21: [Video/Action] Dark Side of the Moon
Mar. 7th, 2011 09:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dashboardliteSam?!
[It's playing on a loop in Dean's head.]
Mom? Mom! Dad?! C'mon, this isn't funny!
[The...the Dean in the television had been screaming. For an hour.]
Bobby? Dad! You guys, please! Don't just...don't just leave me here.
[Until his voice was raw. Until he couldn't scream anymore. Until he curled up and sobbed. Dean can remember it distinctly enough. Something that was him. But not him. Alone in a room. It was dark, and quiet. And no one was answering. No one was there. Not even-]
Cas?!
[Dean sucks in a shaky breath, settled in the corner of his childhood room in his old house. The entire kitschy motel room looks like his house, down to the gash in the paintjob from when Dean ran his Hot Wheels cars into the wall, repeating some movie stunt he'd seen on tv when he was four. Cradling a small statue of an angel - one of the only things he found in the room that was completely unscathed, and a gift from his mother - Dean sends a terrified, sidelong glance at a family portrait, framed and hung on the wall.
Hairline fractures have snaked through the infrastructure of the bedroom, the window panes split and spider-webbed, the photographs of everyone close to him torn. His mother is ripped from every single one. Sammy has slashes through his face; white scrapes made with an Exacto knife in anger. And Dean isn't even next to his father in any of them.]
Someone... [He croaks, looking down at the statue of the angel in his hands. Dean can't remember when he first noticed it was in his room, on his shelf, but he definitely remembers that his father thought it was sort of silly. His mother believed otherwise.]
It's okay, baby, it's all okay. Angels are watching over you.
[Dean swallows before trying again.]
...anyone?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
[video]
Date: 2011-03-07 08:11 pm (UTC)Pot calling the kettle black, shut up.
Sitting upright and clambering over to his communicator, stupid angel statue still in hand - Dean grabs the thing and pulls it closer, concern clouding his features. Now that he really thinks about it, the laughing is what bothers him. Phil is allowed to laugh, sure, but not like The Joker on nitrous oxide.]
Hey.
[He can't possibly comprehend what it's like having another set of thoughts in his brain, but since a stupid television program can mess with Dean's head and reduce him to this, it doesn't bode well for Professor Physics over there.]
...what'd your Sunday Night Special say to you?
[video]
Date: 2011-03-07 08:42 pm (UTC)A Philip in his current condition only takes a deep breath for show and sits up in his chair, attempting to convey the message loud, clear and with a serious face and ample gesturing. ]
Clarence is great, Clarence is always right, just shut your fucking face and give him your body, because sooner or later he'll take it anyway and kill those useless bastards you think are your friends.
[ He pauses and sinks back into the chair, this time taking the entire bottle with him. ]
...'course I'm parp-- parphh-- para, uh... not quoting, but that's the idea.
Cheers!
[ Philip toasts towards the camera, then grins and takes another gulp. ]
[video]
Date: 2011-03-07 10:27 pm (UTC)Swift and slightly-slurred babbling aside, Dean catches the drift pretty quickly and the alarm bells go off. If Philip gets it into his head that he should do what the whatever-the-fuck-those-things-are said and pull another "Here's Johnny!" in the mansion, the shit's gonna hit the fan pretty damn hard. Dean is fairly concerned about Phil's constitution, no matter how much he appreciates a good impersonation of Jack Nicholson.
What does strike him, though, is the fact that he's even regarded as a friend. Dean honestly can't remember the last 'friend' he had in his own world that wasn't a mentally unbalanced hunter or a civvie that he drove away from, never to see again.]
...you know that's not true, right?
[Dean finds that he kind of likes the idea of having friends, but certainly won't say so out loud lest he be dubbed sentimental.]
Right, Phil?
[video]
Date: 2011-03-07 10:47 pm (UTC)And howwww--
How're you so sure about that? Callmme an-- a pessimist, but... but I'm not esssactly getting very positiveff-- feelings on this... this everything.
