driftfleet | 01 [ video / action ]

Entry tags:

01 [ video / action ]

Who: Dean doing the OTA thing
Broadcast: fleetwide video
Action: anybody on the Marsiva
When: 1/27 - 1/29

a; (acting alone)

[ The video cuts in accidentally (are accidents ever accidental?) to Dean using a plastic knife of all things to pry a panel, about four feet in each direction, off the wall in front of him. It takes some jimmying, but after a couple seconds, it pops right off, and Dean catches it before it falls more than an inch or so open. He looks around quickly as he slides the panel aside (got to work fast with cameras on and no easy way to disable them), but when he looks to what the panel was covering, his head jerks back in surprise. Then he crouches in close to get a better look. ]

...Really?

[ Behind the panel is a network of machinery, all interwoven, some of it whirring quietly as it moves together like... like nothing Dean's ever seen. He stares at it, his expression as openly mystified as he feels before he slides the panel back on and snaps it back into place. He stands, loose-limbed and completely clueless as to what the hell he's supposed to do with that. ]

Oh, this is way above my pay grade.

[ Seriously. Where are the air ducts? The red and green wires? The, you know, normal wall stuff? Dean thought he could figure this spaceship thing out, but damn it, Shatner and Ford never prepared him for this level of sci-fi weirdness. ]

b; (the buddy system)

[ In the cafeteria sometime later, Dean is scouting out anybody who looks like they could throw a decent punch. Why? To fight them, of course.

Now, he's not going to go right up to somebody and just sock 'em one. Come on, he's not stupid. No, he's going to try to antagonize them into punching him, instead.

Look, alright, it's worked before. ...Except the other guy ended up dead. It's a long story. Anyway.

You can find Dean staring at you if you're the kind of type who looks rough and tumble and easily angered. Or you might find him eyeing up the big burly-looking guy in the corner in a completely no-homo kind of way. You might also observe his fine table manners, as while he's doing his "sizing up" of the room, he's also shoving food in his face and chewing with his mouth open, because damn, you get hungry after puking as much as he has in the past two days.

Or you might find Dean getting the crap beaten out of him by someone twice his size (which is saying a lot; he's not a small guy). You might want to help him, if you're the helpful kind of person, because the non-existent authorities sure aren't going to step in, and somebody should. Or you might find him after nobody did step in to help him because, let's be real, he deserves the black eye and busted lip and bruised kidney he gets. Just don't expect him to apologize if he got any blood on you. A little blood's not going to kill you, and everybody knows a blood splatter always makes for good TV. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It might've been helpful, maybe, if Dean weren't caught up on that first thing Sam said. He looks away sharply, wetting his lips and dragging a hand down his mouth before looking back and readjusting his stance, head lowered. ]

Let me get this straight. We got close encountered, not just into space but into a whole 'nothing universe, we're separated, we've got no clues about who did this... And you're pulling shifts at a bar?

[ He inhales sharp before finishing, voice tense, eyebrows raised high. ]

Any of what I just said seem a little off to you?

[ God, Dean loves the kid, but he drives him freaking crazy. The real question isn't why this keeps happening; it's why Dean still gets mad about it. What, are they going to be eighty, and Sam's going to be sundowning it every night, and Dean's still going to be chasing after him and dragging him back to the home by his ear? When is this gonna end? ]

[Sam's expression dims, eyelids sliding into an unimpressed and annoyed expression. Oh, right. Here we go again. He stands patiently through Dean's finger-wagging, tapping his finger on the nearest solid surface, and when he wraps up the bitching with a cute little bow Sam rolls his eyes.

You also, with the asterisked addition of 'I love that moron', drive him crazy.]

Are you done? Because it's not like that.

[And yeah, it's minorly defensive, because the last time Dean popped into a world he was already picking fights with Sam about the situation. It's his fucking hobby, ain't it. Only last time it was about monsters and Benny and — all that. Sam wonders what it is this time.]

I've already been here for a few months. And I was in the place before this for well over a year, maybe longer. I'm guessing you don't remember any of that, but whatever — point is, I'm already used to this, so maybe you should relax and actually listen before you get the attitude going.

