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]

[The narration belatedly realized that there is absolutely no way to write any of this without it all sounding really, really gay.

Dean is skilled in the break and run - that is, the method in which a player wipes the table clean in one turn, never letting their opponent shoot. It was the first thing he learned when he started hustling, and while he'd love to clean up with an old trick, it just isn't be fair to the competition.]

Yeah, yeah, chalk up already.

[He mumbles, sliding the rack over the felt tabletop and pulling it away to leave the number balls in a triangle. The cue ball follows, and Dean takes a step back to smooth his fingers over the shaft of his cuestick.]

You're breaking. We're playing slop, right? 'Cause I don't wanna call every shot, it's no fun.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip's majestic, firm and polished cue is chalked up, standing ready and absolutely oblivious to the supposed gayness of their elegant hobby. ]

Uh huh.

[ He stops himself just before a remark on that technique can escape. He's already in for way too much post-defeat taunting here without asking Dean whether he's afraid of precision.

Instead he simply bends Dean over the ta-- sorry, wrong side. Instead he simply bends over the table and opens the game. A clacking sound sends the balls rolling apart and Philip is relieved to find that he can at least still get the basics right. Yet. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean isn't afraid of precision. He can sink any ball into any hole he wants with the skill and manual dexterity of a pool professional. This magnificent talent isn't strictly limited to billiards, either.

And he's just making it easier for you, my friend.]

You play Poker?

[Dean asks idly, leaning to one side and watching everything roll across the table. Moving over to one of the solids, Dean settles behind the 4 ball and lines up his cuestick.

He only inquires out of curiosity. It's not like he can win any money here.

With another CRACK, he sends the ball towards the corner pocket and sinks it, glancing back up at Philip to hear his reply.]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip does not need Dean's charity to sink his balls, thank you very much. ]

Not--

[ Philip watches Dean's move, not really surprised by his proficiency. Previous anecdotes about his life made it clear that Dean is a man who knows how to use his cue. ]

Not really, no.

[ Emphasis on the no. Casual card games were rarely included in their get-togethers and the only one whose rules Philip still remembers by heart is Pyramid.

Speaking of which, here comes the revelation about what this scene is missing! Dean's proficient shot may not have been surprising, but it was certainly sobering, so clearly a dream glass of whiskey is in order.

And voila, quickest service ever! Philip takes a sip, pleased about the quality of his imaginary liquor. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Huh. Shame.

[One day Dean will find someone he can play Poker with in the mansion. He leans to one side over the table and knocks a solid ball against a striped, switching up a few positions just for the heck of it, not managing to sink any. Stepping away, glorious cuestick in hand, he finally notices the all-important liquor now that his turn is over.]


...s'that whiskey?

[Now why didn't he think of that? Dean imagines a glass of Johnnie Walker Blue and takes a satisfying sip.]

So what'd you do with your free time if you weren't cheating bikers outta their dough?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip nods. Don't let his absence in the official CR chart fool you, Mr Jack Daniel is and has been one of Philip's closest companions for a long time.

And so Philip only parts with the glass after it has been emptied, placing it on a chair behind him for future imaginary refills. ]

My free time if--

[ He laughs and steps up to the table. ]

I, uh...

[ Distracted by the upcoming shot he trails off. Tempting as attempting an impressive manoeuvre may be, the now far more conveniently positioned 12 strikes Philip as the better target for the sake of avoiding instant ridicule.

He pauses, aims and sinks it, then turns his attention back to the question. ]

I haven't really--

[ He remembers telling Dean about the swimming, but that seemed more relevant when they were both living underwater. He doesn't actually remember visiting a single pool or beach in the year before he left.

There were the movies of course, whenever he could find the time, but they were a hobby to fill the gaps. He swears he recalls plenty of other interests, but... ]

I was... working a lot.

[ But as time went on too many of them peeled away for the sake of his job. Punctuating the answer with a look at Dean Philip takes up his cue again and circles the table for his next striped victim. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Philip is acquainted with Jack, too? Wow. J.D. is one of Dean's best friends. Small world.

The Mansion must have seemed like a vacation for Philip after being magicked the Hell out of Greenland, and after all that work. Dean is married to his work and it's already a hobby (of sorts), so being thrown into Wonderland is like getting that tour of the Grand Canyon he'd always wanted. It makes him miss what he left behind, though.

Eyeing the 12 as it falls into a pocket - he's impressed, actually - Dean takes another sip of Johnnie and licks his lips unconsciously.]

