Happy Holideans Guys

[righteously]

Who: Dean Winchester, Emma Swan & COMPLETELY OPEN
Where: Literally all over Wonderland
When: Dec 15-24
Rating: R for language, violence, adult themes
Summary: When Emma agreed to acompany Dean on his stupid suicide mission of inevitable death and idiocy, neither of them prepared for the mistletoe. Or, you know, the freaking time travel.
The Story:

The Arrival

They ran out of canned food. All of the stockpiled supplies had been growing steadily more scarce, but it’s probably the cans that finally triggered Dean’s decision to push through with the back-up plan brewing in his mind for the last several weeks. There was beef jerky- god damn, they had beef jerky by the friggin’ score, but with so many mouths to feed, it wouldn't last. There were hunters- actual game, what was left of the animals in the forest and the fish in the ocean were being picked off one by one for sustenance in much the same way that the Jabberwock was picking them off for sustenance.

Soon, there would be nothing. Soon, they wouldn't just have to worry about losing those last few precious lives to the roaming beast, but to starvation. Dehydration. Sickness.

Tom’s been stirring up talk about a second trip to the core, but morale is low. It was a stupid plan the first time around, it’s even more stupid with so many fighters taken out of the game. With so many injuries, with so few extra lives to spare and, more importantly, with the Jabberwock more strong than he’s ever been.

In the end, it’s not a difficult decision to make. Not by a long shot. Too many people are gone already, and waiting for more to go is stupid. He’s not going to do it.

Michael’s there, the Archangel, an ever present beacon of power and possibility, and though things are different now than they were back home- hell, different now than they were years ago in Wonderland’s less horrific years, there was always small part of him that protested the very notion of giving in.

That small part’s been ground to dust.

It’s a no-brainer. Dean says yes.

It’s a small piece to a bigger puzzle, a bigger and, admittedly, probably doomed plan. Cas had been able to take the Jabberwock down in the beginning. It had taken effort, a great expenditure of grace, but he'd been able to slay the beast over and over again to grant them a temporary reprieve. After it swallowed the Vorpal Shield, that bastard ground him into dust. Michael is stronger, though- a thousand times stronger, at least he would be in his true vessel. If they could get rid of it for good together, or, Christ, even just put it down temporarily, long enough to give Wonderland a chance to gather it’s strength, it might fix everything.

If it meant burning Dean out of his body, so be it. If it meant risking losing his remaining lives in the process, he was so far beyond the point of caring.

It would have to be done in secret. The fewer people who knew, the fewer people likely to stop him and the fewer to possibly get caught in the crossfire. He kept it to himself, kept it from Jo, from Sam, from Ellen, from anyone and everyone likely to put their fucking fingers in the mix and make things messy. He'd keep it from everyone if it were feasible, but it simply isn’t. He needs someone to take over in the event it doesn’t work, needs somebody to help him get to where he needs to be, and that someone is Emma.

She had tried to argue against it, tried to use logic to point out why it wasn't worth the risk, but it hadn't lasted long. He had trusted her for a reason; she understood what it meant to be a leader, to go forward and take a chance because the payoff would be beyond worth it if you could pull it off. That didn't mean she liked it. Dean was more than a friend and more than someone to take orders from: he was family now, more like family than just about anyone she'd ever known. Orphans were forced to build their own families, and if they were lucky, sometimes they made a friend like Dean who fit the bill completely, someone who could offer understanding and solidarity like no one else, someone else who knew what it felt like to lose and to grow up too fast and to make the best of what you had.

The idea of this going south and losing him, losing their leader, losing one of the best friends she’d ever had made her stomach drop and her chest feel tight. If it worked, it would be damn near a miracle, though she was hesitant to use the word. She never gave her approval, not really, but she let him know that he could trust her. Trust her to help him through it, trust her to pick up the pieces if it failed or if he didn’t make it back. Meanwhile, she’d spend as much time as she could trying to convince him to take another course, trying to figure out alternatives. She knew what taking the risk could earn them, and she wasn’t going to forcibly stop him -- she respected his decision -- but damn if she wasn’t going to try to get him to change his mind in the eleventh hour.

