entrancelogs | Happy Holideans Guys

Entry tags:

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

_{[If she were in his place? No one in their right mind wants to imagine that. His place is pretty shitty even without this Wonderland-themed Apocalypse allegedly bearing down on them.

Adam considers everything she says; his gaze flicks over her face for a few seconds until he finally ventures a reply.]}

You didn't know then, but you do now? _{[About everything. About the damn elephant in the room at any given time.]} And you think I'm still good company?

_{[Seriously, that might still be the most surprising thing about this.]}

Yeah. I do now.

[It had taken awhile, and it wasn't like the whole story had come out at once, but eventually he had come to trust her. It had been a point of pride. Adam's trust, as far as she could tell, wasn't won easily.

She couldn't blame him.

She shrugs easily, turning her hands up.]

What can I say? I'm a sucker for the underdogs. I remember what it felt like to be alone. I'd never compare my life with what you've been through -- but you know, you've been good to have around.

_{[He's never sure what he expects to see, but he expects to see something. Something that captures his own disgust and terror of Hell and reflects it back at him--maybe the way people look at a demon, because they know it's been there and they know Hell's transformed it into something sick.

Adam has what he sees as a keen sense for bullshit (or just the expectation for it), but he feels like he can believe her. And even knowing about the Cage, she can look him in the face and not be at a loss for words.

Maybe there is some kind of stock in what the time travellers say. Hope, in the strangest place.]}

You're welcome?

_{[He makes an expression that's not quite a smile and not not a smile. Empty flattery wouldn't sit right on him, but she has the air of someone who calls it like she sees it, so someone's good opinion is still flattering on a certain level.]}

You can come in if you want. If you want to sit down.

_{[The invitation is brand spanking new for him as far as getting friendly with Wonderland residents goes, but it seems like the right thing.]}

[Empty flattery has never been in Emma's arsenal, and her own smile hitches wider when he almost smiles in reply. Not quite there yet, but getting closer -- closer than she remembered him being when he'd first arrived. Kid was a mess. Still is. He could use something to smile about.]

Come in, huh.

[She almost excuses herself, not wanting to push too hard and make him uncomfortable, but--

If he's asking her at all, that's progress. He needs that.]

Thanks. [She walks in without further ado, helping herself to a seat, leaning forward in it as she crosses her legs.] I'll try not to overstay my welcome, but you know, I'm kind of enjoying coming back and seeing all my friends as they were.

_{[She doesn't have to make it sound like the invitation is a big deal. It's not. Or it is. It shouldn't be. It's not a manner of "I left my underwear on the floor, excuse the mess" but more safety. His room is as close to a safe room as it's ever liable to get. Not a Cage to hold him inside if he doesn't want it to, but a bio-hazard zone for the toxic mess that is his soul. The average person? He wouldn't trust inside his private space. Non-humans, definitely not.

As majorly fucked up as disappearances and time travelling is, though, Emma doesn't seem like the type to disturb his invisible, untouchable sanctuary. And it needs more people, anyway, for the moments when his room does threaten to become a prison.

On almost every count, it looks like a regular apartment. No mutilated animal carcasses, as Dean had feared, and in fact is quite the opposite despite Adam being a young bachelor, everything neat and in its place. There's a living room, a kitchen, a hallway branching off to two other rooms in the back. Nothing untoward aside from the obvious: the crimson sigils painted here and there on the walls.

Normally, he'd think twice about letting someone see them, but she already knows. She must.]}

It's okay.

_{[About overstaying her welcome, that is. She's probably the one with the busy schedule, not him. He leans against the kitchen counter, facing her.]}

Is that a good thing?

[Maybe she shouldn't make it sound like it's a big deal, but from her point of view, for the Adam of five years past? It's a huge step forward.]

I like the decor.

[It slips out before she can bite her own tongue. Of course she's seen the sigils before, and of course she knows what they mean, but she's always had this chronic problem with speaking before thinking it through.]

It's a -- well. Yeah, it's a good thing, though sad in some cases. [She pauses.] I'm sure you've already know that not everybody made it.

_{[Blood red on blue paint really goes together, huh? Adam's expression says as much as he unconsciously glances at the walls as she speaks. Yeah, it's weird. He gets it. In someone else's shoes, he'd have to wonder what the fuck is wrong with this picture, too.

Too bad he is the vessel and the one destined for a grand life of living on the end of someone's fishhook.]}

First and only thing big brother tutored me in.

_{[He shrugs, letting the remark slide off. As far as he's concerned, he can't imagine his relationship with Dean changing from what it is unless something momentous happens.

People dying probably wouldn't even be enough to bring them together, not that he says as much in front of Emma. When she says "friends," she must mean some of the people who don't come back. After a moment's pause, he shrugs again, though his demeanor changes, turns more serious at the subject change. He gets losing people, too.]}

I heard a little. Not much. Just that things stop working the way they should.

_{[Things like the "get out of death free" card.]}

That's about the size of it.

[It sounds simple, but it was devastating.]

