Triple Drabble tag to Episode 9:15 - #thinman.

Disclaimer: Neither the boys nor anything related to Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with the boys, playing around with Eric Kripke's sandbox.

DECONSTRUCT

By: Vanessa Sgroi

Dean eased down on his bed, rubbing at the back of his neck, a neck that was sore from being wrenched backward by the faux-Thinman serial killer. The very killer he'd coldly, methodically put down like a rabid animal. Dean supposed he should feel some speck of remorse, but he didn't. No remorse and no satisfaction either. At least, no satisfaction that he would admit to, though there was a spark of something burning like a hot coal in his belly.

Reaching for the bottle on the table by the bed, he poured himself two fingers of whiskey, eyeballed the glass then poured another two fingers of the amber liquid. Picking up the tumbler, Dean inhaled the incendiary fumes, letting his eyelids slide closed. He pulled in a mouthful and held it, letting it burn momentarily before swallowing and tracking the burn downward as it raced to his core and expanded like a firework.

Opening his eyes—eyes devoid of their usual verdant gleam—he gave a dispassionate look around his bedroom, noting with indifference that it was now much more Spartan than it had been just weeks ago. Finally, Dean nodded to himself in approval and acceptance. This…this was how it should be. His grandiose idea of home proven to be a mere fallacy.

He tapped the rim of the glass with his index finger, his body thrumming with a restless energy and need. He finished off the liquor in his glass and deftly poured a refill. Grabbing his laptop, Dean settled back on the bed, shoulders tight against the wall, his focus quickly locking on the screen coming alive in front of him. Time to find a new hunt. His right arm twitched as the Mark on his forearm throbbed, grew hot. His lip unconsciously curled in acknowledgement.

FIN