In the end, they go anyway. Gearing up is a grim affair, done in the silence and secrecy of Dean’s private quarters, tucked away in the back of the refuge. It’s the middle of the night, the civilians and refugees are sleeping. The resistance patrols are circling the small perimeter of the sanctuary they’ve carved out of sweat and blood. They slip through the cracks, through the woods, through the rubble and the dying gardens without a word or a sound. Even footsteps in the grass seem muted in this place.

The entrance hall and lobby, once a grand affair, is dirty and dingy and cracked. Dean can’t help but to sweep his eyes over it as he crosses the entranceway, doors broken in and swinging wide. They could be fixed, but why bother when the beast would simply break them down again and again?

It’s silent, deceptively so. His hands are tight on his gun as he pauses to listen, ears sharpened by Michael’s burning him dormant in the back of his mind. They’re waiting, saving it, saving his last few minutes with the angel tucked into a space too small for him while Dean steers the ship. As soon as Michael takes over, that energy will explode into something grand and heavenly, something burning bright and overpowering, but not yet.

His jaw tightens, and his eyes flick to Emma. One firm nod signals that the coast is clear, the need for words erased by time and familiarity.

She doesn’t like this any better now that they’re here, but as they cross the threshold, the deal is sealed. There’s no going back now, no chances to duck out and find another option. All they have left is to go forward, to follow through with this stupid plan she has no choice but to go along with. Dean is just as stubborn as she is, and they have a job to do. She couldn’t talk him out of this, but she can help him try to protect everyone here. Try to free Wonderland from tyranny and make it someplace everyone can live again, not just survive.

The signal is enough, and she moves forward with her gun pointed at the floor in a two-handed grip. She’s brought the replica of her father’s sword she managed to pull out of the closets all those years ago as well, sheathed at her hip, but it’s more of a good-luck charm than anything. A comfort. If she’s close enough to the Jabberwocky to use it, then it’ll already be too late. She’ll be dinner, and she’s running out of deaths.

She moves forward through the front foyer in time with Dean, their footsteps slow and deliberate, careful not to break the too-heavy silence that’s bearing down on them. Any moment, she expects that the Jabberwock will pierce it, slice through it like it’s nothing, sense them or smell them and somehow just know that it’s no longer alone. They’re on its turf now, and the beast has every advantage that comes with playing on the home field. Still, it’s not the Jabberwock that makes her stop dead in her tracks when they turn the corner.

It’s the mansion itself.

The cracked and crumbling ruin the mansion has become is gone, lush carpets and whole, unbroken mirrors in its stead. Garlands, holly, doors still on their hinges and none of it looking like its become the stomping grounds for something as ravenous as the predator that’s taken over Wonderland has proven to be. She relaxes her hold on her gun, just a hair, turning her head alone to narrow her eyes at Dean in question. What the hell is going on here?

His brow furrows as it tracks over the garland, over the wallpaper, over everything. Slowly, he looks to Emma. Meets her eye, and tightens his grip on his gun.

Whatever this is, it isn't good.

--

This is a catch-all for both Dean and Emma. They'll have their own subthreads to keep things organized!

Comments

DEAN

[righteously]

December 15th- Lurking. Dean’s going to be skulking around the mansion, monitoring the video feeds, scoping out the places he knows his people usually hole up. He’ll be trying to figure out who and how many of them got pulled back with them, and generally trying to wrap his head around it all.

December 16th- Hoarding. He can be caught moving from places such as the library, clinic, and the kitchens, shoving books, utensils, seemingly strange and off the wall shit into duffel bags until they’re so full they’re nearly bursting. They get put into big piles of bags filled with things from the closets: canned food, bottled water, medicine. Next to the pile is a near-mountain full of toilet paper.

December 17th- Investigating. He’s going to be questioning people, mirrors, street vendors, anybody about the details behind the Vorpal sword’s disappearance, and means to get in touch with the Duchess. This search will probably be fruitless, and he will become more agitated and aggressive as the day proceeds.

