24: [Video] Traveling Riverside Blues

[dashboardlite]

[At first, Dean had thought that the dream he had a couple nights before was just weird.  Clockwork dolls, inky-black demon eyes - it was bad mojo.  Things are changing around him, and for the most part it doesn't bother him too much.  He expects it, now, because this mansion is screwed to Hell and back and there's very little that surprises Dean anymore.

Except for when he takes a walk outside, and his tranquility is promptly ruptured by the sight of his car.  Sure, he's been dwelling on the lack of transportation recently, but still.

His car.

An excited video message from a Dean Winchester that hasn't genuinely smiled in months is being broadcasted, and he'd love to share his obsession one true love beautiful lady with all of you.]

Dude.  Dude.  My- guys, I can't even...seriously, it's just- it's my baby.  She's here, and she's beautiful, and she's so goddamn perfect.  You all gotta come down and see her.

[He suddenly wonders if he can project miles of endless highway if he thinks about it hard enough.  It's worth a shot.

Dean is so ecstatic that he doesn't even know who he's advertising this information to.]

Comments

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Yeah, let's...let's not talk about dads anymore. That's always touchy, and it makes Dean think too hard about his split-second decision to sell his soul for one last year with his brother. He doesn't regret that, either, but it wasn't his finest moment. Groveling was beneath him until then.

Anyway. Back to the mysterious book.]

Symbols and a weird language?

[Dean drums his fingers on his coffee mug for a moment, pie forgotten. Cas can speak a weird language. And write symbols that Dean isn't entirely familiar with. He's seen a few before on the Key of Solomon, but he couldn't verify unless he saw them again.

Shrugging, he decides to hold onto any suggestions involving Castiel until they have no other ideas.]

Might be something I know. Maybe...like...Enochian?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ If Clarence's hysterical laughter is any indication, then the answer is no. ]

I don't know what that is, but I doubt it. Hang on.

[ Making sure that Clarence is not currently in the process of mutilating his mind café Philip imagines having brought the book with him, causing it to instantly appear on the table.

He slides it over to Dean. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean pulls the book towards himself, flips it open, and thumbs over the first couple of pages. Then five or so more. He makes a face.]

Dude, I use sigils that are like a million years old and I haven't seen anything like this.

[Thank you, Dean. That was enlightening.]

...Hold on.

[In the next second his father's journal is in his hands, and he's holding both books side by side, trying to find something that looks similar. Dean mumbles around another mouthful of pie as he searches.]

Did your dad ever say what he was working on, or did he just send you this thing?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip shakes his head. ]

Nothing.

[ Oh, there's bitterness in that little word all right, because when Philip thinks about it Howard LaFresque is the one the blame falls on.

His father could have told him more, he could have warned him. Instead it was no information this and raise no further questions that. As if that could've possibly been enough to convince anybody. ]

...I never actually met my father until then. That was the first time he ever contacted me.

[ Now his tone is neutral, a mere clarification of something that may or may not be relevant, something he doesn't remember having mentioned before. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean looks up from the books, staring at Philip for a long, hard moment. At least he'd had his father. Philip had never met the guy, douchey as he sounded. It sucked for both of them.

Once or twice Dean wondered if having his father around made any difference when all he ever did was argue with Sam. Dean was the peacekeeper. Dean tried to make amends with his brother and his dad, to keep the family together. Dean was always trying to please the old man, but it never felt like it was good enough. Even when John said it, dead and gone and nothing more than a spirit escaped from Hell, it still didn't feel like it was good enough.]

...sorry, dude.

[He clears his throat, looking back down at the symbols on weathered pages and admitting to himself that he knows nothing about them.]

My...um...my dad was AWOL a lot, so I...I get that.

[Dean doesn't 'get it' as much as he wishes he could, but after years spent making excuses for his absent father to protect Sam, after years spent living in the man's shadow and hoping he could fill shoes that would always be too big for him...because sometimes John Winchester just didn't care about his sons...

...somewhere in there, Dean stopped trying to fathom his father's obsession. Doctor LaFresque, Senior, was probably the same.]