Just Physics-y stuff? Man, I run on a tight schedule too, but you just gotta make time for R&R or you'll go crazy. Or at least some kinda overlap between business and pleasure.

[Butt of his cue stick resting on his instep, Dean rolls his eyes up to the ceiling.]

I mean, just once I woulda liked to have had a case where strippers were involved. [GRIN.] That is the best of both worlds.

1/3

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip looks up from his pool analysis, offers the ever-popular eyebrow and states, very matter-of-factly: ]

I think it's a little too late for me not to go crazy.

[ You know, voice in his head and all.

Putting his cue stick into position he turns his attention back to the game. ]

...Besides, I actually enjoyed my work.

[britchillsout.livejournal.com]

[ Half of Philip's eyebrow gesture was dedicated to Dean's desire for zombie strippers, but given its placement in the conversation one might almost think that he didn't dignify Dean's last statement with an answer at all.

Fortunately the mirror behind him has chosen to make its feelings on the matter much more explicit and so Dean, should he choose to look around, will find the following written on it in black marker: ]

3/3

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Meanwhile Philip is oblivious to the message behind him as he places his next shot with a clack and watches three of the balls scatter, roll and stop without even considering any of the pockets as their new home. ]

...Not quite how I thought that one would go.

[ He motions towards the table and steps back, stretching his injured leg with a silent groan before sitting down, still not looking back. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Hey, Dean enjoys his job too. That doesn't mean he has to bury himself in it. Life gets boring without a break from the monotony followed by a few shots of whiskey and a scantily-clad woman.]

All work and no play makes Philip a dull boy.

[Dean smirks, glancing up from the pool table to look at Philip...and consequently sees what's written on the mirror behind him. Oh, he recognizes that handwriting. Dean flips the message the bird and sidles back around the table to eye the cue ball.]

Somebody agrees with me.

[Chuckling, he jerks a thumb back towards the mirror, taking aim.]

I think it's Other-You.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

That sounds awfully familiar somehow.

[ Philip can't help but smile. It's a greeting he remembers well from their first meeting in the library. Back then he would have laughed at anyone who'd pointed Dean out as one of his soon-to-be closest friends... and then declared them certifiably insane for good measure.

Shaking his head at the memories of how things turned out Philip stands, turns around and... drops the smile in an instant as he stares at the mirror in silence for a long time, arms crossed. ]

Well. His opinion doesn't count for much if you ask me.

[ Philip steps aside, clearing the view of the mirror and its new message. The previous words are smudged and the writing now reads BEND HIM OVER THE TABLE ALREADY! ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Yeah, how 'bout that?

[Dean returns the grin, because he has always been hilarious, and that statement is proof. Also because it's fairly nostalgic, and he never really expected Brit!Sam Philip to end up being a pretty cool guy. A pretty cool guy that Dean actually trusts.

Weird.

Taking aim and knocking the cue ball with his stick, Dean watches it roll across the table, splitting two that were touching and sinking them both into corner pockets. Hell yes, he hasn't lost his touch. Turning to look at the mirror, Dean snorts, throws his hands up, and yells at the glass-]

Screw you! ...Wait. No, just...screw other me!

[-before moving to it, unhooking it from the wall, and turning it around.]

Ha. Now where was I?

[Dean chuckles victoriously, moving back around the table. He finds another choice shot and takes it, getting one more solid ball in a pocket and stepping back. Being good makes things hard. He misses a shot accidentally-on-purpose for the sake of the game. Stepping away, Dean eyes the remaining points he could make and glances back at Philip, nodding to the mirror.]

Honestly, dude? I think he's pretty much harmless.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Phil would inform Dean that he's been there, done that and will be doing that again many, many times, but alas, his line of communication is cut off.

Philip looks at the reverse mirror with relief and steps forward. He was distracted during Dean's turn, but the number of solid balls left is summary enough. Wow.

Determined to catch up he leans forward for his own shot and... is instantly distracted by Dean's last comment. He looks up. ]

Harmless?

[ CLACK. The cue ball shoots forward and hits the border without so much as touching another ball.

It's one thing to have an annoyingly oversexed Mirror who does god knows who or what on the other side. But to have a harmless Mirror? That's a different matter entirely. ]

...He would be, wouldn't he?

