Dean Winchester
Inactive
Michael's True Vessel
Posts: 75
Player: Varon
HP: 250
Win: 20
Loss: 0
Flee: 0
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Post by Dean Winchester on Nov 27, 2013 0:50:15 GMT -5
My mother always said, do the noble thing If there was one thing Dean hated, it was lying to Sam. Yeah sure, sometimes it was necessary, but for as hard as he rode the guy about being honest, certain things just didn’t feel right. The bigger the deception, the bigger the fallout. Demon blood had taught them that and Dean would be damned before he let an angel be his version of the same story. Sooner or later, Sam was going to figure it out – and frankly, Dean would much rather his little brother found out what happened through him, rather than the voice inside of his head. The trouble was, Sammy was still healing up from the Trials. Dean didn’t know how far he could trust Zeke inside there though. He wasn’t stupid – he knew damn well how important Sam was from an angel vessel standpoint. Simply because Cas had supported the guy didn’t mean he was good – it wasn’t as though Cas had the best judgement when it came to his family after all. Not that Dean could say much; it was a problem they both shared. All in all, Dean needed some advice. Some honest advice from someone he could trust not to skew any shit with him and the moment Dean realized who he was thinking of, he knew he was in for Hell. Literally and figuratively. If Sam was going to take issue with Ezekiel, Dean could only imagine how happy his brother would be to find out about the other secret he’d been keeping – for almost six months now. It had been after the second trial, on a hunt he’d taken just before Charlie had come by. He’d never told Sam about it, mainly because he didn’t even know how to start. It had been a cut-and-dry looking ghost case, but when he got there, turned out he was dealing with a revenant. One that was a little quicker to the fight than he was. He remembered dying. He remembered Hell. The Pit. Most importantly though, Dean remembered Belial. The one who dragged him out, pulled him up and dusted him off. Got him home in time for dinner even. Time in Hell, time on Earth – it all passed a bit differently. Alright. A Hell of a lot differently. Dean had felt oddly fine. Hadn’t said a word of it. Hadn’t needed to. Until now, anyway. Maybe. Eventually. “Shit,” Dean muttered, smacking his palm against the steering wheel of his baby in his frustration, only to regret it instantly. In a silent apology to the Impala, he cranked up some good rock and shook his head to clear it. He didn’t have time to second guess himself. He was already in Chicago’s city limits and it would be damned rude to turn tail now. Not to mention cowardly. It had been awhile since Dean had taken a drive this long. That much had been proven irrefutably when he’d whipped himself together a peanut butter sandwich on the road and been disturbed by the fact the smooth had gone crunchy on him. Hell, there’d been a time when that had been a positive thing. He’d actually glared at his sandwich and considered tossing it for some real roadside food when it occurred to him just what it meant to be upset about something like that. It meant he’d gotten used to home cooked meals again. That had spiralled him down a whole different road of reflection. The bunker really had become a home for him, though Sam still seemed to be having a hard time settling in. It rankled Dean a bit, the fact that after all this time running away to find something normal, Sam was finally offered something stable in this crazy life of theirs and he had absolutely no faith in it. A part of Dean honestly wondered at times if it was because he was still in the picture; the best of Sam’s ‘normal’ times had been without him, if Heaven was any indication. Still, he figured there was no point getting upset over it – Sammy would settle. There were too many books in that place for him not to get comfortable, surely. Which brought him back to square one. His brother needed to trust him to get comfortable, and here he was holding onto not one, but two gigantic and rather life altering secrets. He’d let an angel possess Sam – and the one person he trusted for advice on the matter was a white eyed demon Sam didn’t even know existed. Rather like Sam didn’t know about the angel, either. “Thank God,” Dean breathed the second he saw the familiar exterior of Death’s diner, as he liked to call it. Knowing God didn’t give a shit wasn’t enough to kick the habit of pure relief it seemed. Love the Impala though he did, not even AC/DC was kicking him out of this spiraling funk he'd settled into. Some Chicago smog and pizza might be just what the doctor ordered. Stepping from the car and locking her up, Dean adjusted his coat to combat the chill Chicago wind as he made his way into Rinascita Pizzaria, pinpointing Belial’s curly hair almost immediately. Against all his concerns about coming here, Dean couldn’t help the smile that flit across his face at the sight of the kid who was in fact probably older than Castiel or something. Moving over to him, Dean took the seat across and opened jokingly, “What, no cookies?” Yes that really is the name of Death's Diner xD Template by Loki @ Proboards Support
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Post by Deleted on Nov 27, 2013 1:29:14 GMT -5
Belial never really liked human food. He never really liked humanity. Despite his generous and giving personality there had never been much room in his heart for the human race as a whole, though certain individuals did garner more respect than others. There was no hatred in Belial, so to say he loathed the humans would have been a vast overstatement. He simply found no true use for them, just as he found no use for the lower level demons who simply exploited what it was that made the humans that lived on day to day so contemptible. The difference between humans and pit demons truly boiled down to their souls - some were simply dented, while the others were broken. That was all that differentiated the black and red eyes from the shiny eyed, alive and kicking mortals running amuck topside and destroying everything they'd worked to build. If anything, he pitied them.
