entrancelogs | come on, baby

Entry tags:

come on, baby

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.”

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She can hear his feet on the floor behind her, but she manages to get into a room and slam the door shut on him. She doesn't bother locking it, it's pointless, but she does take a careful amount of steps back, enough to keep from getting slashed open by a scythe before she's pulling out her gun and aiming it at the door.

If he wants revenge for what she's done, she's going to make him work for it. And that she'll simply rise from the dead again does her very little actual comfort.

"Wait-"

He doesn't really want to hurt her. Mostly he just wants to talk- Maybe make sure she's not in his head- but that doesn't mean he doesn't run after her...

and then two seconds later, he comes bursting through that door. Locked or not, he doesn't even notice.

"You."

Well. That's entirely settling, Dean, way to convince her that he just wants to talk. But she's prepared for him now, even if the way he comes barrelling through that door has her wincing slightly. Her gun is aimed steadily at his head.

"Don't come any closer. Or I will shoot."

"You're not gonna-" Hang on. He's been here before. She will shoot and this time there's no Sam for her to aim for.

He lifts his hand instead. "Put the gun down. I just wanna talk."

She gives him a very flat expression, because really? Are they going there again? She's proven him wrong once, she has no problem proving it again. But at least he stops himself before he makes the temptation even greater.

"Fine. After you toss the scythe away."

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

"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."

"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.

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."

"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."

"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.

"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?"

"I imagine you'd know." Please, Dean. You're a moodier bitch than her any day of the week. Still, she relaxes a little when he's far away from anything sharp and pointed.

"I haven't exactly checked into Hell yet, if you must know. Did hunting get so boring that you took a side job shucking corn?" And she gestures toward the scythe.

Dean snorts. "Dropped in here sooner, huh? How much sooner? Like... before or after you called me and begged on your scrawny little knees for me to come save you?"

The question about the scythe is going to get fully ignored.

There's a flicker of pain that flashes through her eyes before she settles on something angrier. She's a proud woman, and it had taken...a lot to beg for help. Her final moment where she should have remained strong and she hadn't. She had given into the fear. And she had turned to Dean Winchester.

"What did you want to discuss, because, surprisingly my patience with you is already wearing thin."

Two can play the ignoring game.

"Hey, I just wanted to see iff it was actually you, and what you were doing there. This place is a little screwy, right? Can't know for sure what's real and what isn't. That's it. No hard feelings or anything like that."

At least, there were none until she reminded him of what a bitch she can be.

She shifts the gun slightly before she tucks it into the back of her pants deciding that maybe this time he isn't going to spend their time together shoving her into walls and shooting guns in her general direction.

"Did you just arrive? I was told you were gone."

He eases a bit once the gun is gone. He won't trust her not to suddenly reach for it again, so he sticks to no sudden movements. She's not an ideal ally, but there's bound to be worst things out there in a place like this.

"Apparently we all come and go- That's what I figure. Everyone I've run into so far seems to know be, but most of them I've never seen before. Then there's you. Not a face a guy forgets. Same with the ass."

"I know the feeling." She admits, with a slight twitch of a scowl. It's frustrating, to be known but not know who she's talking to. Even more aggravating to not know what these people know about her. That's probably more a problem for her than for Dean though. Bela's lies built upon lies and when she doesn't know what ones she's even told in the past, it makes everything a little more complicated.

But she knows exactly what lies she's spun with Dean, what assumptions he's made of her, of the bridges she's burned with him. So, she's far from relaxed. Only believes that there's no hard feelings because she knows Dean is the kind of man that would threaten her even while she holds a gun to his head if he did want to see her hurt.

"Same charmer you always were. Thank god for that face, or you'd probably still be a virgin."

"Oh man, I forgot how much you love to flirt with me," he says with a wink.

But his patience for crap is low. There is a reason he came after her, other than just to check and make sure it really was the person he thought it was.

"What do you you know about this hellhole?" Because if anyone has decent info, it'll be her. And... well, he'll bargain it out of her somehow.

"Funny. What you call flirting." It is, of course, but her brand always consists of a little insult tossed in. She can tell though that this banter isn't going to last long. There's an edge to Dean that she's always taken seriously enough, even if it's never actually stopped her from stealing or manipulating him.

She would barter with him, she would make him work for every piece of information she had- if she didn't want him on her side here. She had a tentative agreement with Sam. With Crowley. And while she didn't often seek out alliances or help, these were people she didn't want against her, not when there was enough to deal with.

"Wonderland. I've been here before, as have you. Apparently, we're fit to keep coming back. There's plenty of people from our world here, but I'm sure they'll find you soon enough if they haven't. And angels, apparently. And Lilith was here once upon a time. Se's gone, but then they told me the same thing of you."

A quick recap before she's pacing the room, like she's a little agitated by it all. "The mansion shifts, changes, puts us in different locations. I've attempted mapping it." Of course she has, "But the rooms seem never-ending. Nobody will give a solid answer on what kind of risks there are here, but they all seem to agree that there are. And the closets are going to be your best friend when it comes to physical resources, including guns. Not that it matters, because if we die here, apparently, we just come right back to life. Not that it's a theory I've any interest in testing."

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come on, baby

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