[ Of course. And Mister Smith still has both of his eyes... ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean notices the sudden jerk, sees the cue ball roll, and eyes Philip's expression guiltily. He hadn't meant it like that. Not at all. 'Mirror' implies 'opposite' here, rather than a reversed image, and Dean supposes that plenty of mirrors are probably fairly violent or terrifying. Plenty of realsiders are violent and terrifying. Working under this assumption, though, would mean that one Philip LaFresque is violent and terrifying.

Which is untrue.]

...Phil.

[Dean leans his cue stick up against the wall, bracing his hands on the side of the pool table.]

C'mon, man, I didn't mean it like that.

[To say that this is a triggering subject around Philip would have to be an understatement. He isn't a bad guy. He's got something bad inside of him, but everyone has the capacity for evil. Philip's capacity just happens to be full to bursting with something that is one-hundred percent sinister.

Dean has also been thinking. It's a dangerous habit and one he tries not to do very often, but considering how screwed up Wesker is (along with other assorted Wonderland residents), there's no sense in alienating the mirrors of the crazy people on the other side. They might just be sane enough to help in times of crisis.]

Look, I'm not sayin' they're all decent people. To be honest, we need to take 'em with heaping mounds of salt. But some of them might be valuable allies. We need all we can get here.

1/2

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ In Philip's mind there's little doubt about whether Dean actually meant it like that, but there's a lot more about whether it's true anyway.

Judging others is so much easier than judging yourself, so judging your exact opposite and going from there seemed like a simple solution at first.

But maybe the only 'simple' in this equation is that Philip has simply seen too many movies and the good twin versus evil twin metaphor doesn't even remotely hold water.

"Phil" seems overly fond of illegal substances and determined to sleep his way through both sides of the mansion. Philip believes in sobriet-- legal and society-approved drugs and didn't get laid once since arriving here.

...And what if that's really all there is to it?

Philip follows his own train of thought first before shifting his focus to what Dean said. It's not all bad. Just like last time. They may be--

Valuable allies?! ]

What do you mean?

[ Philip can attempt to wrap his head around the fact that not all mirrors are out to attack them viciously, but that one is still a stretch further away than he can cross. ]

2/2

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ ...Even though he currently questions their abilities over their disposition which might as well be considered a small progress. ]

I mean...

[ He's not even sure how to word this. ]

Did you actually talk to any of them?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Let's look at this from Dean's perspective, shall we? Dean hunts monsters, quite frequently (or he used to, at least), and he's seen what they're capable of. A few mirror opposites of people he knows can't be all that bad. There's very little that Dean hasn't come into contact with, but after meeting his and Philip's mirrors - an admittedly harmless sampling - he's fairly confident that he can handle residents from the other side.

There's also the whole "better to team up than get isolated" mentality. Having someone on the other side that they might be able to get information from might make events easier, or at least shed some light on the Queen Bitch and her comings and goings.

It's rational. Logical. Practically idiot-proof.

Except for the part where Dean has absolutely no idea that the mirrors can be made and unmade by said Queen Bitch, which would give them little to no incentive to help realsiders in the first place.]

Not- [Dean's gaze swings wide and he looks at something else in the room distractedly.] -not exactly.

[In Dean's defense, he's seen his own true opposite. Black-eyed and vicious. Whatever Dean Smith is, it sure as Hell isn't that.]

I mean, I've written with my mirror a couple times, and he says they're not all Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs over there. I don't wanna trust 'em any more than you do, but at least we could learn some stuff.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

Your mirror could be lying. Didn't it occur to you that he might just be a manipulative bastard?

[ Sure, Dean Smith hardly seems to make the violent maniac cut, but there are kinds and kinds of evils, some of which prefer a silver tongue and a small knife that will eventually find its way into your back.

At this point Philip isn't particularly upset about Dean playing Mirror's advocate anymore, but he still can't really wrap his head around the fact that Dean doesn't even seem to consider this possibility. ]

...The only thing I've learned from him [ Glare at the backside of the mirror ] is that he keeps a scoreboard about the number of times w-- he's had sex in the mansion. [ We, technically, but the emptiness on one side of the board suggests that Philip isn't playing. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean is just desperate enough for an insider's information about this place that he's getting a little sloppy. Blurring the lines on loyalties isn't usually a thing for him, but he'd at least like to think that the data Business-Dean gave him had some grain of truth at its core.]

Fine.

[Dean throws his hands up, turning and frowning at the wall. It's his turn, but he leaves the cue stick alone.]

Fine, maybe you're right. Maybe he's actually American Psycho. I'm just-

[Dean kicks the wall. Hard. It doesn't do anything, but it sure feels good.]

