One accidental video by two deliberate Philips [15/??? artefacts collected]

[sadfreezingbrit_archive]

First floor, room somethingorother. This is a boring feed. There's the sound of furniture being moved in the background, but all that's visible is a wooden door. For a moment it sounded like there was a knock on it, but that was probably just the background noise. Really, it doesn't look like anything will be happening here anytime soon. Honestly, better change the channel to something moreOHGODPICKAXE!!!



[ With a crack the wood splinters, a narrow metal head bursting through it. After a moment it dislodges and after another the axe comes crashing through again, making the crack wider. Somebody is behind that door, but their identity remains yet unknown.

Enter Philip, slowly shoving a heavy bookcase in front of the door. Once he's got the exit completely covered he disappears again and returns to follow up with a dresser, a table and several chairs.

Once the entire barricade is in place he sways back and lets himself fall against a wall, sinking to the floor while gasping for air.

He flinches as the barricade rattles and shakes.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Then silence.

Philip pauses, hesitates and finally breathes a sigh of relief.

Silence.

Suddenly a creaking noise, coming from the closet further back in the room.

Philip swallows and hesitates before slowly getting up to investigate, circling the closet doors at a good distance until he is able to see inside.

And once he does his eyes widen instantly and he takes a few panicked steps back. ]

No! N-no...

[ He shakes his head frantically. ]

How d-- How did you...?

[ The door creaks open a little further, revealing to the camera a perfect copy of Philip.

Not somebody similar, no. Not a sloppy copy with different clothes, perhaps an air that is more or less refined. Not somebody with a different voice or even a different accent.

Not somebody slightly younger or slightly older either, not even somebody who has at least the decency to wear an interesting hat or perhaps have pitch black demon eyes or set himself apart from the original in any way.

No, this guy here might as well be Philip's reflection. If Philip was currently holding a pickaxe that is... ]

The lesson here is that you can lock away your problems as much as you like, they are only going to find a way around eventually.

[ The shadow smiles and advances towards Philip. ]

Take for instance our dearest and most trusted companion Clarence--

I don't want to hear it! [ The original interrupts, takes another step back and looks over his shoulder. Then he turns around and jumps through the open window.

His remaining double only shakes his head and calls after him: ]

Denial is not just an anagram of your best friend, Philip!

[ After a moment's pause the shadow shoulders his axe and gives chase. ]

[[OOC: ICly cut for length. Philip will answer video and audio with a slight IC delay while being chased. Both Philips can be found outside the mansion for action interaction.]]

Comments

Asking Cas' mun if she wants in on this. THREESOME THREAD. M!Phil would be proud.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[It's been an eventful event.

Dean's relived some great childhood memories in his old house. He's seen a fairly accurate reflection of himself - or rather, what he looks like on the inside: scared and vulnerable and waiting for the inevitable. He almost died in a swimming pool! That's definitely one to put down on the list of "Thing Never To Do Again". He met a lovely beauty pageant contestant by the name of Clarence, who really ought to looking into several things: 1) getting plastic surgery, and 2) not being a complete dick.

He made good with Cas.

Admittedly, the last one instilled him with some kind of delightful energy that made fighting all of this shit even easier. Because he does need people. Dean just never knows how to ask for help. All of this, though, lightening his mood and his Shadow's strength, has put Dean on a Hell-bent, Heaven-sent mission to help as many people as he can.

So when he sees a transmission from Philip, featuring the acting talents of Creepy-Ass Philip 2.0 with a pickaxe in his inventory, Dean scrambles for his new-and-improved portable arsenal. Grabbing the communicator as he leaves his room and starts down one of the hallways, he offers assistance.

Not that he's going to take Phil seriously if he refuses it, or anything.]

It's Dean. Where are you?

[VIDEO] HUZZAH! \o/ /single manly tear of perverted pride

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Where is Philip? That's a very good question.

The feed Dean saw took place on the mansion's first floor. The chase Dean didn't see led him into the labyrinth.

Events after that are a little unclear, but there may have been trolls involved. Or buckets. It was very confusing.

