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As luck would have it - or at least as his luck would have it - there wasn’t anybody in the city that he could even talk to that didn’t recognize or know some other version of him. So it wasn’t like he’d be getting answers anytime soon. Hell. He’d rather lose a few more months than face down Sam or Jess and own up to why exactly he wasn’t thrilled to be talking with them. And that was just the tip of that iceberg. Basically? This place still sucked. A lot.
He’s looking for someplace to bunker down for a while when he passes the junkyard. It’d be better to just keep walking. Keep his head down. The longer he stays in one place and out in the open, the better his chances of someone recognizing him and trying to strike up some kind of freaking conversation.
Still. The yard itself might be a decent place to hide out for a bit. He’d played enough games at Bobby’s place growing up to know that there were a lot of hiding places. Unfortunately, some of them would be a little tight for a grown man, but he’d make it work.
Dean scrambles over the fence, only stumbling slightly when he lands on the other side. Sure, finding a gate would’ve been easier, but it also would’ve taken time that he didn’t have. He crouches low around the abandoned cars and parts on the outskirts of the yard, picking his way inward. Stealth was part of the game here, but he wasn’t too concerned about it. The place looked pretty abandoned from his end so when his boot connects with a can lying in his path and sends it clattering into a pile of scrap metal Dean doesn’t think much of it. Until he hears a feral snarl that sounds all too much like the hell hounds that still haunt his dreams.
He swears, not quite daring to look over his shoulder for the owner of those growls as he books it through the maze of cars that ends in a decently clear lot. Because of course someone would have tried to pick the place up. Dean glances around and weighs his options. Make for the garage or head back into the maze of cars and hope growly didn’t have any buddies. The snarling is closing in now and that makes the choice for him. Dean runs for the garage, hauling the door open as he ducked under and slamming it closed behind him.
It wasn’t exactly like Dean was a stranger to running for his life, but it hadn’t exactly been on his list of things to do today. At least whatever it was that had been nipping at his heels out there didn’t seem like it wanted to come near the garage. He’s looking around the mostly empty garage, walking around the space, prodding at the tools when a covered car towards the back catches his eye. There’s no way that she should even be anywhere near this place and Dean can’t quite stop himself from walking over and pulling off the tarp. The Impala looks better here than she’d been the last time he’d seen her at Camp Chitaqua, but she still needs some work.
Dean opens the driver’s side door and pops the hood, walking back around the front to prop it open and take a look, trailing his fingers along her side. This had to be some project that his past self was working on, because hell if he knew who else would care about this car this much. The thought sets him on edge because that means this garage, this yard belongs to someone that he’d rather not run into. What he should do is cover the car back up and get out, but he can’t quite bring himself to do that.
He’s looking for someplace to bunker down for a while when he passes the junkyard. It’d be better to just keep walking. Keep his head down. The longer he stays in one place and out in the open, the better his chances of someone recognizing him and trying to strike up some kind of freaking conversation.
Still. The yard itself might be a decent place to hide out for a bit. He’d played enough games at Bobby’s place growing up to know that there were a lot of hiding places. Unfortunately, some of them would be a little tight for a grown man, but he’d make it work.
Dean scrambles over the fence, only stumbling slightly when he lands on the other side. Sure, finding a gate would’ve been easier, but it also would’ve taken time that he didn’t have. He crouches low around the abandoned cars and parts on the outskirts of the yard, picking his way inward. Stealth was part of the game here, but he wasn’t too concerned about it. The place looked pretty abandoned from his end so when his boot connects with a can lying in his path and sends it clattering into a pile of scrap metal Dean doesn’t think much of it. Until he hears a feral snarl that sounds all too much like the hell hounds that still haunt his dreams.
He swears, not quite daring to look over his shoulder for the owner of those growls as he books it through the maze of cars that ends in a decently clear lot. Because of course someone would have tried to pick the place up. Dean glances around and weighs his options. Make for the garage or head back into the maze of cars and hope growly didn’t have any buddies. The snarling is closing in now and that makes the choice for him. Dean runs for the garage, hauling the door open as he ducked under and slamming it closed behind him.
It wasn’t exactly like Dean was a stranger to running for his life, but it hadn’t exactly been on his list of things to do today. At least whatever it was that had been nipping at his heels out there didn’t seem like it wanted to come near the garage. He’s looking around the mostly empty garage, walking around the space, prodding at the tools when a covered car towards the back catches his eye. There’s no way that she should even be anywhere near this place and Dean can’t quite stop himself from walking over and pulling off the tarp. The Impala looks better here than she’d been the last time he’d seen her at Camp Chitaqua, but she still needs some work.
Dean opens the driver’s side door and pops the hood, walking back around the front to prop it open and take a look, trailing his fingers along her side. This had to be some project that his past self was working on, because hell if he knew who else would care about this car this much. The thought sets him on edge because that means this garage, this yard belongs to someone that he’d rather not run into. What he should do is cover the car back up and get out, but he can’t quite bring himself to do that.
