hello, dean. what were you dreaming about?

[venatical]

Who: Dean Winchester and you!
When: Day 86-88
Where: Dreamland.
What: Dean goes to sleep with the intention of getting back to that city, which leads to some potential for lucid dreaming! Check the comments for scenarios. If you want something specific, let me know!

Warnings: Blood, light gore, talk of torture.

Comments

Hell

[venatical]

The cell is filthy, and the low lighting doesn't do anything to hide any of that, though the floor isn't covered in dirt so much as it is blood and guts. Literal guts. The only thing in the room that's clean are the tools on the long table in front of him, though there are some here that are dirty, purposefully so.

Dean isn't supposed to be here. He has somewhere else he needs to be, somewhere else he's trying to go, and he knows that as he turns around and looks over the man on his rack, strapped down, bleeding, begging for mercy. Begging Dean for mercy. When Dean moves, the man cringes, bracing himself for more, but Dean isn't here to torture him. He's after something.

[intelligently]

It's creepy, it's dirty and it's disgusting. And more than anything there are other people there - someone that she can just about recognise as Dean, and a stranger. It wasn't just the place that creeped Lydia out, though, but Dean as well. Something wasn't right, either that or she didn't really know Dean - which she didn't.

"Dean?"

It's curious, confused. The man seems more afraid of Dean than being here, and with what's happened to him? What is this place?

[venatical]

He turns around fast, tensed and ready to pounce, and it's a good thing he wasn't holding any of the weapons on that table, though he's ready to bolt for them. This isn't what he does anymore, but being here -- surrounded by Hell, trapped in this memory -- has him on edge, his eyes wide with fear and violence. Just a girl, so it seems, and one he recognizes, but that doesn't always mean anything.

"Lydia?" He glances quickly around them, almost ignoring the man on the rack, though he's peripherally aware of him. Let him think Dean isn't paying attention, let him think he's no better than a piece of furniture -- no, no, he's not here for that.

"Is that you?"

Purgatory

[venatical]

There's a cluster of vampires that he's taking out, machete swinging and blood flying. He can't tell what's on his forehead now, dirt or blood, but he doesn't pay any attention to it as he decapitates another vampire and stops, breathing hard.

On the ground at his feet is a piece of tattered coat, and he bends down to touch it, sweat and who knows what else stinging his eyes.

"Cas," he says, but then he blinks. This is wrong, too. He's not supposed to be in Purgatory. There's somewhere he has to be, and it isn't topside, either.

Hi you wanted company, right?

[lightgunhustler]

"What is this place?"

Jo's voice comes from somewhere behind him, standing just beyond where the last of the vampires had crumpled to the ground after being beheaded. She frowns, reaching to close her hand around the handle of one of her own knives, pulling it from the sheath at her belt. It's no machete, but it's better than nothing.

Slowly, she approaches him, one hand outstretched and reaching to close over his forearm when she gets close enough. "Dean! What the hell is going on here?"

oh totally. better than a vampire!?!?

[venatical]

No, Jo -- not her too. The sense of self-awareness fades when he sees her, and he stands up, still holding the piece of Cas's coat like it's precious metal. It's better than Hell, he guesses, but he'd rather her in Heaven where she belongs with her mom and her dad. He bites all that back, but he can't resist laying his hand on her shoulder and squeezing.

"This is Purgatory, Jo. You're in Purgatory." There's so much he wants to say, but it's more like there's a lot that he feels, seeing her again here of all places, but instead he just rubs her shoulder and then lets go, making himself look away. He ought to check their surroundings anyway.

"You'll want to hold onto that knife. You'll need it."

Little sisters are way better than vampires okay.

[lightgunhustler]

His giving it a name causes her expression to shift, becoming one that's equal parts surprise and concern. That hand on her shoulder is comforting, to a degree, enough to confirm that at least in some capacity, he's really there. Her grip on the knife tightens, her knuckles going white.

"Purgatory," she echoes, as though she'd misheard him. She wishes she had, but she knows better than that. "How did we get here?"

More importantly, it's only fair to ask: "And what else is waiting for us out there?"

def!

[venatical]

"Dick Roman dragged us down with him," he says, as if that makes sense, as if Jo was there with him. He's even glad he found her, glad they were able to regroup after getting split up, scattered all around Purgatory. That must've been what happened with Cas, right? Why he's not here?

All of this makes sense, all of this is true, so why does Dean feel like something's wrong?

"More of the same. Endless hordes of everything we've ever killed, crawling out to find us." He stops scanning the trees and turns his attention back to her.

"We're gonna get out of here. Together." He owes her that; he owes her her life.

Suburbia

[venatical]

He only lived here for a year, but Lisa's house is represented perfectly because Dean checked every inch of this house obsessively in his stint as a normal person with a normal life and a normal family. It must be almost the Fourth; yeah, yeah, it is almost the Fourth of July, and he's wearing an apron and he's about to start grilling. It's coming back to him slowly.

Sam walks up to him, and Dean looks down at him because Sam's just a kid, snot-nosed and going to school and happy, and he's holding a box of sparklers.

