sadfreezingbrit_archive | Philip LaFresque and Jack Daniel's depressing day in the kitchen [29/??? artefacts collected]

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Philip LaFresque and Jack Daniel's depressing day in the kitchen [29/??? artefacts collected]

[ And then this happened and Philip was back in his body. Just like that. Just... like that.

Not that the time off was a breeze, oh no. The things he said to some people, the things Clarence did, but... there are the things he didn't do. The things he could've done so easily and yet--

And yet Philip is back in his body and nobody is hurt. Nobody is dead.

But the conclusions he's supposed to draw from this...

He takes a sip of whiskey. His first empty bottle now and quite likely not his last. That's how everyone will find him during the day: Sitting in the kitchen. Sipping on glass after glass, trying to make sense of what the hell happened in those past five days.

...Only later in the afternoon has he finally made his mind up about some things, leading to the following three audio transmissions: ]

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO DEAN]

Hey, I just... wanted to say that I'm- I'm back. I...

[ And then he hangs up, because everything else he wants to say is just so far out of his mental reach now, it's not even funny. ]

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO SANTANA]

Er, about... about the last time we talked, I think... there's something I think- I think I ought to tell you. Can we- Could we meet up someplace if you've got a moment? Please? Thanks.

[PRIVATE AND LOCKED TO BEISTE]

...Um, Shan-- Coach? I just... I just wanted to apologise for everything I-- for the last time we talked. That was after-- I wasn't... exactly myself then. I'm really sorry.

[[OOC: Slightly pre-dated to early afternoon on the 10th]]

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[At first, Dean thinks that Philip is joking. Books and movies. Cooking. Abnormally simple, everyday activities that regular people take for granted. Maybe there's some kind of novelty there that Clarence wanted to explore, but in all honesty, Dean expected a fully-fledged Ferris Bueller's Day Off: The Sentient Virus Edition.

It's so...boring. Dull in comparison to everything he ever seems to threaten to do - everything that Clarence does.

Philip goes quiet and Dean waits, because that can't just be it. Confirming something is easy enough, so Dean nods; he saw the transmission, but he wasn't exactly inclined to ring in and be Lucky Caller Number 7.]

What?

[...and then panic. Clarence saying hello to a few people over the landline is bad enough, but gracing them with his presence? Philip's hesitation is a pretty obvious sign that something went horribly wrong.]

What happened? Is she okay?

Edited 2011-11-10 22:42 (UTC)

[ Philip looks into his glass. ]

I don't know.

[ He shakes his head. ]

I mean, I- I haven't talked to her since then, but he--

[ He tries to make eye contact again. ]

He didn't hurt her.

[ Bracing himself Philip begins retelling the afternoon, any and all emotion audibly forced out of his voice. ]

He pretended to be me. They had dinner together in the dining hall. They watched a stupid movie, he... he got her drunk. He--

[ Philip's teeth clench. This is not the difficult part. This is the irritating part. ]

He kissed her.

[ Now this is the difficult part. ]

He told her who he was and... and then he let her go.

[ During all this Philip hopes Clarence will provide some insight. An answer, a hint, even a taunt, but the virus stays silent. ]

[Dean would get on Phil's ass about not keeping contact with people when they're probably not doing so hot or when he's feeling non-confrontational, but that would be a gross use of hypocrisy. He does some quick math in his head, remembers that all this happened around five days ago, and settles in to hear the story.

...and what a fucked-up story it is.

Quite familiar with Clarence's impeccable impression of Philip LaFresque, he's not really surprised that Evelyn fell for it. But Clarence's grand day out, on something that sounds suspiciously like a date (Which Dean will gladly pester Philip about later, you can be sure of that), seems to have ended in a surprising lack of bloodshed and tears.

This is great news and all but it's still really weird, and Dean's confusion is plastered all over his face.]

So...lemme get this straight. He wined and dined her, got himself a little nookie before the big reveal and then let her go?

[The real question being:]

Why?

[ Philip shakes his head. He shrugs. He shakes his head again. ]

Honestly, I...

[ This would be a good time to shake his head. Perhaps twice. And then once more, just to make the message abundantly clear. ]

I haven't got the faintest idea.

[ He has a theory however.

A theory according to which this was the warning, the metaphorical head of a horse in his bed and if he doesn't change his course then the metaphor will be dropped and so will another head, only it won't be that of a horse next time. ]

I mean, he was- [Pause.] ...He had to-

[Another pause. Dean can't come up with many convincing arguments either, aside from similar situations he's experienced involving demons. They take hostages to get what they want, but this...this seems different.]

...shit.

[That about sums it up.]

You were in his head, though, right? I mean, what kinda stuff was he thinking at the time?

[Professor Winchester prescribes starting with remedial psychology and its viral applications.]

[ Oh. That. ]

...I didn't get much. He was happy. Not content, just... schadenfreude and he'd talk to me, he'd remind of everything he could do, he.... he kept remembering the- the last time--

[ Just a quick pause, if you please. ]

I think it that must've been deliberate, it didn't feel like I was spotting information so much as I thought he was pointing me towards it, like... like it barely did more than scratch the surface and I--

[ He frowns. ]

I can't, I-- I don't know to look deeper.