December 18-21- Preparing. He can be found in the resistance shack with an enormous spade, lumber, tools, and a wheelbarrow. He spends two days digging a massive cellar in the furthest back corner. He reinforces it with struts and beams, equips it with rudimentary stairs and emergency lights, and fills over half of that space with all the supplies he’s collected on day 2. When he’s unloaded everything he possibly can into it, he covers it with a flat hatch that blends not quite seamlessly into the floor. It’s covered with a rug. With any luck, it’ll remain largely undiscovered or undisturbed until they get transported back to the future, and supplies will be enough to last them for the next several months.

December 22- Threatening. When leads to both the duchess and the Vorpal Sword fail, he’s going to go with one last ditch effort to get some kind of victory guarantee. He heads for the street vendors and tries to barter for it, for the information to reach it, hell, he even tries to barter for the Colt. The gun that can kill literally anything for good should apply to that beast, right? When the vendors can’t or won’t help him, he’s going to get violent. He’ll pull out a gun and threaten to shoot one. When threats of violence and actually violence fail, he’s going to shoot one right in the head there in the middle of the square. Which will do absolutely nothing.

December 23- Drinking. He’s going to head up to the bar and make his new home a shot glass. He’ll be drinking there most of the day, being angsty, angry, and generally unappealing to approach. Which, of course, means that he should get approached by anyone and everyone.

December 24- Drinking goes mobile. With his flask in hand and his options depleted, he’ll spend the first half of the day writing his past self a lengthy, detailed letter of all the shit that’s happened over the course of the last few years. He’ll leave it on his desk in the hopes that with some additional preparation and planning, things might not all go to shit. After that, he’s going to wander the halls throughout the evening to watch the ghosts. They’re memories, some that he was there to see and some that he wasn’t. Either way, he’s taking it as some kind of farewell tour without him actually having to contribute anything. The last one he goes to see is of his and Castiel’s first (second, technically, after this one) Christmas.

He disappears at midnight.

Since future Dean is an antisocial douchebag with purpose, that's a list of the places he can be found over the course of the event. Specify any day / scenario in which you want to do thangs in the subject line, or if none of the options work for you, message me and we'll come up with an alternative!

December 15th, shortly after arrival

[crosscompiler]

Dean and Emma were very careful to make sure that word didn't go out among the other members of the resistance. For the most part, they were successful - and they likely would have been completely successful if they weren't the only ones changed by five years of constantly struggling to survive. Chihiro could have never survived if she remained the meek and demure person she entered Wonderland as so long ago. She had to become something much more. Purging her mind and body of weakness by any means necessary, with no small amount of contribution from Dean himself, Chihiro became one of the resistance's most formidable warriors. She became someone who'd do anything it took to restore Wonderland to the place it once was. And, most importantly (at least at this moment), she became the kind of person who wouldn't just leave Dean to his own devices and trust him to make the right decisions on his own.

She didn't know exactly what he was planning, or what Emma had to do with it - and her not knowing meant that it had to be something reckless. No matter how strong she became, she could never quite shake the image of the person she once was, the person that wouldn't let Dean rush off into danger alone - of course they wouldn't tell her.

But before she's able to confront him, she finds herself in the mansion - unbroken, whole again, even decorated for Christmas - and it isn't long before she finds Dean stalking the hallways, looking suspicious.

"What did you do?"

[righteously]

The first thing he noticed after Emma split to investigate was the complete and utter lack of presence in his mind. Where Michael had been only a moment ago, burning a brand into his mind and soul, there was now nothing. Which is exactly how Chihiro manages to slip in unnoticed, how she managed to sneak up on him without keen senses so much as sniffing out a whiff of her. He doesn't jump at the sound of her voice, doesn't jerk as it drifts down the hallway beside him. He just turns his head slowly, hands gripping the gun, expression firm and flat.

"It wasn't me." Whatever this was, whatever fucked up event that was happening, it was so much more than Michael would've been capable of and he knows it. This is something else.

He can only guess why she followed him, how she found him, why she's there, but he doesn't ask. He doesn't care.

December 15th

[freewill]

It's twilight, and Castiel's given up on searching.

There isn't any point in retracing the same ground he's already covered countless times over the past two days. Dean isn't here, plain and simple. All that's left is his room, which is exactly as it should be. The memory foam mattress, the collection of weapons, the picture of his mother and the record player.

Everything there but the most important portion.

