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]

He doesn't mean to come off as a threat, but maybe he is aiming for awkward. It's a tried and true method of getting chicks off his back when he wants to be left alone; be a sleazebag and they'll run away... and probably slap him in the process. He can handle that.

"Belle, huh?" Grin widens as he leans in, just a little too close, so he can lower his voice. "You know, women do that a lot. I can be a bit of a beast..."

[failedparenting]

Seeing Dean actually drink the Holy water practically melts the tension off his frame. The tense lines of his jaw, his folded arms soften, and he closes his eyes for a moment to say a private prayer of thanks to anyone that might be listening. Granted, he still might get sick since he's been carrying that bottle for months, but at least he's not screaming in pain.

Still, he reaches into his back pocket for the silvered pocket knife he brought from home. It's tarnished to hell and back, but it'll work well enough. He flicks the thing open, then closes the gap between them with a few purposeful steps. "This might sting a little," he says with a smirk, then takes his son's free hand to make a shallow cut along the lines of his palm.

[a_chipped_cup]

The absurdity of the line, as well as his attempts at flirtation are a bit too much for her to take seriously. It's such a strange situation that she can't do anything but laugh, covering her face as she attempts to brush off the awkwardness. He isn't sleazy, but more...adorable. Adorkable, that seemed like the appropriate word.

"Do lines like these work?" She asked him, giving him a wry grin. If he reminded her of anyone, it was Will Scarlett. He had a habit of making sly comments or flirtatious jokes. It was always refreshing, if not a bit indirect. These sorts of comments tended to mask a deeper secret or pain. If it helps him to make the jokes, she's willing to let him do so.

And really, she's heard that allusion before. "You're no beast, but you are a knave of hearts." See, she can do it too.

[rosswood]

"There's dangerous shit here, all right?" Alex shrugs, defensive. "We've had serial killers show up in the past." Apparently. Thank fuck he wasn't around to witness that firsthand.

Sixth death, though. He hasn't talked to anyone who's admitted to getting gutted that many times, though he can't deny that he's equally curious about it.

"Maybe. If I do, they haven't told me." He drums his fingers on the surface of the counter. "You could always try asking around, though. People here might recognize you, trust you at the outset."

[decadentdecade]

"Here's the thing, Tiger. I don't want to talk. So if you expect to get anything out of me, you'll do this my way. Move over there."

And she gestures to the other side of the room with a subtle wave of her gun.

[goesdown]

"Something like that." He's built up an oddly stable life here. It's more human than his real human life had ever been and maybe it's all the human blood he's pumped into his veins, but he is comfortable here.

"Wonderland has its own set of problems, but nothing's tried to eat me in a while, so I consider it a win." He shrugs and then starts to smirk. "At least, nothing carnivorous."

[lightgunhustler]

There's some part of her that wants to be a smart-ass, even if it's something as simple as asking if she has something on her face or telling him to take a picture instead of stare, but she gets it, and now isn't the time. She's been through it, too; this place had a lot of ups and downs, but she would always be grateful for the fact that it gave her the chance to reunite with people she thought she'd never see again-- like her mom.

Her smile fades a little, dialing down to something more serious as she props a hand against the bar, letting the other come to rest against her hip as she stands opposite him.

"I know," she says evenly, "It's weird. And it's a lot to take in. You just-- you take whatever time you need, okay? But I can fill in any blanks. Been here a long time now. Kind of a veteran."

[nascensibility]

She knows, and there's very little Dean can do to hide the fact - he doesn't have to trust her, but neither does he have to act like an inconsiderate moron (or maybe he does).

"God, no." The answer almost comes too quickly, Evelyn intent on reassuring him of the fact. "One of you is more than enough. You've just...been here, and then disappeared, and come back several times. If people ever return here after being gone for more than a fortnight, they tend not to remember they were here at all."

Exhibit A: You.

"I last saw you over Christmas holiday. Today is the twentieth of February."