The magic dried up. Almost all of it. There's not much left of Wonderland anymore.

[It bothers her, just how much they all eventually came to rely on magic. When she first got here, she had been so against it, reminding herself and everyone around her that magic comes with a price, but there was no escaping it in Wonderland -- it was everywhere and they used it for everything, right down to providing for themselves.

Imagine her shock when it dried up and she realized she was in just as poor shape ss the so-called 'magic addicts' she had once accused of being so dangerous.]

When you've gone so long depending on magic to keep you comfortable... it hits harder than you ever thought possible.

I can imagine.

_{[He takes a breath, folding his arms across his chest. Adam doesn't need much prompting to picture what living without a crutch could do to a person--if he'd been brought back in the real world, there's no way he could what he's doing now, pretending at self-sufficiency, not leaning on people to get him through even the most basic tasks.

The zombie invasion had been a good example of the kind of mindless terror that life could instill.

Adam would be less surprised to find out he's one of the ones who doesn't make it. The end just seems inevitable now, eventually, some way.]}

But it's the monster, isn't it?

_{[The thing that's really causing the problems, in other words, not figuring out ways to eat beyond summoning up a five course meal in a magic closet.]}

The Jabberwocky is eating everything in sight.

[But there's more to the loss of magic than just a loss of comfort.]

With the magic gone, we're out of ways to fight back. We're out of supplies, out of weapons, out of what we need to survive and get strong enough to take it down, if it can even be done without the vorpal sword.

At this point, it feels like we're counting down the days.

_{[Cheery. Like the Apocalypse without the free hamburgers and beer.

He reaches for the right way to phrase his question without letting himself seem apathetic or disbelieving over the fact that this whole time travelling thing is even possible.]}

Is that why you're here? To change things or get what you need?

_{[He doesn't even know what a vorpal sword is. Probably as big of a deal as Michael's flaming sword, or whatever the hell.]}

Seems to be the case. Coming here wasn't our choice, but--

[She shrugs.]

Can't see much other reason for it. It's a golden opportunity to change things. To warn the people we care about.

[And he falls under that header, for her.]

Maybe a chance to tell people a few other things, too. Like you-- [She smiles thinly, almost sympathetic.] Things will get better for you. I've seen it.

Wonderland made you?

_{[Figures. He doesn't try questioning why they'd just shoot back into the past for no reason, figuring there's no point, as there's no point asking how Michael could be possessing his father who's not much older than himself.

Adam smiles faintly as well. Yeah, that the "message from the future" thing is something that's going around, and not all of it's been that great. But there's one common denominator, and that's that apparently he's a functioning person years from now.]}

I keeping hearing that. Like saying something enough times makes it come true.

Wonderland made us. As usual.

[Wonderland does a whole lot of things just because it can, in her opinion.

She smiles wryly, giving another shrug, this one easy and relaxed before she folds her arms and leans against the nearest wall, raising an eyebrow at him.]

You don't believe it?

_{[A tricky question. Before Hell, he'd believed in manners... Afterward, what's the point anymore? Manners don't mean shit. Adam could speak his mind, about how everything to do with the future sounds crazy including his role in it, but...

Before he answers, he looks down at his hands. He doesn't believe he'll hit an upswing anytime soon, no.]}

I guess you could say I'm living in the moment. I don't believe in the future much. _{[He lifts his head to continue talking to Emma eye-to-eye.]} Besides, if things change, who knows what'll happen to everyone here. Me, past you, Tom and his nightlight eyes... We could turn out completely different.

That's fair enough.

[She can't really blame him. She has the benefit of knowing a lot more about what he's been through than most people in the present probably do; he has every reason to be wary, to keep himself from building up any kind of expectations.]

Not like I'm here to convince you of anything, anyway. Time'll run it's course and whatever happens happens, but I didn't feel right, coming back and not checking in.

[She smiles again, but it flickers and fades quickly.]

I don't think any of us are going back. Not with how we've changed things. Kind of a last chance to see friends, at this point.

_{[He makes a considering face, and after a moment, nods at her show of concern, a way to give himself time before answering. He's new to this--of a virtual stranger he knows nothing about but who knows plenty about him acting like they care.

Actually, he's not, but with Emma it's different. Either he's getting better at picking out real sincerity from the fake, or she's better at straight talk than most people are around here.

What she says after that earns a bemused frown.]}

You think you're here for good...?

_{[No, that's not it. She means something else.]}

... You mean you think changing this past changes your future. That you're not going back to anything.

_{[A ripple through time, like in the movies. Failing to exist once things start to shift. Like if Michael hadn't gone into the past and done whatever he'd done to his dad, maybe he, Dean, and Sam wouldn't exist.]}

Exactly.

['Here for good' might have been nice, but it wouldn't have been right. It would have denied their presents selves and the people they cared about the chance to live their lives properly. It would have been unfair.

It sucks to think about the fact that she's probably not going back, but they all know it's the truth at this point. They know what their interference here will cause to happen.

It's for the best.]