Edited 2016-01-29 22:48 (UTC)

[ That was what the girl - Nami - said, too. Months. But before that... a year? And what the hell does he mean remember it, like Dean lived through it and forgot? Universe hopping is such a freaking nightmare.

He doesn't want to listen to Sam, because relaxing seems about the last thing they should be doing in this situation. But Sam's got no reason to lie to him, which means there's a lot going on that Dean doesn't know. And as much as he hates that... Sam's right.

Dean's quiet for a minute, the silence thick with all the arguments in his head. But in the end, he blinks slow and lift his head. ]

Alright, I'm listening. Newbie station. Alternate timeline.

So what, have I been frozen in Darkness brand carbonite for the last year and a half? Why do you know crap that I can't remember?

[He raises his eyebrow. Well, that's good, then. We can handle this proper, once Dean gets himself in check and calms down from hunter-escape-mode. Sam gets that it's.... fucking bizarre... but different experiences. Different reactions. Sam woke up and went for a stroll, but he also knows how this works now.

He sighs.

First thing's first — he makes the feed private.]

Okay. So you're from after the Mark, then. When the Darkness hit.

First off... You know how Hell works; a month down below is a year up top. Well, this is kind of like that, only time stops altogether — when you and I go back home, if we go back home, it'll be right where we left off. We just finished wrapping up a case when I showed up here.

... We're both okay, by the way.

[Just in case you're worried about Darkness limbo.]

The best way to explain it is that time freezes where you're from. Or that you're living years in a millisecond elsewhere. When you leave here, you'll likely be right where you left off. Sometimes, without memory of any of this happening... I was pulled into a universe before this called Adstringendum — a wasteland that was heavily monitored by omnipresent spirits. Big, god-like spirits. That's where I was for over a year.

You'd been there at one point, too. When you left back to our timeline, you forgot everything.

[ The private thing seems useful. Dean'll have to ask how he did that later, learn to do it himself, because like hell he wants the whole ship listening on his every conversation. He didn't sign up for this reality TV star crap, damn it, and a man needs his alone time.

And wow, that is a lot of information to absorb over the course of a couple seconds. Time moving different, going home "if we go back"??? And that they're okay is good to hear, but it's not exactly reassuring to be told you're fine five seconds after being told you may never go back to where you're supposed to be.

Don't get Dean started on the fact that Sam spent a year in some kind of god-spirit wasteland. Jesus. And Dean did too, apparently, and forgot about it.

Dean drops his head and rubs his eyes. ]

I don't know, man... I'm starting to miss the place where we were just actors.

[ And that was the same, too, some weirdo universe where everything was backwards, but coming back to where they were supposed to be like no time had gone by at all. So maybe it's better for the world this way. The darkness can't hurt anybody if it's frozen in time.

But it sure doesn't seem like it's better for them. And isn't that the way it always is. Dean lifts his head. ]

You sure you're okay? [ Of course he's not, they've been goddamn abducted by aliens, or angels, or.... whatever but Dean clarifies. ] A spirit wasteland for a year? I don't know what that was like, don't remember, I guess, but... It doesn't exactly paint a pretty picture.

[Sam smiles faintly, though it's hard to say if it's wistful or tired. Sometimes it's a challenge to tell with him.]

It was horrible. But also good, in some respects.

... Mostly horrible, though.

[There are things he plans to never tell Dean. Being sick with the Trials with nowhere to focus that illness - and then pretty much going coma, nearly dying. There's Dean torturing Sam, soulless and hellbent, and Castiel's mercy kill. There's... Dean vanishing, just as they were trying to talk through Gadreel. And then -- Deireadh. Turning everything to darkness and killing aimlessly and starving the world they inhabited.

But. But there was meeting Nami and the Strawhats, and there was getting closer to Cas. To the people in the cabin they shared. There were really, really good days. Meeting Jess again to say sorry, and her words of wisdom before she vanished, too... Dean and him, they got to live with people. Good people. He had learned a hell of a lot. And had good moments, too.]

It only got bad the last few months there. I mean, bad by our standards, anyway. We ended up locked in by a big spirit that looked like a storm cloud, named Deireadh. It had killed all the villagers who lived there before us, absorbed their souls, and then spent all that time before us tormenting them and getting stronger off it.

