entrancelogs | Merry Christmas you filthy animal

Entry tags:

Merry Christmas you filthy animal

Who: (Future)Tom Hanniger, (Future)Isaac Lahey & COMPLETELY OPEN
Where: Literally all over Wonderland
When: Dec 15-24
Rating: R for language, violence, adult themes
Summary: The last time they checked, Wonderland had stopped pulling shenanigans. But that's exactly what they find in the middle of a late night patrol.

THIS IS A CATCH ALL LOG FOR TOM AND ISAAC FOR THE EWAYMAS EVENT PERIOD AND CONTAINS INDIVIDUAL STARTS FOR BOTH CHARACTERS. The starts not doing it for you? Message with what you want and we'll work it out.

Both prose and bracket spam is perfectly welcome!

The Story:

w e l c o m e

It was late when the world shifted. They didn't keep much to normal hours these days, not for years actually, but somewhere in the back of Tom's mind he knew it was midnight. Patrol ran in teams of two, sore and tired bodies treading lightly around the perimeter of the mansion they'd managed to lock down. Heavy boots with thick rubber soles carried them with almost no sound. Worn but trusted armor over their chests and backs to keep them alive.

He didn't speak as he and Isaac moved, knowing the other man so well by this point that making noise was redundant - a look or hand gesture was all they needed to communicate. A quick glance over his shoulder and he nodded to the corner up ahead, they would go as far as the third floor stairwell and double back onto the second. It had been surprisingly quiet that night, a tiny reprieve, but they had grown to know that silence wasn't always good. The pair drew up against the corner and counted. 1...so far so good...2...as quiet as death...3...and around they went.

To be greeted by bright and cheery decorations. Bright lights gave the hall a rosy glow and garlands curled across the walls and ceiling. There had been no momentous pull, no vertigo as the floor fell from under them. It was simply changed. Where the carpet had been scorched and torn it was now pristine. Faded colors back to their original hue. The cold which seemed to forever creep into the mansion was gone in a blink of the eye.

Tom stopped dead in his tracks and turned to Isaac with wide eyes. The corner they'd just turned was the same as the hall ahead of them. Pristine. Cheery. Wrong.

"Are you seeing this?"

"Yeah," he managed to mutter out whilst his fingers traced over one of the garlands. If Tom was seeing it, it meant it was happening... Right? Maybe that's what Stiles thought too when he'd come back broken, when he'd come back absolutely mental. He couldn't get feet to move, choosing to instead let stormy blue eyes traverse the disturbingly new scenery.

Isaac couldn't keep from tilting his head to the side, trying to catch all the sounds, to figure out what the hell was actually happening. "And hearing, and smelling." A pale hand reached out to touch Tom's shoulder as if to make sure he were actually there, when it made contact he gave a gentle squeeze before withdrawing it. Wonderland was too worn out and dead to play tricks on them like this, wasn't it? Maybe the Resistance had finally managed to do something right, managed to heal Wonderland somehow.

They'd been doing patrols long enough to be used to just about anything that could come their way, but neither of the two were prepared for this abrupt change. It was no Jabberwock attack or desperate survivor.

"The hell is going on?"

"Million dollar question." Tom answered, lowering his gun and drawing himself back. Somewhere in the distance he swore he could hear a Christmas carol playing.

"Illusion maybe?" But it was unlikely. There hadn't been an event in years.

Uncomfortable was an understatement for what he and what he was assuming his partner in crime was feeling. That was definitely a Christmas carol playing. "Or mass hysteria from a psychotic break." The humour was dry, sarcastic, and the words just loud enough that Tom would be able to catch them. Fingers idly found the metal of the zip to his black parka and he wasted no time zipping it up – a defensive gesture for comfort more than anything.

"What are you gonna do?" He paused as he looked around them again before adding a quieter question, "What do you want me to do?"

Tom snorted lightly at the empty joke and took a moment to think, tongue pushing up to rest against the back of his front teeth. What did they do, indeed.