"When're we doing the fireworks?"

"After dinner." Dean smiles and ruffles his hair, and this is a good dream.

No, it's real, isn't it? Sam's smile fades as he steps away, and he nods, going off to the backyard. Dean could call out to him, tell him to stop, but before he has a chance, the person he's living with catches his eye. It seems right, but it doesn't.

"Did you get the hot dog buns?" he asks, even if he looks confused as he does.

[ Be Dean's boyfriend/girlfriend, or you can be a random spectator on Dean's life and the person he's living with is Meg. I'm totally cool with either! ]

[intraining]

So when Charlie was warned about watching out for a roided-sandman, she made the decision to simply not sleep. Totally possible, right? Except not, because as it so turns out being completely and utterly terrified, as well as flirting with a very attractive British Lady and meeting all those characters she read about in the Supernatural series makes for a very long day. A very, very long day, and this leads to that and suddenly she's looking around and it's the Fourth of July? She thinks?

Somewhere something tells her to walk on into her neighbor's yard to figure out if they had any extra ketchup, because you can't have burgers without ketchup and it's the freaking Fourth of July and she's all the way up to the guy at the grill and-

"No, I left those at the table. You wouldn't- Dean?"

Because this? This is wrong. All of it's wrong. And Charlie is most definitely in some kind of obnoxiously patriotic shirt and she can't remember the last time she was even at a Fourth of July picnic and-

"Nice apron."

[venatical]

"Charlie?" Dean thinks that's not right, but it's hard to tell when his brain's okay with what's going on. It has all the details right here. He and Charlie are living together, bringing up Sam, and none of that seems out of place. He looks down at his apron and then back up, and he plucks at it semi-self-consciously.

"You don't want to kiss the cook?" Gross, but it feels like a thing he should be saying. They're together, right?

No, they're not. This is all wrong. What even -- He looks down at the tongs in his hand and then sets them down, wiping his hands on his apron as he comes over to her.

"Something about this seem funny to you?"

[intraining]

"Ew no, definitely not my type." But she smiles at him anyway, in that 'ha ha you're so funny' kind of way. "Nice try, though."

Wait, they are together. Aren't they? Except not, because this whole thing feels really awkward and wrong and Charlie's not even sure how she got here. Or why. And it feels wrong to Dean too, she can see it in his face, so that feeling eating at her stomach can't be all that strange.

"You mean besides the fact I've been having LOTR movie marathons on the fourth since Return of the King came out, and I am currently not watching hobbits save the world right now?" She looks down at her clothes again, her facing screwing up in disgust. "What even is this? Some Stepford Wives nightmare?"

[venatical]

Nightmare. No. He looks around the house, recognizing it, how he'd called it home for a while but it never really felt like it fit because Dean's too bent out of shape to fit in this kind of life. Maybe he was built for it at one point, but he's too messed up now to belong here. He misses them though, Lisa and Ben...

Oh, shit. He's got it now.

"Not a nightmare. This is where I spent my summer vacation a few years ago." Sam is playing with the sparkler, and Dean recognizes that now for what it is too, plucked out of that time he went to Heaven. He nods.

"And that's Sammy when he was a kid. He's here instead..." He trails off and then tries to pretend he didn't say anything, turning back to Charlie.

"Well, obviously this dream is a little off."

[foundacause]

This... isn't Hell. Well, maybe it is. Sometimes it's hard to tell. But it doesn't feel like Hell. Meg's brain tries desperately to fill in the blanks. Fuzzy dream logic leaves her with only one thought on the situation - obviously after fleeing Hell she and Dean set up home together. It makes perfect sense, right?

It's all very domesticated. It's been a long time since Meg did the whole family thing with a home and a partner and - holy fuck are she and Dean dating? No way. Wait, course they are. She knows that. Concentrate.

"Duh. What kind of moron do you take me for?" She cracks open a beer and makes her way over to Dean, slipping an arm around his waist "Try not to cremate the meat - it's already dead, pretty sure cremating it is overkill." Something feels off, yet at the same time it feels so right.

[venatical]

Gross, Meg. No, of course it's Meg. And he shouldn't pull away from her arm, he should lean into it, so he does.

"You never complained about my meat before." It pops into his head that that's what he should say, even if it feels weird saying it. His smile that follows is a tiny bit awkward, but he tries to sell it anyway. Maybe if he bumps her with his hip. Once he gets going with this, it's easier to settle into, and he goes back to grilling. He knows this, anyway. This feels right.

"Honey, you just relax and leave the cooking to me." Honey is mostly a joke, but not completely.

[foundacause]

Dean! Please do not talk about your meat in public. That's bedroom talk only. Or maybe later in the garden once it's very dark, very late and the children are out of sight.

Meg rolls her eyes and hands him the started beer. "My hero. My manly man. Did you hunt and gather the meat all yourself too?" Even in perfect little dreamland it seemed they have to snark to survive.

Still, before she pulls away she kisses him. Okay. Maybe a little different to the snark of the real world.