[It wasn't pretty.]

But everyone pulled through. And Cas and me and the others, we opened a portal and got to leave, so. I'd call it a win.

[ If anybody else were saying it, Dean might take a word like "horrible" with a grain of salt. But Sam's been to Hell, been in the cage with a couple of pissed of archangels, and that's just one of the scrapbook photos in their memory book. Sam knows what horrible really is, and Dean doesn't like hearing that he had to see it again.

Not killing a god that was torturing people's souls, and probably still is, shouldn't count as a win. To John Winchester, it wouldn't. But Dean's not his father, much as he's tried to be in a lot of ways, half of which he regrets. And he knows better than their dad ever did that sometimes, winning means walking away from a bad situation, and getting out of it alive. ]

Yeah. That's a win.

[ This is the kind of conversation that would be better in person, and better with a glass or a can of something to help with the thick kind of feeling Dean's throat. But he's stuck here, at least for a while, and talking to Sam on a screen's at least better than not hearing from him at all. ]

So, you and Cas got back to where you were supposed to be, and no time went by.

[ At least that's how Dean understands if from what Sam was saying. But one thing he said still sticks out, like a puzzle piece that's jammed into place wrong. Alternate timelines, sure. Things go screwy when time gets involved. But Sam knows about the Mark of Cain, and the Darkness, he said. Then why... or when...? ]

You said we were on a case?

Yeah. After we, uh -- dismantled the big evil cloud-of-death god, there wasn't anyone in our way to getting a ritual going. Cas had been working on it for years, but the spirits in charge kept screwing with us to make sure we didn't get it completed.

Turned me into a dog once, even.

[Yep.]

Our communicators worked as beacons, so we were able to jump worlds. I went to a friend's for a while, um. To see what it was like there. When I got back to our world, it was just after you lost the black eyes. I, um. I kinda explained it to you there, but... I'm betting you're from a timeline that just barely splintered off from my own.

Where I'm from, we've already figured out who the Darkness is. We're just kind of doing the usual, you know? Hopping case to case, trying to figure out the next plan of action.

[ At the explanation of the first part, Dean's eyebrows lift. That sounds... really good, what they did. He's impressed. Proud of them. Then, of course, the dog thing has his eyebrows dropping back into the more usual unimpressed scowl because, really? A dog? Like with the tail and-

No, Dean doesn't want to know. He'll just zap that thought out of his brain, just like all the other memories he pretends he hasn't got. (He was a dog once too, kind of, and even without the fur, it sucked.)

The rest doesn't sound as good. Going to a friend's planet for a while, sure. Why not? Just like going to somebody else's thanksgiving, or working a bar when you're lost in space. Seems par for the course, for Sam. But the judgmental look Dean's probably got on his face melts right away at the mention of black eyes, and everything after that's just confusion and surprise and concern. God, Dean hates this place. ]

Alright.

[ Different timelines. And "just splintered off" sounds about right to Dean, too. Everything else Sam's said has checked out. They're brothers still, and hunters, and Sam knows about the Mark of Cain and the Darkness and him being a demon, and everything else Dean wishes he didn't know about for how guilty he is about all of it. Of course Sam knows all of that, even if he's some kind of... different Sam. It sounds like he's from the future, but not by a whole lot.

So why the difference? Where's the split? All the other timelines Dean remembers were nothing like the way things should be. It doesn't make sense.

But then neither do aliens or death clouds. Whatever. Thinking about it's giving Dean a headache. ]

The Darkness is a who? [ Because of all the things Sam's said, that sounds like the most worth questioning. And maybe it won't be the same answer as it will be once Dean gets back to where and when he's supposed to be, but it can't hurt him to know it. ] Who is it?

[He raises his eyebrows, clearing his throat.]

I, uh. You sure you don't want to settle in and digest this information first?

Oh, that's reassuring.

[ Way to be slick there, Sam. Now Dean has to ask, even though he's real sure he doesn't want to know. ]

Who is it?

... God's sister?

[WELL THERE. Enjoy that on top of other weird shit.]