[pottershotter]

James puts up with most of that rant, but the shot at his house is a step too far and he bristles at it.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't be," he says, frowning. It's something he should have figured out about Dean ages ago really, but he still blurted out Gryffindor out of habit. "But you're clearly not a Ravenclaw either. That just leaves either Hufflepuff or Slytherin, so either way I feel sorry for you."

Thinking about it annoys him a bit too much though, so he moves on. Usually he's more playful about all of this, but he's relatively sure Dean won't care and won't be receptive to much of what he has to say, so he's preemptively irritated.

"You're half right," he says. "I'm James Potter. So, Harry's father."

[lovestheimpala]

Doesn't matter that he might get sick if he's standing in front John Winchester, trying to prove himself worthy. He'd swallow silver if that would prove him good enough.

"Yeah." He reaches out, letting his dad take his palm, and even if he tries he can't hold back the hiss of pain when his palm is cut open. Of course nothing happens, and Dean looks up at John. "Anything else you wanna check?"

[ofletters]

"No. Sorry, Dean; I'm not taking that chance."

Really, if it were another demon, he almost knows for certain that it would have lunged at him by now. It would have the advantage of strength and speed no matter how wary Sam is. Still, he can't help but look at that weird, new weapon in his brother's hands, and... he remembers too vividly when he'd trusted too easily and died for it.

"What is that thing, anyway?" he mutters, frowning deeply at it. It obviously isn't the First Blade, or any other of his brother's arsenal that he's seen before.

[lovestheimpala]

"Hokay, first of all: there's nothing wrong with being loyal. Secondly, that whole system is messed up and... and.. racist."

But that's not really what he wants to talk about so James gets an eyeroll. "I thought all that wizard stuff was bull. You're... serious?"

Not that he has much of a choice but to believe in magic, but come on. That kind of fairytale wand-and-robe kind? Somehow that's harder to swallow. Because it has happy endings

[lovestheimpala]

Well. Thank god for that. As much as all of this royally sucks, it's not nearly as bad as the prospect of running into himself left and right.

But what she said is... a bit, sloppy mess of a problem. It's like finding out that Heaven keeps spitting out Sam and him when they die. Just the thought of having part of his life that he can't remember... it's unsettling. Especially when people seem to remember him.

He doesn't even want to think too much about what he might have done last time he was here, but he can't avoid asking a few questions. "So. You and me- past me- we were... what exactly?"

Now he's assuming he never hooked up with her because he hasn't been slapped yet, but that's no guarantee either.

[lovestheimpala]

"Really, man?"

Hurts a little to be looked at with that amount of distrust, but considering the situation he just got plucked out of... he gets it. So he shrugs it off.

"Fine."

The scythe gets dropped on the ground, and Dean crosses his arms. Not budging from the spot. He not going to trust if he isn't being trusted.

"Now stop being a dick and tell me what the hell happened."

[lovestheimpala]

"Oh yeah? What's next? You're gonna tell me that you've got yourself a pretty little gimp and a white picket sex dungeon. Little hellhound pups running around?"

Because if he knows Crowley even a little bit... then that smile means he's gone a bit sappy around the edges. Again

[lovestheimpala]

"Wow. Hell really didn't change you at all did it?"

Still, he moves to where she wants him to, not taking his eyes off of her for a second.

"Then again, I guess it's hard to go beyond Maximum Bitch, right?"

[pottershotter]

The accusation of racism gets a very judgmental face from James and he looks like he has about twelve hours' worth of things to say on the matter, but he manages to shove it away once Dean goes on. He grins the grin of someone with a terrible joke to tell.

"I already told you I'm James, but Sirius is here too," he says. "I am telling the truth though."

He fishes in his robes and pulls out his wand - not in a threatening way, but just to show that he's got one. And just to prove it's real he gives it a meaningful wave and harmless red sparks come out of it. Ta da!

oh dear. why are you enabling this.

[lovestheimpala]

"Sweetheart, you'd be amazed," he jokes.

