Without A Trace >> Dean Winchester

33 | Taxi Driver [ I Liked That Kiss ]

33 | Taxi Driver [ I Liked That Kiss ]

DEAN SLAMMED A HAND on the door repeatedly, impatient, "Kevin, open up!"

Dean and Clarissa were having a drinking game last night when Kevin sent him a message asking for help asap. Apparently that messages jolted him out of his senses and marched right into Sam's room, instructing that they'd drive to the boathouse first thing in the morning.

The door jerked open catching the trio by surprise, and there stood Kevin, holding a kitchen pan in front of him, like he was going to ready himself from any fight.

"Woah, dude. Geez. It's us." Dean chuckled and stepped in, "what's with the S.O.S.?"

"I wanted to sleep in," Clarissa grumbled, "it's a goddamn weekend."

"It's him." Kevin croaks out all of a sudden, and whimpered after, like it took him all the courage he could muster to mutter some worlds.

"It's who?"

"Crowley. He's in my head."

"Okay...?" Sam scratches his head.

He casted his gaze on the floor and placed a shaky hand on the table for support. His knees were clanking together like silver spoons, as if he couldn't hold his own weight.

He thought he was out of Crowley's sight because he was in the boathouse, the safest place possible for him to translate the remaining trials, according to Dean.

"Don't you know what that means?" Kevin snapped

"Yeah, it means we need to up your anxiety meds." Clarissa mocked. "Kevin, you're dreaming."

"If Crowley knew where you were, he'd do a hell lot more than mess with your head." Dean reasoned.

Clarissa shot him a look. "Reassuring much?"

"You're the one to talk." He spat.

"Where's Garth?" Sam intervened.

"On a case—or the dentist. I don't know, okay. I haven't heard from him."

"What's a hunter doing in the dentist?" Clarissa wondered. She had once heard Dean going on about how strange Garth was; he had a sock poppet that goes by the name of Mr. Fizzles that had incredible 'special interrogation skills'

Dean's brow shot up, "Okay. Then what do you want from us that you couldn't say over the phone? And could you put the frying pan down, please?"

Placing the frying pan on the nearby desk, he staggered to his desk, "I translated the second trial from the tablet."

Their faces lit up. Dean grinned from ear to ear, "You...crazy prophet you. Nice work!"

Kevin, not looking so joyous, growled, "and if he's on my head, Crowley knows."

"He's definitely not in your head." Sam and Dean says in unison.

"We know you're distressed, just stay with us, alright?" Sam took a deep breath, "what's the second trial?"

"An innocent soul has to be rescued from hell and delivered unto heaven."