"C'mon." A nod towards the stairwell. They had to press on. Just because the place had changed was no reason to abandon their job. If anything it was cause to go faster, further, look at everything and anything that might offer an explanation. And so he started off again, the two moving with a silent stealth only years of practice could produce.

Tom nodded to the stairs and they went down to find the second floor was just the same as the third. Cheery, untouched by the destruction they knew so well as the house had slowly fallen to ruin and ceased to repair itself. He peered down the hall from his position on the stairs, a plan clicking together piece by piece.

"We should split up. Sweep the house." It was breaking the buddy system protocol they'd put in place but this wasn't a normal situation. He retrieved his communicator from a pocket on his vest to make sure it worked and, happy that it did, turned back to his companion.

"I'll take from here down. You go up and call me if you find anything."

Isaac had followed without any hesitation, only coming to a slow stop when Tom had. "Split up?" It sounded a bit incredulous, not on purpose however. Rule #1 for all horror movies: never split up. Then again, unless this was attack of the killer Santa, things were looking pretty not terrible.

He didn't want to split up, that was a bad idea. If someone or something attacked Tom Isaac wouldn't be able to help him unless he called him in time. Teeth grit together as he tensed his jaw and he actually pondered if he should mention that it was not a good idea. The action of checking his communicator was mimicked though and a slow blink later the device was shoved back into one of his many pockets.

"Alright," he answered instead of "Don't you think this is a crappy plan?" What did anything even count as? What exactly were they looking for? Great... "If – If anything happens, anyone attacks you – just..." Isaac's gaze fell to Tom's communicator as he trailed off. "Call me..." They'd already lost so many people, Isaac wouldn't be able to handle losing Tom too.

He didn't wait for an answer, instead he headed to the stairs without a second glance.

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Tom doesn't know. It's not like he's made deals for his past self before.

"Present me doesn't even know who you are..." He's trying, really, but it's delicate. Present him is delicate. A demon showing up randomly to announce he's got the answer won't be well received until he asks for help. And he will.

"When I'm...He is at his lowest, he'll try to cut a deal with anyone who will listen. Approach him then. Maybe when someone else is there so he believes you're real but your call.." It was easier to talk about it like they were discussing another person. And, really, weren't they? At least a little bit.

The last time he went through this, he'd been so desperate he'd sold himself to the Queen of Hearts. And if Crowley is looking for points with Dean, this is definitely a way to get it.

Tom nods lightly as Sam speaks, brow creasing ever so slightly. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and crosses his arms over his chest.

He expects Dean may have said a thing or two, but honestly he isn't surprised they guy took the hermit route instead. It was sad, but he understands the idea behind it. Limited contact. Get the job done, get out.

Only Tom is pretty sure the job is to talk to people. That's surely why they're here, right? How can you change the future if you don't make an impact on it? Not that Dean wasn't doing anything, far from it actually. Someone had to hoard the supplies and question the natives and...do whatever else it was he was doing.

"Yeah...he's been...different for the last couple years." He'd finally run out of steam. And it was funny that by the time it had happened, by the time the Core mission had failed the year before he, himself, had finally come into his own. Taken his differences and his...whatever from his fifth death and learned to get the job done. The glory of Dean Winchester was waning and no one could blame him. He was done. And he was starting to fall.

"You know, I've got the feeling we're not gonna be staying here. When we leave it's going to be up to all of you to make sure this shit doesn't happen. To come and find me and Dean and everyone else and clue us in. Start taking precautions."

[Isaac's having a more difficult time handling this sudden transition than Dean, and that makes sense considering he's much younger and also hasn't been through nearly as much turmoil. (Or so Castiel would guess.)

Forcing Isaac back into a situation he isn't prepared to deal with won't help anything, and so Castiel slowly lowers his hands and looks around the room. Though when Isaac makes that last comment, Castiel pauses for a moment. It's a far better reception than Dean had given him, and he just nods. In his case, it wasn't all that long ago that he saw Isaac, so it's hard to empathize with what he's feeling right now.]

Where's your phone? You could call her, or send her a text message. [Better than leaving Allison to wonder what happened and why someone she considered a friend attacked her in a wild rage.]