If there was any one human that Belial did in fact like, though, it was Dean Winchester. At first he'd been absolutely hesitant to pull a soul from the maze in the pit and clean it up, to remove from the fragments the scars and wounds that the races and the racks would leave. He was glad, for once, that he never questioned his father's orders. Dean, as notorious as he was, was a truly gentle soul, much like Bel. He was marked for Hell at this point, which Belial wouldn't even try to understand, but that made little difference in how the white eye felt. If anything, the Prince would be glad to have some company once the guy kicked the bucket for good.
Well, Hell would have to get it's shit together, first.
Either way, Bel knew he had pull with the big guy, and keeping Dean out of the pit would be top priority. Worst case he'd get an immediate promotion to shiny white in the second tier, because Hell would have to freeze over before Dean Winchester spent another minute being psychologically tortured by vermin barely old enough to know their own name.
Just thinking about it would have had anyone else seething, but Belial had a cool head. He had better things to do than worry about events in the far off future. Dean wasn't going anywhere. In fact, Dean was on his way to Chicago to meet Belial in a pizzeria that smelled too strongly of oregano and baking dough. Lucas whimpered in the back of his mind, craving a slice of the goodness he hadn't tasted since Belial took over his body two years earlier. The curly haired prince probably should have felt bad for never giving Lucas a reprieve from his presence, but there was just something so secure about the long, lean body that made him want to stay. Maybe it was childish. Maybe he didn't care.
Hushing the whining boy with a playful threat to knock him out if he didn't stop bitching, the demon dipped his finger into the glass of water in front of him and swirled it around the rim of the cup, eyeing the little droplets that slid down the concave sides with a careful gaze, as if he didn't trust them.
What are you staring at? Supplied the voice in his mind, thickly accented with an irish accent that transposed itself onto every word that Belial spoke. The demon grinned and shrugged, as if Luke could see him. Bored. He responded without words, as if that was enough of an answer. Just waiting for Dean.
Almost as if on cue, the door to the little diner opened with a metallic squeak of the hinges and a little 'ding dong' that alerted to the staff that another customer had entered the shop. Belial didn't bother looking up, and instead waited for Dean to slide into the seat across from him. Belial's gaze flickered up and his lips curled into a broad smile.
Dean and those damn cookies. They'd started as a joke and suddenly the guy expected them at every turn. Bel found it endearing, honestly, and he'd probably said as much about a dozen times. "Not today. I figured you'd outgrown cookies. I see I was wrong. How... disappointing." The white-eye teased his friend - the human he thought of almost as a son - lightly, kicking a leg out to toe Dean in the shin, greeting him effectively without the proper, socially acceptable words to do so.
As much of a joker as he could be, Belial knew that Dean never called, so it must well have been serious that things had come to this. Because of that knowledge, Belial left the remainder of his jokes for later - they could wait until Dean had gotten whatever he needed to off his chest. "What's got you twisted?" The Prince asked slowly, his voice more hushed now than it had been before. They must have looked odd - Dean in a body almost fifteen years older than his own sitting here talking in hushed tones to a twenty year old about cookies and god only knows what else. The thought made the demon smile, despite his worry. "You never call me. Are you in danger?"
Dean was capable of handling himself most of the time, sure, but if he was infallible, Belial never would have met him in the first place. With things the way they were and Hell so screwed up, Belial couldn't afford to have Dean getting murdered. With Lucifer MIA and the reapers scrambling to get and keep their shit together, the likelihood of Dean finding his way to Hell in one piece was slim. The fields were more likely his destination, should he die any time soon, and getting him out of there wasn't quite as easy as getting him in. Putting a crack in the fields was a ballgame that Belial wasn't strong enough to play, old as he was. "Because I can't have you dying right now. Totally not an option, just so you know, so if you can tell me pretty promptly just what's bothering you, I'll get one of the other princes on it pronto and boom, presto, bazinga no more creepy crawly gonna rip your throat out."