She's called Amara. And God apparently locked her up way, way back when.

She's still... salty about that.

[ It's probably a bad thing that Dean's just glad this ultimate evil isn't somehow one of them, or wearing somebody they care about. Not that God's sister is a much better answer, but somebody else's family in front of the firing squad is always better than his own. ]

God has a sister?

[ Dean's read the bible, okay, and she's not in it. But on the other hand... Why not. He can hardly even be surprised anymore. ]

So what, we've got Marie now and no Donny? Great. That's just... Awesome.

[ The whole bitterness over God thing aside, there's something.... uncomfortable about this conversation. About hearing the name Amara. The whole thing with the mark and the Darkness. Dean shakes his head once sharply, and blinks slow through the thoughts. No, there's no use thinking about it. Especially if, like Sam said, they're working cases... Which means they don't even know where to start. Great. He lifts his eyebrows, looking tired. ]

Anything else I should know?

First there was darkness, then there was light.

God locked her away so that we could exist.

[So there's that. In regards to the other question... Well, since you've already apparently gotten to Cas and Castiel...]

Not much. No. Or, anyway, nothing that would be helpful here. And with Adstringendum... well. Bringing up the crazy that happened there is pretty pointless. What's done is done.

[He bites his lip, not that fond at all of telling Dean anything about home. Because there's... nothing they can even do about any of it. And because Dean has never been good at reacting to anything supernatural that Sam's impacted by.

It's one of those things that wears Sam down quick, like sandpaper against his skin. He sighs. Honestly, right? Blanket honesty. He'll deal with Dean's 'tude about it if it comes up. Which it inevitably will, because it came up when Sam mentioned it back home, too.]

Before I got here, I was having visions back home. After the Darkness. I was... reaching out for help, and — I think they're from God. Some kind of message about the Darkness. But they've been really vague, and... they stopped when I came here. Probably too far out of scope to be reached now, honestly.

[He shrugs.]

[ That kind of attitude, "What's done is done" doesn't sit well with Dean. But of course that's how Sam takes it. And if he doesn't want to talk about it, Dean's not going to pry it out of him. No doubt it'll come out eventually, anyway, if it's important enough. It always does with them.

But that forced acceptance melts down into hard concern at what Sam's saying after that. Visions? He's having visions again. Well, there's something Dean had hoped he'd never have to deal with again. It wasn't exactly a fun ride the first time around. "Reaching out for help," Sam says, and it takes Dean a couple seconds to realize he means praying. Sam was praying. And God answered? That's what he thinks the visions are?

No. Not a chance. God hasn't helped them before. He's been MIA for years, through the freaking apocalypse, and he's going to start replying to texts now? Whatever's talking to Sam, it's not God. And knowing Sam's record... Chances are good it's some kind of demon. A bad one.

Dean rubs his eyes. ]

You said they stopped, right? [ He looks up, edging on desperate. ] You're not getting visions here?

[ He doesn't wait for the affirmation. ]

Then whatever it is, God, or... a bad batch of fat free creamy Italian, or whatever it is... Doesn't matter. We'll just take this one step at a time. We get home first. Until then, it's not going to do any good to worry about Amara, or whoever's trying to talk to you. Hell, it might just make things worse.

[He blinks. That — that wasn't so bad, actually. A relief shows in the slump of his shoulders, and he gives Dean a nod. He's always been anxious about this sort of thing... about admitting something's wrong with him. Like, actually wrong. Dean was anxious about his visions before, and downright mortified by the demon blood, the hallucinations had made him into a ticking timebomb, and — the less we talk about the soullessness, the better.

Sam knows a lot of it comes from worry, though. He knows. The gruff bravado, the harshness he sometimes practically catwalks, it's not all there is to it. He gives a nod, more confident. Really, he did miss Dean, all bitching and issues aside. Even if the last time Dean had seen Sam, he had punched the shit outta Sam, all hyped up on Mark energy.]

Yeah. One step at a time.

[Granted these are visions of Lucifer's cage and all, but Sam doesn't even consider to include that right now, because Dean seems to have a gameplan of 'let's not think about it until we have to'. Which, to be fair, is Sam's exact same plan.

