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

option 2; the only decent pie is shepherd's pie

[nascensibility]

Calling Wonderland Hell would be a gross exaggeration of what constitutes as genuine torture and, Evelyn would argue, might stretch the bounds of what many might consider a reasonable definition of "agony." She is, however, an open-minded creature and those in residence have seen a wide variety of horrific places, so it's simple enough to wave away any inconsistencies by suggesting that Wonderland is nothing more than a middle way all its own.

That said, the hypotheticals do not prevent Evelyn from continuing her work in as steadfast and methodical a fashion as humanly possible. Arms laden with books and notepads containing her own theoretical scribblings Evelyn pushes out of the library and into the corridor with every intention of sneaking a few texts back to her rooms for further analysis.

It is in this precise moment that some colossus has decided to walk too close to the very door from which she is exiting, thus leading to an unpleasant collision that drives a corner of Sir Budge's Egyptian Heaven and Hell into her stomach and half of the manuscripts on interdimensional postulation to the floor.

"Oh, for the love of-"

Immediately stooping to gather the papers without so much as sparing the perpetrator* a second glance, she waves a hand toward the piece of parchment that managed to fall somewhat behind the booted feet in her field of vision.

"Get that for me, will you?"





*Evelyn is fully cognisant of the fact that she is the one who should have been looking where she was going, but in her defence she is a small person carrying a heavy load, and people oughtn't loiter near doors they don't intend to enter.

outside *A*

[ofletters]

He shouldn't be surprised. And... he isn't, not exactly. It's been two months, which is long enough for him to trick himself, sometimes, into believing that everything is fine, that Dean's absence doesn't hang over his head like a storm cloud that rains down misery and self-loathing when he isn't paying attention. It's short enough for him to remember that his brother had missed his own birthday in Wonderland (not that birthdays matter, when you don't age).

It hasn't been a year since Dean, freshly returned as a demon, beat Sam to death by crushing in his skill with a hammer. It'll never be long enough to forget.

Almost two months, then, since Dean Winchester slipped away from Wonderland. With all his stuff gone, it wasn't sure he'd returned... though, Sam's always had a feeling. After all, it wasn't the first time the older Winchester popped out of the picture and then reappeared without his memories. Sometimes, he imagines walking into the kitchen to see Dean there, picking through the food, simultaneously questioning the who, what, where, when, why of the situation. Or, he imagines he'll walk out to check on the Impala, which he does every day, to find it inhabited by his older brother.

If he comes back, though, what'll be different? Human, demon? Dead, alive-

"Dean?"

Dean. The questions are still there, and Sam nearly convinces himself that it isn't real, but it is. He has a lot of experience in determining if things are fiction or fact, after all, and standing a short distance away is the real Dean Winchester, holding... something. Some new tool or weapon, he guesses immediately, thinking of the First Blade, which Crowley, or Cas, or both, had hidden away.

Sam keeps his distance, thinking too quickly back to that disastrous meeting last May when the day had finally come that Dean had murdered his brother.

iii.

[rosswood]

A drinking problem? Who, him? Pff, no way, Alex has been to the bar all of two times this week, and neither one was in an attempt to cope with something unbearable. He's in his twenties, technically this is legal, and even if it weren't Wonderland has no rules for this kind of thing, which is a big one for the plus column in his book, and he can do whatever he wants. Stop judging him.

On second thought, maybe he's been spending too much time here, because when Stubble McGrowsalot here waltzes in and orders something, Alex takes a moment to pause, contemplate, and looks carefully behind each shoulder to ensure he isn't addressing anyone else.

Nope. Lucky him. Is there something about him that just screams customer service, or something? He snorts and goes back to nursing his own drink. "I'm not your freakin' bartender, dude. Get your own."

2!

[pottershotter]

A door opens in the hall Dean's in.

Whoever's there takes their time leaving, hovering in the doorway and chit-chatting with someone before they go. After a couple minutes though, a young man steps through and shuts the door behind him. He's tall and has a mess of black hair, and wears dark robes lazily thrown over muggle clothing. He can't be much older than seventeen or eighteen, but despite this he carries himself like he's familiar with these halls. There's no surprise or shock at being present in Wonderland. It's just another day for him.

James strolls through, heading toward the stairs, but he halts when he realizes he's not alone. And when he looks up and sees who's there he stares, and the shock is too overwhelming for him to contain it.

"...Dean?" he asks. "Dean Winchester?"

