ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛᴇᴏᴜs ᴍᴀɴ ( ᴊᴇɴɴɪғᴇʀ ᴀɴᴋʟᴇs ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
righteously) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2013-12-14 10:35 pm
righteously) wrote in entrancelogs2013-12-14 10:35 pm
Entry tags:
- dangan ronpa: chihiro fujisaki,
- good omens: aziraphale,
- homestuck: john egbert,
- ouat: emma swan,
- ouat: henry mills,
- penumbra: philip,
- supernatural: adam milligan,
- supernatural: castiel,
- supernatural: crowley,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- supernatural: ellen harvelle,
- supernatural: meg masters,
- teen wolf: allison argent,
- teen wolf: derek hale,
- the caster chronicles: lena duchannes,
- the dark knight rises: john blake,
- warehouse 13: h.g. wells
Happy Holideans Guys
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!
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:
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!
no subject
Castiel looks off for a moment, his jaw twitching before he marches over to Dean and hands the phone over with a sigh-slash-grunt.
But he's going to remain right in Dean's personal space so that he can watch everything he does with that phone. If he tries to call Michael, he's yanking it right back out of his hand, no questions asked.
"You need to tell me what happened." Castiel doesn't think he needs to give any more explanation than that. Whatever happens in the next five years that turns Dean into this? Well, it needs to be stopped.
Which is nothing different from what they've done in the past. Changing the future in one way or another is more or less their modus operandi.
no subject
It's not acceptable.
He loses focus on the phone and his eyes settle absently on Cas's chest, head ducked, fixated like all he can see are the buttons, tan and shining and infinitely familiar. He could reach out and touch them if he wanted to.
He could reach out and touch Cas if he wanted to.
It rolls over him in another wave, the surreality, the suddenness of all of this. His hand shakes, and he grips the phone more tightly. The plastic squeaks a little in protest, but it doesn't break. These fucking things were always so durable.
It's not as grounding as he wishes it was.
A second of silence passes.
"People died." He finally bites out. "Wonderland's dying. We're losing. Sam, Tom, Jo. James. They're still alive and I can't let..."
He shakes his head slowly, as though in a trance.
He's right there. He can almost feel the warmth of Cas's chest. He used to touch it. Some nights when things were hard, the only thing in the world he ever had... the only thing that kept him from...
It's right there.
Cas has been gone for so long. There hasn't been a day that didn't.... that it still doesn't...
no subject
Still, there isn't anger now. Dean doesn't shove him back or tell him to get out. He doesn't storm out himself, either. It's the first time since he walked in here that he's slowed down and Castiel's struggling to figure out what it all means.
People died. They're losing. But there are people still alive, and Castiel doesn't have to think too hard about it to find the name that's missing.
"They're still alive."
Meaning that he isn't.
Maybe he shouldn't be all that surprised. How many times has he died now? It had to stick one day, but he never pictured it happening in a place like this. Somewhere far, far away from home, on a battlefield he has no business being a part of, and now the pieces fall into place. Now he understands why this Dean is so fractured.
"What's causing it?" Wonderland's never had to try that hard to kill them all, really. But all this time, Castiel's been worried about Dean rushing to get himself killed, when he really should have turned that scrutiny on himself.
He left Dean behind. Again.
no subject
But he hasn't prepared himself for this.
Going from that shattered world to- to fucking home and garden magazine. To tinsil, to garland, to Cas with a fleck of glitter on his shoe, to Cas who broke his heart when he died in battle, ripped away, suddenly standing there smelling and looking and feeling exactly the same to a piece of Dean he's long since buried... It can't be real, and his head swims with it, adrenaline pulsing and pounding to balance out his doubt, pounding in his ears. He sways a little.
What's causing it?
"The Jabberwock," he mutters automatically, ripping his eyes up to look Cas in the eyes again. The desperation there is unmistakable, flooding out of him, sprawled across his face like a billboard. "We tried to stop it- we had a plan. Thought it would work, but we- it, it... It didn't, and we lost..."
He licks his lips, shakes his head slowly. "Cas, we lost so many people... We lost..."
Cas used to give him these... looks with those eyes. These Dean you're fucking infuriating and stupid and I don't know why I put up with you looks. He used to do that shit all the goddamn time.
no subject
Of all the things to take him out for good...