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Dean Winchester
Inactive
Michael's True Vessel
Posts: 75
Player: Varon
HP: 250
Win: 20
Loss: 0
Flee: 0
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Post by Dean Winchester on Nov 28, 2013 1:51:46 GMT -5
My mother always said, do the noble thing Dean grinned back at Bel, a part of him absurdly relieved that his joke had been well received. There were days – weeks even – when Dean wondered if it had all been a really elaborate nightmare. If maybe after all this time hunting things, all this time dealing with the craziest shit out there, something inside of him had just snapped and admitted itself into some kind of internal Bedlam. Those were the good days – weeks – when the most he managed to dream about was his time in the second tier. Learning how to talk again, how to read and write and basically how to be human. Positive reinforcements by way of cookies and careful guidance back to his memories. Back to what he was – who he was. He’d researched it – God, if Sam had caught him – but there was nothing, not even a hint of a whisper about such a thing as a second tier of Hell. So it was easy, really, to think those years that had passed in mere moments topside had been nothing but an elaborate, desperate mess of subconscious bullshit. Though Dean had to admit his plethora of Daddy issues converging to create Bel was a serious fucking stretch. The bad days always came eventually though. Dean had always had nightmares – ever since he was a kid. He’d just been taught to face them head on with a loaded shotgun. His dreams about the Maze though – now those were some sheet rippers. They would come too clearly, too horrifically, to be anything short of clear memory. The smells, the sounds, the voices. The voices of every person he’d ever cared about, their condemnations and their mockeries, their dying screams as he hunted and killed them again and again in an eternal game of catch and kill orchestrated by the Maze runners. Knowing Bel existed was one thing. Metting up with him again and confirming that the good aspects were as real as the horrors settled a bit of the fear of madness that tickled at Dean from time to time. He’d tested himself when he got back – ran himself through every ringer he could think of – and came up empty. He was as human as the day he died. It was a big secret to keep, dying, going to Hell, getting saved, coming back. Dean had kept it bottled up for the past six months and maybe he could have gone longer, but this shit with Ezekiel was just weighing too heavily on him. He couldn’t lie to Sam forever – a part of him still wasn’t sure why he was on the former front – and in truth, he didn’t want to. Still, knowing he wasn’t batshit was a great step forward in the whole honest Abe business. “I’ll never move past pastry,” Dean returned easily, settling in and smiling a bit at the kick, getting it for what it was. He wasn’t sure how to begin – or where to begin – but as ever, Belial seemed to cotton on to that much and provided some direction through his questioning. He was about to answer when the white-eye brought him up short with the whole no dying bazinga crap. As good as it was to know Bel was in his corner – “Where do you get your pop culture from Bel, Comedy Central? Bazinga, really?” Alright, so maybe not the most important thing to get caught up on, but seriously. Bazinga was just plain sad. Shaking his head, Dean pulled back on point. “I’ve been thinking – a lot, lately,” Something in the hunter’s tone was distasteful, as though there were many things he would have liked to do other than sit and think on shit. “And I think I need to tell Sam about what happened to me after the trial. I mean sooner or later, it’s gonna come out.” Dean shifted uncomfortably, considering Belial had made it pretty clear not to hide this shit in the first place – but honestly, Dean had such a hard time accepting it was real himself that talking about it just seemed stupid. “I fucked up Bel,” God, it felt good to finally say it. To finally acknowledge it to someone. Someone who not only would understand, but might actually be able to help. “Sammy – he was in a coma. He was dying – hell, doctors had given up on him man. They sent in a fucking grief councillor for fuck sakes. The trials….they messed him up pretty bad.” Dean shook his head, not even bothering to feel guilty about the fact that they’d been working to lock up Hell. Bel knew – all the Princes did, Dean was pretty sure. None of them had raised a finger to stop it, so chances were it didn’t affect them, so much as the pit. Or maybe they just didn’t care – Dean didn’t know. Point was, there was no reason for guilt on that front and so there was none. Taking a deep breath, Dean let it out in a rush, knowing if he didn’t just damn well say it, he never would. “I-helped-an-angel-take-Sam-as-a-vessel.” The fact he’d gone from mute to being able to babble in a string like that was a triumph once, but all it was now was a sign of nerves and wretchedness. “Sam doesn’t know. Can’t know. Angel says he’s still healing him, but I don’t know if I can trust the guy.” Dean’s tone, the way his posture seemed inclined toward Bel, all made clear what Dean didn’t know how to say. What Dean wasn’t able to say. I fucked up. I need help. I don’t know what to do.Yes that really is the name of Death's Diner xD Template by Loki @ Proboards Support
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Post by Deleted on Nov 29, 2013 21:22:58 GMT -5
The look on Dean's face when all their joking had ceased was enough to make Belial's stomach flip - or maybe that was Lucas who, for all his shortcomings and idiocy, was about as attached to Dean as his demon was. Either way, worry wrote itself across youthful features, etching creases in a forehead that was normally smooth and turning usually grinning lips downward into a deep frown. Dean was, for all intents and purposes, generally unemotional. Belial had seen the other sides of him, he had seen the hunter broken and miserable, he'd seen him hurting. He'd also seen the smile, but that wasn't so unusual for the elder Winchester boy. He kept himself grinning when he could, and for that Belial admired him. A lot of the time it seemed like the man had very little to smile about... and yet he managed.