Hey, maybe Philip's shadow even died. For a while... ]

Outside.

[ ...Except the person twirling a bloody pickaxe while comfortably sitting on a bench near the forest with a smile on his face might not be the Philip you're looking for. ]

[VIDEO]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Outside, righ-

[Dean almost screeches to a halt. That...doesn't sound right. At all. Glancing down at the communicator, he sees it. It's not Phil. It's that thing wielding a pickaxe, looking ridiculously smug. Dean picks up on the blood first, and swallows the panic that wants to rise in his throat.

By no means does he slow his pace, but he sure as Hell is gonna call on Castiel since things look this bad.]

What the fuck did you do with him?

[VIDEO]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

Who, "Philip"? [ That's right, airquotes. ] I was just trying to explain to him that he's wrong about... Well, where to start?

[ He shakes his head and laughs a little. ]

...But of course he didn't listen. He never listens to the good advice. To you, maybe. To his "friends". [ A chuckle. More airquotes. ] But never to the only one who really knows what is going on.

Come to think of it I should probably start looking for him again. [ A look at the bloody pickaxe. ] He can't have gone that far and there are some things I would really like to clarify.

[ He stands up and turns towards the forest. ] I don't exactly enjoy your company, but if you need to bother somebody with your incessant whining I suppose I can spare a moment to talk to you later.

[VIDEO]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Fuck's sake, if that's a repressed part of Philip's inner self, violence and all, then the poor bastard is screwed unless he gets some help.

Dean had qualms with his shadow. Admitting that he had his doubts took a lot, but knowing that he has people here, people who care and who actually want to help, made him realize that no one should be alone. Dean has friends here. That's...kind of a big deal for him.

So no, he's not just going to abandon one of them to be stabbed to death with a pickaxe.]

Yeah, later ain't gonna happen. You're gonna get the Wrath of God, you dick.

[With a loud CLICK, he switches channels and leaves a message for someone else:]

Cas? Look, wherever you are, I need your help, man. Friend's in deep shit. I'm heading outside.

[action]

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

"Dean."

After figuring his own predicament out and subsequently rescuing Dean like the pretty pretty damsel he is aiding Dean in his own distress, Cas has been back to wandering the halls, searching for anyone else who might need help. Also getting some distance from Dean (for an entirely different reason than before, namely now is not an appropriate time to 'jump Dean's bones', as it has been phrased to Cas), and occasionally grinning like an idiot when no one is looking and he can't help himself.

But he's here now.

[action]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

~ MEANWHILE IN THE FOREST ~

[ Blood trails are almost the norm around these parts, although this time they do not involve an eldritch horror of any kind.

Their cause is as simple and elegant as a pickaxe to Philip's leg and the resulting wound is currently making his plan to lose his shadow in the forest and make a turn back to the mansion a lot more straining than he thought.

He falls against a tree, gasping for breath, when he hears a voice in the not-nearly-distant-enough distance. ]

So, if I'm reading your helpful little blood trail right, then you should be able to hear me now. I thought you should know that we might get some company and I know I don't have to tell you this, but do your best to look very, very innocent or the Wrath of God [ He chuckles quietly at this. ] might just strike you by accident.

...Not that that isn't a thing that could happen anyway, with or without me around. I'd tell you to listen to Clarence now, but I'm getting a little tired on wasting my time on your hopeless judgement.

[ Philip swallows and pushes himself up. ]

{My advice? Make a run for it. Not saying I wasn't havin' a blast with that other you earlier, but the homicidal tendencies towards our body are a bit of a turn-off right now, even for me. }

[ Philip steadies himself, his injured leg almost giving out on him. Then he looks around and disappears deeper into the forest. ]

[action]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Lovely lips and eyelashes or not, Dean isn't a pretty, pretty damsel, and he'd thank all of you to remember that. Jumping a little, gun cocked and at the ready as Castiel just appears - it's going to take a while to get used to that - Dean relaxes minutely once he sees who it is, and gives the angel a lopsided smile.

"Hey."

