26: [Action] Dazed and Confused

[dashboardlite]

[ Dean is only a little twitchy.  He never really feels like he needs things, but right now he's lacking.  Something.  Something big.  It's not starvation, because when he's hungry, he gets food.  When he wants sex, he finds Cas.  Dean doesn't get cravings because he's always well-fed.

But what he needs right now is people.

So Dean is wandering around the grounds for the most part, trying to locate the people he needs.  He could be in the parlour, fixing a drink.  He could be kicking at the edge of the hedge maze, contemplating going inside but unwilling to risk not being able to find his way out again without a bag of peanut M&Ms to leave as a trail guide.  He could even be in the kitchen, trying (and failing) to cook something to keep his mind off of everything.

He's that restless.

Good luck. ]

Comments

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Well, Dean. Prepare for an a-maze-ing encounter, because somebody here is not afraid to brace the hedges without a sugary guide.

...Although he is quite surprised to meet Dean at the exit once he returns from his walk. ]

...What are you doing here?

[ Since their last encounter Philip's sunglasses have been replaced with a considerably smaller eyepatch, but the sling around his arm is still intact. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dude, you don't know what could be lurking in that maze. Dean has read the Greek myths. He knows the stories.]

What's it look like I'm doing, pickin' daisies?

[And no, there are no daisies about, in case you were wondering.

It's kind of nice to see Philip again, even the two of them resemble some manner of mismatched comedy duo with their fanciful eyepatches and comically surly expressions.]

I'm-

[He nudges a stick with his shoe and sighs in a put-upon fashion. Oh, the life of Dean Winchester is so hard. So hard.]

-wandering?

[Good answer.]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

You're. Wandering.

[ Really, Dean? Because coming from the hunter that sounds about as plausible as picking daisies. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

...yeah?

[He grins sheepishly, totally convincingly, and shoves his hands in his pockets. Rocking back on his heels, Dean rolls his eyes up to the sky and then back to Philip.]

Nah, not really. 'M just- [That gravel there? Oh man, it is so being kicked into the hedges.] ...I feel weird. Like I need somethin'. Dunno what it is, but,

[Shrug.]

I sorta feel better now.

[Now that you're heeeeeeeeeeee~re with meeeee~eeee!]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip nods knowingly. Even without the helpful theme music he understands that it must be the same kind of wandering they've been doing. He looks back at the path he came from, into the maze. ]

I haven't been here in months. Last time...

[ The vague memory of last time led him here. Pendergast. Back then the agent was probably the closest Philip had to a friend here. The story is nagging at the back of his mind, insisting to be told. ]

Hey, did I ever tell you I actually knew an FBI agent?

[ The tone is casual, a little hesitant. Native speakers of Polite Conversationish might correctly translate to 'I am about to reminisce and this is your last chance to stop me'. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean was wandering around the hedge maze because he seriously didn't know what else to do with himself. Feeling lost is familiar - feeling alone is not. It's August. He's been here practically a year. A year without Sam.

Better throw on some good humor- Actually, no. He doesn't have to. He does feel genuinely better with Philip here.]

And his name wasn't Salazar Houdini?

[Dean makes an expression of mock surprise. Unfortunately, he's not fluent in the tongue of Polite Conversationish, but anything to keep him from dwelling on his empty spaces seems harmless enough.]

Here, or back on the A Side?

[The B Side is starting to get old with its lack of cars.]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip laughs. ]

...Actually that sounds fairly close. [ Beat. ] But he wasn't lying.

[ At least Philip doesn't think so. Certainty has a better ring to it... and it's not like it matters. He's gone, probably for good. ]

His name was Pendergast and I met him just after I arrived, he was- he was one of the first people I even saw here.

[ One of the first people he saw after trekking through Greenland alone.

Philip picks at the hedge, trying to loosen one of its neatly trimmed branches. ]

He explained some of Wonderland to me, but at that time I just couldn't believe how calm he was about it- about everything, I mean. [ A pause. ] One day he came to see me and Clarence killed him.

[ No change in Philip's tone. Just an inevitable part of the story. "The sun rose. Somebody knocked on the door. Clarence killed people". ]

...That was last year, some sort of ritual sacrifice that was supposed to bring us home, I-- I blacked out at some point, I still don't remember how it all ended, only that I suddenly woke up back in my body and...

[The hedge makes a small cracking noise and Philip holds a branch in his hand. ]

Clarence told me that he- that Pendergast shot me. Just after he came back to life. We talked later, he said he'd figured out it wasn't me, but--

[ The branch drops and for a long moment Philip looks at Dean as if to ask, "Why am I telling you this?" ]

...Anyway, I just-- I met him in the centre of that maze last time I was here, I guess... I guess that's why I remembered.

[ And to tell Dean thank you for not killing me even when my body is being controlled by an alien douchebag virus, though that purpose is one that escapes Philip himself. ]

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

*If Dean ventures too close to the hedge maze he'll hear the sounds of chaos as Masky works off his frustrations by tearing that shit apart. He's a few rows in and he has a pretty savage looking machete, and he's chopping the fuck out of those hedges.*

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Dean wanders a few tentative rows in, peering around a massive hedge to witness-

...well. That isn't something you see every day.]

