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. ]

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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.]

[ Oh, so Sam just hung up on him after their little pissing match, but Dean's the dick here? Well screw you, Sam. Dean's mad about it, and Sam's the one who's wrong, and lying to himself, running away and acting like Dean's a problem for putting a kink in his good time of serving drinks and palling around with vampires and demons and avoiding the real issue here. But of course he doesn't see it like that. They never see eye to eye on anything, no matter where they are. Why would space be any different? ]

Damn it.

[ Hopefully the thing being disconnected means nobody sees Dean huffing and cursing and throwing his head back and generally having a little tantrum. Because he's mad at Sam, but he's still worried about him, doesn't like leaving things like that between them when everything about this place is alien and unsure. But there's no point in calling Sam back after what he said, and hunting him down's not an option, either. The only thing Dean can do is wait it out, and keep looking for a way off this goddamn spaceship.

A couple days not speaking is probably better for them anyway, much as Dean hates it. It might not be the best way of dealing with their disagreements, by avoiding each other and not talking about the problem, but hey, they've got a lot of practice at it. ]

[You know, Sam could wax poetic and all that, think about deep, terrible issues.

.......... Or he could, y'know. Grumpily drink one of the bottles taken off the bar shelf, while the alcoholic in the corner watches in nervous awe.]

[ Bottoms up, man. Pour one out for the guy stuck high and dry. Dean might not agree with the bartender thing, but damn if it doesn't come with its perks. ]

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