sadfreezingbrit_archive | One unenthusiastic video under sea [13/??? artefacts collected]

[ A girlfriend. A regular job. A place to live and his mother alive and well... up until a year ago those were extracts from Philip's life which he took entirely for granted.

To think that for Dean these things were never more than a dream, a dream he once had is... terrifying, tragic and so many other things Philip can't even begin to list.

Philip wants to make his response about Dean. He wants to say something comforting. He wants to say something. He wants to say anything, but--

But then Dean's last words stir something in him, something that is half defiance; half you can't possibly mean what you just said and half desperate hopefulness and please, oh god, please be serious about this.

And then his response is something different entirely. ]

I killed three people in this mansion.

Edited 2011-02-14 01:22 (UTC)

[Right here, right now is where Dean could really use a drink. But he's a shark-man, and he's underwater, and he'd probably lose the whiskey before it got in his mouth anyway.

He regrets a lot of things, yeah. Mostly having to do with Sam, or his father. Dean should have done a lot of things differently. But he knows there are others who feel the same. So when Philip finally decides to speak, the silence that lurches between them afterwards is almost deafening.

Dean has killed monsters. Some of them retained a semblance of humanity, and sometimes Dean felt regret afterwards. After plugging a werewolf with a silver bullet for his brother, because Sam wasn't strong enough to do it himself.

Plenty of people die in his line of business. That's just the way it is. But Dean has never killed someone in cold blood. He does realize, however, how monumental a step this is for Philip to be telling him what he did. And Dean has the sinking feeling it has something to do with all of Phil's questions about possession.

He stares at the markings on his shark's tail, chewing the inside of one cheek.]

Are you sure it was you?

Edited 2011-02-14 02:16 (UTC)

[ And for a moment that shuts Philip up completely. He anticipated a number of possible reactions, but this one petrifies him entirely and he can't even tell if his reaction comes from fear or relief. ]

{ Huh. Pretty perceptive for an ordinary monkey. Way to go, that one's a real keeper.

...If he doesn't snap your neck in the next couple of minutes that is. }

[ ...But he started this and so he's going to have to end it as well. He closes his eyes to gather his thoughts. ]

Before I came here I was taking a trip to Greenland...

[ This is the third time he's told his story. So far it's not getting any easier.

He keeps it as simple as possible this time, just the basics.

He tells Dean about the underground research facility that he found.

He tells Dean about the virus that killed most of the personnel and turned the rest into monsters. Imagine it like a zombie movie, he says.

And then he says that he contracted the virus.

Only it didn't change or kill him like the rest. Only instead of a set of symptoms the virus is sentient, a second consciousness living inside his body. Even gave himself a name. The bastard.

Philip pauses. That was the easy part of the story.

Because then, he continues, both of them came to Wonderland.

And that's when Clarence (yes, he did mention the name) "broke free", that's when he came to be in control and that's when... ]

That was when he tried to perform a ritual to get him-- or us back home. And that... that was when h-- when I ki-- when he--

[ Philip stops. He doesn't want to repeat it, no matter the wording.

He looks at Dean, waiting for a verdict. ]

[Dean remains quiet for the duration of Phil's time speaking, taking in all of the details. So he'd been right after all, his presumption completely correct. Clarence, the 'guardian angel'. No wonder Philip was so bitter, so worried. He'd been used as a meatsuit puppet to ritually slaughter people. He had to watch while something else used him. The unfairness was stifling.]

Y'know, [Dean begins slowly, thoughtfully.] Clarence sounds like kind of a dick.

[The hunter allows himself to relax the slightest bit, and looks back at Philip seriously, holding his gaze steady.] I've seen a lotta things, Phil. [The powerful, overbearing guilt is what Dean can relate to the most, and what he's about to say helped him in his time of need. In this time, here and now.]

It wasn't your fault.

[ Philip can't help but smile weakly at the remark, but at the same time he wishes Dean hadn't said anything, because the confession is difficult enough without Clarence fighting against it. ]

{ Sure, I'm trapped here against my will, he gets the sympathy and then you can't even come up with a better insult than that? }

[ Telling the story is straining and for a moment Philip says nothing, looking away absent-mindedly while tucking at one of his tentacles the same way he might normally fumble with his sweater.

It wasn't his fault.

That's not a new thought to him. An awful lot of people seem to think so, Philip himself included on a good day. But making it stick and getting himself to actually believe it... is a little more difficult than that.