The relief is palpable, though.]

.............

[actually he kind of forgot to say this sooner but]

Relating to home, kinda — uh. There's... two Casses.

I didn't think to point that out first, but.

Yeah.

[ That's good, that Sam's relieved. Because Dean's a little screwed up by it, honestly. The idea that Sam's having visions again, which is just what they need on top of everything else. But he's going to try to take his own advice and put it out of his head, pretend he doesn't know about it. Because getting all worked up about something they can't fix, something that's not even happening anymore, won't do either of them any good.

It just never quits with them, does it? Dean rubs his eyes, drags his hand down over his mouth. ]

Two Casses, part of that alternate timeline thing. Yeah, thanks for the warning, dude. Already figured that out.

[ And one of them's the Croatoan bad-end love guru, which is just great. If there had to be two of them, it couldn't be one of the ones with wings, could it? But then, at least it's not the one who thinks he's god. Dean'll take the one high on amphetamines over the one high on Purgatory souls any day. ]

There's not two of anybody else running around, is there? Because two of him running around is bad enough, but if I meet another me in this place, I might just lose it.

[ And while he's on it... ]

Any other surprise faces you find? Bobby? Crowley?

[ He asks about those two, but they're not the ones he's worried about. He's talking about Lucifer, or another angels. Jess. Their mom. People who'd scare him to see and be a lot worse to deal with than a Sam who's a couple months older than he should be or a whole army of Castiels. ]

Ah, no. Just two Castiels. I met some old faces back in Adstringendum, but they didn't stick around long, most of the time. [Kevin. Jess. Ellen. Jo. He's not sure he should tell Dean about that in detail, because it doesn't do him any good to know they were alive again for a little while and are just... gone.]

The other Cas - he's from 2014. Apparently you've been.

[He sees why you didn't tell him, so he's not exactly hostile about it, but god, bro.]

Also there's a demon Crowley here, but... I don't think he's the one we're used to wanting spit-roasted.

[ If it would've done Sam and Cas any good to talk about the bad end Zach showed him, Dean would've told them. But what good would it have done, telling Sam he gave in despite all the protests that he never would before they split, telling Cas that sticking with him wouldn't get him worse than nothing? In the end, that's half of what got Dean so damn close to saying yes to Michael. He didn't need to put that on them, either of them, and he doesn't regret keeping it to himself. Sam can guilt him over it if he wants, but of all the things Dean regrets and feels guilty about, not telling Sam about a world where he got rode by the devil isn't one of them. He doesn't address it. ]

Sam? Do me a favor... Don't ever about talk about us wanting to spit-roast Crowley again, and I'm gonna forget that you said it. Because that is an image I didn't need.

[ Horrible mental images aside, that's just great. Demons in space. Alternate versions of Crowley. This is really a dream vacation, isn't it? And Sam's done this song and dance before. People showing up just to leave again, and Sammy being stuck there for a year... Sounds like some kind of Hell to Dean, alright. And the way things are going here, with two Casses and demons named Crowley, and everything else... Dean's not sure he could take a year of this brand of crazy. His head's about ready to crack wide open and he's only been here a couple days. ]

[He holds his hands up, nodding.]

Alright, alright. Taken out back and buried, then.

[... He supposes he should hurry and breach this important but uncomfortable conversational transition soon, because if he lets his brother carry on in space as is, he has a feeling things will get — at worst — very bad.]

Another important thing. Just... follow me here. Trust me.

There are monsters and supernaturally inclined people here. Witches, vampires, demons, whatever. They're not bound by the same logic as our world... In fact, a lot of them have had my back before. A lot of people here are like Lenore. Benny. Garth and his family. Glenda the fairy. Good people.

... Not to say you can't be suspicious and all, because I still am.

[You can't exactly rub that away, it's ingrained as all hell.]

Just... don't make too many enemies and burn all the bridges.

We're hardly working hunters here.

[ Dean always knows, when Sam says "trust me," whatever he says after is going to be something Dean won't like. Of course, this time's no exception. And Dean listens through it, quiet and patient right through the whole thing, even though it itches him. But once Sam gets to that last part, the part about hunting, Dean can't keep quiet anymore. ]

Not bound by the same logic? Not working hunters? You kidding me?