Dean's been gone for several weeks now, and it doesn't occur to James until after he's blurted out the name that there's no point to it. Still, he can't help hoping he might've beaten the odds and come back with his memories this time.

Re: option 2; the only decent pie is shepherd's pie

[lovestheimpala]

He's only pressed up against that door because there's someone walking past another hallway and he's trying to stay out of sight. So much for that plan.

Even though his whole body is still coursing with adrenaline and the lure of the Mark, even if the urge is to slash first then ask, he can see that she's probably not a threat. Nevertheless, he's still on guard and keeps his eyes locked on her, and a hand tightly around the handle of the scythe, as he crouches down to pick up the parchment she wants.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the hell I am, would you?"

HE WHAT?!

[lovestheimpala]

Dean lets out the biggest sigh of relief when he sees Sam. He was so worried that he wouldn't be able to find him (or worse find him dead) but there he is, standing as freakishly tall as ever, right as rain, and Dean feels half the poison clenching in his gut just slip away. At least whatever's going on, they're in it together and they're always better at finding a way out when that's the case.

"Sammy! Thank god!" He's so relieved that he starts jogging towards him without even a thought spared to the fact that he still has that massive, rusty blade in his hands and raised high.

[lovestheimpala]

That's enough to snap him out of his own head and make him actually look around. He realizes that he just strolled in here and assumed that the first person he laid eyes on would be- Well, that's awkward.

But his response is a shrug and a smirk. "That not how it works here? Was is this? A self-service bar?"

[rosswood]

Alex rolls his eyes in an over-exaggerated get a load of this guy display, never mind that he has no room to be scornful, seeing as he's probably made the same mistake in the past and is currently brooding over whether or not he's going to attempt to kill a kid.

"Welcome to Wonderland, pal," he says, and drains whatever pungent alcoholic mixture is in his glass. "It's tough for everyone, okay?"

[ofletters]

Maybe not quite right as rain. When Dean approaches, quickly, with a weapon in hand, Sam automatically backs away, holding up his own hand in warning.

"Hey, dude, slow down." It doesn't help the growing unease that the last person to call him Sammy was Ruby, even if he told her off immediately after. Judging by his appearance, Sam can guess this is close to the Dean who'd left, at least in age. But... does he remember?

"Do you know where you are?" he asks slowly, still keeping his distance.

Bar!

[lightgunhustler]

He walks in like he owns the place, just like he always has, and for a moment it feels so natural that Jo doesn't quite register who or what she's seeing. She freezes where she stands, toweling out the inside of a glass mug at the opposite end of the bar from where he's seated, and she knows he hasn't really seen her yet-- something is weighing on him, whether it's this place or something else, but it's enough that it's bought her a moment to collect herself before she engages.

This is the third time she's seen Dean come to Wonderland, and seeing him never gets any easier. In fact, exactly the opposite.

"What," she begins tersely, a careful smile pulling at one side of her mouth, "Not even so much as a 'hello'? I get that this place makes you want to hit the bottle, but come on. What's a girl gotta do to get a little attention around here?"

[nascensibility]

Evelyn prides herself in being able to maintain a collected, level-headed approach toward Wonderland and its many intricacies, even when something is roiling in her about other, less benevolent subjects of conversation. Having taken it upon herself to serve as a liaison between new residents of the place and the information thereof it is not uncommon for people to send new arrivals her way, that they might edify themselves.

"Wonderland, of course," she replies, matter of fact, and tucks a folder into another folder for safekeeping. It is funny that the voice should sound so familiar, that the hand extending a piece of paper should bear the little scars of a difficult job, that when she looks up at him in shock she should recognise the sharp jaw and quizzical brow.

Better than almost anyone Evelyn knows what happens when people are gone for too long and come back; she has made attempts in the past to reconcile that by introducing herself anew and allowing those people the same courtesy of relearning, if they were amenable. With a blank slate it was easier on them, not on her, but Wonderland is hard enough without the undue burdening of those just plucked from their worlds.

Unfortunately, and before she can stop herself,

"Dean!"

[lovestheimpala]

Shit.

More people. This place is entirely too crowded for his liking, and there's no damn place for him to get into without drawing attention to himself. So he just lowers his head and hopes that he can pass by without coming off as weird. Blade and all. If there's so many people, there has to be an unfamiliar face or two, right?