...And yet he can't help but feel the words' impact more strongly coming from Dean, the same way a medical diagnosis holds a lot more sway when it comes from an actual doctor. ]

I don't remember how the ritual ended. When I came to I was... back in control of my body. At first I thought--

{ Whoa, whoa, whoa. Think where this is going, monkey! Oversharing much? }

I thought Clarence had somehow made it back through the portal.

I told everyone who knew that he was gone. I thought he was gone.

[Dean's solemn look turns into a grin, big and vicious. His sharp teeth are bared and his pitch black eyes are staring right at--

Philip closes his eyes. This is not real. This is not real. This is just the same thing he did back when he told Doctor Tam. This is not real. ]

I thought he was gone, but he's not. I'm still-- I'm still infected.

[ He opens his eyes. From the waist up Dean looks perfectly human. ]

[Having a voice in your head is bound to make you a little crazy. Wrestling with that voice is even harder. Thinking back to not so long ago, Dean can recall when Sam - his own brother, who he was supposed to protect - was possessed by a demon. Sam hurt people. Their friends, the closest ones they had to family. Dean could remember black eyes staring at him through his brother's face, could remember how hard he tried to get Sam to come back through the darkness. To fight it.

He also remembers that he and Bobby had to tie Sam to a chair and burn the demonic sigil from his arm in order to exorcise the demon.]

Okay, so...he's still in there. [Dean clasps his hands together, thinking.] Now, I ain't sayin' you gotta make peace with the murdering sonuvabitch, 'cause I sure as Hell wouldn't, but... [He stares at Philip levelly.] Don't push your limits.

...And all those people you told? That Clarence was gone? You don't want 'em to worry, don't tell 'em, but you gotta tell me when something's up.

[This is the sort of thing that Dean would call Castiel in for. Angels know the Latin necessary for banishing demons, or consciousnesses, or whatever, and if Cas could read Dean's thoughts when he was torn apart, lying on the forest floor, he might be able to communicate with Clarence. Castiel would do it. He told Dean before that everything he's ever done has been for Dean. Convincing Philip to let a man in a trenchcoat poke around in his mind, though, was another issue entirely. The poor guy didn't need scrambled eggs for brains.]

If his whole purpose is to get to you, don't let 'im. I know it's hard - believe me, I know. And I run the risk of a chick-flick moment, but you're not alone.

[ Wow. Dean not only accepting that Philip doesn't want to tell others, but even encouraging him to keep it that way? That takes an incredible load off his mind.

...Sadly that still makes it far from happiness and sunshine up in there. ]

{Damn right he's not alone. You wanna know why? 'Cause I'm still here and you can play your sappy little act as long as you want, I'm not going anywhere. }

[ Philip flinches, knowing that Dean is no longer on or even anywhere near Clarence's good side anymore; and depending on how he decides to act out talking to the hunter in the future could be difficult, possibly even dangerous.

...And yet for the first time since Amabel mentioned the cure, for the first time in months Philip actually feels like things might be looking up, like he might get through this because somebody knows what he's supposed to do. ]

I'll, uhm...

[ Philip nods. Of course he'll take all that advice. Take it, cling to it and never let go. ]

Thank you.

{Just do me one favour here, monkey? Save the tears for when you're not underwater, so you two half-sushi boys can really appreciate the beauty of the moment. }

Edited 2011-02-14 22:09 (UTC)

[Never get emotionally invested.

His father's words echoed - loudly - in his head, and Dean's lips twitched as the mental reminder made his temples throb. John and Mary Winchester had never had a happy marriage. They fought a lot. Dean had to grow up fast, learn things the hard way. Friends were a luxury he wasn't afforded, not after his mother died.

They were always moving, they never stayed in one town longer than necessary. They never revisited if they could help it. Dean has never really had a home - he never needed one, because he had his car and remaining stationary makes him antsy. In the space of four months, though, this twisted place has become the closest thing to a home since Dean left his Impala, his job, and his brother behind.

Dean doesn't like making friends, because he knows how easily he fucks relationships up* and doesn't want to risk ruining any more, so he might as well spare himself the trouble.

But when people need help...it's hard to be heartless.]

...Look, I'm gonna help you as best I can. I know it's not all peaches and cream up in your noggin, and I know you feel like you've lost your damn marbles at times, but I got your back. [Dean offers Philip a tiny smile.] Got any questions for me 'fore I break up the Dawson's Creek moment?

{ * - Case in point, The Kurt Hummel Debacle }

[Is there a way to kill him?

How can we kill him?

Do you think you can kill him? ]

{ Don't push your luck, monkey. Sure, I don't have any actual hands to stick you with a knife right now, much as I'd prefer that, but I still got my hands up here and trust me when I say that you don't want me playin' with all the switches. }

[ ...