"I fucked up." Well shit, that was never a good way to start. Immediately the White Eye's mind was racing, trying to figure out what Dean could have done. There were a limited number of options at the moment, so far as Bel could see at least, and that helped. The most likely of the options was that Dean had sold his soul - again. Belial was about to reach over and smack his human companion on sheer principle when his assumption was proven wrong. Dean was rambling on about Sammy -- Sam. His name was Sam, Belial decided immediately, because Sammy felt intimate and wrong to call a guy you'd never met. Sam had fallen into a coma. Sam had been dying and Dean had been scared. With no humans capable of help, Dean had allowed in another force and as a result? Sam had been taken over by an angel.
Well fuck.
Belial stared silently for a while, tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth as he folded his hands in solemn contemplation. Slowly, he brought a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose, bowing his head as he struggled to find the words to say. He could have yelled, but that wasn't quite in his nature. He could still reach across the table and smack Dean upside the head but... that didn't seem like it would help. The hunter across from him was scared, and lost, and he had turned to Belial for help. Scolding him would just make him withdraw.
Belial was suddenly glad he'd never really been a father, because making these kinds of decisions when faced with a child who knew they'd done wrong, felt bad about it, and was scared to face the consequences was difficult. How anyone could look someone they'd helped create - and Belial did feel as though he'd helped create Dean Winchester by this point - and punish them for learning a lesson the hard way he would never understand. Lucifer had never truly punished any of the princes for anything if they were repentant over it, or if they had learned their lesson. God, it was a sad day when Satan was a better father than half the humans wandering around topside.
The demon shook his head, realizing he had ventured so far off point in his thought process as a possible escape from having to deal with the situation at hand. Slowly he exhaled through his nose, sighing softly as he lifted his gaze to meet Dean's again, the green eyes he found across from him fraught with distress. "Dean." Belial spoke slowly and softly, the name measured and the pause afterwards perhaps a bit too long. "It's okay." Lucifer wasn't going to be happy about another angel setting up shop in his true vessel; not that Belial knew where he was. Things had been weird lately. Too weird. This was just the icing on the cake. "This is going to stay between you and me, okay? Just you and me." That was pertinent. Until they figured out precisely who or what had taken control of Sam Winchester and was, allegedly, healing him from the inside out, no one else could know. None of the other princes and, as Dean pointed out, especially not Sam.
"What is the angel's name? I'll pull records and do some digging. I have friends in some very interesting places and I can find out what garrison he worked with, his ranking, who he called friends. At least, I can try. At this point our best bet is to get you some peace of mind before you lose your cool and let the cat out of the bag." Belial truthfully wasn't sure what other questions to ask or suggestions to make. He had never been in this situation before and frankly, he was thankful for that. "I'm going to do what I can to help you... and worst case, we'll find a way to get that angel out."
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Dean Winchester
Inactive
Michael's True Vessel
Posts: 75
Player: Varon
HP: 250
Win: 20
Loss: 0
Flee: 0
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Post by Dean Winchester on Nov 29, 2013 23:16:18 GMT -5
My mother always said, do the noble thing Belial’s lengthy silence did nothing to help Dean’s nerves. The impending sense of disappointment made him almost want to choke. How many father figures was he going to fail before the world just stopped fucking offering them? He began to shift a bit uncomfortably, unable to find words to excuse himself as Bel rubbed at the bridge of his nose in a clear sign of exasperation. His mouth had just opened to – to apologize, maybe, when the white-eye began to speak. The soft tone caused Dean to lean forward – he hadn’t even realized he’d begun to rear back from Bel, and refused to consider what that said about him and a father’s disappointment in regards to fucking up with Sam – and the calm way Bel assured him that it was okay helped ease a lot of the pain in his chest. He nodded without even pausing to question it when Bel ordered him to keep mum – somehow taking Bel’s lead in this felt safer and, sure enough, the white-eye had a plan to play at. “Ezekiel,” Dean offered easily. “Cas vouched for him but, well. You know.” Cas was pretty much on Heaven’s most wanted dead list, right there next to the Winchester brothers. It was hard to trust anything Heavenly even remotely. “He said his name is Ezekiel but – well it’s not like I’d know him from Adam,” Dean stated, before blinking a bit and tilting his head. Adam. Why did that sound familiar? Shaking his head, Dean soldiered on. “I was paniced, he was all I had but – Bel I have no way of knowing who this guy is batting teams for.” But Bel already knew that much – that was why he was going to look in to everything. Confirm it even was Ezekiel and not some other angel out to fuck shit up. “Thank you.” Those words didn’t come easily from Dean, but when they did you damn well knew he meant it. Letting out a breath of relief, Dean turned and smiled brightly for their waitress and ordered up a large pizza, before giving Bel a look, like don’t even tell me that kid you’re wearing doesn’t want some. “Best pizza in Chicago,” Dean stated slowly, remembering how Death had cited the willingness to spare Chicago based on pizza in this very establishment. Once the waitress had toddled off, Dean leaned forward again and asked bluntly, “Now why can’t I die, exactly? Because if you say I’m going to Heaven, I might just have to say hello to Metatron myself, if you get me.” Yes that really is the name of Death's Diner xD Template by Loki @ Proboards Support
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Post by Deleted on Nov 30, 2013 1:44:26 GMT -5
If nothing else, Belial knew he didn't like the way it felt to see Dean leaning back, trying to get away from him, trying to escape. Dean's face looked pained and that hurt the white-eye, who had to be reminded not once but three times by the human in the back of his mind that letting his emotions take over and letting his eyes white out was not a good idea while topside and in a public place. He breathed out of his nose again, this time a bit more sharply, when Dean seemed to relax. The demon's own anxiousness flooded away at the realization that his little human progeny was okay -- or rather, at the very least, would be.