If Dean does return from wherever he's gone (and Castiel's theory is still that he's returned home to gain some new and most likely unfortunate memories), he'll come here. So it makes sense to wait here until that happens.

After spending two weeks avoiding Dean and everyone else in the mansion, now Castiel's seated on Dean's bed. He's even holding Dean's phone, clutching onto it as some sign that he won't be gone for good, and that he won't return with no recollection of what happened here.

It makes no sense. He should be relieved that Dean might have escaped this place, but it wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to find a way out together, with Sam, on their own terms. This feels... hollow. Unremarkable. Wrong.

And so he waits.

[righteously]

Cas isn't exactly wrong- Dean's room is one of the first places he heads. It all starts coming back to him, the memories of the things left behind in their timeline. The diner, the bar, the places they would laugh and be merry. The wallpaper in tact, the closets functional, it's all surreal and dreamlike as he stalks through the halls, waiting for something to happen. This can't be it, he can't be expected to believe that this is, what, the wrap-up to some years-long event and now things were just going to go back to how they were before it all started? No. No way in hell.

He needs information. He needs to know when he is, he needs to see some visual proof of things being... just... being.

So he heads up to his room. The door's the same as it always has been, deep rich wood and a smudged brass handle. There's a top-lock, too, which he doesn't have a key for. His lips twitch in annoyance. Just in case, just in case he's lucky, just in case this door is somehow unlocked, he turns the knob.

His luck is good for once, and it swings open. He grips his gun tightly, braced for something on the other side, some trick or trap or monster.

He was partially right- the room isn't empty, and he levels his gun at the other occupant.

And freezes.

December 15th, late afternoon

[builditstrong]

Kid has been in the library, reading up on, of all things, Christmas. The sudden influx of decorations and the semi-psychotic mistletoe in particular have had him extremely curious. When all the pine isn't making him sneeze, at least. Caelondia was a Mediterranean sort of climate; not much in the way of evergreens.

Christmas is confusing to him, and as far as he knows, mistletoe is supposed to be one of those plants that doesn't grow fangs and try to bite you. But it's been a curiosity. Everyone's talking about it, and he figures he should know a thing or two about Wonderland's chosen holiday.

There's also the cracks in the floors, and those familiar gray roots churning away beneath wood and stone. They haven't come through yet, but their mere presence is in no way, shape or form a good sign.

He's on his way toward the diner now, head aching from all the pine in the air, hammer slung over one shoulder. He never goes anywhere without it these days, not when the mansion can change at any second.

The first sign that this day is going to be a long one is the ghost.

It's a woman he doesn't recognize, just slightly translucent, and she comes running at him from around a corner up ahead, screaming. He freezes and is about to call out to her when she runs right through him. And right on her heels is a...monster. Like nothing he's ever seen. He ducks, but it passes right through him as well. He casts a dumbstruck look back over his shoulder, to see monster and woman flicker and vanish, right as the creature gets its claws into her.

"Damn an' blast." That sure wasn't anything to do with Christmas. At least none of the stories he read mentioned a gigantic monster.

He picks up the pace, wanting to get away from this hall--get to the diner and tell people what he saw. Wonderland is up to something again, and the last time there were ghosts around, there was a rather catastrophic chess game shortly afterward.

He's a hallway away from the diner when he spots Dean. Just standing there, as if he hasn't been missing for days now. Or...not quite. He looks different. He looks exhausted.

"Th' hell? Dean?" He approaches, just slightly wary. Cracks in the floor and monstrous ghosts, there's no telling if this is the Dean he knows. "Where ya been? Folk've been lookin' for ya."

[righteously]

By now, he knows- or thinks he knows, at least, what's going on here. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, though it is the first time in Wonderland. Once upon a time, a world away, he took a trip to the future and saw what a shithole the planet was going to become. This time, he's been granted a trip to the past. Well, good. If he's going back, and he knows he will, he won't be going back god damn empty handed. Not on his life. This trip, this.... product of another timeline's event, this whatever it is is going to be the key to their victory and he knows it.

He doesn't care about the people, doesn't care about Christmas or catering to the goddamn ghosts or figuring out what event is going down. His mind is completely and entirely encompassed with the idea of preparing. He's got so much shit to plan and no idea how long he's got to accomplish it.

