Amos should be either. Deep beneath that, hard as hell to read unless you're particularly good at unpacking microexpressions, there's an old, deeply buried sadness.

Glad he gets it. Not that it's a good thing; the implications behind somebody understanding this whole deal mean they've lived a rough life. Wouldn't wish it on anyone, but he's selfishly glad when he finds someone who's been through it all the same.

He shakes his head just once, a bounce to the side like what can ya do. )

You gotta protect your people. Someone pulls a gun on you or yours, what comes next is their fault.

( Blunt, and without a single waver. When it comes down to it, if it's them or Sam? Them or Cas? Them or Benny?

They're dusted. Regretful, but he'll never apologize for something like that. )

Living through the fallout is easier than living through a funeral.

[baltimores]

[ Amos doesn't pick up on that sadness, mostly because it's not something he feels himself. Things just are what they are.

Except he does understand that it's not a good thing to be, well, understood. He's on the exact same page as Dean here: you had to have gone through some real shit to be on the same page as Amos. And considering purgatory just outside, it probably isn't a surprise that Dean's been through some real shit, too.

Oh, well. Here they are now. Amos nods, a single, muted action. You get me. ]

Yeah, I ain't ever letting it get to the funeral stage.

[ There's a simplicity to his conviction, like it's not even a question for him, like there's no other alternative there could possibly be. Either he's dead, or everyone else is. That's it. End of story.

He's never experienced regret in his life.

He does peer up at Dean with something new in his gaze, though. A newfound respect. Not that he didn't have any before, but more that there's a deeper understanding of what makes the other man tick, and he likes what he sees. ]

'Least you're still saving people, though. That's good. That that's what you're trying to do.

[ Which is more than he can say for himself. Amos tries to find people who are, well, righteous. Because just as he knows it's important, he knows he can never be that way on his own.

So, congrats on pinging his radar. ]