We've done too much here, but we needed to. We're counting on all of you to change the future. If the future I'm a part of never comes to pass, then there's no reason for me to be around anymore. Whatever future you guys come up with, though-- it'll be better.

It has to be better.

_{[He's missed the drama, clearly, being cooped up out of the way where he's off the main stage and not privy to what's really been going on around here the last week or so. The way Emma talks, Adam's made more aware of that fact than ever, but being off the front lines is where he wants to be, too.

Guilt. He's feel guilt that he hadn't known what kind of gun barrel she'd been looking down until just now. There's trepidation, too, at being indirectly tasked with the fate of another world. He's not one of the guys who changes things, he can't.

He doesn't say that, though, because she's basically just said she has terminal cancer and isn't going to make it. You can't say the pessimistic "c" word after that.]}

... Wow's, that's... pretty depressing, even for me.

_{[She says it with such a straight face, too, much braver than he could've. There's a rumble of something like laughter in his chest. Weak at best.]}

You have to give yourself up for something that might not even happen.

_{[How very Winchester.]}

[There's a reason she gets along with his brother so well, though she knows better than to point that out to this Adam. They have a lot of things in common, though the amount of willingness varies.

She shrugs a little, forcing a wry smile. There's not much to be cheerful about, but she can't complain, either. This trip back has been a golden opportunity, even if they can't guarantee the results.]

Depressing, maybe, but I can't really complain about it. It wouldn't do much good.

[Resigning herself is better. Making use of the time she has left is better.]

I have to trust the people here to make it happen. And I do. There are good people living here, people who will make things right now that they know what's coming. I have to let it ride on them. Don't think I won't be writing myself a detailed letter, either.

_{[Guess so. But waiting to die--the same as disappearing or not existing at all--is a bleak future to look forward to.

Emma deciding to spend some of her limited time here with him means something, even if Adam isn't quite sure what it means yet. He shakes his head with a quiet, slow kind of incredulity.]}

That's going to be some letter. Then I...

_{[Frowning at the floor, he straightens up from the counter. Moving to her, he hesitates before putting out his hand for a handshake goodbye. Future friends or not, he can only think of what he'd like to be doing if he was convinced he had only a little bit more time in paradise left. He wouldn't want to be here with him all day.]} Then I guess if this is a temporary stop for you, there are other things you'd rather be doing. You should go, tell them everything you need to.

_{[And he'll be fine. If not fine, he'll be alive, and that's more than he'd been able to say before Wonderland.]}

Yeah, it will be. I don't expect present-me to take it all that way. She has trouble taking things in stride sometimes. Ever the skeptic, even when she's got every reason not to be.

[To be honest, that hasn't changed all that much over the years, but she likes to think it's improved. She takes the offered hand, giving it a firm shake.]

I wouldn't say 'rather' -- but you're right, you're not the only friend I have to check in on.

[She pauses, dropping a hand against her hip. Going in for a hug is probably a bit too much for this one.]

It was good to see you, Adam. Really good.

Edited 2014-03-27 03:35 (UTC)

I wouldn't really blame her--or you. You know, with this.

_{[Because it's a lot.

And from where the original Emma's standing, maybe if or when she gets back, she'll more daunted than not to find out she's supposedly going to be trapped here for years. That can't be pleasant, even if her future self isn't so bad. And it's sad, too. Sad in a strange way to think a final "goodbye" is coming right on the heels of a "hello." The entire idea of thinking he has a friend he's never met about to possibly take a very extended hike makes some of that prickly hedgehog armor of his retract as they shake.

He keeps on watching her, not sure what to make of her but regretting in a way that there's not more time to find out.]}

Wish it wasn't my first time. Maybe you'd see something you recognize. _{[See something in him, that is, a sign between friends that he doesn't have the future memories to give.]} But good to meet you... again.

_{[He adds what this Emma needs to hear for her own sake:]}

I might not know everything about what's going on, but the people around here are pretty tough. If there's a way to change what happened to you, it'll happen. They'll be fine. And I'll be fine.

I appreciate the vote of confidence.

[And she does -- she has that same confidence in all of them, trusting the current residents to take this warning sign seriously and do what they need to in order to protect themselves, to change what's coming.

It'll happen. It has to.]

Be good, okay?

[She smiles wryly. He doesn't really need to be told, but she doesn't feel right about leaving without saying something.]

I'll see you again soon. Or she will, I guess.

[That said, she offers him a wave before heading out into the hallway.]

_{[Be good. The first thing he thinks is that she sounds almost biblical--be good, don't let those demons in your head take over, take care of whatever's left of your soul. Be as good as all that Hell taint allows.]}

I'll try.

_{[He tries for a smile, too. He'd like to say don't die or don't unexist or whatever she thinks is about to happen, but with everything they've talked about it seems almost inevitable.

Maybe it's better this way, maybe it's not.]}

Yeah, okay. See you... Emma.

_{[He follows to linger in the doorway, one hand on the door.]}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Happy Holideans Guys

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject