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

[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.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[What doesn't occur to Dean immediately is the idea that maybe Sam left because of his older brother and father. Because he was crowded and sick and tired of having people leaning over him all the time. Somewhere, Dean might even know this, but he's unwilling to acknowledge the fact that everything he ever did to protect Sam might have been what drove him away.]

I know I can't look out for him forever.

[It doesn't mean he won't stop trying, though. He steps back from the pool table, seating himself in one of the chairs that line the walls. Leaning back, head resting on dark wooden boards, Dean stares up at the ceiling.

Rubbing his hand over his face, he takes a careful breath and exhales slowly.]

...my family is so screwed to Hell, man. We always do this. We're always throwing ourselves under the damn bus. Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if we were normal, like some of the kids here.

[A beat.]

They don't know how lucky they are.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

No. They don't.

[ Spoken with the true bitterness of somebody who's been there, somebody who was too caught up in trivial problems until he had his beautifully mundane life torn away from him. ]

But you're--

[ Philip sits down, the game finally completely forgotten. If it was still on his mind then this would be a good point to wonder whether they ever had a normal conversation that didn't turn into private group therapy à deux.

Philip could probably count those on one hand... Dean's one hand no less. ]

You're... normal.

{ }

It's just that the rest of the-- I mean... the things in your dimension, they... they aren't.

[ And nobody should ever have to deal with them, though he keep that part to himself. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[What are you saying, their private group therapy sessions are glorious, and at the very least nothing like the ones in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

Dean snorts at Philip's assertion. Normal. That's almost a compliment. He doesn't think he's ever gotten that one before. Usually Dean is just nine kinds of crazy.]

Normal people don't hunt monsters.

[Dean bites his lower lip, brow furrowing. Normal people contribute to society, live behind white picket fences, work blue-collar jobs and raise 2.5 kids. It's not his life, but sometimes it sounds really good.]

And if I had a nickel for every time somebody called me nuts, I'd be richer than Bruce Wayne.

[Dean stretches, turning to look at Philip. He feels guilty for even bringing Sam up in the first place; he's gone so long without his brother that talking about him feels unnatural. After everything Sam told him, Dean can't just forgive and forget. It's never been his forte.

This stuff is just too big for anyone to handle. He hangs his head.]

...I'm sorry, man. I gotta stop unloadin' all my crap on you.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

Normal people don't know monsters exist.

[ And if it did then it would probably drive them insane. Go figure.

Dean's path to wealth... makes Philip smile a little. Taken back to his academic days Dean would indeed still need some more polishing before being able to navigate the world without constant eyebrow raises from at least half of the university, but still... that scale of sanity barely even applies to him anymore. ]

No, it's not--

[ Philip doesn't mind. He is used to his friends telling him things.

Small things.

Stolen wallets.

Broken legs.

Cheating girlfriends.

This new scale of problems is something he will just have to force himself to get used to, because that's what you're supposed to do as a friend and because he can't very well clasp his hands over his ears and go lalalalala, only because it's not a rosy situation for him to be in.

Not with Dean. Not ever with I-would-still-have-both-of-my-eyes-if-you-weren't-my-friend-Dean. ]

It's fine, really. Don't worry about it.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Touché.

[Dean nods, conceding the point.

But Dean in school? Ha. That's a laugh. Because it worked out so well for him last time. All he ever wanted to be recognized as in high school was the cool kid. Back then, he didn't have anything but an image, because telling the truth meant letting people in.

A lot of people raised their eyebrows at him. A lot of people still do.]

But hey, so long as you're okay with it.

[He shrugs, glancing over at the pool table. Funny how their attempts at levity always end up with conversations about their respective tortured pasts. Dean might even go on to throw out information about his dad, but that's enough mental breakdown for one day, don't you think?

He grimaces comically.]

...we don't hafta hug now, do we?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip chuckles at Dean's aversion to the gesture. Not being an outstandingly huggy person himself he can safely say that the thought didn't even occur to him in the first place.

He makes a point of looking particularly disappointed regardless. ]

We can probably toast instead if you insist.

[ He raises one corner of his mouth into a smile and one hand with complementary whiskey glass for a toast. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Oh, he insists.]

I dunno if I can handle that.

[Dean leans over to retrieve his glass, using the mystical power of his Imagination to fill it with delicious, delicious whiskey. He pauses for a moment, thinking of something worth toasting, and then grins as he lifts the tumbler.]

Here's to Hell. May my stay there be as much fun as my way there.

[Did you order more obnoxious optimism? One serving, coming right up!]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip toasts, forcing the smile to stay on his lips with great determination. ]

To Hell.

[ An appropriate tagline for their lives if there ever was one. ]