The city

[venatical]

The buildings are shiny and strange, totally unfamiliar, and Dean stops abruptly to look around him. This place is wrong, but it feels right too, like he wanted to be here. Now that he is, he's not sure why. Someone walks by him, and Dean watches closely, but he can't see their face; he can't see anyone's face as he turns in a slow circle and spots more people, a few here, one over there.

The way they're walking has him nervous, looking over his shoulder. Whatever they're afraid of, Dean should be afraid of too, right?

day 87

[nevermindtherunning]

When the Doctor opened his eyes, he was shocked to recognize this place. He had been here before with Fortescue! Fingertips traced the crystal walls until looking over and once again seeing a clear figure amongst the blurry.

"Hello?" He turns and walks toward Dean, but realizes the figures were acting different than they had the previous time; like in a hurry or avoidance. Something felt entirely different here.

[venatical]

He hears the voice and turns around. Oh, it's the Doctor. He knows him from that wackadoo blow-up-the-cape plan. Maybe they can blow up the rock candy city together, and Dean will be so disappointed to find out that it isn't, in fact, rock candy.

"Hey," he calls, and then watches as a figure moves away from him. Dean tries to focus on it, whatever it is, but he can't, almost gets a headache trying. The Doctor's easier to focus on, and he needs to give his eyes a rest.

"Guess you climbed the Big Rock Candy Mountain too, huh?" That's right; Dean was trying to get here. He wanted to be here. He has questions about this place.

[nevermindtherunning]

"Not rock candy." The Doctor would know, he licked the wall in hopes to figure out more concrete evidence with what they were dealing with, and yet his answer was inconclusive.

"I've been here before... but the 'people' weren't acting like this. They avoided us like we were a nuisance and walked around us. This time it's like they do know we're here..." He recognized this man also from the cape, and it begged to wonder if something bigger was happening. The Doctor didn't sleep or dream much, but lately he had, and it's been all people from the village.

For Castiel

[venatical]

Dean's throat burns from screaming, and he wants to stop not to save his dignity because he doesn't have any of that left anymore, but because he isn't even making any sounds anymore, his voice is so raw. He's bleeding -- God -- everywhere, and Sam's face swims in front of his eyes, but it's not his Sam. It's the face of whoever was here last, whoever had the hot pokers and the knife that Dean hadn't seen, but felt.

There's so much pain that he thinks that's all he is anymore, raw pain, a bundle of nerves to be plucked and played by a master, for the rest of time. Forever stretches out in front of him, and it comes in bundles of pain and anguish, one after another after another, never stopping. Unless. Unless.

He doesn't have tears anymore, or he shouldn't. He hangs his head, sobbing even as it pulls at the hooks in his shoulders, the ones that keep him flat against his rack. His skin tears, but that's not what's breaking right now.

"Okay," he tries to say, but no sound comes out, so he tries again. He shouts with everything he has.

"Okay! I'll do it. I'll... I'll do it. Just... please. Please let me go."

[happytobleed]

Castiel is flying through Hell. He's flying as unseen things drag at him, pulling at his wings and trying to tear him down and rip him apart. His blade is in his hand, but he can't afford to stop to use it.

He has to get to the Righteous Man. He has to get to Dean.

This is a dream and he knows it, but it feels just like the first time, but with the added urgency of knowing that his best friend is hurting.

Finally, he breaks through to the chamber where Dean is, turning first to the demon wearing Sam's face to burn it out of existence.

"Dean!" He scrambles over to the rack, hands sliding over Dean's skin to find the hooks.

"Hold on." He starts to pull one from Dean's flesh.

[venatical]

When Cas breaks in, Dean's expecting Alistair. He's giving in, giving up, handing himself over; this is the moment he gives up on everything he ever believed in, and he picks up a knife. Cas is so bright it almost hurts Dean to look at him, and he doesn't know if it's because of his grace or because he's still a good person, holding onto things that Dean's about to give up.

If this is even Cas. Dean hasn't gotten up yet, hasn't started hurting people, twisting their bodies and souls into something dark and painful; that's how Cas finds him the first time, Dean with his hands dirty and so unworthy. This isn't real. He hasn't realized it's a dream yet, even if he's aware of a then and a now; Hell is always real, always bright and painful, and it sucks Dean into believing in it too easily.

So if this is happening, this can't be Cas. Alistair sent Cas in to mess with him like he did Sam.

Dean flinches and pulls away, but there's nowhere for him to go and he knows it. He's bleeding, but his whole body hurts.

"No, please," he begs quietly, squeezing his eyes shut. "I told you; I give up. No more tricks, Alistair."

[happytobleed]

That hurts Castiel, not because Dean doubts him, but because Dean is hurting so much.

"It's really me, Dean." He leans forward, resting his forehead against Dean's for a moment. "I'm sorry I wasn't faster."

He gives them both that moment of just touching--connecting--and then he gets back to freeing Dean. It must hurt, but he knows that not freeing Dean will hurt him more. It's best to force through it.

Wildcard! Whatever you want!

[venatical]