Guess neither of us really got to play catch with the old man as a kid, huh?

[Lips twisted in a bitter smile, Dean shuts the books and hands Philip's back to him.]

I got nothin'. Cas is our best bet if you're really curious, but it's all on you, man.

1/2

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip shrugs.

His mother never spoke ill of Howard. In fact it was quite the contrary sometimes. And when he was younger Philip pieced together what little he knew into a collage of an absent hero.

Back then discovering exactly what his father did and what he was like was an exciting quest... one he never thought he'd resume one day.

But that had been ages ago, of course. For many years now Howard LaFresque's role had been much simpler in Philip's mind: A man he hadn't spoken to once in his entire life; a complete stranger. ]

No, I guess not.

[ Something tells him that it wasn't quite as simple for Dean, so he swallows his own bitterness and postpones the questions brewing at the back of his mind.

Philip looks at the book one last time before imagining it away. ]

Cas? [ His angel issues have been severely minimised since the last Clarence incident, so he barely needs a moment to consider. ] Sure, that--

2/2

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ ...doesn't fly well with aforementioned Clarence. How do we know?

It's the small things, really. The icy chill in the air. The howling of a wind that isn't really there. Walls shaking. Parts of the ceiling crashing down where an attractive, imaginary waitress used to stand.

Philip jumps in his seat, shooting Dean a (hopefully unnecessary) I didn't do this look. It's all sort of embarrassing when you're not the only one privy to your alien's escapades. ]

{ }

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean's relationship with his father is a combination of unabashed hero-worship and child abuse at its very core, so saving the questions for later might be a wise idea indeed. He's almost surprised at the ease with which Philip answers him concerning Cas - Dean wasn't sure how strong the tension was there, so it's a relief to hear something so reassuring after everything that's happened.

What's not a relief is the sudden cold breeze rolling through the cafe, wind ruffling his hair like drafts in an old, creepy house, and everything shaking. Dropping his coffee and clutching at the table, glancing around frantically, the implications don't quite sink in until he registers the expression on Philip's face.]

What the Hell-?

[It takes him another second to remember that when they talk, they're never really alone. With the majestic power of his imagination, Dean tries to steady their surroundings and stares at Philip.]

...did somebody not like that suggestion?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

No, he-- He didn't.

[ The sympathy points Castiel gained in Philip's eyes are easily outmatched by Clarence's newfound loathing of the angel.

...At least the generic horror changes to the setting are easy enough to stop once they have Philip's full attention as well as Dean's help, though that doesn't exactly smooth over the physicist's uneasiness.

And since Dean seems to have decided to no longer seem interested in his imaginary short-time family anymore... ]

Could we... go somewhere else? Please?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Disinterested in his imaginary short-term family? Try pointedly ignoring. Dean nods and imagines the desert again, and the car, because it's easy and doesn't take very much concentration for him to maintain a fairly simplistic environment.]

You don't hafta tell me twice.

[Clarence's convenient interruption was definitely a downer. Dean scuffs a biker boot on gravel, shoving his hands into his pockets. Now that he's no longer imagining pie, the flavor is gone from his mouth.]

So where to? [Dean raises an eyebrow.] 'Cause I can tell that small-town probably ain't your thing.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

I don't know.

[ Philip mumbles absent-mindedly and looks around. ]

I don't care.

[ He's barely paying attention, still scanning the empty sandscape for any residue of Clarence's vivid imagination.

But once that task is complete he breathes a sigh of relief and turns to Dean. ]

...Sorry, what? Small-town...? Sure, let's go.

[ He stops himself from taking a step forward, not sure if Dean was planning an atmospheric drive or if he's just going to make the new scenery appear where they stand. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Earth to Philip LaFresque.

Dean gives him a funny look and takes them to the edge of one of the small towns outside Sioux Falls, South Dakota. A ten minute drive southbound would bring them to Bobby Singer's auto yard.