And he laughs when she calls him a knave. "See, now, I'm guessing you don't expect me to know what that means, but I can tell you I'm no jack in this card stock. I'm the king, baby."

[lovestheimpala]

He makes a mental note of doing that. Some things could be handy to know in case the itch on his arm gets... problematic.

But all this makes him wonder. Is this the kind of hellhole like Purgatory where you get dumped if you're maybe-kinda-sorta evil? Is this some kind of punishment?

"You wouldn't happen to be one of them, would you?" That's a fair question. Never know. Some would argue Dean falls in that category.

Because it's awesome

[a_chipped_cup]

"But not the King of Hearts." She said, wrinkling her nose, her grin spreading wider. "It would be a shame for you to put a sword through your head so soon after we met. And any other card ruins the metaphor. So you see, it's better that you are the knave of hearts, especially in Wonderland."

She chuckles, "I believe there's even a nursery rhyme about him. 'The knave of hearts, he stole the tarts, all on a summer's day.' See, you are a thief. That's so much nicer than a beast."

Glancing at the scythe, Belle gives it a push, attempting to alleviate some of the fear in her head that it would swoop down and strike her. "Unless this is supposed to be that sword?"

[rosswood]

"Nope." That's an easy one, and it works on both counts. He remembers Sam (aka the guy who has a car, not that Alex is going to be mentioning that straight-up, oh no) mentioning a "Dean" and yadda yadda yadda, but he's not caught up enough on family drama to really care about that shit. "Never seen you before in my life."

Not that he remembers, anyway. He was here once before too, and it's kind of unsettling to be reminded of that here and again.

[therapize]

"I don't know if I'd actually count that as a 'little' thing." Cami does get it, at least. When she's more certain he's not on a murderous rampage, she'll actually be fairly sympathetic to Dean's situation. In truth, his frustration is actually helping to ease that fear. She'd spoken to Dean during his prior transformation, when he'd been a demon seemingly wanting nothing more to engage in every primal and carnal urge that crossed his mind. So the fact that he doesn't turn up the skeezy guy meter to eleven is probably a good sign.

"But it's not that commonly known. I just happened to be here when you didn't have it under control." And it's hard to believe he's being honest about that, for the record. Cami's had some dealings with the Winchesters, and they absolutely love being in denial. "Not that you remember any of it, because that's how things work around here—which I'm guessing you've already heard." He'd asked if Cami was one of many, after all.

"Cami O'Connell." She slips her hand out of her bag, then holds it out to Dean. "Seems only fair, given how much I know that you don't."

[goesdown]

"Well, I can hardly ask the pretty little gimp to pop out children for me, now can I?" He'll have to tell Blake about this later, of course, mostly because he knows it will rankle him hilariously.

"Being a gimp really is a full time affair."

[nascensibility]

If Dean earns physical harm from every woman he takes to bed, Evelyn might suggest that he reevaluate his technique.

Genuinely surprised by the question - she hadn't anticipated it for weeks, at the very least - she shifts the books in her arms and considers. Having already plainly stated their status as friends it appears that he is asking, in the most civil of ways, whether or not they have come to Biblically know each other and in what way. It is a complicated query to answer if only because for some time Evelyn regarded him as both a nuisance and a simpleton, casually wandering into the library to pester her, flirting incessantly.

He helped her through the devastation of a betrayal, supported her during a recovery, held her after her death. These memories are more precious and trump the shadow of what the Mark made him do to her on a dark night in April of last year.

Intimacy has brighter connotations.

"I don't...really know how to put it into words," Evelyn admits, with no small amount of dismay. "We had a very strong rapport, I think you-"

...No, she knew he did. Evelyn steels herself and continues.

"We spent a lot of time together. I don't want to trouble you with details - not...not here, not now - unless you absolutely must know, but we were very close."

[lovestheimpala]

"You think I what?"

There's no way he's letting that one go. The rest can wait, depending on how she answers that, but that one needs answering now.