Not that Dean is constantly preoccupied with sex, but after having spent a good five minutes making out with his, quote, "new boyfriend", seeing him again so soon is stretching him thin when he's really aching for a little physicality.

Fortunately, there are other things to distract from this. Namely: Philip being chased down by Jason, sans the hockey mask. Dean gestures that Cas follow him through the foyer of the mansion and outside, starting the trek across the grassy field and towards the woods. The woods don't have the best of connotations for them, considering what happened the last time they ventured forth in search of suitable hunting material, but this is different.

"Phil's up shit creek without a paddle. His shadow's re-enacting My Bloody Valentine, and friggin' nobody liked Tom Hanniger."

Dean shoulders his shotgun and sends Castiel a sidelong glance, worried. "Can you find him before NegaPhil does? Like...with your mind?"

[action]

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

Cas smiles back at Dean. It's small and secret and probably few people besides Dean would even recognize it as a smile. Dean is not alone in his physical longing; Cas wants nothing more than to push Dean up against the nearest flat surface - vertical or horizontal will do - and do things to him that... well. He really shouldn't even be thinking about, lest his vessel betray him.

Then as Dean goes on, his expression is gradually replaced by his usual blank facade. This should be a clue by now to observers that Cas Has No Idea What You're Talking About. "I do not understand that reference," he states. "But in answer to the last, yes - I can... try." He does so, searching not for Phil's mind, actually, but for one he suspects may stand out more strongly for its strangeness, at least to himself: the creature that calls itself Clarence.

[action] /SIGHS /CONVERTS TO PROSEISM

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

This narration would encourage distressed damsel Dean and his pretty guardian Sailor Moon angel Castiel to get a room, but doing so might delay a certain rescue mission inconveniently.

So it will merely resort to reassuring the both of you that being pressed against a horizontal surface is not nearly as fun as you guys are making it sound.

...Not when that surface is the forest floor and the only long, hard and firm wood is that of a pickaxe presently pressed tightly against your throat.

Philip desperately struggles against his shadow's hold, but the unnatural copy is packing... well, an unnatural amount of muscle.

"Look on the bright side of it all, the way you're acting now you can't exactly get a lot more useless in death. And just so you know, you could've avoided all of this if you'd just listened to Clarence and gave the wheel to somebody who knows where he's driving."

The original would reply, but being choked by an axe tends to restrict your enthusiasm for speech. Or breathing.

Luckily the same restrictions do not apply to Philip's head where somebody is finally catching on to the message that's being sent out to him.

"Hey, is that a long-distance call I'm gettin'? Would love to chat, really, but I'm just a little busy, well... dying right now. Hey, feel free to leave a message though."

[action] YES, JOIN THE FOLD. EVERYTHING IS HAPPY HERE. EVERYTHING.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Dean doesn't stop to ask how Castiel's brainwave reception is, barreling through the underbrush just outside the line of trees and stalking into the woods on a mission from God. He pauses a few yards in, listening.

At first, there's just outside noise. A couple birds, maybe some bugs. A mosquito buzzing by his ear. But the sounds aren't coming from every direction. They stop in one area. It's quiet. The woods here have the uncanny ability to know what's wrong, and while Dean would normally bolt in the opposite direction - Operator vibes, and all that - he gestures that Castiel follow him towards the silence. Lowering his shotgun and shifting the bag of ammunition on his shoulder, Dean cocks it and steps carefully through the dead leaves, stopping by a tree to listen again.

Voices.

"...if you'd just listened to Clarence and gave the wheel to somebody who knows where he's driving."

Oh, Hell no. Dean looks to Cas and starts making military hand gestures before realizing that Cas doesn't know what he means. Rolling his eyes, he thinks really loudly instead, Circle around to the other side. We'll pincer him. Get Phil. I'll distract the dick.

Dean is good at that.

Making obscenely loud crunching noise with his boots, he tromps right into a moderate clearing to see Philip wrestled to the ground by his Shadow, the thing pressing a pickaxe handle against his windpipe. Dean levels his gun at the Shadow's head, smile tight. he knows the stakes. He knows very well that the Shadow could snap Philip's neck in less than a second.