He's running through list after list, strategy after strategy in his head when a voice catches him off guard.

It's familiar.

He doesn't look toward it, but his head does slowly lift as the realization runs through him.

Kid.

This is the past, and Cas isn't the only person still alive here.

Son of a bitch. No, he's not going to deal with this, he's not going to go around reconnecting with everyone that's going to die inevitably anyway. Kid's long dead, and wasting his time wishing otherwise...

It's unnecessary, and he's not equipped to handle that anymore. He can't afford to feel shit, not with half a hundred people back home depending on him not to screw up this window of opportunity.

So he looks over toward Kid slowly, jaw thumping. "Busy."

Is his ownly reply. If Kid doesn't know about what's going on, doesn't know that he's not This Dean but rather THAT Dean, maybe there's a chance of sparing himself this conversation and getting the hell away before things get too complicated.

December 17th: the day john discovers he sort of gets bro adopted in the future

[hamburellakind]

John happens to be passing overhead on a trip to gather some more snow (he's kind of always wanted to try and build a snow fort inside, ok?) when he hears a gruff, angry sort of voice from the vendors. It draws his attention, and he hovers for a few moments, listening. Sounds like Dean's giving one of the vendors a hard time. Bad transaction, maybe? Although how the hell would Dean know, afterwards.

Hmm.

He settles on the ground a few yards away and approaches, crunching through the snow towards Dean. He clears his throat to gain the guy's attention and gives a little wave. "Uh, you know those guys aren't really...like, people, right? I don't think yelling at them does much good."

Wait, was Dean one of the future people? God, John should really be paying better attention to shit.

[righteously]

So intent is he on glaring compliance out of the masked fuck standing between him and saving lives that he almost doesn't realize there's another person approaching. It's the little coughcough that startles him, and his brow furrows incredulously at the intrusion.

Holy shit.

John's always been quiet- hell, after that failed mission, the kid's practically been mute. And yet there he is staring up at Dean with them big 'ole eyes, and Dean can't quite wrap his head around it. He doesn't even process, at first, the words John said.

"What?" He barks out, a little too aggressively.

December 15th; late

[oversight]

Things have been insane around the mansion the last couple of days. With the disappearance of a large group of integral people, with the mistletoe's turning aggressive, with the decorations choking the halls, it's enough to keep a guy busy. Especially a guy like Blake, who still hasn't managed to determine whether his best friend has left for good or not.

When the day rolls around and those missing souls return, with them come ghosts. Many ghosts. Familiar ghosts. The first Blake finds is of himself. It's in his room and he's so confused and concerned by what he sees, half his day is gone to whispered conversations behind closed doors. He doesn't even know some of the others have returned until someone clues him in during a hurried trip through the kitchen for a bologna sandwich somewhere well after dinner time.

Dean. Someone says Dean's back, and Blake doesn't even wait. He doesn't text, doesn't call, doesn't even hold out for the warnings that say things might be a little different when he does find his best friend.

So, he roams. For what feels like hours, he roams the places where he thinks Winchester might be, but each time comes up as empty-handed as he has for two days. Could it be just a rumor? Maybe Dean hasn't come back. He thinks it's possible as he ascends the stairwell to the fifth floor, intimately familiar with such a common track worn between their rooms that he doesn't even really need to look to know he's right on track.

And then, as if the world's opened up, there he is. Coming or going (Blake can't quite tell which), Winchester stands outside his door as if he was there the whole time.

Relief floods over John in a way he hasn't felt since the last time Dean returned. He begins to close the distance, all smiles and eye crinkles, as willing to taunt as ever. "Needed the vacation, all you had to do was ask. Maybe let some people know next time, eh, champ? Had us worried."

December 16th

[manicuredangel]

[Aziraphale is, like he so often is, in the library. He has another load of books in a wagon and he is shelving books where he thinks they belong. He's been the one taking care of the library since the fire, after all.

He turns a corner and spots Dean. He offers him a sheepish smile.]

Ah, hello. It's been rather a while since we last spoke, Dean. How are you?