[ One last smile before the familiar gloom appears on his face, this time only visually deepened thanks to alcohol addition and sleep deprivation. ]
And thisiss what--
[ He swings the bottle wide, spilling a little while gesturing at the ice deco around him. ]
What I get back home to, even if I make it through Wonderland.
[video]
Date: 2011-03-07 11:09 pm (UTC)Don't get all existential on me, buddy.
[Dean advises carefully, eyebrows furrowing deeper and mouth tightening as he realizes how much Philip's had of the bottle of Jack, and how much he had to have had before this to get to the state he's in.]
You know what I got to look forward to, too.
[It's all apples to apples, really, because their lives are shit, but they're still worth living.]
You wanna put that bottle down before you knock yourself out? Hell, aren't you freezing? I could-
[Dean's gaze slides to his right, out his door, to look at Sam's room. He doesn't want to walk past it. He really doesn't. He'd rather chew glass than re-live anything like that again. He always told his father that he hardly recalled that night, but Dean remembers everything. The heat from the fire, the smoke in the hallway, the weight of his baby brother in his puny little four-year-old arms...
...Dean shivers a little, then turns back to the comm unit.]
You need any help?
[video]
Date: 2011-03-07 11:19 pm (UTC)Most of everything else Dean says is just flying past his head at this point. ]
Help... drinking?
No, I'vethis one covered. [ Conspicuous gulp from the bottle. ]
[video]
Date: 2011-03-07 11:35 pm (UTC)Where are you? In the - the mansion, I mean.
[video]
Date: 2011-03-07 11:44 pm (UTC)[ He tentatively shakes what's left of his liquor. ]
And another bottle.
[video]
Date: 2011-03-08 12:40 am (UTC)[Dean grunts, standing and frowning a little at Philip through the screen. He looks like an absolute wreck, and this coming from someone who spent most of the night shaking in a ball in the corner of his room.]
Don't- Well, I'd tell you not to go anywhere, but I think you got that covered.
[Dean switches off the comm unit, stuffing it in his pocket and making his way warily towards the door of his room. Jesus, the floor's creaking and the whole thing feels like it's settling while he's in it. Taking a deep breath, he slides around the jamb and pauses in the hallway.
It's quiet.
The rest of his trek is fairly uneventful, actually, as he strenuously avoids looking at his brother's room, because he doesn't want anything to be a possible catalyst for more insanity. Once he's out of his "house" and back in the mansion, Dean feels the crushing, overbearing weight lifted (for the most part) from his shoulders, and he can breathe freely once more...
...to make his way down to the second floor pool. Damn, he didn't even know they had a pool here.]
Dude, are you in her- Holy crap, it's cold!
[He didn't have the foresight to put on his leather jacket, so he's standing in what feels like friggin' Siberia in a t-shirt and jeans. Dean stumbles over a snowdrift to Phil's side.]
Jesus fuck, I thought Greenland was supposed to be green.
[video]
Date: 2011-03-08 01:17 am (UTC)Hearing Dean's voice prompts his head to be turned slowly, but his reaction and processing time is shot to shit and if Dean wants an actual response he will have to be a lot more insistent. ]
[video]
Date: 2011-03-08 01:35 am (UTC)[Dean crouches next to the chair, shivering as a - was that a gust of wind? Fuck, remind him never to visit Greenland. Phil isn't looking so great, either. He's practically comatose, and his mouth is turning purplish. Dean rubs his hands together to get them warm before unzipping a few inches of Philip's coat, pressing his fingertips against the man's pulse. It's fairly weak.
Dean's medical skills are rudimentary, but he can manage in the worse case scenario.]
Let's get you outta this meat locker. [He mumbles, zipping Phil's coat back up and shifting an arm under his shoulders to ease him into a sitting position.] ...dude. Dude, you gotta stay with me, okay? Phil.
[Dean resists the urge to slap him like they do in the movies.]
Phil, I need you to nod that you can hear me, man. Okay?
[vid-- Action! ACTION!]
Date: 2011-03-08 01:50 am (UTC)'m fine go away.
[ Through frozen lips and mumbling it may not be the most audible of sentiments. ]
[ACTION] We are the smartest EVER.