"It just ain't your lucky day, is it, douchebag?"

Re: [action] YES, JOIN THE FOLD. EVERYTHING IS HAPPY HERE. EVERYTHING.

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

Cas tells Clarence We're coming. Keep talking so we can find you, but then it appears his effort has been unneeded: they've gone in the right direction already, thanks to providence or just blind luck, or if Cas will grudgingly admit, Dean's tracking skill.

It's also lucky his 'listening channel' is open trying to locate Clarence, or he might not have heard Dean's thought at him. They really need to discuss this sometime soon. He nods at Dean, who then strides loudly forward, and Cas circles around as Dean suggests, making no noise.

Then Dean is pointing his gun at the Shadow, and at the same time, Castiel is behind it and to one side, out of the gun's immediate aim, silent and ready to divest the creature of the pickaxe.

Good God, are you wearing a USED subject line? /scoffs

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

Such an eloquent strategy, so little appreciation for it.

"Little busy here, come back later."

The shadows' primary focus is always the person they are trying to immitate. Consequently Philip's shadow disregards both the attacker he can and the one he presumably cannot perceive in favour of pressing down the pickaxe on the original's neck hard.

Whatever strength to fight back Philip had is now literally down to its last breath and his hands are losing their grip on the axe, arms slipping down to the ground.

He'd say more to greet Dean, but apparently blue lips and silence are the new hello in their relationship.

Don't be so ~English~, Lady Philippa. /hairflip

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

The last time he saw Philip with blue lips, the man had been on the verge of freezing to death in a swimming pool that was doing a rather clever impersonation of Greenland, in all its icy glory. Here, the threat is far more immediate and obviously not easily distracted by his obnoxious presence.

Adrenaline sparking through his veins - Oh, the thrill of the hunt! - Dean lets a shot off in the middle of the Shadow's back. Not pausing to see if it did any actual damage, he flips the gun, holding the barrel in both hands, and sprints at the damn thing before it can break Philip's neck.

Swinging the shotgun around like a bat in the hands of a home-run hitter, Dean aims for the side of the Shadow's head with the heavy wooden butt, teeth bared.

CLEVER SUBJECT LINE IS CLEVER

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

Cas ducks out of the gun's swinging path, inwardly cringing a bit - but only a bit; this is merely a shadow, real as it may feel - at the sound of impact. The Shadow is knocked to the side, losing its hold on Phil, and not a moment too soon considering the color Phil has turned.

Before it can rally, Castiel pivots and catches the creature, thrusting it away from Philip and Dean, pinning it against a nearby tree. It's a move Dean will see often enough in the future: an angel overpowering another creature as much with invisible as with physical strength, pinning them high against a wall. Castiel isn't one for excessive dramatics though, and he likes the satisfying physical feel of the creature held immobile by his hand. "Silence," he tells it. He has words for the real Phil, but he'll wait until he's recovered enough to hear them, and hope his and Dean's strength will be sufficient to hold the Shadow at bay until then.

Of course. They all say that.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

Once freed Philip takes a deep gulp of air, chocking and coughing as it travels down his injured neck.

Words or even screams are still beyond him at this point, but fortunately his shadow has every intention of disregarding Castiel and speaking for him.

"Silence or what? I'm free for a demonstration, I've already been wondering how you would end up killing me.

Sure, I thought it wouldn't be so blunt, not while Dean's around, but I guess you both want me- or us dead a lot more than I thought."

The shadow squirms, but doesn't quite manage to free himself. He looks past Castiel at Philip.

"Hey, Philip! Run while I try and hold them off! They'll probably kill us both anyway, but at least we can make it a bit harder for them!"

Philip looks up at him wearily, still gasping for air. He is covered in "his own" blood from the gunshot and his injured leg is hurting a lot worse than it did before.

Overall he is not having such a great day and getting up enthusiastically, let alone running away is nowhere near the top of his to-do list.