Philip shakes his head. ]

No, that's-- That's it for now.

[Phil's convenient internal monologue is running its loud mouth again. Dean can tell by the way Philip creases his forehead and frowns slightly on the edges of his lips. Time for a change of subject, a distraction from the obvious mental torment.]

Good, 'cause soap operas ain't my thing.

[LIES. LIES. NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW OF HIS GUILTY PLEASURE TELEVISION SHOW, DR. SEXY, M.D.

Dean nudges Phil with his shoulder encouragingly.]

You got any hobbies, man? 'Sides reading.

Edited 2011-02-15 15:15 (UTC)

I, er, like movies?

[ Okay, so it does sound a little bit like a question, but just give Philip a moment to close the 'difficult and profound confessions' mode and segue into small talk. ]

And, uh...

[ The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile. ]

Swimming.

[Dean has never been particularly good at changing subjects without making it seem forced and awkward. He's never been a good conversationalist, either, considering the fact that he has the tendency to cut others off at the knees with some biting insult. This leads to a lack of friends, which in turn leads to loneliness, which subsequently goes down the road to alcoholism.

Dying by liver poisoning really isn't on his to-do list. And besides, if he did, when he came back Castiel would kill him.]

Swimming.

[Dean repeats, deadpan, before sliding into a crooked smile.] ...yeah , guess I can see that. What'd you do before you went all Indiana Jones? Lemme guess - Professor?

[ Well, it was one of the first things to come to mind, given the circumstances. Usually not with tentacles though. But at least this event makes up for him never getting around to taking those diving classes.

Philip nods with quite a bit of enthusiasm. Clearly being recognised for the fantastic job he loves can only have positive connotations. ]

I t-- [ His smile falters a little. Past tense. ] I used to teach Physics in London.

[The connotations aren't entirely positive. They're not negative either, but Philip seems sort of bookish and reserved - unless the sanctity of his library is broken by Journey music. Maybe this is just a by-product of being British. The last British person he knew was a clever, pain-in-the-ass thief, though, so his experience with people from across the pond is a little limited.

But...A swimming Physics professor. Wow. Just...wow. All manner of high school memories crop up, and he starts laughing.]

Man, that's dedication. [Dean chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.] I hated physics. I sucked at it. Sucked at a lot of subjects, come to think of it. You teach high school or college?

University, ah...

[ Give him a second to run a quick AE/BE translation, just to be sure. ]

College level.

But I'm mostly involved in research these days. [ TENSE! Sigh. ] Was involved, I mean. Just before I left for Greenland I was working on this study about defect magnetic reso--

[ He stops himself. Proooobably not the most interesting topic for Dean. Or... just about anyone for that matter. ]

...ah, anyway.

Did you--

[ Short pause. Philip actually doesn't have a question to go with that yet, he just didn't want to leave the conversation hanging on his rambli-- oh! Oh, there's a thought! ]

I have to say, I'm surprised you went to school at all.

[ !!!!!

NO. NO, OH GOD, HOLD ON, LET HIM REPHRASE THAT. ]

What I mean is just... that... it sounded like you were-- like you've been hunting your entire life, I...

I suppose I just... didn't think of it as something that came after a normal education.

Edited 2011-02-15 23:07 (UTC)

[Dean listens along, giving the words half his attention because the other half is concentrating on the burbling sounds around them. Even as a shark, it wasn't good to let his guard down. Not for anything.]

Mhm.

[He rolls his head to look at Philip, observing how animated he gets about something as dull as magnetic frequencies, or whatever. Hell, maybe when Phil's constitution is less jumpy, Dean can show him the EMF. He might get a kick outta that.

Hearing Philip correct himself hastily is kind of amusing, too. Dean smiles indulgently.]

No sweat, man. Ran through high school and didn't go to college. It was more my brother's thing. [Shrug.] I went into the family business. [Dean clasps his hands together in his lap.] Didn't really fit in in high school, anyway. Been hunting since I built my first shotgun when I was ten.

[The smile falters.] Not your standard childhood.

[ An impressed eyebrow raise wins out over any concerns Philip may have about the child plus shotgun combination. Tinkering with things goes on his hobby list as well, but he didn't get to the lethal weapons category until very recently.

Not your standard childhood indeed. Philip falls silent, gathering that this isn't exactly a moment of happy nostalgia, but failing to find appropriate words of comfort.

After another quiet moment curiosity substitutes for tact. ]

So...

Out of all the creature features and legends... which ones are actually real?