The information offered was good. Ezekiel was a name he could work with. Belial was by no means an angels expert, but he knew at least two or three reapers who might have some answers they could dig up. There were definitely perks to running around with the guys who lead dead people to their final destination - they had an all access pass to Heaven, Hell, and everywhere inbetween. Or they had, before all Hell broke loose... or rather, was sealed off.
"I'll try to figure something out," He promised Dean gently, trying not to blink in surprise at the comment about Adam. Adam Milligan - Dean's half brother - was someone who had been wiped away completely from Dean's mind. Belial hadn't intentionally kept the name or face away, but when Dean hadn't remembered it initially, he hadn't pressed the matter. Perhaps it had been selfish, but the Prince didn't want to see his son friend hurt any more than absolutely necessary, especially not back when he was so fragile. Still, it was nice to know that things were coming back; that Dean's mind was healing itself naturally and on its own. It was reassuring to Bel to know he'd done a decent job at fitting the pieces back together.
Belial shot Dean a playfully dirty look as the man ordered a large pie, knowing full well that eating was a messy thing - rather, what came after was messy - and that Belial was grateful for not having to do it. Still, in favor of Dean's once again somewhat jovial mood, Bel decided to give in. Just this once.
The prince felt his expression falter when Dean started asking questions. The whole situation about Heaven and Hell probably should have been kept on the downlow, but now it was too late to not say anything and Belial had never been a fan of lying. He sighed and shook his head. "You get me into some interesting situations, you know?" He teased, tutting his tongue softly against the roof of his mouth as he tried to figure out how to explain the current predicament.
"For one, Heaven's closed. Metatron saw to that. No one's getting in or out of that Garden, so if you die, there's no flying up to sing with the angels in your own personal fantasy land." Wow, okay, so maybe Bel was just slightly bitter about heaven. "And Hell's... in a little bit of discord right now. Power struggles. Abaddon's causing a riot and our vacancy sign's illuminating a big red no." Bel bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair. "So everyone's being sent to the Fields. Soul's End for humans, Perdition for Demons, Elysium for angels. There's no where else to dump everyone. And the trouble is, I've got no domain there. Once you're there, you're stuck unless you find a crack and... it doesn't happen often. So I need you - now more than ever - to be careful."
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Dean Winchester
Inactive
Michael's True Vessel
Posts: 75
Player: Varon
HP: 250
Win: 20
Loss: 0
Flee: 0
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Post by Dean Winchester on Nov 30, 2013 23:05:04 GMT -5
My mother always said, do the noble thing Dean didn’t hesitate to give Belial a grateful look; he’d learned to be pretty honest with his expressions toward the guy when Belial had been helping him remember how to speak. Being mute had taught Dean more than he ever wanted to know about his own micro-expressions. All the same, it made communication without words a lot easier. He wasn’t one for gushing gratitude, but this was Sam. This was Sam, and his fuck up, and Belial didn’t owe him a damn thing. Hell, he owed Belial – everything. Absolutely everything. So yeah, he was grateful, even if he wasn’t noisy about it. The look shifted into a cheeky grin that was as much in response to Bel’s dirty look as it was for Luke, who surely deserved some damn pizza after god-knew-how-long of vesseling around the Prince. Still, he sobered up pretty quickly when Belial sighed up. That was never a good sign. He gave the other an expectant look despite the commentary – and almost wished he hadn’t asked a goddamn thing. “Son of a bitch.” Great. So now even good guys couldn’t go to Heaven. Dean may have disliked angels, but he knew what Heaven did for good people and honestly? He didn’t begrudge them that. Knowing Metatron had locked out people from ascending was a royal piss off. As for Hell – well. They did have a somewhat human King hiding in their dungeon. Dean shifted uncomfortably, the thought of helping out Hell bothering him on a fundamental level. Still, if the bad place was open for business, it meant good things for him and Sam. Because honestly? Dying was kind of what they did for a living. At least with Belial reigning, they could be safe down there, as fucked up an idea as that was. Dean kept mum until after the pizza had been delivered and the waitress had swanned off again, before he stated gruffly, “If you want me to put a color on Crowley and hand him over, it it’ll help any…” He left that open, reluctance clear on his features. Crowley was contained, and that was a good thing. Still, not being able to die, no matter what – well, with all that was going on these days, that wasn’t going to be easy to do. Yes that really is the name of Death's Diner xD Template by Loki @ Proboards Support
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Post by Deleted on Dec 1, 2013 17:46:07 GMT -5
The suggestion of tossing Crowley back into the pit - collar or not - was not one that Belial cared for. All that would do is cause more trouble than anything was worth. Abaddon was doing a good job of keeping the pit demons in line, if nothing else. It had begun to look like a pit again. It ran like the maze had before Crowley's reign, and demons tore into each other like animals. It kept the lesser brats occupied and the slightly higher-ups fighting over who got to call the shots. The white-eyes were suddenly free to do what they actually needed to do. It wasn't ideal, but it was a start while things were in this state, and Belial was willing to take what he could get. "Keep him." The Prince said sternly, shaking his head and scowling. "You'll have more fun with him than we will."
