come on, baby

[lovestheimpala]

Who: Dean Winchester ( & whoever wants a slice of this pie)
Where: Outside. Hallways. Bar.
When: Feb. 20th
Rating: PG13 at least.
Summary: Dean discovers a different dimension.
The Story:

i. outside

It’s less than a blink of an eye. A split second where he’s not fully paying attention to life around him. That’s all it takes for it to vanish and leave him standing alone. He blinks. Once. Twice. Just to make sure that his brain isn’t flipping out on him. Again.

He’s pretty sure he’s not hallucinating, though. The handle of the Scythe still in his hands feels too solid. His grip tightens around it until splinters dig into his palms. No, this is definitely real.

For a second, he wonders if this is Death’s deal- But no. No, that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t add up. He wasn’t gonna kill Sam. He wouldn’t have been strong enough to do that and even if he had… why would Death send him packing with his Scythe? If this was his doing, Dean was pretty freaking sure he’d want his toy back first. So this had to be something different. Something that derailed them and snagged either just him, or all three of them, and dumped them somewhere else.

Where though? Only one way to find out.

With the Scythe lifted high, Dean sets out to figure out where he is, and if he was the only one that Stargated out of that restaurant.

ii. hallways

“What the hell….?”

It’s not so much the actual grandeur of the place that has him just barely gaping when he first walks into the mansion, but rather that he can’t wrap his brain around why he would end up here. It can’t be a good thing. Last time he got zapped into a place that was all gold and art, and fancy like this… it was the angelic dicks wanting him to sit pretty until Michael wanted him to bend over. This place doesn’t quite reek of their arrogance, but the unsettling feeling that something pulled him out of his life to screw him over can’t be shaken.

So he walks around as quietly as he can, hoping that he can get a better feel of the place before he runs into anyone. He’s damn good at stealth when he needs to be, but it’s not always easy to sneak in shadows and stay hidden when you’re carrying around a weapon the size of a small human.

iii. bar

He’s tired. That’s an understatement.

It had been a shitty-as-all-hell week even before he got beamed up. So much crap dumped on him all in such a few days (some of it even by his own hands) and Dean hadn’t had a moment to stop and let it sink in. And this BS happened. Desperate to get a moment to let all of this… Dean needs a drink. Simple as that, and he dumps the scythe into one of the empty rooms so he isn’t walking around looking like he’s here to freaking reap people. From that it’s a bee line to the bar. Thank God this place has a bar.

He walks in with his head down, not stopping until he can park his ass on one of the stools. He needs there to be no more than just the bottom of his glass tonight. “Gimme a shot. And a beer.”

Comments

[lovestheimpala]

"Oh yeah?"

Dean watches him intently. He's not entirely sure why. There's something crackling off of him that seem... Yeah, he's not sure at all, but there's a familiar feel about the energy around him.

"What does it do exactly, when someone tries to leave?" That's a more pressing question than why he can almost taste murder in the air. That part could just be his own head fucking with him.

[lovestheimpala]

He's a wall of angry confidence until she glances at his arm like that. It's unmistakable and he knows exactly why her eyes would venture to that one spot. She knows.

But that doesn't buy instant trust.

"Okay. Fair enough." And he doesn't doubt that he'd be all over her-or other versions of him? Something like that? Whatever. What she says sounds familiar enough. Sounds like him.

"Freaking great. Stuck-" Wait. "Are you saying there's four other me wandering around this shithole?!"

[lovestheimpala]

All he can get out is a snort. It's a comment to everything she said. An unspoken you have no idea...

Dean looks at her because it's all he can do. Words are lost to him, and they're usually his best line of both defence and offence. As far as action goes... what can he do but throw back that shot and motion for a top up?

He could leave, obviously. Get up and make some excuse about having to go somewhere and do... something, but he's glued to that damned bar stool, and all he can do is stare at her. Tell himself that she's just a nightmare after all. He'll wake up with a shout and this hell will be over.

Any second now.

[lovestheimpala]

Dena can look at Sam and instantly know that he's tensing for a potential fight. There's a lot about his brother that he might never really get his head around, but he knows that look. He knows Sam's mentally checking for his gun, ready to come at him at the slightest hint of... Well, Dean being himself. Whatever passes for that these days, at least.

And yet, he's not so sure he can trust this whole... everything.

So he looks down at the scythe, and then looks up at Sam. Head tilted, eyebrows raised.

"Nope. You talk. Then I'll drop it."