Then he hears his name and that's not something he can ignore. "Yeah. Who's asking?" He whirls around and gets a first real look at the guy. He doesn't recognise the face, but there's something familiar about that outfit- Oh. Right. Black robes, messy black hair... glasses. "Oh, please this tell me I didn't walk into freaking Hogwarts."

Soundtrack: The sound of Dean's heart shattering

[lovestheimpala]

Jo.

It's instant. He doesn't have to look up to recognise that voice. He doesn't need to check. That voice is one of the ones that always haunt his nightmares. It cuts into the hurt, festering core of his soul and for a moment there, he's too scared to look up. What if he looks up and she's not there? Worse yet, what if he looks up and she is?

He swallows his fears and lifts his head- And oh god, there she is... looking so damned vibrant and alive and- Last time he saw her was all torn up and bl- Dean lets out a huff of air. Just seeing her tears open scabs on old wounds. He couldn't have imagine it hurting this much to see that face again.

There's no way he can look her in the eyes, so he focuses on a spot on the wall behind her. "Are you... real?" His brain plays tricks on him. He's learned this by now, and when it does the damn thing always picks the ones he's not strong enough to face again.

braces self for tears

[lightgunhustler]

She has to wonder how long it's been for him. It's always different, like he moves back and forth along the timeline, but there's one constant: whenever he's from, she's always been long dead, a memory instead of anything more. She swallows hard, putting on her best face as she sets the mug down, propping a hand against her hip like seeing him here is the most normal thing in the world, like it's any other day, except her smile falters.

She'd started to worry that she wouldn't see him again, but Sam had been right. He hadn't stayed away long. She nods slowly, moving towards his end of the bar and reaching for an empty shot glass as she goes, setting it down in front of him.

"I'm real," she assures him, her expression turning grim. "I know that might be hard to trust right now, but I'm real. I almost asked you the same thing."

But there's no mistaking it. He's real, too.

[lovestheimpala]

"Wonderland. Right. Please tell me that's not literal-"

He snorts and rolls his eyes, but then she looks up and Dean would have had to be blind to miss the look on her face. He wouldn't have been surprised if she had looked scared-- So many people look scared when they see him these days, but that's not what's in her eyes and Dean can't make sense of it until she blurts out his name.

"Excuse me?"

Recognition was not what he was expecting that look to be, and now he's highly suspicious and takes a step back. "Who the hell are you?"

[lovestheimpala]

"Tough?" Dean snorts. What's so tough about a bar where he can just walk up and grab whatever he wants? It's a dream come true, at least one good thing that he's discovered in his day here.

He grabs himself a bottle and a shot glass, and comes back to Snarky to see what he can learn from him about this place.

"Take it you got snagged out of your cradle, too?"

[rosswood]

"Got it in one," Alex says drolly, and sets his glass down with a sharp clink. "I take it you're pretty new here. You've got that new kid smell." He wrinkles his nose. "You know the one."

He's bullshitting, of course, but raising people's hackles happens to a talent of his. He leans against the counter with an exaggerated casual air. Never mind that this guy is clearly older than a college film student in his twenties, Alex is going to lord over him with his "I know what's up with this place and you totally don't" status for as long as he can.

[lovestheimpala]

He instantly notices Sam's step back. It makes sense, at first. Last thing Dean remembers is looming over his baby brother, ready to kill him. And that was after beating the crap out of him... so yeah, not surprised at that.

He slows down, about to throw the scythe away and explain that he's not gonna hurt him, but... It's not right, what Sam asks him. That's not the question Sam would have asked if they had been snatched together. 'What happened?' or 'where are we?' or any variation of those two and Dean wouldn't have suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, but that question there... that makes him suspicious.

Something's wrong.

"Sam... " If that's really you "Do you know where we are?"

[nascensibility]

He backs away and she realises her mistake - were Evelyn the cursing type, she might actively let off a few choice expletives now, aimed toward herself - and hastily gathers the rest of the paperwork he conveniently ignored. It goes without saying that Dean would be suspicious of a strange woman addressing him in the corridor of a strange place, it stands to reason that with his experience, he would exercise caution.

Still, it's very irritating having to painstakingly retrieve the rest of the material from the floor before getting to her feet and squaring off with a man almost a foot taller than her. One wielding a scythe, no less.

"Someone-" Evelyn hefts her books, eyeing the artefact in his fist with something resembling mild concern. "-you don't remember. Clearly."