"I'll use discretion, then. Whatever it is that gets to you, I'll take care of it." He supposes he'll be doing some research until then, just to be sure. Supernatural creatures seem to work differently in other worlds and he intends to be prepared.

He hasn't left many loopholes for himself, but he has no interest in getting out of this. If it's going to hurt him, he has an out, and if it's not, what better than to prove he's a man of his word? Which he is, thank you.

"I assume I should keep Moose and Squirrel away from all of this, too. They like to stick their noses in where it doesn't belong and I'd hate to have to deal with them in that capacity." This is largely due to the fact that Dean is what Mean Girls might call a life ruiner and Crowley's life is already plenty ruined.

"Now wait, hold on," Blake urged, but he knew he already had the answer to his question. Tom will be hurting people. He'd be doing something that was powerful enough to have him still talking about it five years into the future. If that wasn't serious, John didn't know what was.

He stepped forward, his intention to stop Hanniger before he could get too far. While they'd hardly had a chance to really get to know each other in this time, it was clear that Hanniger had a lot of potential, and also that he probably needed some kind of catalyst to get there. But not violence. Blake couldn't stand by and allow something like that, especially not after all of this.

"Listen, there's always a way, man. There's a solution to whatever this is, but you gotta talk to me. Can't help if I don't know what I'm dealin' in." Blake could only hope that he would have enough influence to get this Tom talking. In an attempt to appeal to that part of the man standing in front of him, he added, "Helped me, now let me help you."

_{[What's more impossible, Michael travelling back in time to possess his dad when John had been barely older than him, or people travelling back in time to tell him what his life's going to be like in a handful of years? If this guy's saying is true and he won't be back in the Cage anytime soon and he'll still be himself... he should be glad, then, right?

If this weren't so damn complicated, and confusing, and frightening, he'd be glad.]}

Not really.

_{[He gets what Tom's saying about Michael, sure, but the rest... the part about the bleak future everyone's worried about... that he doesn't grasp nearly so easily. He lifts his eyebrows.]}

The future's that crappy?

Castiel's well aware of how there are a number of people here who have nothing to go back to, though he hadn't realized that Tom was one of them. It may explain why he and Jo have decided to find solace in each other -- there's a level of understanding they couldn't find with someone else. Not that Castiel's an expert on that by any means, but it makes sense.

"I've been doing what I can to help," he says. Between coming to people's aid when they call for him, and offering his services on a wider scale during the event where they'd all shared their bodies with their Mirrors, Castiel doesn't think anyone could claim he hasn't been doing his work as a guardian of sorts.

"Is there something more I should be aware of? Jo knows she can call for me for any emergency, and that offer can extend to you as well. And your present self."

Castiel isn't omniscient, nor is he a mind reader. He can make attempts to check in on people, but even angels can't be everywhere at once.

[It's a testament to how ripped he is that instead of thinking "are you crazy needles do not belong anywhere near my ass" he's thinking "...tattoo could work".

Fortunately he's distracted from such horribly bad ideas by a better one. Oh hell yeah, beanbags.]

Dude you're a god damn genius-- wait you think they'll cough up pizza rolls? The closets... [He lets his head drop back against the arm rest of the couch so he can peer blearily at the closet in all its upside-down glory.] Why's it so far away?

[Use the force, Jesse. You can do it...]

Unfortunately, she's referring to all monarchs in this location. His little slip is enough to make her eyes narrow, but she doesn't verbally acknowledge it.

"Sounds like it turns us into mindless little puppets like those dicks on the other side." That's not too pleasing to hear, and she's gotta be more careful from now on. If there's anything Meg does best, it's worming her way out of close calls. It doesn't work out too hot for her here. "That happen a lot or does everyone get better about not dying all the time?"

Folding her arms over her chest, she watches him as he rants, wondering what exactly she does to him in the future to make him threaten her. No matter how cute he may have been before, with his slight obliviousness and leg that was easy to pull, that doesn't Meg she's too happy with the attitude she's being met with at the moment.