Early 12-17

[triskeles]

[ For two days, Derek has spent most of his time around Stiles. It's been enough time to find out the basics of what's going on, that the people who went missing have been brought to this time from the future, and that something awful happens. Stiles skirts around a lot of his questions to try and get details, things that they need so that they can change things.

But eventually, Stiles deflects, outright tells him to ask someone else, or shuts down enough to the point that he decides that he will ask someone else.

There were a lot of people that went missing when Stiles and Isaac did. Of course he talks to Isaac about it, but he needs to find the other people that Stiles mentioned, that Jo and others have reported missing. His first stop? Someone he never would have expected, truth be told.

While he and Dean didn't interact at Thanksgiving, he knows his scent well enough from milling around the area. He finds the freshest trail that he can, and he follows it to where Dean is. The hunter's been everywhere in the past two days, but he finds him without too much problem. And while he'd normally be wary of approaching him, they're both men on a mission. ]

Dean?

December 23rd; late

[oversight]

[It's been more than a week since John Blake's been confronted with the ghost of Dean Winchester. While he doesn't loop like the images invading the mansion, his best friend, his brother, the first person he could call family in a very long time, haunts Wonderland just the same.

For too shot a time, Blake watches that dour specter. Sitting at the bar, Dean let's alcohol pass his lips a half dozen times; he could almost be on repeat for that length of time, if not for the time he takes to refill his shot glass.

It hurts to see him this way. It means they've failed, that there really is no hope, and in as few as sixty months, one of the worst possible ends will be almost entirely unavoidable.

Blake can't pretend to understand everything, but from what he'd seen of the ghosts, of those future echos, it won't be an easy ride no matter what they do. And if that's the case, then he might as well take one last chance to really prove how stubborn he can be when it comes to Dean and dealing with matters of the heat.]

Have a drink with me, Winchester.

[As he slides into a space next to Dean, he brings along his own glass, trailing it across the wooden surface. When it's close enough to the bottle, he lifts it briefly, and then taps the heavy bottom on the bar with some sense of finality.

It's one last request, if Dean chooses to see it that way.]

December 16th - the bar

[justrunsasaloon]

She'd been out looking. Damn snow and ice and the fucking mansion to boot. She's damned well had it. Shoving her hat off her head, she wants to get a cup of coffee and then she'll start on the upper levels again.

Too many people missing. She can't lose Dean. She can't. They have a chance, in this place, no matter what goes on back home, to be a family just for a little while. Ellen doesn't care that it's a moment taken out of time. She'll deal with that later. What matters is keeping her family safe.

But when she hears someone rooting through the bar, she scowls. What the hell? Why would anyone bother stealing? There's no point....

"Dean." The name is soft and she doesn't give a flying shit. Ellen walks over and yanks him into a hug and smacks him in the back of the head for good measure before hugging him again. "Dammit boy. You scared the hell out of us, disappearing like that."

december 23rd uwu

[hypercompetent]

[ When Stiles first arrived here, he was sure this was something else he was hallucinating. Maybe it was the newly fixed hallways or the Christmas cheer--more likely it was the fact that he'd run smack into Derek, who had been dead for a year at home. (and it was all your fault, Stiles, all your fault.)

But the truth came out in just a couple days, when things were missing and the realization that this was--that they were in the past hits him hard enough that he closes off, goes radio silent. When asked about the plan, his answers are clipped and distracted, or barely make sense; sometimes he's lucid, and sometimes it ends in screaming fits that leave him shaking and hollow. This was supposed to be an opportunity, and even he knows that, knows that Wonderland is basically giving them a chance to try and stop their future from happening, and he watches Dean and Emma's plans from the side. It's a good idea. They need the food, they need the supplies.

But it won't stop the damn beast. Nothing will, nothing has.

It's early in the day when he shoulders his way into the bar, looking too small in borrowed clothes from the present day Stiles' closet and as shaky as usual. At this point, all he wants is to go home. His future sucks ass, it really does, but the ghosts that have been haunting him since the core mission don't walk around here, don't ask him if he's okay or look at him without a weight in their gaze. But Dean isn't one of those ghosts; Dean is still there in the future. He's been one of Stiles' closest contacts since everything started, and continued only to get closer, because where he saw parts of his dad in Emma, he saw the rest in Dean. He's around sometimes when things get bad, when it feels like his brains are just melting out of his ears and Stiles needs something to look at that isn't twisted and asking him why did you kill me.