[lovestheimpala]

He has been standing there, frozen, for a whole shitton of eternity now (which is to say like three seconds, but an eternity is what it feels like). He didn't expect for a second to stay hidden for long. Wouldn't have been John Winchester if he hadn't been able to pick up on the fact that he was being watched.

So Dean steps out of the shadows, swallowing audibly. "D-Dad."

[lovestheimpala]

That's... not the answer he expects, to be honest, and annoyance crawls under his skin, making him almost snarl.

"Does every. freaking. person in this hellhole know every god damn little thing about me?" It's all frustration and no real hostility. Imagine hating letting anyone close, because you're scarred and broken, and worthless, and then coming to a place where every stranger you see seems to know just how fucking disfigured you are under the charming grin.

"Wouldn't have a thing to do with that. I'm fine. Got that under control ages ago." That's his bullshit and he's sticking to it.

[lovestheimpala]

Dean snorts.

"Listen, Harry. I dunno what you're actually seeing when you look at me, but don't I look just a tad too old to be worried about house points?- And you know what? Even if I was still a kid, and this really was Hogwarts, I sure as freaking hell wouldn't be in Gryffindor. Come on. They're just a bunch of walking dicks."

So. Definitely not Hogwarts, not that he really believed that to begin with, but at least it proved that Foureyes here has half a sense of humor.

"Mind cutting the bull and telling me who you are?"

[lovestheimpala]

"Well, how do I know you're not just going to shoot me the second I'm unarmed?"

[lovestheimpala]

Dean whirls around to see who's talking to him. He wasn't really talking to anyone when he stepped in- Hellooooo Hotness.

There's a face that'll get a smirk out of him. He's no less on guard, seems like he's incapable of dropping it these days, but damn that's a nice sight to be greeted with and he's rarely so far gone that he can't stop for a second and just appreciate it.

"New, definitely. Lost, maybe. Hard to say. Don't even know where the hell I am."

[lovestheimpala]

He's not too keen on conversation, but she seems alright. Kinda normal, by his definition anyway.

"Damn, you don't sugar coat a damn thing, do you?" He likes that. No one needs the bullshit anyway.

"I'm Dean," he says, and even plays nice by offering her a hand to shake. That's how drunk he's getting. And since this place seems like the sort of cramped everyone's-up-each-others-asses kinda place, he adds: "I'm Sam's brother. If you know him."

[rosswood]

Keep those instincts fine-tuned, Winchester. You're talking to an apologetic killer. A well-intentioned apologetic killer, but yeah, you get the idea. Not that he'd ever admit it.

"More like - you just can't." Alex opens a hand. "Try going too far out from the mansion and you just end up wandering. Maybe dying."

He drains half his glass and pulls a face as it sears a fiery alcoholic trail down his throat. "We got a limit on deaths, by the by. The by. Don't know if you've heard."

[decadentdecade]

"Because I could just as easily shoot you right now." Oh Dean, just as smart as ever. "And I will if you don't slowly put it down."

[lovestheimpala]

"... run that by me again?"

He stops in the middle of pouring himself yet another drink and looks up so he can blink at the guy.

"What- What does that mean 'a limit on deaths'? Who's deaths?"

[rosswood]

He holds up a hand, wiggles his fingers indicatively. "Five. Yours. After that, well, how should I say this? Something happens. Hell if I know what. It's bad, whatever it is."

He smirks mirthlessly, leans back in his seat.

"We get these little happenings every now and again. Sometimes it's a party with free food. Sometimes it's a monster in the woods. We just never know."

[lovestheimpala]

"Right."

Actually, when he thinks about it, that's a pretty fair point. But can he resist being a dick and just letting the damned blade in his hands clatter to the floor, rather than doing it slowly like she asked? No.

[decadentdecade]

She debates shooting him simply for that little smartass reaction. She did, indeed warn him. But death isn't permanent here, she's learned, and killing Dean would only piss him off. She really doesn't need that. So it's in her best interest not to shoot him.

"Kick it away."

[a_chipped_cup]

In the few short months that she has been in Wonderland, she's seen a number of reactions from the new arrivals, but never one like Dean's. The smirk strikes her as off putting, but instinctively, she returns with a smile of her own. That he wasn't affected or didn't show his fear raised a level of interest and intrigue in her.

Usually these sorts of responses were found in those that were accustomed to trouble. From one survivor to another, she would understand the need to brace oneself, to prepare for the worst, even as a smile is brought to his lips.

"It's a bit complicated." She said. It sounded a bit crazy out loud, she imagined. Wonderland was familiar to her, a place she heard about, but for others, it was just a story book. "We're in Wonderland."