[ At some point Philip thought that Clarence being in control of the body would at least have one advantage. Turns out he was wrong. ]

...It's like he's got a map of my brain and I don't.

[ Philip's confession comes reluctantly. It's hardly traumatising on the grand scale of things, but he still doesn't like the idea of admitting to that particular piece of failure.

At least he can offer a shrug. ]

Maybe that's all there was to it. Just... just a scare.

[ A terrible, terrible scare.

He doesn't sound all that convinced, personally. ]

[Dean isn't convinced either, but how is this different from any other occasion where he puts on the skeptical face? It was more than just a scare. Clarence is up to something.

It sucks that Philip can't dig deeper in his own head, though. Leaving breadcrumbs here and there in his brain isn't going to pull together anything cohesive - more like a jumbled mess of fuck-all.]

He's been there a while, he's probably been through the files.

[Dean groans, rubbing a hand over his face. He could try to get Cas to look into it, but there's no telling what kind of damage Clarence could do with all his fingers in Philip's pies. Wishing that he could do more - always wishing that he could do more - Dean huffs a sigh, tilts his whiskey bottle to one side thoughtfully, and then glances back up at Philip.]

So what are you gonna do?

[Because Clarence probably made a mess, and gift-baskets aren't going to clean it up.]

...Have another drink?

[ And what else is new? A lopsided grin. ]

You mean about everything or...?

[ The number of things Philip presently has to do something about seems so overwhelmingly huge and his mind is barely made up about half of them.

If Dean wants to narrow that down further then he'll take it. ]

[He doesn't blame Philip for having something of a jumbled headspace after these past few days, particularly if Clarence is being less than helpful now that he's back in the box, but Dean finds it hard to believe that after bringing up such a big deal Philip isn't willing to see it through.

He can't really help the sarcasm he's employing - Philip never told him that he was interested in a girl (if that's the case. Dean hopes it's the case. Please be the case).]

I dunno, dude, maybe the chick Clarence played tonsil-hockey with before dumping her on the curb like a sorority girl going through hazing?

[Ring any bells, Quasimodo?]

[ Thank you, Dean, for that wonderful comparison. B| ]

...No plans.

[ That, perhaps, is not strictly true. Strictly in this sentence being an euphemism for 'at all in any sense of the word'.

Philip does have a plan. It starts with an apology about the encounter and ends with not seeing Evelyn again ever.

(And hey, he never did get around to telling Dean how much he gained by having Evie's company. No point in declaring how he's about to lose it.) ]

[He repeats Philip's words slowly, carefully, pondering over them as though they represented The Answer to The Question.]

No plans.

[We're sorry, but Dean isn't going to just let that go. Not by a long-shot.

Maybe it's because his own relationship here went to Hell in a hand-basket and came back soaking wet with a serious chip on its shoulder. Maybe it's just because Philip deserves to be happy. And maybe it's also because his best friend didn't tell him that he (possibly) had a thing with a girl and Dean never got any details whatsoever.

Bros before hos, man.

Not knowing Evelyn's mental state or how she feels about being taken advantage of and lied to by an asshole virus, Dean does know one or two things about women and involving them in your crazy life.

Chicks hate the "better off without me" speech.]

You gonna break up with her?

[Dean's taking a wild guess here.]

[ Breaking up? That sounds... incredibly harsh for something that's barely just begun, something he isn't killing off so much as simply not continuing for the eventual benefit of everyone involved, a decision that can't possibly be simplified into the act of-- ]

...I'm not going to see her again.

[ Welp. That will do. ]

Edited 2011-11-11 01:17 (UTC)

Wow.

[Dean stares at Philip in abject surprise, blinking a couple times just for emphasis.]

I mean...wow. Your best friend stabs your eye out and you eat eggs with him the next day, and the chick you sort-of dated for however long is left alive by your psycho-virus and you never see her again.

[He nods along, expression mild and words even milder. He gets it. Mulling it over and scratching his chin, Dean concedes the point.]

Yeah, I can...I can see how that sounds...

[Logical? Smart? Brilliant?]

...like complete bullshit.

[Or that.]

[ "Dean, while I value and appreciate your input and understand your desire to communicate the value of nurturing interpersonal relationships throughout difficult times I must insist upon the weight of my doubts I have concerning my sentient viral companion's more benevolent attitude during his next corporeal experience.

I dread this moment and would rather sever ties with the woman I have come to care for deeply than watch the abomination within me take control and sever her fingers, arms, legs, head or other body parts.

Surely your most recent event experience must have rendered you more than capable of understanding this point of view and as such I hope you understand that I must humbly and sincerely disregard your advice."

TRANSLATE: English ==> Philip :]

...Right.

Edited 2011-11-11 02:37 (UTC)

[The sad part is this: For once, Dean actually knows what he's talking about. Sure, he didn't settle down with the girl in question, but he saved her fine ass, gave her his phone number, and kept in touch. He had a job to do, cross-country, 24/7. He wasn't stuck in some pan-dimensional clusterfuck with fewer than a hundred other people.]

