07: [Action] Break on Through (To The Other Side)

[dashboardlite]

As he stands there, staring, Dean Winchester wonders why he's never noticed this door before.  It's not anything normal, by any stretch - it's just a huge door; tall, foreboding, made of something that looks like solid oak.  He hasn't touched it yet, he's simply been waiting.  Waiting for it to open, waiting for someone to go in or come out. 

It doesn't even have hinges or a knob or a lock, but he knows it's a door, and not some giant slab in the middle of the foyer.

Without dragging his eyes away, Dean slips a hand into the pocket of his coat, pulling out the comm unit he'd warped into an EMF reader.  Something this big and unexpected had to have a spike off the charts.  Switching the device on with a little click, he takes careful, precise steps towards the door, holding his electro-magnetic-frequency measurer up to the offending object - He really shouldn't be feeling like a gorilla out of 2001: A Space Odyssey right now, but he does - and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline as the EMF lights up and squeals, obnoxious beeping echoing through the front hall.

"...sonuvabitch," He mutters, tucking his little invention away and running his fingers over smooth wood.  "We chased our pleasures, here...dug our treasures, there, but can you still recall..."  Dean hums quiety, squinting at the grain and scratching a fingernail over it, half-expecting sulfur to come away.

"...the time we cried...break on through, to the other side, break on through, to the other side..."

Comments

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, well...ya win some, ya lose some," He shrugs a little defeatedly, tongue-in-cheek. The hunter glances up again at the question. He's hesitant about really going into detail about Sam, but it'd be nice to get some of this off his chest.

"Sam's...he's taller than me and damned smart, but I got all the good looks," Dean quirks a quick grin. "Born four years after me. Was gonna go to law school, but he got roped into the family business. Loves research. Sleeps with it tucked under his mattress. He, uh..."

The man rubs the back of his neck, thinking for a moment. "...he'd do anything for me, same way I'd do anything for him. We're the only family we've got."

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"I know how that is, not having anybody else. What's the family business?"

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"The family business...is...uh..." Why lie? Who the Hell cares here? "We gank demons and shit. Monsters. Werewolves, ghosts, vampires. Everything that goes bump in the night, man. S'my job."

Dean looks rather proud of this statement.

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"Gank means kill, right? Sounds exciting."

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean rolls his eyes a little.]

...yeah, it means kill. And sure, it's...exciting. Sometimes. When my brother isn't being held hostage, or when I'm not about to die. It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it. [Shrug.]

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

You mean that's the most exciting part. [There's no tone of argument. It's all very matter-of-fact.] It's just that it's horrible too.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Yeah, actually.

[That is the most exciting part. For Dean, at least. It's all he knows, it's all he grew up with...so it's what he does best and derives the most pleasure from.

Except maybe sex.]

But there's nothin' like a job well done, right?

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

That depends. Does it stay done?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

...

[He thinks for a moment.]

The job is never really done, man. There's always more bitches to gank.

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

It's better if you can rest at the end.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Ain't no rest for the wicked.

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

What does that mean?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[He snorts.]

In my line of work...you don't get a break. Not even for one hot second. Shit sucks, man.

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

You must not be very happy.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

...thinkin' about it...no. I'm not, really. Hunh.

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

I was set to start learning auto-mechanics before I came here. Can't you get a job like that?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"...I...could." He furrows his brow a little, thinking. If he was to do anything else in the real world, it would be a blue-collar job like mechanics, but...it wouldn't be the same. He'd still have that niggling feeling that everything wasn't quite right.

Particularly since he knows what's out there. It's almost an obligation to take care of it all.

"I ain't made for domestic life, though. You know that, man." He smiles a little faintly, nodding.

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

"I don't know that," Jack replies, a little confused, "I just met you."

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"...we're alike. I can sorta tell. Y'know, read people?" He offers another hopeful smile. "What're you like, then, dude?"

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

Jack smiles back. And the truth is, they are somewhat alike, but you wouldn't get that out of, "I have five little girls back home."

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Dean blanches. "...five little girls?" He repeats, eyebrows raising into his hairline. Shit. Not so alike after all, huh?

"Didn't peg you for a family man, Jack," He hazards carefully with a slight laugh. "You don't look the type."

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

He grins, fairly comfortable with Dean's discomfort; he gets all kinds of reactions, and he's happy to talk about his girls regardless because he's rude like that.

"It happened by accident."

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"...an accident." Dean mumbles, staring. "Dude, how many chicks did you knock up at once for that to be an accident? What are you, twenty?"

[kindly-done.livejournal.com]

Jack counts vaguely on his fingers, though it has very little to do with any number of women or his age. He comes up frowning.

"About twenty. Knock up?"

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, knock up. You know...get pregnant." The expression of sheer confusion on Dean's face probably would be much funnier if Jack understood his manner of speaking.