[failedparenting]

"Dean?" John's breath hitches a little in shock, which sets off a bit of a coughing fit. He drops the cigarette to the floor, the flowing end burning a little black spot into the carpet before it dies. Dean's back, but of course he is. John had never really doubted that Dean would be back somehow. Maybe it was his own stupid, deeply buried optimism, or parental disillusionment.

There's a quiet moment where John catches his breathe again, and he can finally get a good look at Dean. He still isn't the 26 year old kid he left back in 2006- looks like he's about the same age as he was before. The scythe is new, though. And considering the last time Dean had his hands on a weapon around here...

Pulling himself back up to full height, John sticks a hand into his jacket and pulls out a small bottle. Holy water of course- a good hunter always has a little on him. He tosses the bottle at Dean, and tries to smile. "There," he says, voice strained from smoke and emotion, "do me a favor and our that over your head."

The first time he landed here, he came in to a demonic Dean. Not a possessed Dean, but his son was one himself. There really isn't a word in the English language to describe that horror, finding your kid turned into a ruthless, evil monster. He'd always thought it was gonna be Sam, you know? Sam was the demonic victim, Dean just got dragged along for the ride. He'd always thought his oldest was going to be the savior.

That's what he gets for parental hopes and dreams, apparently.

[goesdown]

He relaxes as the tension lifts. They've always had a tumultuous relationship, but he's glad that it's more good than bad these days.

"It's not on my turf, but I'm not exactly trying to leave, either. I've been here for almost three years." What goes unspoken is that he's built a semblance of a life here and while he's still invested in his life on Earth and in Hell, he knows that when he leaves, he'll go back to where he came from. This is a detour for him, but it's become a largely positive one.

"I'm glad you're back. Moose has been a mess without you." Crowley and Sam shared a drink over Dean's last departure, actually, but Crowley's not going to admit that, either.

[lovestheimpala]

"And this... this dying thing- Does that happen often around here? Do people just... drop dead or are you wandering around killing each other?" He's not sure which scenario would be worse, or preferable.

He's curious, though, and leans forward. "You ever know of anyone who's died a sixth time?"

[lovestheimpala]

"Just put the gun down. I could kick it across the room and still be able to jump to get it if I wanted to. You know that. Just- Oh, for crying out loud, Bela. Stop being such a bitch. I just wanna talk."

[lovestheimpala]

"Like... I fell on my ass down the rabbit hole?"

His smile grows as he steps closer to her. This is his mask- His armour. The more scared and confused he gets, the less he is capable of showing it openly.

"So you're.. what? The Queen of Hearts? 'cause you could be the queen of mine." Obnoxious flirting. That is the shield of that armour.

[a_chipped_cup]

"Something like that. Wonderland draws us in randomly. There are instances where we have been here before, but have no memory of it. When it chooses, it will send us home as well. It's chaotic, which I guess fits in with the environment." It's not helpful or comforting, but at least he is getting a bit of honesty and frankness. She always found answers to be beneficial to her nerves.

She doesn't move away as he steps closer. It's awkward, but she doesn't feel threatened or uncomfortable. She gets a sense of what is going on.

But seriously Dean, that was terrible.

She smirked at him, remarking, "My name is Belle. I arrived her only a few months ago in December. I haven't seen the Queen of Hearts yet, but I don't think she'd like someone else being called that title. I seem to remember her being a bit testy. I don't want to lose my head, though I think you must be used to women doing that around you."

[lovestheimpala]

Ouch. That look hurts. It makes him flush and look away, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, knowing he's about to get yelled at. He's been bad. He's been a disappointment, and his dad clearly knows this. Just from that look. Dean shrinks. Suddenly he's 10 again.

But that tight ache in his chest loosens a little when he sees John reach into his jacket. He knows straight off the bat what his dad is gonna ask of him- There's a familiarity in that greeting that makes him feel better than the ones who greeted him with smiles. It's comforting. It's his dad, exactly the way he expects him to be.

Dean grabs that bottle with one hand, opens it, and raises it at John. "Yes, sir," he says and takes a sip. It's better than splashing it in his face and it proves something beyond just 'I'm not a demon'.

"Do you want to cut me with silver, too?"

[lovestheimpala]

"Three years?" There's a wave of disbelief at first, but then he thinks about it and it's not that unheard of to have realms where time passes differently, right? That's kinda the norm, actually, so he can accept that Crowley, even if he saw him not too long ago, has been here- Shit. What if he's stuck here for three years?

"Getting comfy, huh?"

He'd ask about Sam, but that's a bitch of a topic right now. Not the first one he wants to dive into.