Friggin' angels and physics professors, man.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Panting, staring for a moment in impressed awe at the being pinned to a tree by nothing more than Castiel's mind, Dean takes a second to recollect himself before shooting a glare at the Shadow and turning to look at Phil.

He looks...wow. Awful, really. Just bad. A pickaxe to the leg'll do that to you, as well as the splatter-factor from the buckshot Dean had embedded in the Shadow's back. Walking over to him slowly, Dean crouches next to Phil and wipes some blood off his own cheek with the back of his hand, smiling lopsidedly.

"Didn't think we'd abandon you to the fucker, didja?"

Dean glances back to Castiel briefly. Phil has two options concerning his lookalike, but he probably won't like either of them. Dean didn't like his. Picking at the torn trouser fabric that's plastered itself to Philip's leg with the man's blood, he grimaces at the gash he finds. That's definitely going to leave a mark.

"We don't want you dead, man," Dean states quietly, shirking the flannel over his t-shirt off and wrapping it around Phil's leg like a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. "Just listen to Cas."

Angel wisdom monologue, blah blah boring

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

castiel ignores the Shadow's taunts, only paying enough attention to recognize that it voices fears the real Philip likely shares. "I will not harm you," he tells both of them. "I am merely protecting you from yourself. Whatever must be done with your shadow, you yourself must choose: to accept it as part of yourself and become stronger for that acknowledgment, or to destroy it utterly and free yourself from its power.

We will aid you in whatever you choose, and in the meantime I will hold your shadow back to allow you the recovery you require." He knows what he would choose - it's what he did, after all: accepted his shadows - both of them - and now feels whole in a way he didn't before. But his combat was not physical and violent the way Philip's has been. he honestly doesn't know what decision to expect.

Striptease! Striptease! ...am I on the wrong side again?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

When Dean comes closer Philip attempts to croak words of thanks, but the earlier attack makes speech a little more painful than he'd like, so he opts for a simple nod and a smile of relief.

If he wasn't so deprived of blood and oxygen it might occur to him to tell Dean to WATCH THE BLOOD JESUS OH GOD CAREFUL OF THE BLOOD, but as it is that biohazard warning sentiment gets a little lost in the haze.

He is not happy to see Castiel again, no matter the circumstances. Dean's presence makes the meeting more bearable however and Philip's own exhaustion doesn't leave much room for anything but what he's being told right now: Listen to Cas.

...Yet when the angel speaks he can't help but think that blah blah monologue blah blah is a fairly accurate description of what he hears. He's finding it difficult to concentrate, but what's more he doesn't understand why they wouldn't just--

"Kill it! What-- What are you waiting for, just kill it!"

His voice comes out hoarse and he holds his neck in pain. Digging his palms into the earth he pulls himself into a sitting position, eyes widening as Castiel's statement clicks.

He looks at Dean, pleading.

"That is not me. That's not any part of-- just shut him up,please."

Yes you are, dear. The fellatio is on the other side.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Dean sort of remembers the same speech when he was cowering in his bedroom, his own shadow taunting him. Chipping away at him. Smothering him. Cas stood there; Cas heard everything. Cas understood all his worst fears, now, thanks to that thing. It hadn't been passive, the way it screamed for family and friends that first night.

"I know what you're afraid of, Dean-o. You're scared of being alone. Well heads up: You are alone. You know exactly what's waiting for you when you get back. So what are you trying to do, huh? Prolong the inevitable? It's pointless staying here - you've already alienated yourself.

You have no friends. Face it; your own brother is here, and you don't trust him. After everything you've done for him, all the messes you've cleaned up - and he doesn't even appreciate it. So what's the point? You're pathetic."

The Shadow is dirty laundry. It's all your baggage, it's what you worry about. Whether or not it's true doesn't matter, it's only there to break you.

And, looking at Phil as the poor guy heaves himself upright, fingers fumbling over his neck as he forces out the words Kill it, Dean understands the sentiment. He appreciates it more than what he himself did, especially considering the circumstances, because as much as his own tried to destroy him with psychological warfare, Philip's had done the same with the physical.

