21: [Video/Action] Dark Side of the Moon

[dashboardlite]

Sam?!

[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?

Comments

[ACTION]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

{ }

[ Very slowly .

Philip shudders, crosses his shivering arms tightly around his chest and looks down at the floor where he dropped his mug earlier despite the narration forgetting to mention so explicitly.

That hurts.

And it's not just about the violently throbbing pain in his head; the blow to his pride stings and right now he'd gladly trade one of his mansion lives if it meant that Dean had never found him in this state.

Philip's head remains lowered, unable to bring himself to make eye contact again or say anything else. ]

[ACTION]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean knows the feeling. A little too well, probably. Shame, mostly. Regret. Anger. Frustration. Fear. Guess we should chalk it up to several feelings, then, huh?

Something twists in his gut as Phil curls in on himself, protecting himself, and Dean suffers from sudden deja vu when he realizes that that was him, several hours ago. Sitting in the corner, furious at himself for letting something get to him, for being vulnerable. Phil has it worse, because he's got someone else in his head, and Dean sort of wishes that he could say he feels the same.

But he can't. Because he doesn't.

Not anymore, at least.]

Hey.

[He says quietly, reaching out to rest a hand on Philip's shoulder and giving a careful, reassuring squeeze. Dean stays quiet (for once), just offering the slightest physical tether to the ground for Phil should he choose to take it.

It's scary, being alone.]

[ACTION]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ He doesn't break the silence for a while. He still doesn't want to break it, but he can't stay like this forever... ]

I should...

[ Philip doesn't actually know what he should do now. His muscles are still aching, his head is still pounding (like mad) and he's still so tired of everything.

He finally looks up at Dean again. ]

I should... probably go and... lie down for a bit in a room somewhere.

[ACTION]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean retracts his hand quickly, sensing a disturbance in the Force Phil's tension and not wanting to make it any worse. The poor bastard's had a rough day, and it's not even mid-afternoon.]

Yeah.

[He agrees awkwardly, clearing his throat.]

Yeah, you should probably get some real rest on a friggin' bed. Stay, uh- Stay safe, though. Okay?

[A little encouraging smile.]

No more suicide missions to Antarctica.

[ACTION]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip nods and stands up, slowly and wobbly, pausing until his head stops spinning. ]

Yeah. Sure.

[ At Dean's last comment he smiles wryly. ]

Though it's probably a little late for that.

[ Because at least today his horrible and freezy fate outside the mansion seems sealed. ]

[ACTION]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean stands as well, giving Philip a companionable clap on the shoulder and a brusque nod.]

I'm serious, man. Sleep off the booze. Lemme know if you need help - I gotta shake the dust offa me, anyway.

[His smile widens.]

S'my job, remember?

[ACTION]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ There are only so many times Philip can nod and weakly voice agreement, but here goes... ]

Yeah, I... I will. Thanks. Again.

[ He forces one last smile before turning and slowly heading for the door. It doesn't come easy, not when Dean's job makes him remember one of his shadow's many unsettling announcements...



Philip cringes and stops at the door. He looks back hesitantly. ]

Dean, uhm...

[ The question 'What would you do if Clarence ever took control of my body?' is preparing for jump-off at the tip of his tonuge.

...But if the answer includes an unceremonious beheading followed by salted and burnt remains, does he really want to know? ]

...See you.

[ Nope, didn't think so.

Philip turns around and walks out into the corridor. ]