dancingxcheektocheek-blog

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Mm. Both sound rather fun.

Or you’ll be begging him to rip you into pieces. Whichever, though.

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Please. He's just as lost as you are. Give it a few days and his angel's choir will be begging for me to rip him to itty bitty bits.

You’re more than welcome to try. I still have an angel at my side.

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And it excites me greatly to know that we'll get there again some day.

You haven’t been my higher order in some time.

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Oh, Dean -- you're giving me the full-body tingles. Animals attack, but eventually they all obey the higher order. I just so happen to be yours.

Of course you would. I bet part of you thinks it’ll drag me back, don’t you? Just remember. You stated you carved me into the animal I am today. Animals attack and I’m really not against sending you back to Hell.

Matter of fact; it would bring me joy.

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leave me all the pieces. 

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Oh, I don't need to do that for you, Dean-o. Your daddy's got it so deeply planted in your brain that you rub your nose in the shit by yourself. And I won't lie -- people like me like to abuse that part of you.

Just don’t. You don’t know Benny and you sure the hell don’t know Sam. Tell me one thing, Alastair? How am I lucky enough to be rid of you until things start going down hill? It’s like God (Or Lucifer, in this case) brings you back so you can shove all my mistakes in my face.

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Something for you to look up on the Internet later. Tut tut. Look at all the ruined little bits of you. Poor boy; can't even hold a solid relationship. Not with little Sammy, not with big Ben. We do have some issues, don't we?

What the hell is a fapkin? I picked my family over my friendship.  

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Don't be a liar, Dean-boy. We both know that your lies don't work so well on me, don't we? You crawled your way here on the back of a vampire and used him like a -- what's the word? -- fapkin. Do you even understand the word "friendship," hm?

I didn’t crawl my way back.

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-- Says the boy who lives and breathes more contradiction every time he crawls his way back.

You make less sense every time you manage to crawl your way back.

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That, apparently, is what I created. Oh, the shame brewing deep within me. Shame, shame.

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With wheezing laughter, Alastair rolled away from Dean, propping himself up with his elbow. “You were dead once, too, you know. Well. More than once. You’re kind of like a cockroach. You really just never stay down.” His eyes ran over Dean’s scarred body, appreciating every little injury that he could see. None of them had been his own doing, unfortunately. Alastair did quite enjoy watching skin pucker up beneath a blade – open up and part for red, coppery life. He liked to run his tongue along the lacerations, suck on them and bring out more of that delicious crimson gold. If the cuts were wide enough, he would dig his tongue inside of them, lap it up even deeper, and then kiss so deeply that he could swallow the screams as well. But what he truly cherished was that beneath everything physical about Dean, there was another set of scars that he tried to forget about. Those ones were the ones Alastair himself had put in there – the ones on his soul. Coming back to life would never change what Hell had done to him. Alastair had marked Dean in ways that those other things he hunted couldn’t, true. But the demon was a greedy one, and he thoroughly enjoyed leaving proof of his ownership on every square inch of what was physical and what wasn’t. “Catching a little snooze, Dean? I’m offended. Time to get up. I’m bored and want to play.”

He always kept the television on low when he slept. Why? Because he needed that reminder that he was still somewhat alive no matter how dead he felt after returning from purgatory. How did one explain an experience in such a place? There were no words. That’s exactly how he felt. Salting the door was his way of keeping whatever may have escaped from purgatory from returning to claw his eyeballs out. Waking up in the middle of the night seemed to be a daily thing for him, really. Sam was off doing something alone and Dean never really questioned where he went even though he should have. This was what his life had become. He was a drunk and he felt like the relationship he had with his brother had been extremely severed. When his eyes focused to where the foot of Sam’s bed was, he was pretty sure he wasn’t awake. There was no way, right? He wasn’t seeing who he was pretty sure he was seeing. “You were dead.” He finally muttered. He felt defeated, not only because of the hell he had gone through lately but because he felt he was slipping. He had salted the door, he had laid the demon traps and apparently Alastair had been able to penetrate them completely. That’s how he knew this was a dream. No, this had become a nightmare. When he found himself pressed against Alastair’s body, Dean tensed even more. Just a dream, just a dream he kept repeating over and over in his head. A dream in which he could win. He shoved at Alastair, pushing him back. “You’re not fuckin’ real.”

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You have to obey me. Those are the rules.

dancingxcheektocheek replied to your post: Obey: Be my bitch.

I think I win.

No.

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“The funny thing about salt is that if there’s a gap under the door, the breeze – well, it tends to blow it away. Grain by grain.” Alastair sat at the foot of Sam’s bed, looking over at the elder hunter, hands folded neatly in his lap. He examined the room, humming in thought as he took in his surroundings. The television was on, volume set on low. Probably for background noise for – well, whatever it was Dean was doing. The demon didn’t particularly care. He stood noiselessly and walked over to his favorite ever ever ever human. Ever. “You know, Dean,” he said, clicking his tongue, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding me. “But that can’t be it, can it? Buddy, pal o’ mine, best friend.” He wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulders and pulled him close. “It’s about time we rekindle the old relationship we had, don’t you think?”

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Still trying so hard to believe in this little illusion called free will and control, I see. Breaking you a second time is going to be a pleasure.

Awkward moment Alastair sends you 'for your entertainment.'

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My torture methods. Mine. And you're just another puppet on a string.

Awkward moment Alastair sends you 'for your entertainment.'

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I find it humorous that you've still got that dark, evil seed rooted deep within you. Makes me wonder -- have you been thinking about me?

Awkward moment Alastair sends you 'for your entertainment.'