In one direction, a long stretch of road with some deciduous trees hanging over them. In the other, a few short buildings and general stores. A barber shop. A diner. A motel on one side. Further north of them are the Black Hills. Dean tips his head back, leaning against the Impala, staring up at a lonely power line.

He's quiet. Then-]

...hey. What'd you wanna be when you grew up?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

Taller? [ Philip chuckles and scratches his head. ] Uh...

[ Good question. It's been a while since then. With the subject of his father still fresh in mind he remembers that phase in which he wanted to be just like him, but Philip acquired his French skills by the skin of his teeth, so translator was soon out of the question.

And anyway, he was already a teenager then, so there must have been childhood dreams that came before that. Philip lets his gaze wander across the new landscape.

When the memory returns he bites his lip a little. ]

When I was a child I wanted to be... [ He draws the answer out. He just knows Dean is going to have a field day with that one. ] a secret agent.

[ He smiles to himself. ] I remember seeing, um... Moonraker when I was... about nine and--

[ He looks at Dean. ] It just seemed like a really good idea at the time.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean leans in, legitimately interested, and feels a steady grin spreading across his face.]

A secret agent?

[The smile says I am judging you so hard right now. Somehow, he can actually see Philip getting excited about wearing a tux and having the latest gadgets. Dean reaches over, patting Philip on the shoulder and feigning seriousness.]

Hold me, Phil. That's adorable.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Yep, definitely should have said pilot. ]

All right, what about you?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

I wanted to be a fireman.

[Go ahead. Judge him.]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Thanks, but discovering that his friend is an aerophobic pie-maker has given him more than enough ammunition for the time being. ]

That's--

[ He looks at Dean, as if picturing him in a firefighter's uniform, but this time at least he holds his imagination at bay. ]

...not all that surprising, actually.

[ Philip quietly admits to himself that child!Philip enjoyed the thought of starting fires a lot more than the idea of putting them out. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

I dunno, I always wanted to kick down doors and save people.

[Dean stops, considering this with a pensive look.]

...I guess I do that already, huh?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

The uniform is missing, [ Philip states, matter-of-factly. ]

But it's a good fit.

[ He smiles lopsidedly. ]

Works better than me with a gun and a jetpack at any rate.

[ Oh, but what grand dreams they were... ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Jesus, that jetpack.

[He starts laughing.]

I know they say a spy's only as good as his gadgets, but Bond? Man, he was so much cooler when he just used his hands.

[His chuckles die down a little, and Dean groans, scratching the back of his neck. He hasn't sat down and seen a movie since Christmas.]

We should watch one of those sometime. But it's gotta be Sean Connery, 'cause if I have to sit through Roger Moore I'll kill myself.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

Hey, Roger Moore has his good points. [ Wait for it. ] He is not Timothy Dalton, for example.

[ RIMSHO-- never mind. ]

...But, uh, yeah. That'd be great. Actually, come to think of it... you could help me catch up on movies after '01.

1/2

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

He's not George Lazenby, either.

[Thank God for that.]

2/2

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

New Bond came out, we can watch that. Man, you're really behind. There were a ton of apocalypse movies.

[Why is that so funny? It just is. The surroundings - the small town - waver and peel away, and they're left leaning against his car in front of the mansion.

His smile fades with the rest of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Dean isn't sad, just sobered.]

...do me a favor, will ya?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip's smile turns a little crooked. Apocalypse movies are not on his list of favourite genres, though he supposes he might as well give them another try.

He tilts his head curiously at the impending request. ]

Um... sure, what-- What is it?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean isn't really sure how to word this, and there are multiple reasons behind his ambivalence. Reason number one being that he's actually really bad about talking with other people, and he's sort of happy that he can consistently find things to talk about with Philip.

Sam is another reason. The Sam that's wrong. To others, it might seem as though Dean has adapted to Sam's absence, but something inside him always grated, like a broken arm that hadn't healed right. Dean is practically intent on drowning his brother in the very silence that keeps rising around him like a wall.

Having someone that remains a constant is...nice. It's grounding. Dean twists the ring on his right hand, thinking.]

...Remind me to tell you about my dad sometime.