It's not that he's a drinker or anything--thinks of his dad, holding the bottle after his mom died--but what he came for ended up being maybe a blessing in disguise. The teenager makes his way quietly across the floor and slides into the seat beside Dean, turning up to look at him. He looks just as exhausted as Stiles does. ] Pass me one.

[ For all the hope that Wonderland is giving them, it still feels pretty damn hopeless. ]

15th text sent at 4:32 AM

[tom_hanniger]

Brother, tell me you're here and you're seeing this too. Netwrk calender says 5 yrs back.

Sweeping basement-2. Isaac is 3-roof.

Answer.

dec 16th. earlyish

[driven]

[ guess who has nearly died and then been healed and then found out that the people who disappeared are from the future and who really really needs to know what's going on.

guess who she texts to do this. ]

dean?
where are you? are you okay?

15th after attacking Allie A

[algidity]

[ Hunting Dean down had been a bit hard, the scent of blood was muddying up his scent. But when he does find him, Isaac doesn't give him much warning other than shouting "Dean!" before catching the older male, bloody hands grab onto him desperately. ] There's so much -- I -- Dean. [ He's crying, that much is obvious by the way his voice is betraying him, utterly and completely, and when he looks to Dean, really looks at him there are indeed tears racing down his face. ]

Allison! I saw Allison -- I'm going crazy. I think I hurt someone -- I. She wouldn't leave me alone. I'm -- Dean -- I'm losing my mind like Stiles.

[ By this point he's shaking like a leaf, adrenaline leaving him shaky and dizzy. ] I didn't mean -- I didn't -- I... Tom's gonna hate me -- He's gonna... [ His lungs aren't working, he can't get air in them, it's like there isn't enough air in the world. In all honesty, having a panic attack now is quite impressive, he's managed to hold it back, but now that the words are out there, that he's telling someone he can't breathe. ]

December 16th

[goesdown]

Crowley's heading out of the library, which was one of his favorite haunts until he found a ghost of himself literally haunting it and far too comfortable for his own peace of mind.

He nearly walks right into Dean in his haste to leave, the smell of alcohol on his breath.

There's a moment where he steps back, shaky and unsure before he realizes who it is and then his face shifts into something more akin to a glare.

"You know your friends have been looking everywhere for you, Tweedle Dumbass." He eyes the duffel bag. "Camping trip?"

Well that just figures. Dean's off having a good time or fighting some righteous, useless fight and leaving everyone to worry about him--not that Crowley was worried, but people he sort of enjoys the company of were. If Dean's going to worry people, can't he at least have the decency to disappear for good?

December 23rd

[ofletters]

Dean's been avoiding him. Which is understandable, considering this isn't his Dean at all, but the darkened and fallen specter of his brother. If he had been there, in 2014, for the end, Sam might've likened the two versions of Dean together, would have easily made the comparison between two men who seemingly had nothing to lose. Who had already lost everything in the constantly-ongoing struggles. Because he never experienced that alternate future, Sam has a harder time dealing with this Dean, in keeping his distance for a while, then getting frustrated and seeking his brother out.

Despite his early attempts to connect with the ghost, Sam tries to do what he can out of Dean's sights, to converse with the others, to keep their friends chin's up as much as he can, to gather information and try, try to figure out a way that they don't all end up shadows of their former selves, just as these ghosts have. It's too much, he realizes, but doesn't say aloud, to think that the place that had become their one real hope for a brighter future, for a real life, would soon become so much worse than anything else they'd ever experienced.

It isn't working. A few days before Christmas, Sam makes a point of locating the shade of Dean, even if it's just to accost him. To say what he knows Dean would say to him if their situations were reversed, if Sam was the one literally haunting around with a fowl expression and a foreboding message (of course, because he doesn't run into his own ghost, he doesn't realize that he, too, is brooding somewhere). He finds Dean in the bar, somewhere he thinks the other man has been avoiding up until now. Shutting the doors behind him with a purpose, to announce his presence, Sam hovers near the doorway. For now.