Tying his shirt around Phil's leg in a tight knot, blood - sorry, occupational hazard - slicking his hands, Dean nods sharply at Phil's request and pulls the Desert Eagle out of the back of his jeans. Exchanging glances with Castiel and standing, Dean aims-

-And promptly empties an entire clip into the Shadow's chest.

Fellatio? *perks up* Where? /distracts from short boring tag

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

Castiel exchanges a glance with Dean and they both nod. If this is what Philip wants, they'll do it.

He holds the Shadow immobile as Dean perforates it, letting his sword materialize in his right hand at the same time in case it doesn't work. He waits, tensed and ready, as the smell of cordite dissipates into the trees and his ears stop ringing.

!!! *rips off clothes and jumps through nearest mirror*

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

The Shadow groans in pain once, then goes limp, Castiel's power being the only thing still holding him in place.

Philip flinches and turns away. Wanting the thing dead and seeing something that seems all too much like his own body destroyed are two different things entirely. He waits.

He's about to breathe a sigh of relief when the Shadow coughs, blood dripping from his mouth onto the ground.

"Don't look away now, this is the important part of the lesson!"

The creature jerks its head up and looks at Philip.

"You know it's only a matter of time before you come to your senses. And when our disease gets worse they won't just tuck you into bed and make you hot soup!"

Coughing the Shadow leans forward, fighting against Castiel's restraints.

"You never should have told!"

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

He knew it wasn't dead. It's never that easy. Dean could hardly fight his own Shadow. He had the first time, walking through Bobby's dreams. He'd hit it with the butt of a heavy gun, pumped it full of buckshot. Refused to let it have the last laugh. Refused to let it be right.

But it was, and he knew it.

Whether Phil's Shadow is right or wrong doesn't really matter, but as a Winchester - as someone with all the determination and stubbornness as a pit bull - Dean has every intention of helping the first person his age around here who actually took him seriously.

"Don't listen to it!" He barks at Philip, pulling some shells out of his pocket and loading them into his sawed-off with practiced efficiency. "If it gets worse," Dean cocks the shotgun with a loud CLICK. "We're gonna do whatever we can to help. So you," He aims at the Shadow's head.

"Shut your fuckin' cakehole."

Another shell explodes in the Shadow's chest, spraying them with blood. Wiping red from his face with the back of his hand, he cocks it, aims, shoots again, stepping forward and pressing the barrel up underneath its chin, expression tight. He'll let Castiel have the final blow, but Dean wants the last words.

"Go to Hell."

[out-of-minutes.livejournal.com]

As Dean delivers his parting shots - both of them - Castiel strides forward, sword in hand.

It feels like a long time since he's felt his role as a soldier in this way. Philip doesn't even like him. But Cas wants him to. So he will do what he must to help him.

Calmly, unheeding of the blood getting on his clothes (he's had worse, far worse... Dean's insides working a shift as outsides comes to mind), he draws the blade back a little, and then thrusts it upward beneath the Shadow's ribcage, straight into its heart. Lightning crackles through its frame, wreathing it in sparks and light, and when it dissipates, the Shadow falls away as ash that disappears into the air, less than dust.

Castiel's sword can kill angels. The Shadow isn't coming back this time.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

The Shadow looks down at the barrel of Dean's gun, grinning. Blood drips down onto the weapon as he opens his mouth, but Castiel's attack interrupts him with devastating efficiency.

And then the Shadow is gone. For now.

Combat only stalls. The only way to get rid of the Shadow for good is to accept it, but an attack like this should at least buy Philip a day or two. And for now it's Dean who has the last word.

Philip forced himself to look at the scene and now breathes that sigh of relief at last. He pauses for a moment, closing his eyes. The pain from being chocked is only a faint soreness in his throat now. The leg is... a little less accomodating.

Shakily he attempts to get back on his feet, leaning against a tree behind him for support. Words still fail him at this point. Well, part of him anyway...

" So our damsel Philip here is still a little too distressed to comment, but on his behalf I'd like to express my sincere thanks for savin' our skin.

Sorry for the lack of hands and all, but really, standing ovations, guys."