Date: 2011-03-08 02:19 am (UTC)[Awesome, Dean to the rescue again. At least this time it's not a teenage kid who's into musicals and men who are too old for him. Bride-style is not going to work this time, seeing as Philip is considerably larger than an eleven-year-old milkmaid Kurt Hummel. Gritting his teeth and dragging Philip closer on the stupid lounge chair, Dean braces himself and pulls one of Phil's arms over his shoulders.]
Come on.
[He pulls the deadweight Englishman off the chair, standing with a little wobble and trying to support him.] You're gonna - ngh - hafta help me, Phil.
[ACTION] So smart! S-M-U-R-T! \o/
Date: 2011-03-08 02:46 am (UTC)Philip's only response verbal can be roughly transcribed as Mnnrgfhfgnghhmm, but after a moment he reaches for Dean's shoulder, leaning on it hard to steady himself before finding his own balance... or whatever is left of it.
He manages to support much of his own weight now, but actually taking a step forward on the frozen ground is something he positively dreads. He looks down on the blurry mess of shoes which he can only assume to belong to his feet, even though he's currently not capable of feeling much of either.
On a marginally related note, should Dean at some point see Philip reflected in the ice, a mirror or any other shiny surface he will find that said reflection looks a lot less like Philip and a lot more like this (http://i.imgur.com/ac7qX.png). ]
[ACTION] 1/2 See what college education does for us? Jack-squat.
Date: 2011-03-08 07:22 am (UTC)Damn, what do you eat?
[He groans, shifting a little and dragging Phil - what else is he supposed to do? - across icier patches that his feet slide right over, Dean spends about five minutes making it to the door it took him mere seconds to walk from.]
Fuckin' Greenland.
[The pool door, one of those glass-paned things with a push-bar, is frosted over with a glossy layer of ice. Dean nudges it with his hip, but it's frozen solid.]
[ACTION] 2/2
Date: 2011-03-08 07:25 am (UTC)[He glances up at the reflective surface and almost drops Phil. A dead-eyed, bloody-mouthed zombie thing is draped over Dean's shoulders, but he looks back at the man next to him and only sees...Phil. But...the reflection...is...something that Dean would hunt. Eyeing the man carefully, Dean speaks with utmost wariness.
...Uh, Phil? When'd you get a monster movie makeover?
[ACTION]
Date: 2011-03-08 12:00 pm (UTC)[ Being forced to move brings a little of his awareness back; enough to mechanically start taking steps without leaning on Dean too much (grudgingly; every single movement is a chore), but not so much that he instantly catches on to what Dean is talking about.
Philip lifts his head slowly and stares at his reflection. ]
Ohth- that'suhh...
[ Wry smile. The fun drunk part of this is very much over and we're back on the main reason why Philip even started getting wasted to begin with.
A 'shows what you really are inside' event is a bitch when it's being so literal. ]
Dean, meet Clarence.
[ Philip attempts a sweeping gesture, but it barely comes out more than a weak raise of his arm.
A low and slightly desperate chuckle. ]
Told you to go away...
[ Because surprisingly enough that's not something he wanted Dean (or anyone else) to see. ]
[ACTION]
Date: 2011-03-08 03:48 pm (UTC)[He frowns at the frozen door, shuddering as another chill runs through him, and casts his gaze around for something to prop Philip on. That snowdrift there should do nicely. Lugging Phil to one side, Dean sets him down gently and makes sure he's mostly stable before clapping his hands together and trudging over to the nearest towel rack.
They're frozen solid.]
Y'know, Clarence, [Dean states conversationally, teeth chattering.] They're doin' all sortsa great things with plastic surgery these days. You should - fuck, this is cold - look into it.
[He would have picked up a lounge chair and used to it to break down the door, but the ice has long since crept over the feet, riveting them to the floor. Dean settles for bracing one foot against the tiled wall and forcibly yanking on one of the racks. It's not a crowbar, but it'll do. Glancing over one shoulder as he yanks again and the metal slowly starts creaking, giving way, Dean tries to keep Philip occupied.
And conscious.]
You still with me, Phil?
[ACTION]
Date: 2011-03-08 04:27 pm (UTC){ }
[ And that rebuttal goes sadly unheard, at least by Dean.