Belial suddenly found himself contemplating telling Dean the rest of the story - Lucifer was gone, Michael had gotten out of that cage... but no. Adding more worry to the kid when he already looked like steam could come out of his ears? Also not ideal. So Belial kept his mouth shut as he let every emotion flash over Dean's features, trying to decide what exactly the hunter could be thinking.
"Hell, I'm sure, will sort itself out. Power struggles like this happen - though definitely not at such a grand scale. Give it a few months, maybe a few years and they'll all kill each other enough times for one of them to take over and things can resume the way they should. As it is, though, they pose a threat to everything, and adding extra souls to the mix isn't a good idea." Hoping that was assuage any additional worry at least a bit, Belial quieted as the waitress brought over their pizza. Dean didn't look hungry any more, so Bel huffed and took the first slice, hoping it would encourage the kid to eat.
"Look, just... try and stay out of trouble for me. It's kind of imperative you do. You know I'm here if you need me so keep in touch. If things get rough, just call." Belial wasn't sure exactly what he could do for Dean. He wasn't a fighter, so if he found himself in a bad predicament, Bel wasn't much use but... there were other powers at Belial's disposal, especially while he'd taken over running Hell's second tier in Lucifer's stead.
"Y'know," The demon mused, chewing a particularly stringy bit of cheese. "I feel like telling you not to do something basically guarantees you're going to end up doing it."
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Dean Winchester
Inactive
Michael's True Vessel
Posts: 75
Player: Varon
HP: 250
Win: 20
Loss: 0
Flee: 0
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Post by Dean Winchester on Dec 4, 2013 14:02:05 GMT -5
My mother always said, do the noble thing Dean couldn’t help the way his lips twitched at Belial’s easy dismissal of Crowley. If he disliked demons, it was nothing on the pure and beautiful racism Belial exuded toward the black and red eyed pit beasts. It was relieving too, as Dean could only imagine how Sam would react if he ever found out Dean deliberately and wilfully handed over the self-proclaimed King of Hell to a white eyed demon. There was only so many ways that would go over, and none of them were good. It wasn’t as though Dean cared about Hell. He didn’t. He still hated every black eyed wretch down in the Pit, perhaps more than he ever did before. The difference now was that he knew. He knew that the Pit was only one half of Hell – the ugly, vicious and roiling mass of monstrosity one would expect. The other though – it was big. It was so much bigger than he even knew how to deal with sometimes. He didn’t talk about it much, about his time as Death, but that, combined with Purgatory and all he knew about Hell, left Dean a lot more humble than he let on. And in a way – just a little smaller than ever before. “Yeah well, so long as they aren’t causing you any grief.” It was Belial’s headaches he cared about, more than anything else. “I’ll try and keep us alive for a bit,” Dean added, an odd look crossing his features that was at once grim and mildly ironic, “A few months I should be able to handle, but if it’s a year we’re talking, all bets are off.” He fell silent then, thinking of how hard it was going to be to keep that promise, but vowing to do it anyway. Sooner or later, death was going to win and there was going to be no more coming back. Now would not be a good time for that to happen. Looking up as Belial snacked back on some cheesey pizza caused Dean to reach out and nab a slice – unconsciously responding to Belial’s encouragement without even realizing it for what it was. “Hey, I listen,” Dean objected, though it was rather marred by his cheeky grin. “I didn’t go bother the giant beached whales like you said.” Devourers, they were called. Enormous behemoths that literally looked like beached whales, sleeping in the valleys of the tier. He hadn’t even needed Belial to tell him to stay away from those beasties, but he’d done so gladly when asked. Yes that really is the name of Death's Diner xD Template by Loki @ Proboards Support
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2013 13:04:25 GMT -5
Dean grabbed for a slice of pizza and Belial grinned, taking another bite out of his and nearly choking on the sound of jealousy that came from Luke who wanted more than anything to be devouring the whole pizza by himself at the current moment. Promising to let the kid to just that soon enough, the Prince sighed and rested his chin on the heel of his hand. "Dean." He sighed softly, shaking his head. "You listen when it's convenient, I think." He was smiling as he said this, eyes bright and teasing as he let the half eaten slice rest back down on the plate in front of him. "And sometimes when you realize your ass is on the line for real." The Winchester boys had gotten so used to dying that they'd stopped taking it seriously. That made things slightly problematic sometimes.