"Sounds like someone's bitter." Her irritation is clear in her voice, despite the smile on her face. "Could be I wanted to say hi, see if you put on your big boy pants."

And she's patronizing him, that much is clear, when she smirks up at him. He may know how to exorcise her, but it's not like she can go back to Hell. And if he kills her? Well, she'll wake right back up soon enough.

"Looks like big boy grew up just fine," she drawls. "Maybe I'll have a little chat with you once this episode of Back to the Future is done, see if we can't stop that nasty little attitude change before it happens."

She's pretty sure she might have been a helping hand in that change. She's also sure this trip isn't going to last forever, and there is the underlying threat in her words that she's more than happy to have any kind of 'talk' with Isaac when he's back to himself.

Mmhm.

[He shifts to lean against the wall.]

It wasn't so bad at first. Jabberwocky was a pain the the ass but we could kill it.

And then we couldn't. Magic is gone, the world is dying, we're trapped and it just won't stop coming. Doesn't mean we've stopped trying, but... it's just. It's bad."

"A couple times, but it's rare." He answers, rolling his shoulders and crossing his arms tight across his chest.

"I don't think it's that big of a deal, really, but I wouldn't advocate seeing for yourself."

Hell yeah, I'm a god damn genius..

[Snerk. He nestles into his spot a little more and rolls his head to watch Jesse watching the closet.]

You can do it, buddy. I believe in you.

[To be fair, Tom is pleasantly stoned but still capable of moving. It's just more fun to watch Jesse struggle. Way more fun.

Shit, it's been too long since he's been this relaxed.]

"No, but that's good to know."

He considers asking Castiel for a favor but it there isn't much point. He's already worked things out with Crowley.

That being said, Cas knew the demon better than he did. It wouldn't hurt to get a second opinion.

"Hey, you know I don't even think my present self knows angels are real?"

Just an observation.

"It would do him some good. Give him his faith back." Which, might be a ridiculous request given Castiel's relationship with Heaven, but a guy can try.

And then a complete shift in the conversation.

"Give me your opinion on Crowley. Demon or not, he's a man of his word?"

While it's true that the present day Isaac may think she's pretty cool, and not mind her existence, this future Isaac seems to scorn her very being. "Ooh," the noise is somehow the most sarcastic thing that's passed his lips thus far. The evident irritation is only a small victory, and while most people might be afraid of facing a demon face on, they don't have a pack of wolves, hunter friends and Tom to come back and tear her to shreds if she tries anything.

"You know, that sounded an awful lot like a threat." A snort. "Because that ended for you so well the last time." The words are punctuated by his hand surging out to grip her throat, the action doesn't stop there however, he has no issue lifting her to his height, sudden claws just barely biting into her flesh. He knows she could do a lot worse to him than she is right now, he doesn't underestimate how dangerous of a creature she really is. His anger has never really dictated the best choices though.

"I could kill you. Wait 'til you come back, find the darkest, coldest, shittiest place here, paint a devil's trap and leave you there." He's not above holding a grudge for something like this.

A thoughtful look passes over his face as his gaze stays on her unfaltering, if she were human, he could snap her neck, he could slash her throat with his claws alone. But she's not. That'd only hurt. "Can you die of starvation?" The look in his eyes says that he's willing to test it and see.

Tom shakes his head. "Don't worry about the Winchesters."

Interesting, something he needs Blake kept as far away from as possible but Sam and Dean are fine? He considers just how much he should go into this. Crowley has been good so far, respected his desire to keep it as vague as possible, but he wonders if disclosure to the person supposed to save him is a good idea. It is. Maybe not full disclosure, but part of their deal was nothing to put Crowley on the other side of Dean, right?

"Keep this to yourself, but Dean-"

A pause.

This is hard.

"Dean is gonna kill me." Literally. "And you and I are gonna let that happen but it won't fix the whole problem. When I revive is when I'll need you to step in."

[For a little bit, "watching the closet" is the most accurate description for what Jesse's doing. Staring at it like it holds the answers to all questions could be another. It's just... It's so far, yo, come on, how's he gonna even do that? It'd take like nine years or something to walk over there, and then he'd have to, like, think about shit, and what if it gave him those little cocktail hot dogs instead of pizza rolls?