Meanwhile Phil slips back into standby mode, vaguely realising that he's been given a cue to respond, but failing to translate the general idea of 'nod and say yes' into actions. ]
[ACTION]
Date: 2011-03-08 06:23 pm (UTC)Fuck's sake, no one is dying on my watch.
[Gritting his teeth, muscles straining, Dean wrenches the heavy bar from the wall, sending chunks of ice, tile and plaster scattering around him. Dean stumbles back over a snow-covered lounge chair and feels his elbows scrape ice, tearing the skin. Hissing, he sucks in a sharp breath and haphazardly gets to his feet - biker boots really have no traction - quivering and wielding the piece of twisted metal like a baseball bat. With the little path of snow in front of him, Dean takes a few hurried steps forward to get some momentum and slams the bar into the glass.
It cracks.
Huffing and breathing heavily enough that the clouds of exhalation are substantially bigger than they ought to be, Dean takes a second to assess his body temperature. Fingers? Starting to numb. Forearms? Freezing. Lips? Probably blue. Elbows-?]
...shit.
[He groans shakily, watching heavy drops of red spot the white snow beneath his feet.]
Come on, you sonuvabitch!
[He throws another heavy-handed hit at the door, and the glass spiderwebs further. Dying by being torn apart sucks, yeah. But at least that was quick. Freezing to death? Re-enacting The Shining is so not on his to-do list.]
Clarence- [Another hit. It's really starting to crack.] -If you got any sense of self-preservation... [Yet another heavy crunch.] -you'll keep 'im alive, or- Ah, shit.
[Great, now his hands are bleeding.]
[ACTION]
Date: 2011-03-08 07:23 pm (UTC)'mstillfine.
[ Did he say that one out loud now? It's becoming a little hard to tell. ]
[ACTION]
Date: 2011-03-08 08:36 pm (UTC)Nonetheless, they're still trapped unless he can smash this stupid fucking door.
No thanks to you, Clarence.
Dean appraises the bent metal in one fist skeptically, and clearly decides that he's not a fan. He tosses it over on the pool, where it skitters across the ice and something stirs beneath the surface. Eyes widening - he does not want to know what that is - Dean glances around frantically. His limbs feel heavy, but he moves to what looks like another pile of snow and wipes some of it off.]
...oh, Hell yes.
[Diving belt weights.
He has no idea how deep this pool is, or who would want to go scuba diving, but these babies are five or ten pounds each of solid lead. Hefting a ten-pounder in one hand and wetting his lips, Dean turns, takes aim, and throws.
The glass explodes into God-knows-how-many pieces. Dean scrambles to Phil's side, grabbing his coat by the collar and dragging him out through the metal frame of the door, back into the mansion hallway. Second floor, right? Hell, he doesn't know. Dean pulls Philip into one of the nearest common room areas and thanks Castiel's Father that there's a fire on the hearth.
Willing the room to stop spinning, he arranges Phil on the rug in front of the only source of heat and tries to remember what he had to do that one time Sammy got hypothermia when they were kids.
Yeah, sorry Phil, he's starting to take off all your wet clothes now.]
[ACTION] 1/2
Date: 2011-03-08 09:08 pm (UTC)He looks through the mirror and grins. ]
Way to go, flipside Dean!
[ Alas, flipside Dean will receive neither this commentary nor the heartfelt thumbs up for his effort, so we might as well return to the relevant part of the story... ]
[ACTION] 2/2
Date: 2011-03-08 09:08 pm (UTC)Despite alcohol-fueled temperature ignorance the true warmth of the common room is appreciated, at least in the moments before he starts to actually warm up, before his skin starts feeling like its being pierced with thousands and thousands of needles.
Eyes still closed from earlier resignation he frowns and tilts his head to the side, attempting to run his hand along the carpet as if this would somehow wipe off the pain.
The gesture is a lot slower and weaker than he'd like. ]
{ }
[ACTION] 1/2
Date: 2011-03-08 09:24 pm (UTC)Hard.
Let's call it tough love.]
[ACTION] 2/2
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