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

[ I hope Dean likes this look, because it's all he's going to get. ]

...oh come on, grow a funny bone. At least you can sorta sting people, right?

[Here. Look. He will suffer to make you feel better, you sonuvabitch. Rolling his eyes, Dean sinks a little and pokes one of the wavy tentacles, wincing.

...okay, so it didn't hurt that badly, but still.]

You sting. Congratulations. You could have been a guppy.

Edited 2011-02-13 19:19 (UTC)

[ Philip flinches. ]

I sting people. How is that a good thing?

[ He does the floating equivalent of taking a step away from Dean. ]

...it's a self-defense thing for jellyfish, Phil.

[Dean looks...confused. Why wouldn't someone want to be able to defend themselves?]

Y'know, it keeps away predators. And stuff.

[ Okay, calm down. Dean probably meant well and Philip has developed an unfortunate tendency to react a bit too strongly to a handful of subjects. He sighs and gives Dean an apologetic look, attempting to explain. ]

But it's going to work whether somebody's a predator or not. And I'd rather go without stinging everybody I bump into.

[ Speaking of which he carefully sidles closer again and attempts to peek at Dean's hand. ]

...Does it hurt much?

Yeah, 'cause you bump into people all the time, you budding socialite, you.

[Dean cracks a grin, flexing the fingers of his left hand and feeling the skin tighten over the stripes of red. There's only a few of them, all parallel, running across the backs of his knuckles. The book said moon jellyfish weren't all that poisonous, so he's not going to die.

At least, not from this.

Dean gives Philip an Are you serious? look, snorting his laughter.]

Dude, I've been strong-armed by the Operator. A little sting ain't gonna hurt. [He holds his hand out, clenching it into a fist again and making a face.] Burns a little, though. Numbing toxins, I think.

[ Philip crosses his arms. ]

What do you mean by that?

[ The budding socialite comment, in case that wasn't evident from his immediate and indignant interruption. ]

[It takes Dean a moment to re-organize his thought process - which has long-since moved onto other things - and go back to whatever Philip is referring to. What, the- Oh. Oh, the socialite thing. Right.

Dean shrugs. His reply isn't probing or insulting - He's just stating fact.]

I dunno, I never really see you around. You sorta keep to yourself.

[ Philip falters. He was sort of hoping for a more insulting insinuation with room for objections, but that... is a sadly matter-of-fact and depressingly accurate statement. ]

{Lies! How dare you! Phil here is in wonderful company all the time. }

[ Okay, so Philip ventures out into the open a little more often these days, but that's a fairly recent development still and not exactly on a level that gives him something to brag about. ]

...Oh. That. I-- I just haven't really...

[ He'd attempt to explain, but there's really very little to it apart from (HEY GUESS WHAT) being terrified that he will involuntarily hurt anyone he comes near. ]

...Right. No, you're... probably right about that.

[ Saying that last part he looks away. He's never been a budding socialite in the literal sense of the word, but he used to have a perfectly decent social life. Lots of acquaintances, friends and a handful of people close to him.

His inability to return to that stings so much more than he would ever admit. ]

[Dean watches the the changing of Phil's expressions; from startled, to introspective, to regretful. While Dean might not know the circumstances that cause this range of emotion, he can empathize, and recognizes something there that he's felt just as keenly in the past. Hell, he still feels it now.

The only reason Dean started coming out of his room and meeting people was because it started with a push from a kid that would never stop reminding him of his little brother. If it hadn't been for Kurt, Dean probably would've used up all his lives on liver poisoning, courtesy of Jack Daniels.]

...you made a mistake. [He observes quietly, letting it hang in the air for a moment before continuing. In all actuality, Dean can tell that Philip hurt someone, but unless that information is offered he's going to keep his postulating vague.]

Whatever it is, man, you can't keep beating yourself up.

[Dean Winchester is practically the poster-boy for "how to lose friends and alienate people". Everyone always gets hurt around him. He sinks down to the sandy floor of the library, leaning against the shelf and looking up at Philip.]

I miss people too.

[ Philip mechanically sinks to the floor along with Dean, his tentacles bundling to form something similar to a bean chair.

Dean's words are appreciated, but his advice is easier given than followed, even under normal circumstances. For Philip there is still Clarence and his taunts and the constant reminder of what happened and could happen again at any given time.

And after the support Dean's been giving him (in slightly more different and irritating ways than he may be used to) Philip... really wants to explain himself, but-- ]

{ Story time? Oh, goody! Just don't shorten the bloody details when you get to our little ritual part, because I worked really hard on that.

Hey, by the way, just out of idle curiosity: Saving people, hunting things, eh? So which do you reckon he's gonna apply to you? }

[ ...So, silence, was it?

...

Yep.

Silence. ]

[It's almost a blessing that Phil is quiet, because Dean talks enough for two people. It isn't born out of a need to fill the silence - because a lot of the time, he's perfectly content with silence - but a need to tell someone who isn't Cas, who doesn't already know his life story.

When Dean dies, no one is going to remember him.]

You know, ah... [He laughs quietly, the sound slightly-pained.] ...I had...a dream, once. I had a girlfriend, a regular job, a house. My mom was alive. My brother was married. I was... [Dean struggles for the word, surprised when he finds himself settling on-] ...happy.

And then I woke up. And I was...back in this...piss-poor excuse for a world, doin' credit card scams and impersonating federal agents. [Dean fingers the amulet around his neck.] It wasn't even worth it, while it lasted. It was all wrong.

[He huffs, watching the bubbles from his exhalation rise to the ceiling of the library. Monsters and people are different. Demons and people are different. Evil is subjective.]

I've done a lotta bad stuff. Done a lotta good stuff, too, though it's not like they cancel out. But the way I see it, no one's ever done somethin' bad enough they can't be forgiven.

[ 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?

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