Bullets on Flagstone

The girl he watches is pretty, but he sees in black and white and no grey areas so he decides to judge her based on selfdom and how many drinks she'd have. He watches her perform a raunchy lap dance filled with lace and lust atop a glabrous man wearing a gold wedding band, she sweats and teases and tucks the money away into her bra. He scratches the nape of his neck and continues staring until the woman climbs off of the married man's lap and walks to the bar where he sits. She orders two crown cherry's and Dean is surprised when she hands one of those to him, he thanks the woman but politely declines the drink.

"Just take a sip," she says in an apathetic tone. "It won't kill you."

So he takes a swig and cringes as the taste lingers on his tongue. "It's terrible," he replies while washing it from his mouth with beer. Dean stares at the girl and asks for her name, she grins with her coral lip gloss shining in the strobe lights and replies by licking his earlobe and whispering 'Starr' into his ear. Starr flips her platinum hair from her azure eyes and swings her hips rhythmically to the music as she walks away. He quickly wipes his ear off and pays for his drink before exiting the club.

His car smells like malt liquor and Dean's distress nearly suffocates him. He turns the volume up on the radio and sings along to the familiar voice of Bon Jovi all the while wiping the tears from his cloudy eyes, he can't bear to sing the song any longer. Dean looks down for a split second and when his beautiful eyes focus back onto the road, he notices a man in the path of his Impala and quickly veers off to the side of the road.

He gets out of his car and angrily kicks dirt around. "Where the fuck are you, Castiel!?" he shouts as he pulls out a gun from his jacket. "I'm not in the mood to fuck around with you, angel boy! I've put in too many years to play this game!" When he turns around, Castiel is in his face, staring him down like a hawk.

A punch takes Dean onto the asphalt and his face bleeds and smarts while Castiel grabs hold of his collar and continuously slams his head against the bitumen. Dean cries and fumbles for his gun, firing rounds to the stars and the cosmos and the moon until he hits something. Castiel steps back and holds his stomach, blood oozing through his calloused fingers. His eyes are on fire for a moment until he charges at Dean who keeps shooting and missing and occasionally hitting Castiel in his legs and the arms.

"Please, stop," Dean pleads. His eyes overflow and the tears wash dirt and blood off of his face. But Castiel keeps punching and kicking until Dean helplessly rolls over and lets go of his gun, the only thing of use to him at the moment.

Castiel drops onto his knees and lays next to Dean on the asphalt below, his hands remain over the flesh wound and he winces as the smoking bullet sends twinges through his entire body. "Why did you do it, Dean? Heist and sex and carnage won't bring Sam back to you."

It's cold outside and both men can see their breath rise through the heavy air that makes it hard to breathe. Dean is still crying and wipes his face off with the collar of his shirt, he ignores Castiel's question and watches an airplane cross the sky. "What type of bullets kill angels?"

Castiel sighs and considers Dean's heavy heart. "I'll leave you to think about that one."