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

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

[ Philip's face is looking perfectly normal (if a little crabby in the strictly mood-related sense of the word). Shoulders, arms, no problem there. His chest, not currently covered by any sort of clothing, is looking just a tad more blueish and... transparent than it should.

Opacity only decreases from there, making Phil entirely light blue and see-through below his stomach. Below the waist it looks like he's been torn and tattered, his body segueing into a thick bundle of thin tentacles where his legs should be.

Or in other words: Philip, now with roughly 65% more this. ]

How is that even--

[ The blue tentacles whirl around as Philip turns and spins nervously in front of his algae-encrusted mirror, placing his hands behind his back to confirm that there is indeed nothing whatsoever between the front and the back of his body.

He spins a few more times before letting himself drift onto his mattress with resignation. ]

...I want my organs back.

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[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.]

[ Philip cared enough about Boston to know the name of their lead singer, so that piece of news is far from happy for him too. Yet he's a good deal away from being as invested as Dean, not to mention that there's a slightly more important subject on the table. ]

Your fault.

[ Okay, now there is some scepticism. So much in fact, Philip has to bite back the urge to ask whether Dean fumbled with the red button that said DO NOT PUSH. ]

My fault.

[He repeats simply, and then belatedly realizes that he ought to elaborate. Breaking eye contact and tilting his head back to look at the ceiling, Dean takes another deep breath, exhaling a burst of bubbles and water before continuing.]

...Castiel told me. The Apocalypse started 'cause there were like...sixty-something seals that needed to be broken to raise Lucifer out of Hell. Things like, I dunno, twelve schoolkids being gunned down, or a species of animal suddenly going extinct. None of 'em would work unless the first one was knocked out of the way.

[Oh, here comes the best part!]

I break it. The first seal.

[ Right. Right, uhm... let Philip gather his thoughts for a moment before he attempts a reply. ]

...So at some point you--

[ No. Wait. Wait a minute.

Is that just him or does that statement not sound like anything past-tensy at all? ]

You didn't break it yet? But... you will. In the future?

Yeah.

[Dean looks at Philip curiously, before remembering that hardly anyone knows wher- Or rather, when, Cas is from.] Cas is from my future. Y'know how people can come from different times? S'like that. It's, uh...lemme see...

[Dean counts off on his fingers.] ...2008, 2009...2009. That's it, year of the Apocalypse. End of Days. [He quiets a little.]

...but I break it when I'm in Hell.

[ Paranoia is a symptom of the disease and sometimes it doesn't even take Clarence to make it emerge. Certain subjects tend to trigger a... slightly jaded, slightly warped reaction from Philip. ]

Ohh, I see. [ /SARCASM DRIP ]

So an angel appears and tells you that he is from the future and knows that you, after you died, somehow became responsible for the Apocalypse.

Of course. It makes perfect sense now.

[ Newsflash: He still doesn't care for Castiel all that much, can you tell?

He especially doesn't care for him when it sounds like he's pulling some horror story out of thin air, just to make feel Dean terrible. ]

[ At the same time he realises that Dean is obviously concerned about this, so the least he can do is not dismiss the idea entirely, even though it's clear that he still takes it with a mountain of salt. ]

Do you... do you have any reason to believe what he's saying?

[Kurt implied something similar. Maybe Dean is putting too much faith in Castiel. Which is an interesting thought, considering that Dean rarely has faith in anything these days. Clinging to one of the few ties he has to his own world and his own life, Dean is almost willing to believe anything for the contact.]

Well-

[Phil has brought up a valid point, and Dean quiets a little. He did, however, hear something similar from Jo.]

He's not the only one to tell me. A girl from my world's around here - And when you die you don't just disappear, man. You know when people want to describe the worst possible thing, they say it’s like Hell? There’s a reason for that. Hell, is like...Well, it’s like Hell. Even for demons. It’s a prison, made of bone, and flesh, and blood, and fear. It's what breaks me, and I break the seal.

{ I'm sorry, could you repeat that with just a little more drama? I don't think it was stagy enough yet. }

[ Philip nods. He can't say he's passionately convinced, but it seems that Dean has little doubt, so he will simply have to suspend his own disbelief.

Not that it does much good in helping him understand the situation... ]

...How?

If... if you don't mind my asking.

[Dean doesn't make a habit out of quoting demons, but according to some lady who looks like she belongs on the set of Star Trek, the mansion steals memories. In an attempt to keep them all in his head, he's been wracking his brains for the shit that stands out the most.

Anticipating Hell is one of them.]

I don't really know the specifics. [He answers frankly, picking at some kelp on the floor.] There's some...prophecy about it. "The first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break."

[Clearly Dean does not believe in his supposed "righteousness". ]

I don't even know what that means, man. I don't even know what they're gonna do to me down there, and Cas won't tell me even though he's the one that found me and pulled me out.

[Dean's frustration is evident as he punches the sandy ground at his side.] I mean, is it listening to Mariah Carey on a loop? Is it torture? I deserve to know what the fuck I did, right?

[He looks at Phil imploringly.]

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

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