That'd really suck. Like super suck, talk about the most disappointing thing ever, wanting pizza rolls and getting weenies instead, what the fuck--

Before he's even aware he's dragged himself up (and place the bowl on the table without even thinking because it's just automatic to protect the pice) and meandered over to the closet. His hand's on the door before he realizes he's decided to get up, and then there's another pause while he tries his very best to remember what the hell he was over here looking for in the first place...]

...Pizza rolls.

[Yes. Yes good, that's right--]

Yes. Dude- [He pulls the bag out and shakes it, flecks of ice that probably mean those suckers are freezer burned to hell dropping from the plastic as he does so. Whatever. THANKS TO YOU HIS CHILDREN WILL EAT TONIGHT, CLOSET.

Yep, there sure is a giant stupid grin on his face- TRIUMPH!!!!- even if the whole ordeal probably took about a minute in real time...]

It's not that ridiculous of a request. Some people take comfort from finding out that angels are real, and while it's an unfounded feeling, it's not Castiel's place to disturb that.

He hadn't realized that he'd kept his true nature a secret from Tom. He would have assumed Jo had told him, or that it was obvious considering that he'd been able to heal his wounds after his brawl with Dean. But if it needs to be made more clear, then so be it. He can keep that in mind for if (when) those from the present return.

The subject change takes him by surprise for a moment, and Castiel takes a few seconds to consider his response. It would help if he knew why Tom was asking, but...

"He's very good at telling the truth in such a way that he's manipulating you to do what he wants," he says at length. "He may technically not be lying, but he has a way with words, and he's not above tricking people to his benefit."

Not a big deal? Color her surprised, since she figures hardly anyone around here wants to be the Queen's personal flying monkey.

"That right?" The very off vibe she's getting from Tom is strong here. "Being retooled into mommy's obedient little soldier wouldn't bother you?"

Them's fightin' words.

"Wouldn't you be grateful if she saved your life?"

His attack is unexpected, and her hands immediately grip his wrist to pull herself up, just a bit, to release some of the pressure his hand is putting on her throat. Her mouth turns up into a snarl as her instincts take over.

There's irritation, and more importantly, anger building up in the pit of her stomach. She's been a goddamn saint in this place, and this seems to give the impression she's not quite as deadly as she actually is. Regardless of how much he knows about her abilities or her weaknesses, she's not about to take this from anyone, future victim or no.

Without answering him, she twists her right hand, pulling on his wrist to either break it or sprain it - it doesn't matter which one, as long as she can get free. Simultaneously, her leg kicks out, her foot connecting with his body hard. She doesn't know where the hit landed, but she doesn't care. Whatever's good enough to get out of this position and get her back on the ground.

She rolls her eyes at that. Please. The only reason she would have died is because she's trapped in this hellhole to begin with.

"That's called Stockholme Syndrome, sweet cheeks, not gratitude." It's most decidedly not in her nature to be grateful for anything, but she knows when she owes someone. Owing the Queen is something that will never happen in her mind.

Too bad she doesn't see the hypocrisy here - since it's very similar to her own situation. Her loyalty to Lucifer, to Hell, is something that was carved right into her very soul.

Tom rolls his eyes as well. It's remarkable how similar they are in temperament.

But the irony isn't lost on him, and he's in the mood to point it out.

"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you. Being the bride of Lucifer and all."

Edited 2013-12-24 16:10 (UTC)

Dude.

[A GREAT RESOUNDING HURRAH! THE PEOPLE REJOICE! THE KINGDOM IS SAVED.]

Now how're we gonna cook 'em?

[This is a very serious flaw in the plan.]

"Mmm" He raps his knuckles on the bar, considering the checks and balances of the deal he's made. Crowley wanted information, he'd provided it. He had nothing to lose form holding up his end of the bargain that Tom could see.

"I asked him to help me out with something coming up. Just wanna make sure he's good for it."

Good for fulfilling his end of the deal.

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Merry Christmas you filthy animal

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