"You're not going to die. Not in a month, not in a year, not until you're old, grey, and a fairly literal pain in the neck and ass." Belial knew this wasn't true, but he could hope. The thought of Dean dying and going anywhere other than directly to the second tier brought a whole range of emotions that the white eyed prince didn't like to explore. Ever, though he knew he might have to one day. Dean was one of those relatively mercurial beings; his fate tended to change from day to day, and though his soul was marked for Hell well... it was difficult to know where he might end up when at last he was laid to rest for good.
Belial was simply going to have to bank on that not happening for a long while. Perhaps he'd assign someone to keep an eye on the Winchester boys to help keep their asses out of trouble. Amon would have been a prime candidate had Asataroth not had his claws so far in the other demon's ass that he couldn't move without permission. Mammon might have been a good option, but she was busy and frankly Belial tried not to bother her.
Maybe a lower level demon with a good head on their shoulders? A yellow eye? No, that was dangerous and Dean would probably never forgive him. Belial snorted to himself, huffing internally. "Damn you for being such a hassle." He chastised playfully, his words light as he tried to figure out the situation, hoping that Dean wouldn't take offense to what he'd said. Belial held nothing against Dean; he was just doing what it was in his blood to do.
"Anything else you need to cover? I mean, it's been a while... how've you been?" Belial looked at the clock. Months were passing in Hell with every passing moment and he knew he'd be needed but... catching up with Dean was something he knew he could spare a moment for. He'd like to, at least.
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Dean Winchester
Inactive
Michael's True Vessel
Posts: 75
Player: Varon
HP: 250
Win: 20
Loss: 0
Flee: 0
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Post by Dean Winchester on Dec 12, 2013 3:37:10 GMT -5
My mother always said, do the noble thing Dean couldn't help but give a bit of a shrug and odd sort of half nod at that, because in essence it was true. It wasn't so much when it was convenient, as it was when it felt prudent. If something came up that held more importance in the grand scheme of things than listening to someone he cared about, chances were nine out of ten that he'd go do whatever it was that was more important in the long term. Didn't mean he cared or respected the person in question any less; it just meant he valued large quantities of human lives a little bit more than he did his own vow not to do something or other. Swallowing back some pizza, Dean realized he'd forgotten to order beer so he waved down the waitress quickly before grinning at Belial. "I don't know about that last one," He commented cheekily before waving the waitress off with his beer order, "Pretty sure my ass is always on the line for something." The levity in Dean’s expression faded to something much more sombre as Belial went on. He paid attention to his pizza for a bit, because it was easier to swallow. He’d never heard anyone say those sorts of things to a hunter – least of all a Winchester. Bobby always told him and Sam to keep their chin up, but he knew well as they did that dying was very much a possibility in this line of work. Belial’s words struck something in Dean he hadn’t even known was vulnerable any longer. For a moment, for the briefest bloody second, Dean felt normal. Like a normal damn kid with a normal fucking dad giving him shit for being overdramatic about dying. Reality was a bitch sometimes. Dean was anything but normal, and Belial was a white-eyed demon who was most decidedly not John Winchester. Though like Bobby, Belial was more a father to him than John had ever been, the fact remained that Dean was a hunter, and dying early was something he’d long since come to accept. Still, for Belial Dean managed to drudge up a cheeky grin and a smartass remark. “Sure thing Miyagi,” The pop culture reference was likely going to fly right over Bel’s head, but it made Dean feel better so there was at least that. They ate in silence for a while after that, until Bel huffed and almost made Dean choke with laughter. “Yeah well. Welcome to kids Bel,” Dean teased in turn, taking a long drag of his beer before going back to the cheesy monstrosity this diner called pizza. No wonder Death hadn’t wanted to axe this place – the pizza here was definitely among the best Dean had ever encountered. At the question, Dean shook his head a bit. “Aside from finding a way to get all the dicks with wings back up in Heaven? Not a whole lot.” Dean paused then, considering asking Bel to hunt down the missing Castiel, before shrugging it off. Sam was more important at the moment, and he didn’t want to ask too much of Bel. “I’ve been pissed off about this whole mess, stressed about Sam, but otherwise healthy and well,” Dean added, managing a touch of levity for the white-eyes sake. He sighed then, checking his watch. “You’re going to have to go soon.” Weeks – months – were probably ticking by in Hell while he chatted up one of its most important members. Well damn him for being a needy bastard. Yes that really is the name of Death's Diner xD Template by Loki @ Proboards Support
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Post by Deleted on Dec 17, 2013 18:38:57 GMT -5
“Miya—I don’t want to know. Really, I’m good not knowing.”