...look.

[Dean rakes a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh.]

I know you want me to shut the Hell up and let you do your thing. I know you just wanna protect her. You don't want her to get hurt 'cause of you. I get that, I've been there. And you've had so much crap thrown at you that it's a miracle you're still standing.

[There comes a time in a man's life when he realizes that the decisions he faces aren't ultimately his decisions to make.]

But if this girl was enough to make you forget all that crap, even if was only for a second, you're makin' a big mistake.

[It's rare to find someone you can share your deep, dark secrets with. Someone you can trust implicitly, someone who won't judge you. It's even rarer to find someone who can distract you from everything else so effortlessly.]

[ Thinking about it he catches the glimpse of an unpleasant truth in the corner of his eye.

Philip wants to end it himself and let the thoughts of a noble sacrifice soothe him, because the alternative could very well be his willingness to give it a shot, shot down just like that by Evelyn finally deciding that he's not worth the risk after all.

He quickly looks the other way, but the thought still lingers. One thing about Dean's narration rings true, at least: It's not just his decision to make. ]

...What if she doesn't think so?

[Relationships are two-way streets, man. Dean shrugs.]

You're not gonna know until you talk to her.

[On the upside, Philip seems a lot less doom and gloom now.]

But speaking from experience: the longer you wait, the harder it's gonna be.

[ Sometimes the narration wishes it was employed by an author who does things in proper chronological order. Alas, it is not, so allow us a moment to compose ourselves and think back to a moment when everything was not resolved for the better.

...

At that moment Philip wants to do anything but talk to Evelyn, anything but so much as see her. The longer he can put this off, the better. But that's his opinion and Dean's is another. He doesn't know if he can get them to match or even mesh, not this time.

So he would rather let it be. Agree to disagree and... see where it leads, once he forces himself to set things straight with Evie. If he can force himself at all...

Another nod that acknowledges rather than agrees. ]

I'll... I'll try.

[Dean's confidence isn't exactly bolstered by Philip's not-so-reassuring reassurance, but he'll let the guy do his thing.

Whatever that is.

Here's to hoping he won't fuck himself over, right?]

Yeah. Lemme know how it goes, okay?

Sure, [ Philip answers automatically and without hesitation, refusing to give himself time to think about how to report all the possible scenarios and outcomes to Dean.

It's only after that that his expression falters, because that part of their conversation is finally at an end, allowing for the opening he'd need to discuss... something else. ]

Dean, um... about something else...

[ Heavy silence falls on them and suddenly Philip wishes he'd left well enough alone rather than thrown a large rock at its head.

He swallows. This is the kind of question you preface with silence until the moment your partner offers verbal acknowledgement, until they have braced themselves as much for the question as... as you are desperately trying to. ]

[Dean was really, really hoping to wrap this bit up with more liquor. Pop open the Jack Daniels, apologize seriously, because yeah, he scares himself sometimes, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was scare his friends.

But Philip has another question, and Dean can already feel it in his gut that it isn't a good one. Swallowing, stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots, he nods to show that he's still paying attention.]

...yeah?

Edited 2011-11-16 00:15 (UTC)

[ Deep breath. Hey, Philip, ever heard about what curiosity did to the cat? Or what you're supposed to do when you encounter a sleeping bear? ]

During the event, what-- [ He swallows. ] What happened to Dan?

[ ...Nope, not familiar with those, apparently. ]

[Evelyn Carnahan subscribes to the saying Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

Comte Athos believes that the cat will likely end up at market tomorrow, on-sale under the guise of pig meat.

Dean Winchester thinks the cat was flayed alive and had the flesh boiled from its bones by a witch before being used in some hexing ritual.

He is therefore not particularly encouraged by Philip's halting query, and stops shifting nervously in an effort to remain perfectly still as soon as Philip's words sink in.

What happened to Dan?

An innocent enough question, but it's one that he's terrified to answer. His friends. He went after his friends, and his friends' friends. With Philip it was different. It was Clarence, it wasn't him. But this was Dean. And who knows? Maybe all the event did was amplify pre-existing psychotic tendencies. Maybe it just showed him what he's capable of, and what he can become.

There's a very long silence before Dean speaks, and when he does his voice is tight, small, and riddled with self-loathing.]

...I killed him.

[His hand, previously tapping the top of his leg, moves to cover his mouth and Dean shakes and shakes and shakes his head.]

I killed him. I killed Dan.

[It sinks in, followed by another nauseating wave of guilt, because he killed Dan.]

[ ...If only that was all Philip was asking. Because he knows, he already knows that part, what he doesn't know is--

"I'll bet Dean knows as well! Ask him! Ask him what he did to me!" ]

...How?

[ What he doesn't know is why he can't stop himself from asking, why it should even matter.

But everything Philip has seen and heard in Daniel's room boils down to an endless stream of questions, questions he can't forget, images that won't leave his mind.

So maybe, just maybe he has to start somewhere. Anywhere. Somewhere which just... unfortunately happens to be here. ]

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