Then again, Castiel had always imagined he'd fall in battle. In fact, for a time that's exactly what he had been looking for. During Purgatory, and even afterward, a part of him has been searching for a way to martyr himself, to make up for all of his sins in some sacrificial act.
He's learned better since then. He's realized that he's of more use alive than dead, and he's seen the pain in Dean's face every single time he leaves and then comes back. It's hanging on Dean's face right now, like a shroud, worse than ever.
Once again, Dean's saying it without saying it, that he died. Castiel almost feels like apologizing for something that hasn't even happened yet. He doesn't actually say the words, but he meets Dean's gaze and it wavers there, in his eyes. I hurt you again. I can't seem to stop doing that.
"That must be why you're here. To make sure that it never happens."
He lifts his arm up, reaches a hand out to set carefully on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, you need to tell me everything."
no subject
It's too good. It's too easy. That pounding in his ears increases tempo, and he focuses in on Cas's eyes with a startling intensity, the ebb and flow of the world set on lock as those words repeat themselves. To make sure that it never happens.
But it already did.
It already did, and Cas is gone. His Cas is dead, and this- this guy in front of him, this stupid fucking optimistic idiot, this poor bastard doesn't even get it. He's going to die, and Dean's going to watch his blue eyes stare lifelessly nothing because he's going to leave. Forever
Rather than answering, Dean jerks automatically. Shoves at Cas's chest, sturdy as ever, angelic as ever, but it doesn't stop him from shoving. From ripping himself away.
"Don't touch me!" He snarls, that anger coursing through his bones again, through his everything. He points at Cas. "Don't ever touch me, you understand me? You just-"
He cuts himself off with a shake of his head, and strides across the room toward the door.
Stupid. Stupid, that he could let himself lose it like that.
no subject
Should have kept his hands to himself, clearly. He should have known he shouldn't try to make any sort of contact when he's nothing but a ghost to Dean right now.
It's still bizarre, because Dean had never screamed at him like this, borderline hysterical, like he's only barely holding the tattered remains of his soul in place. Castiel wants to reach in and put it all back together, like he did after Hell. He wants to make things right, even if they haven't gone wrong for him yet.
But this is a Dean who doesn't want or need his help, apparently, and what is he supposed to do with that? It's not something he's ever even considered, if he's honest.
"Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?"
Castiel doesn't want to let him leave, doesn't really see this conversation as over. He wants to pick Dean's mind for every detail, but really, he would rather hear it in Dean's own words. "Dean, I can help." Why not let him, while he's still here?
no subject
He could tell Cas he's going to find Michael. He could tell Cas he's going to get ready.
He could ask Cas to help him. He could beg for a little help, he could take Cas's hand and plead with him. He could say a single god damn word.
But he doesn't.
He just leaves, and slams the door behind him.
no subject
Except he doesn't have the patience for doors right now, and so it's wings all the way, even if he's only moving the short distance needed to fall into stride with Dean as he walks down the hall.
"I know you have a beast to hunt, but it isn't here. There's no battleground for you to rush to."
Dean may be stubborn, but Castiel has always matched him with that, and there isn't much of a chance of Dean getting away from him until Castiel hears more of the details of this future. Until Dean looks at him like he's actually here and plans how to stop this with him like they always have.
Five years can change so much, but if Castiel has to drag Dean back into the present by force, then so be it.
no subject
He levels Cas with the most exasperated, annoyed expression known to mankind, and starts striding off again. "How about you keep your mouth shut about things you know nothing about, huh? How much more clear do I gotta be? I don't want you here. I'm handling it."
no subject
Dean would have never said that, but right now Castiel's nothing but a bad memory to Dean, and no matter how much he questions him or pushes at him or demands that he give him the information he needs, it won't do a thing. Dean will just keep on pushing him away.
After working together on everything, even if they weren't always on the same wavelength, even if they'd argued and yelled at each other so many times... this is what pierces through the most. This is what cuts the deepest.
"Fine," he says. "But if you change your mind, you know where to find me." Castiel doesn't fly away, though. He doesn't walk away, either. This time, Dean's going to be the one who walks away from him, not the other way around.
It's not that Castiel's given up, but he's going to need to find other people to question. Once he knows more, he can circle back and give this another try.