Belial just shook his head and watched as Dean chomped through his own slice of pizza. He was clearly trying to avoid the conversation, and Bel could guess why. The way that Dean lived… the way his fate was written… it was never easy and never right and the idea of Death coming to claim him for the last time was something very real. Bel knew it better than anyone else in Dean’s life, save maybe Sam. Belial had a hunch that deep down Dean was scared, but more and more he was starting to wonder if he was wrong about that. Sometimes he had to think that maybe Dean was just desperate for it to be over. Either way, it hurt Belial to wonder what went through the hunter’s mind.
Belial knew Dean’s purpose; everything Dean did was for the greater good – or at the very least, the man thought it would be in the long run. Dying for humanity was a noble reason to die, and Bel would never deny that. He also couldn’t deny, however, that death had essentially become a joke to the Winchesters and that just made the entire situation harder to read. Sometimes he almost missed the days when the extent of Dean’s inner thoughts was basically an eternal war between ‘I have to get better’ and ‘please don’t send me back to Sam and Cas, they’re better off without me.’
“Like you’ve got any experience with kids.” Bel scoffed back, grateful for the change of topic. “You and kids… that’s definitely an, uh, interesting image.” Dean’s personality would probably make him quite good with kids… the main issue came in the amount of commitment children required. Dean couldn’t honestly commit to staying alive for more than a month, let alone to having a child for eighteen years. Next Dean started in about the angels. Belial felt his heart flutter and he had to close his eyes for half a moment. “When you figure it out, try not to lock them all up there, yeah? Hand out a few get out of heaven free cards, will you?” Bel hadn’t filled Dean in on his relationship with Zadkiel – who had been MIA since Heaven’s gates got shut, much to the white eye’s dismay – and he was hoping he wouldn’t have to. The look on his face pleaded desperately for no questions to be asked, and he knew that Dean had enough respect for him to hold off… at least for a little while. At least until the questions became prudent, which hopefully wouldn’t happen any time soon. It wasn’t that Belial was ashamed of his relationship with Zak, but dragging anyone else into it at a time when everything was so fragile really seemed dangerous. Danger was the last thing anyone needed right now.
The promise of Dean being healthy was something to bring a smile to Belial’s lips, but the reminder that Hell sorely needed him made it fall as quickly as it had come. “They’ll make do without me, it’s nothing to worry about. I could really use a break, anyway.”
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Dean Winchester
Inactive
Michael's True Vessel
Posts: 75
Player: Varon
HP: 250
Win: 20
Loss: 0
Flee: 0
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Post by Dean Winchester on Dec 26, 2013 15:02:18 GMT -5
My mother always said, do the noble thing Dean grinned around his pizza at Belial's exasperation, chewing merrily on the cheesy pie when the white-eye made a comment that made Dean raise a brow. "You do realize I pretty much raised Sam, right?" Dean asked, less caustically than he would have anyone else who made that comment, but more curiously, like maybe he thought Belial might have forgotten this little fact. Downing a gulp of beer, Dean shrugged slightly. "I'm good with kids." It was true; kids responded well to Dean, and he was naturally protective of them. He was able to coax words from even the most reticent of children, calm fussy babies and even get along well with finicky teenagers like Ben. All things told Dean had a lot of kid experience; though he supposed that wasn't something that reflected overly much in Hell. Blinking a bit at Belial's request, Dean eyed him oddly for a time. "I suppose there's some big, grand 'natural order' scheme my tiny human brain does not need to know about that requires winged dicks to have some semblance of fluttery freedom?" He asked, in an odd mixture of annoyance and amusement. Shaking his head, Dean shrugged a bit. "We'll do what we can. Whether we can even find a way to open the gates again is still completely up in the air, so no promises on that or the lockdown should we manage it." Dean didn't believe in platitudes or bullshit; if he found a way to lock Heaven and all its shits up for good, he would do it, no matter what. "But I'll keep your request in mind." That much at least he could do. Returning to the pizza, Dean polished off his slice before giving Belial a startled look. "Whole place is shut down and going to the dogs and you're swanning off Bel?" The incredulation hid his amusement and concern; that wasn't really like Belial. The white eye was responsible to a damned fault, and if he was looking for a break at Hell's worst time, that said something. Something not good, that Dean didn't want to think too heavily on. Yes that really is the name of Death's Diner xD Template by Loki @ Proboards Support
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