I'm tired of not being able to trust more than three people, Phil. I can't even trust my own damn brother!

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip flinches and almost feels the ground crumbling under his feet, jerked back to his question earlier, the one that was met with a long fall rather than an answer. He's curious now more than ever about what happened between the brothers, how their relationship turned from what Dean originally described to this.

But it's a fleeting sentiment compared to the unpleasant feeling of having criticised yet another one of Dean's attempts at reaching out. Fraternising with the other side struck Philip as entirely unnecessary when there are enough people on this side, their side, but...

But apparently he was wrong. Again. ]

I d-- I didn't...

[ Mean it like that? Well. Yes, actually Philip did. Didn't know? More like it. Much more like it. Didn't know Dean had to reach that far to find someone to trust. Close enough.

And still too far away from knowing what to say now. Philip stands, both hands gripped around the pool table in uncomfortable silence. ]

It's worth... a shot.

[ He turns and looks at the mirror. ]

They are, I mean. I suppose.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Shoulders a hard line, fists clenched, Dean turns back to face Philip and for once, his age really shows. He's twenty-eight. Twenty-eight, and in his own universe, he's dying.

Slowly relaxing, glancing over to the mirror, Dean takes a deep breath and exhales shakily. He wants to leave, to get in his car, to drive for hours with Zeppelin IV on repeat. The event of Pure Imagination is starting to wear away, though, if the sudden lack of whiskey in his glass is any evidence.

So he actually has to face this. Philip's dealt with Dean for this long, he deserves to know.]

...I would give my life for Sam. In a heartbeat. I have given my life for him, but he-

[Dean hangs his head, shaking it and laughing bitterly.]

God help me, he starts knockin' boots with a demon after I die. He starts drinking her blood, like it's some kinda supernatural jungle juice to ramp up some psychic powers. My own brother, man. And he knows what he's doin', he knows it's wrong, I don't even-

[He rubs a hand over his face, forcing the words out and choking on most of them.]

-I don't even know him anymore.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Oh boy. Okay.

Philip will probably never learn how to turn off his curiosity, but discoveries like this one have slowly encouraged him to at least keep a lid on it. He was wondering about Sam, true. But he didn't ask, not a second time, and this is why.

Folding his arms tight he looks at Dean, anxious to express condolences he can't possibly find the right words for.

He's had an ordinary life. Ups and downs yes, but even in his own universe it could easily pass as smooth sailing. The same went for the people he knew. Empathy was not a problem, generic and well-meaning phrases that usually did the trick, but this?

This is a situation Philip can't even begin to grasp. Loosening his arms he slowly makes his way around the pool table, it being one obstacle too many between him and Dean. ]

You died,

[ he starts hesitantly and slips his hands into his pockets to stop himself from tapping one of the colourful solids nearby nervously. ]

What if he--

[ Already the hand leaves his pocket and is pressed against his forehead. Can he imagine this situation to be over yet? ]

If he just didn't know what to do?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

He knew what to do. He was s'posed to keep going. He was supposed to keep hunting. It's our job.

[Never mind the fact that Dean went postal after Sam died and resorted to selling his soul just to get his brother back. It shouldn't work the other way around, anyway. It was always Dean's job to look after his brother. He had to do it.

Dean knows that Philip isn't trying to justify Sam going darkside, and that he isn't making excuses, but it still hurts. He barely talked to Castiel about this. He snorts, bracing his hands on the side of the pool table and leaning over it.]

This went on for months, Phil. He was addicted, he-

[Broke the 66th Seal, whatever the Hell the rest of them were. He was chosen to be Lucifer's vessel. Lucifer's vessel. Clarence would have a field day with that one.]

...he's just...he's not my brother. You think you know someone, and then they start screwing possessed corpses and lying about everything. Never thought my own little brother'd be more dangerous than me.

[Dean smiles sadly at Philip.]

'Specially not since he was my responsibility.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Dean died. It can't have been easy for Sam. Philip doesn't know how exactly demon blood features into the process of coping, but he does know about losing loved ones, about not doing what you're supposed to do after they're gone.

He also knows that this perspective is probably not going to do Dean any good. ]

You can't look out for him forever.

[ So let him go?

So don't blame yourself?

At this point Philip isn't sure whether he's implying one or the other, both or neither.

He wonders if the demon blood can be blamed, but if it could then Dean's reaction would probably be a different one.

All he knows is that he's in way over his head here. ]

I'm... sorry.