entrancelogs | time has come today

Entry tags:

time has come today

Who: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Where: ~~the horse stables~~ Dean's makeshift car garage
When: A few days after Sam's arrival in Wonderland
Rating: PG to PG-13 for possible foul language (from Dean)
Summary: So it's been a while since Dean saw Sam, you know, seeing as he's been in Wonderland for more than a year.
The Story:

Dean is lying on a skateboard underneath his baby, reaching for a smaller wrench so he can make sure the tuning-up is just right. The Chambers Brothers are blasting from the open "garage" door, and don't worry, folks, the horses are all out in the pasture, doing...whatever the Hell horses do.

They'll wander back whenever they feel like it.

In the meanwhile, the hunter gets on with routine maintenance. He can't let his baby fall into disrepair even if there's no real place to drive her.

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Sam had spent days wandering through the mansion, searching for clues, for information, and most specifically, for his brother. He'd been starting to think he would have to break a window to get outside when, as if by magic, he found the exit. Well, the front door, anyway.

Standing on the open grounds, he looked around, putting his hands on his hips a moment.

"Well...now what?"

Shaking his head, he decided to walk the perimeter of the house first. Funny, it really looked a lot smaller from the outside. As he rounded one side, something caught his attention..music. Following the sound, he saw the stable, and in the gloom of the inside...the Impala. Dean's baby. The car, the music...finally. Sam picked up a jog, then flat out ran to the 'garage', skidding a little when he got to the open door.

"..Dean?"

It shouldn't come as a surprised that Dean doesn't actually recognize the voice calling his name, what with being beneath an automobile and trying to hear through the music. Assuming that it's Philip, because there aren't many adult males around here, Dean finds no reason to question the identity of the intruder upon his blessed, greasy solace.

"One sec!"

He shouts from the undercarriage, twisting a screw back in with his fingers before tightening it the rest of the way with one of his tools. Sweaty and grunting with exertion, he turns the dial down on his volume and sticks a hand out from under the car.

"Hand me the smallest socket wrench, will ya?"

Why had he expected anything more from Dean? He might as well have had his head up a woman's skirt, Sam would have gotten about the same amount of attention. Nevertheless, he went over to the tool menagerie, looking over it and trying to find what Dean wanted.

Kneeling by the car, he slapped the wrench into his brother's hand, leaning on the side of the car to be heard better.

"So that's it?" he said. "You've been out here this whole time?" He was irritated, sure, especially since he'd come across Dean doing somehthing as seemingly useless as working on the car.

Scooting himself further under the Impala, Dean craned his neck back to see exactly what he was working with, and it took him a good - like, real good - long moment to let that voice sink in. It was patronizing, but in a friendly way. It was familiar, but not something he'd heard 'round these parts.

Not for a while.

The cranking Dean was doing stopped, and he switched the audio off on his music. There was a pregnant pause, a pause so very pregnant that it was probably already having twins, for Chrissakes.

Slowly, very slowly, he rolled the skateboard out just far enough to see the perpetrator...

"Sam?"

...and in his surprise, Dean attempted to sit up so fast that his forehead slammed against the chrome liner at the car's bottom edge.

"Sh- Ow, Jesus H. Christ," he cursed, smacking a hand to his temple with a groan and squinting up at his brother with his one good eye.

"The Hell are you- How'd you- Dude."

His relief wasn't short-lived, but his head was still throbbing. Rolling off of the board, Dean eased himself up enough to grin lopsidedly and laugh with an embarrassed air.

"You look good, Sammy."

The stupid oaf...Sam hadn't expected to surprise him that much, really. He winced a bit and hissed through his teeth when Dean hit his head.

"I look good?" He half scoffed at that, shaking his head. "What do you mean? I just saw you..."

And then he took a good long look at him. This...this wasn't HIS Dean. Something in his eyes-..eye. The realization of that crept over Sam almost visibly. Up until now, he'd believed this was some kind of weird dream, something else conjured up in that weird time loop.

But seeing Dean convinced him otherwise.

"Dean...Wha....What happened to you?"

"Haaaaa...ah, well, funny story," Dean rubbed the back of his neck, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Two seconds ago I was under a car thinkin' you were somebody else, and now I've got a concussion and a brother."

But he can sense that this probably isn't the time for jokes. And holy crap, it's...it's sort of surreal, actually, to see Sam again. It's been so damn long. A couple months short of a year, to be exact. Dean clears his throat apologetically and nods.

And nods.

And no-

"...guess I should start by askin' what the last thing you remember is, huh? Before comin' here."

There was something tragic and heartbreaking in watching Dean at that moment. Perhaps it was just because they were them, but he could almost see pain in Dean's gaze. Best thing to do?...be normal.

Sitting down next to him, he leaned back on the bumper, thinking a moment to get his thoughts in order. What exactly WAS the last thing he remembered? Well....put simply?

"Asia," he said. "Waking up over and over again to that song...And the mystery spot, and having to watch you die over and over." He throat felt tight a moment, and he tensed as he swallowed hard. He really didn't want to think about all those times.

"Ohhh yeah, the mystery spot," Dean snapped his fingers in recognition, pointing. "Like Groundhog Day!"

Admittedly, he can't actually remember the 100+ times that he kicked the bucket, but it seemed to bother Sam a whole helluva lot, so hey - whatever makes his brother feel better. To be honest, Dean is just overwhelmingly glad (it's still sinking in, actually) that Sam is here. Here. And younger, too, so a lot more innocent than the last Bigfoot that Wonderland gave him.

Thank God for that.

"Yeah, that was...y'know, there're people from all different times here - I'm sure somebody told you - but I'm from a few months after that. I mean, don't worry, man, we break the death daisy chain. Er- you break it. Whatever. Everything's hunky-dory now."