[Dean doesn't really want comfort. He doesn't really need comfort. He had a fucked-up childhood - there's no doubt about that. They moved schools practically every two months once Dean got to be seventeen. It was hard on Sam, seeing what other kids had that they didn't, but by then Dean had become immune to it. No curfew, his dad let him drink.

He was invincible, the prime of teenage years. It didn't matter that Dean had never made any friends, because hunters didn't need friends.

Which begs the question, why does he feel as though he needs them now?]

Almost all of 'em. [He smirks, on much more comfortable ground.] 'Cept Bigfoot. And probably the Loch Ness Monster. But you name it, it's out there. There are a few, ah, minor details about killin' 'em that aren't right, though.

[Dean spreads his hands out in front of him, looking back at Philip.] Take vampires. Stabbing the suckers in the heart with a stake'll just make 'em angry. You gotta cut the head off. Lore and reality don't always match up, especially with creature features. Although, [He adds grudgingly, laughing a little.] Gary Oldman's a creepy-ass Dracula.

Cut off the head. Good to know. [ That being said with deadpan undertones of HAHAOHGODTHEHORROR. ]

Do you think...

[ They've been over this briefly before, but being sure of it would--

It wouldn't matter, probably. But it's... nice knowing, he thinks. ]

Do you think our worlds are actually the same? Not just 'Gary Oldman plays Dracula similar to a worrying degree', but 'meeting in person outside of Wonderland is a possibility that exists' identical?

[Dean chuckles again, recognizing the look on Philip's face. Civvies won't know everything he goes through - it's better that they don't, actually. Dean would like to keep it that way. It's safer.]

Hey, at this point - I'd say anything's possible. [He rolls his shoulders in a shrug, gesturing to both of their lower halves.] But now that you mention it...it'd make sense, right? A little bit?

[Dean furrows his brow. He'd never thought of it like that before, particularly after dealing with yellow-eyed white dudes and especially after seeing something that looked suspiciously like a Pokemon scurrying down the halls. It wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.]

I mean, where I'm from people don't know about the shit I fight, 'cause we keep it secret. Your world and my world could be the same. All the pop culture matches up. What year are you from?

[ Philip shrugs and gives Dean a lopsided grin. Things sort of generally stopped making sense to him a few months ago. It's occasionally liberating, but mostly it's just very, very exhausting. ]

It's... [ He doesn't want to say plausible. ] possible, at the very least.

I left in 2001.

...What about you?

Edited 2011-02-16 23:08 (UTC)

[Holy crap, did Phil just smile? That has to be a first. Dean mentally marks this down as a minor victory in his "making better friends" tally list.]

2007. Damn, you haven't seen Lindsay Lohan go to rehab three times yet, have you? [He purses his lips, thinking and ticking things off on one hand.] Uh...lemme see, what's happened...lead singer of Boston died. Britney Spears shaved her head. Oh, and Dumbledore is actually gay. [Dean nods, smiling crookedly.]

Life's the same. You guys are still kicking our asses at socce- Football, whatever. I'd tell you to worry about global warming, but Al Gore's full of shit and the Apocalypse that's coming is probably worse.

[ Philip listens with wide eyes, slightly overwhelmed by Dean's trivia attack. He gives Dean a pleading ONE ITEM AT A TIME look. ]

...I have no idea who Lindsay Lohan is.

[ Okay, then... Britney Spears is some singer whose hair is probably the one thing Philip cares even less for than her music. Dumbledore is... a character from those Harry Potter books, right? Never read them himself, but... that's sort of nice to know. ]

I want to ask about Brad Delp, but I should probably focus on the Apocalypse here, right?

[ He frowns. ] ...Are you serious about that?

[ It doesn't even sound particularly sceptical. At this point the end of the world is only a minor step up. ]

[It's probably for the better that Philip has no clue who Lindsay Lohan is. Dean doesn't keep up with the news unless he really cares (i.e, when Brad Delp died), but the tabloids and newspapers are the best places to look for weird deaths to investigate.]

Delp committed suicide, man. Carbon monoxide poisoning in his bathroom. Pretty gruesome.

[Dean sighs. It's like all his favorite bands are dying out. He knew it was going to happen eventually, but it's still a punch in the stomach when a legend moves on.

Sometimes Dean wishes he could do the same.]

And what, 'bout the Apocalypse? I'm not screwin' with you, Phil. S'gonna happen. And it's my fa-

[Dean stops short. He frowns a little, remembering what Castiel told him about the End of Days. A sudden wave of guilt washes over him, and Dean's expression tightens.]

...it's my fault.

[He's glad he doesn't have to worry about remembering any of this when he goes back. It would make things infinitely worse, to recall what he left behind.]

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