Dude. You got a bee in your bonnet or somethin'?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

Have a what? No.

Told Mark wouldn't stab people.

Am killing the hedge.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Killing the hedge.

[Right, because that's...normal.]

What'd it do, insult your girlfriend or somethin'?

[timisnotme.livejournal.com]

No. But making me feel better.

*More normal anyway. He stops his vicious assault and looks over at Dean.*

Why?

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

Castiel is himself heading to the kitchen. He's feeling... strange, restless today, like he needs something. A sort of hunger. And he has discovered a fondness for peanut butter, so he's trying that first. Granted, he rather suspects it won't suffice, but it certainly won't hurt, so it's as good an aim as anything.

When he gets there, he sees that he's been preceded.

"Dean."

He notices Dean isn't quite his usual self either. It's only small things, but they add up: a tension in his shoulders, the way he handles the cooking utensils a little less graceful than his wont, the way he's humming songs but keeps changing the tune like he can't make up his mind.

Castiel's own worries are momentarily disregarded. "Are you alright?"

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"I'm fine," Dean replies curtly, even though he's not. Admittedly, he felt a whole lot better after talking to Philip, but he still has the sense that he's missing something. As a result, he's a bit jumpy. Fuck you, spatula. You belong in the sink now.

Sighing and rubbing both hands over his face, Dean turns to look at Castiel apologetically.

"...sorry," he mutters, a smile twitching on his face. He meanders over to the angel and looks him over quickly. Looks like he isn't the only one with problems today.

"What's up, Doc?"

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

Cas internally flinches a bit (the only outer reaction is a blink) at Dean's terse response. Even if Castiel were in the habit of reading thoughts, there would be no need in this situation: it's obvious that Dean is not fine.

He half-smiles at Dean's immediate apology, and decides not to point out that he isn't a doctor, as he suspects Dean doesn't mean it literally.

"I feel... strange. Unsettled."

More to the point, he feels. Which is nothing new, but the direction of these feelings is. He has never felt a particular urge to have someone to hate, for instance.

That's different from smiting, shush.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

"Unsettled like how?"

Dean is lucky. He's got all of his quadrants filled, sure, even if he hasn't gone out and confronted them personally. He hasn't taken into account the fact that Castiel might be wanting for anything, but the added pressure of feeling tense thanks to this event has set him on edge regardless.

And he's totally fine. Totally. It shows in the rigid body language and anxious shifting.

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

"Like-"

Well, if he has to compare it to anything, it's most like when he first arrived here and was keenly missing the presence of his brethren, their absence like a hole in his reality.

Then Dean became his everything, and he rarely even thought of them at all anymore.

That... doesn't feel so true now, though just the thought feels like a betrayal of his love for Dean.

"Like I need something. Someone, perhaps."

Cas' usual calmness isn't precisely that at the moment either. He's shifting his weight back and forth a little, restless.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Dean frowns. He isn't so great at expressing his feelings, and that trait (or lack thereof) has only gotten worse since the start of this event. Remarkable feelings of inadequacy have been swamping him as well, and the instant those words leave Castiel, he bristles defensively.

"...someone."

Castiel has someone. It's a twenty-something year old human with freckles and a bad attitude. How would he possibly need someone else?

"What are you tryin' to say?"

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

"Someone, yes. You." He does his best to make Dean meet his eyes, which are no less open and honest than they ever are.

But he can't lie, even by omission.

"...But not just you."

If Dean is paying attention, he may detect a tone that reads something like a plaintive I don't understaaand. Because he doesn't, and that in itself is almost as unsettling as this sudden need for others.

( action; )

[sunflowersunday.livejournal.com]

[ Oh look there is someone breathing outside your window clutching a bag like the Santa Claus of nightmares.

WHAT'S IN THE BAG? A SHARK?

Actually yes.

It is irrelevant whether Dean is on the ground floor or not. Seething hatred for all things American does not need gravity. It only needs rope. ]

( action; )

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Well that is the most fucking terrifying thing he has witnessed in days, thank you very much, well done. Dean finishes choking on his whiskey long enough to glare at the creeper questioningly.]

...the Hell do you want?

[He has the vaguest inkling that he's seen this guy before, but can't remember where.]

( action; )

[sunflowersunday.livejournal.com]

[ BREAAATTTHHHINNGGGG AGAINST THE GLASS. ]

Have a present! For Americans!

( action; )

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

...yeah?

[Call him suspicious, but the dude with the Russian accent is kind of sketchy.]

What is it?

( action; )

[sunflowersunday.livejournal.com]

[ if the guy staring at you through a window sounds like a Bond villain, he probably is. ]

Would you like to see?

[ Opening up the entrance to the bag a bit. It's still hard to see wtf is in there. ]

Opening the window may help.

( action; )

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Oh, he is not touching that shit with a fifty-foot pole.]

Whatcha got in there, Russki?

[Gotta hand it to Russia, though - he did select the most all-American guy here.]

If it's a nuclear weapon I think I'm gonna steer clear.