To some extent.

"But I've, uh. I've been here a while."

A few months...That took a second to hit Sam like a ton of bricks. That meant that Dean's time was probably up by that point. But Dean was HERE, he wasn't dead, so apparently something had worked. He couldn't hold back a relieved grin, chuckling a little and shaking his head. Of course they'd figured it out, they were the WINCHESTERS for crying out loud.

"I'm glad you're here, Dean," he said, trying not to let his voice soften too much. He shifted his gaze to the mess of tools in front of them. He didn't want to tell Dean that even those few days without him had scared the living hell out of him. Sam wasn't used to not having Dean to fall back on. Not anymore.

"...So is there really no way out of here?" he asked, figuring they'd had enough silence.

Dean's reference to death had more to do with the Trickster and less to do with Hell, but if Sam wanted to entertain thoughts of continued living for his brother, then Dean wouldn't dissuade him from them. It was better than telling him what those creepy twins told him a month or two ago, which still had him shaken up something fierce.

Dean still wasn't convinced they'd actually find out how to save him, but he'd been living in Wonderland way past his expiration date back home, so it wasn't a pressing concern.

"Shucks, Sammy, you'll make me blush," Dean teased mercilessly, easing back into big brother mode like a pro. "But yeah, no way I've heard of yet. You know how long I've been stuck here? Almost a year and a half, dude."

He let that sink in for a moment.

"Believe it or not, I actually made friends," he clapped Sam on the shoulder reassuringly. "Go figure."

A year and a half.

Dean had been stuck in this place for a year and a half.

Poor Dean.

Wait who the hell was he kidding? Poor HIM! Now he was stuck here too, and if Dean hadn't found a way out in that time, maybe there really wasn't one. Then again, had they been working together before? Wetting his lips, he shifted a bit and went on.

"A couple of people told me that I've been here before. Is that true?" Oddly, that was somehow the MOST perplexing part about this whole thing.

It sucked at first, sure, but it wasn't all that bad. An unlimited supply of free booze and 24/7 Doctor Sexy on the T.V. can't be sinister, anyway.

"Uh."

Well, that was an awkward question. A question that Dean didn't exactly want to answer, because he didn't have very fond memories of the strange, otherworldly, Older!Sam.

"...yeah, you were here, I guess. I mean. It was like...you from the future."

Dean scratched his head thoughtfully. That Sam had told him too much. That Sam hadn't been the Sam that Dean knew. Hell, Dean had barely trusted him; how could he when the guy acted as weirdly out of character as anything?

"Your hair gets kinda douchey," he chuckled, trying to keep the mood light, because all those future things didn't sound very pleasant, and up until now Dean had been trying to block them out.

"MY hair gets douchey?" Sam echoed, giving Dean a 'wtf' look. "And what's yours, then? Decided to go hair band on me yet?" Dean was dodging the topic, something Sam normally wouldn't let him do. But in the spirit of the moment, he was willing to let it slide.

For now.

"So you met future me and you've some how made friends. Either this is the strangest nightmare I've had in a while or.." He glanced at Dean, then sighed, clasping his hands together. "Or we are really really in trouble this time."

"Your hair gets douchey," Dean affirmed with all the tact and poise of...someone who was very tactful and poised.

"And this place really ain't that bad, Sammy. I mean- Call me crazy, but I'd rather be stuck here than on death row, waitin' for the Hellhounds to bite my ass."

He shrugged noncommittally and continued, "Everybody gets five lives, like it's a video game, and you come back brand-new every time."

Although the statement implied that Dean knew from experience.

"Could be a helluva lot worse, and even if I got a souvenir," he tapped the eyepatch, "Soon as I die again, it'll come back."

Sam was just a little bothered by the way Dean talked so casually about dying here. Sure, he could give it that this place was something unnatural, but to take death without even a blink? That was...strange. Disturbing and strange.

"So like a game...except you can't win," he noted. "Everyone I've talked to says there's no way out once you're here. Sound like even you believe that." Surely if there was a way out Dean would have found it...Running a hand through his hair, he sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"Have you tried driving out?" he asked. "I thought I saw some woods around here, gotta be a way through them."

"If I try to drive out, it loops back," Dean reasoned (Reasoned! Who knew he could even do that?!), picking at his grimy fingernails. Reaching for a rag, he threw it over one shoulder and contemplated putting up his tools.

Because there was no way they'd break the stern, serious talk for a hug. It was business as usual. Just like always.

"I'm thinkin' the only way you can really leave is to use up all your lives - Game over, thanks for playing, sort-of-thing."

However, there was one exception.

"Or the mansion takes you for no reason. Sometimes, people've come back. Seen a few cases who don't remember bein' here before, like you-"

And Daniel.

"-But there's also people who disappear for weeks and then show up remembering everything, but in their world, it's only been a day or a week or...y'know. Somethin' like that."

Dean couldn't exactly explain it, but then again, science was never his strong subject. Just like ninety-nine percent of classes he took in high school.

Sam listened, studying the floor rather intently as he pieced it all together in his head. Some people left and came back, like he had..or in this weird case, appeared from two separate times. This sounded like a really convoluted tv show or something.

There was something in Dean's voice that bothered him. There had been less than a handful of times he'd sounded so...sad. He probably would have just passed it off if he said anything, but...he was glad to at least be there now. Dean was hopeless alone.

"So this place is like what, some magical realm on its own plane?" he said. It was still hard to imagine a place that could loop on itself. He watched Dean a moment, then looked back to the ground.

"What kind of equipment do you have?" he said after a moment. "Everything we had in the car or..?"

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time has come today

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((sorry this too so long))

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