"I can't do this anymore," he says, flatly, hands curling into loose fists at his sides. "Dean, whatever happens--happened--you can't shut me out. Not like this."

December 16th, Kitchen

[radiopalkiller]

He was thinking festive Christmas salmon, actually. Just a nice trip into the warm and comfortable kitchen, grab a bite to eat, maybe some music, then say hello to Evelyn and, yeah, probably back into the tunnels. But then mistletoes happened, and to be perfectly honest, he can't really get those ghosts out of his head either.

Most of them didn't tell him much, one told him more than he wanted to hear, and overall they only confirm his theory, that there must be more to the latest handful of disappearances than especially cruel Christmas timing. So, full roast beef Christmas dinner it is.

The kitchen is as public as ever, so it doesn't surprise him much when he hears a sound by the door, and realises that he's got company. What does surprise him is the particular face he's seeing, because together with a bunch of names he couldn't bother to recall he's pretty sure that one made it onto the disappearance list too.

"Back already?"

Here's your welcome eyebrow arched in passing, before Philip turns back to whisking flour and eggs.

December 20th, ROUND TWO, LET'S FIGHT.

[freewill]

By this point, Castiel's been to all of the usual places that he might look for Dean: his room, the bar, the diner, and out in the stables where the Impala is located. Ther'es no sign of him, and Castiel's no longer considering whether or not Dean is avoiding him; it's obvious that he is.

The hideout is something that's meant for emergencies, so Dean hadn't gone there all the time -- which is why Castiel didn't think of it at first. It's for the full moon (something that's already passed, just a few days prior) and for meetings and for little else, but he decides to check it on a whim.

He makes his way down the cliff and then speaks the password, stepping into the bunker which at first appears to be empty. The only immediate sign that anything is different than usual is a wheelbarrow in the corner, but then Castiel hears a loud hammering sound and as he walks further in, he realizes there's a hole in the ground at the far end of the room.

More than a little intrigued, Castiel moves toward the edge of the hole, gaze shifting down as he tries to get some idea of what's going on beneath ground level.

"... Hello?"

12/19!

[halfwinchester]

Ever since some of the people had gone missing and returned with memories of the future, Adam's made every effort not to get involved, despite some of this mess coming to him in the form of Tom. His place isn't to worry about what's happened to the time traveling ten, or make Wonderland's psychotic breakdowns his responsibility. He shouldn't have to deal with this on top of everything else. Telling himself as much takes the pressure off of feeling so many things at once--worry, dread, curiosity, confusion.

When Blake contacts him and tells him there's something he needs to see, curiosity takes the lead against his will. What does any of this have to do with him?

He throws a winter jacket on and stalks outside as directed, indignant, annoyed that this place thinks it can take the place of Hell and throw his fears and uncertainties back in his face. He's not a part of the future. He's not a part of anyone's future.

Stomping through the trees deep in the forest like this is how he meets his own future self, in a manner of speaking.

He doesn't mean to let himself be caught off guard (what guard does he have, really?), but suddenly there he is, watching his own ghostly images on repeat right where Blake had told him to look. Adam loses track of how many times he watches himself--both of himselves. Long after his feet go numb in his boots, he's still watching. If this is a future, he's undecided whether it's a good or a bad one.

Good, because he can see for himself how strong and collected a version of him can be. Bad, because of muffled screams he causes.

December 23rd

[lightgunhustler]

[Given enough time, it was entirely possible for a person to become immune to the invisible walls Surly Dean tended to put up around himself. Jo was certainly one of those people; even five years in the past, it was difficult for his moods to sway her. She was just as stubborn as he was, which meant that if met with resistance, she would push right back until he opened up without a second thought.

Relieving herself from duty behind the bar, she grabbed two beers from the cooler as she passed, helping herself to the seat beside his and passing him a bottle before cracking hers open.]

Here. Change of pace. Have a beer with me.

Text Dec 24th 11pm

[tom_hanniger]

Feels like we're getting close.

We've made a huge impact. I think it's safe to think we've done our job.

I want you to know it's been an honor to call you brother. I hope I can again one day.