[ The delivery comes and he’s not expecting it, though something in the back of his mind ties this together with the choice he and Amy had made at the end of the labyrinth.

But it’s cute as hell, and he secretly loves it, snatching it up and shoving it into his jacket for safekeeping. There’s no harm in a little stuffed impala, he reasons, it’s not like the huge depressed teddy bear the little girl had wished into being. It’s not animate, it’s not causing mass destruction (yet), it’s just a harmless toy. Besides, he’s sleeping better, he’s less gloomy and depressed, his demeanor uplifted, a lightness about him he hasn’t felt since he was a toddler.

So he keeps it, taking it all over town with him like the little kid he never got to be. It sits on the table by him at the coffee shop, in the basket at the grocery store, again on the table at the diner while he has lunch and as always, a big slice of apple pie.

Days pass and he’s more protective of it, moving it closer and closer to him as he does errands and chores and eats. It’s eventually stuffed into his coat once more, keeping it near his heart, wary when people get too close. ]

[ Dean would never on a normal day do something this stupid. A tea party for people and their dolls? No way. Absolutely not. And yet, with his new and improved mood he goes anyway, cheerful and sat at a table, one chair occupied by himself and the other, the little stuffed car.

He’s picking at a scone and contemplating the tea - he’s not a tea drinker at all, if anyone that’s gonna be Sam, but it’s caffeinated so he might as well give it a whirl. It’s black with nothing in it, and he sips it, glancing up when someone approaches. ]

Hey. Have a seat if you want.

part 1; for Clark

[ He’s told to hide and he does, holing himself up in the bunker until he runs out of food and absolutely has to leave. The impala roars to life, the little plush once more stuffed inside of his jacket, protective as hell.

Instead of it sitting in the basket in the grocery store it’s in his jacket, but a man can only maneuver so much before it slips out, bouncing across the floor. ]

Hey, lemme get that-


part 2;
((cw; suicidal ideation; knives ))

[ Plush destroyed alongside his pride and heart, he’s lost and in more darker places than ever. He dwells on the things he’s done, the mistakes he’s made; the Mark, freeing the Darkness, killing Death. Things that all had dire consequences, that inevitably did and will backfire. The world would be better off without him, it’s something he knows to be true, even Death himself confirmed it. And he’d been willing to kill his brother to save the world, knew that sacrificing Sam and allowing himself to be placed to the farthest reaches of the universe to slowly be driven mad by the Mark was the only way.

The Mark itself had other ideas. Self-preservation kicks in, and in having it for so long Dean can feel that the Mark is almost a sentient thing, that it drives him to do and say things he would never, ever say/do otherwise; upon being handed Death’s sickle his hands shake and it doesn’t let him take the final swing, instead whisking it over Sam’s head and slicing into the hoseman himself, watching him crumble to dust.

The spell hit moments later and Amara was unleashed, darkness swirling, smashing into his car, keeping Dean safe but the town around them plagued with sickness and death. Consequences indeed.

His body feels like lead as he moves around the town, but he’s holding a wicked looking knife and ready to help anyone out who needs some help with getting their plush destroyed. ]

(( ooc; ota (save the clark prompt) and feel free to wildcard whatever you are in the mood for! pm me or hmu virtuously if you want something specific not listed! ))