She tries not to let the disappointment grate, particularly when the last thing she recalls him telling her was that she'd miss him if he left. He hadn't been wrong. Evelyn extends a hand in the traditional introductory gesture that so many Americans like to employ, swallowing misplaced hurt.

It isn't fair to be angry with him for something that neither of them can help.

"Evelyn O'Connell."

the bar

[goesdown]

Crowley had hoped that Dean would be back, but he hadn't expected such a fast reappearance. There's no telling what Dean will remember, but Crowley's got the upper hand at being from the same world. He knows Dean and not just Dead-through-Wonderland.

He slides onto the stool next to Dean as if they'd planned to meet. "Well, look what the cat dragged in."

Ah, his bestie is back. Who knows if this will be the Dean who ties him up and tortures him or shares a friendly drink? Either way, it's Dean. Besides, if Dean does kidnap, at least Crowley has the advantage of having someone around who will notice and care this time. He's also moderately sure that Sam would stop him. Probably. Maybe.

His eyes dart to the door.

3!

[sorryitasedyou]

As soon as word had gotten to her from around the mansion that Dean was back, she pretty much could only see it for herself. It wasn't every day that someone came back, especially so soon after they'd left. Especially when it was someone that she'd been somewhat close to while they'd been here. It was always hard when they came back, when they don't remember you or anything that had happened. The good and the bad. Starting over after almost 2 years. Awesome.

So, once she's finished up with checking in on Jane and the coffee shop, she makes her way towards the first of her few potential stops around here. Most newbies tend to either hit up the bar or the library in their first night and if she knew Dean as well as she liked to think she at least used to, the bar seemed to be a good guess.

When she spots him, she wastes no time in slipping into the empty stool next to him and ordering herself a drink. She'd become something of an expert in dealing with people coming back considering Jane, Bruce, and Tony... But, everyone was different. Especially when they weren't from home and didn't already at least have an idea of who she was. So, she was gonna do what she could to play it a little smoother and slower.

"Is your head trying to explode on you yet?"

2!

[therapize]

Yeah, about that weapon? It really is the sort of thing that stands out--especially when he happens to be in the sights of a keeper of creepy-weird-mystical dark objects back in her own world. Cami takes a second look, because she can't exactly come up with a good reason why someone would be carrying something like that around the halls. Bad ones, sure. Malicious ones, which makes her all the more prone to call out to the figure she can't quite see well enough to recognize just yet.

"Hey, you!" That's right, Cami. Be the absolutely ordinary human who calls out to the potential psycho-killer walking down the hall with a really big nasty looking blade. It doesn't stop her from marching down the hall, or speaking loudly enough to hopefully draw the attention nearby.

"Just where are you planning on going with that thing?"

2

[decadentdecade]

She's new enough that this place is still a fair mystery to her, still something to be conscious and careful of, especially after the strange changes that had occurred not too long ago. So her steps are always quiet, it's as easy as breathing anymore to be soundless.

The problem with two slinkers when there's a corner is that neither is expecting the other. She turns the corner early enough that she's not about to run into that corn-chopping tool Dean has in his hands, but it's certainly close enough to come directly into his line of sight.

As soon as she sees him she comes to an immediate halt, she might even be taking a step back before she's turning on her heel and disappears right back around that corner.

Nope. No. They told her Dean was gone. Nobody had told her that he was wandering around the hallways acting like a flanneled version of Death. And she's searching for the first open door she can find to slip into and slam shut behind her.

[lovestheimpala]

His eyes fall back on her when she starts moving. It's true that she's been long dead, that she's a ghost to him, but she's more than just memory.

What he wants is to jump over that counter between them and just freaking kiss her, but he holds back like he always has. It used to be he didn't go down that road because he didn't want her tainted with his dirty hand prints- and now he's so... so much worse than he could ever have dreamt of being.

But he can't stop himself from reaching out for her hand. "You look good." Oh man, he wishes he could say something better than that.

[lovestheimpala]

"I dunno. Ever since I got here it's 'Dean! Dean!' left and right. Feels like every damn person in this place knows me." He doesn't sound all too happy about that. Who would be?

He doesn't even know who he really is right now.

But everyone else seems to think

they do.

Dean's already on shot number two, and he holds up the bottle, silently asking if the kid wants one too. He's not too troubled by the whole alpha male play. If anything, there's an internal eye roll at it. He's too old for games like that. "If you're such a veteran, why don't you fill in the new guy?"