Look, I'm all for killing what's killing and letting live what's letting live. But this isn't a three hour tour here, Sam. We're not on vacation. Just because some nut-job aliens decided to play reality TV with our lives doesn't mean our lives, our real lives, get put on hold.

We're not actors. We're not bartenders or FBI agents or anything else we pretend to be. We're hunters. That's who we are. And if there's something to hunt here, then we hunt it.

I don't see how you don't get that.

[ But he does see it, and that's the problem. Because Sam never wanted to be a hunter. The second he gets an out, he takes it. Just how he ran off to Stanford, just how he spent a year with that vet in Kermit, and all the other dozen times. And every time, Dean's surprised and hurt about it, like stitches being ripped open and a wound never getting to heal. It'd be easier if Sam left and stayed gone, or if Dean died and stayed dead, but they can't just do that either, can they? They're the damn snake eating its own tail. It's never-ending, not for either of them. ]

[You're so dramatic Dean, fuck. He rubs his temples.]

Can you stop putting words in my mouth? Jesus, Dean. I didn't say it was a vacation like I chose this. I was dragged here from home, smack in the middle of hunting for a way to stop the Darkness. And you know what happens currently when people figure out too much? Their memory of it gets wiped. [You know. Like how Gadreel wiped all those lovely conversations you two had? Yeah. He's not even gonna be low enough to correlate that, even if he's still fucked up from it. It's not like you can just forget that kind of traumatic shit.] So I'm sorry that I couldn't tap my damn heels together and get back home asap.

What, would you like me to go chasing after all these non-hostile supernatural captives here and yell that I'll chop their heads off if they so much as look at someone weird? Because let me tell you, I don't think that'd blow over well with them and all their human friends.

I can't get by as a hunter here. We can't get by as hunters here. We can't skip town.

I'm working to make money.

And I'm taking care of myself.

[ Whoa dude, who's being dramatic now? Does Sam seriously think Dean's going to yell about chopping people's heads off? That Dean'll chop anybody's head off who doesn't deserve it? He didn't kill Garth or Lenore. Benny was like family. Just how does Sam see him, to talk about him like that?

And Dean didn't know about the memory thing, but like hell that's going to stop him, either. Sam don't own the property on angels fucking with your memories; they've done it to Dean, too. Dean might be guilty about Gadreel, but he's guilty about a lot of things he's done to Sam, and none of it gives Sam a get out of jail free card. ]

Yeah, and you know what you said we were doing, while trying to stop the Darkness? Cases. Hunting. Because we're hunters, Sam, and that's what we do.

The fact that we got abducted to this place? That it's taking people from their families, screwing with their memories on top of everything else? That's all the more reason to hunt the thing down and put a stop to it, before it keeps taking more people like us.

And if it hasn't escaped your notice somehow, we're on freaking spaceships. We're not skipping towns, we're skipping goddamn galaxies. And you could make twice whatever you're pulling in bartending by hustling pool and counting cards instead. So don't give me those crap excuses.

Maybe you're fooling yourself about what you're doing here, Sam, but you ain't fooling me.

[I just wanted to warn you about the goddamn scene, but apparently you wanna bitch about me being a bartender and not pretending I actually got jobs here as a hunter. Just fab. Sam leans back, staring with a half-lidded bitch-face. Truth is, he's too tired to face this right now. Home was bumpy enough, but he's not ready for Round Fifteen of ways Dean wants to shit-talk right when he comes in. Maybe he was stupid to wish Dean were here; maybe he should have hoped Dean would stay away from this mess, stay back home to the other mess.]

Fooling you? Are you serious?

Is this how you're going to start off your first day here, trying to guilt-trip me about how things work when I've already dealt with this? Getting pissy about not counting cards? Put the wagging finger down, Dean, don't strain yourself. If you don't want to listen, fine. Go talk to other people who've been here so they can tell you the same thing; get a feel for the place. We can talk about what to do next when you cool off.

Just leave your dickheadedness at the door.

[DISCONNECTED.]

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