taxonomites | 030: [Location: Buffy's castle/ Accidental Visual] we're not in Hell anymore, Toto--

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030: [Location: Buffy's castle/ Accidental Visual] we're not in Hell anymore, Toto--

Every morning, Dean Winchester awakes to the smell of fire and brimstone and rotting flesh, the sounds of screaming and pleading, the sight of things so gruesome the human mind couldn't even begin to imagine them. He takes his morning walk, and then goes to his office, where he starts his work. It's not pleasant work, not by any means, but he does get enjoyment out of coaxing whimpers out of those who are sent to him. He always gets the most stubborn souls, you see.

This morning, he wakes up in an entirely different place. Even as a demon, Dean Winchester hates to wake up in a place he doesn't know.

He doesn't think, just rolls out of the bed he's in and heads for the door (where the hell is he, a castle?), immediately getting lost. This is around the point that the tablet turns on, showing Dean wandering the castle with a rather lost look on his face-- lost, but irritated.

In fact, at one point, when he opens a door and it leads to a room that has nobody in it, people watching the tablet may see a flash of black in Dean's eyes. It's gone a second later, though. Must have been a trick of the light?

[ooc: Dean's glitch! Go go go~]

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Buffy is walking to the kitchen from her room. All signs point to 'coffee trip', given the fact that her hair is of the slightly bedhead variety and she's wearing a robe. Obviously the thing she needs right now, after just waking up, is demon Dean. Or, more specifically, almost walking into demon Dean.

"Oh, hey Dean," she half-smiles apologetically, and a little sleepily. Noticing the slightly odd lost/irritated expression, she adds, quickly. "Are you okay?"

For a moment, Dean is confused. Buffy? He hadn't seen Buffy in years. And now she's here, and she looks like she hasn't aged a bit since the last time he saw her. Of course, this realization only takes seconds, and after those seconds, he figures that he'd better play along for the moment.

"Uh, yeah. Just, uh. Lost." Dean flashes her a grin. "Big castle."

Chalking that little pause up to early morning slowness, she smiles back, that tiny hint of concern vanishing from her features with his explanation.

"I keep forgetting you've never lived here before-- where were you headed? I can give you incoherent directions."

... Well, crap. Where would he be going?

"The kitchen," Dean replies, and there's definitely something off about this whole conversation. He's noticing it, too, so he's trying to adjust as quickly as possible. Interact with the human, it's not that hard. "You heading there too?"

Jeeze. Awkward.

This is certainly a lot more stilted than usual, but maybe she's just tired? That's probably it. She nods in confirmation, starting to walk again, in the direction she'd been going previously, which is towards some stairs.

"Yeah, I was planning on making something resembling coffee, except with enough syrup to take down a... wild boar. You want some? Coffee, that is. Syrup is optional."

She's not immediately suspicious, so Dean's relieved, somewhere. His brain's moving a million miles a second, planning out what's going to happen, trying to dig deep enough to remember how to be like he used to be. Buffy can't be suspicious, or this'll never work. Granted, he wasn't expecting to be tossed back into Taxon when he went to sleep (or whatever it was he did down there) but hell, why not work with it?

A malicious grin spreads across his face when Buffy walks off, and Dean follows, shoving his hands in his pockets. Banter. Right, that's what he and Buffy used to do. He still does it, just... not pleasantly.

"I'm thinking bacon, actually, but yeah, coffee's good," Dean lets a beat go by, then: "I'll never get the syrup-creamer-whatever thing. Sam puts a bunch of crap in his. Must be a chick thing."

Alas, if Dean were a vampire, she would be able to sense it with her funky-supernatural-slayer-fu, but as far as demons go she's oblivious, so she continues to lead the way, glancing over her shoulder at him, at intervals.

"Bacon's also good. I think we have bacon." She chuckles a little at his observations on coffee-- credit to the demon, he's not doing a terrible job. "What's to get? It tastes better when you put a ton of sugar in it, which is the case with most things-- and Sam never seemed that girly to me. He's all tall and... manly."

He makes sure his expression is natural, just in case. Can't have her looking back at him and spotting something suspicious.

"Damn straight we got bacon," Dean replies. If he was right, and he was living there, obviously there was bacon. Jeeze. Even as a demon, he's a huge fan of bacon. Not that... they get bacon often in Hell, but. "You didn't grow up with the kid. Sammy's a regular emo kid."

Oh, Sam is plenty manly. But he does have girly drinks.

Double your Summers, double your fun? Dawn will just be wandering into the kitchen now, still half asleep and in pajamas. Her hair is smushed on one side, which is clearly a sign not all is well.

"Morning, Dean." She yawns widely, rummaging through the freezer for ice cream while still leaning sleepily against the wall. "If I promise to stop telling you crack is whack, will you make me eggs?"

Dean has managed to find his way to the kitchen, finally, after vaguely remembering the layout of the castle. At this point, he's settling into his old role, but he's itching to do something productive. And Dawn seems like a likely candidate.

"Yeah, maybe." Dean replies, and as he passes her, he ruffles her hair. Like he always used to do. He's not sure what else to say, though, it's been so long. Come on, Dean, it's just like being human again. "... Pretty sure ice cream doesn't go with eggs, though."

... Did it? He can't remember.

"Dean." Cue the aggravated whine, although as per usual, Dawn will not being moving or even actually objecting to her hair being ruffled. Principle of the matter, obviously. "The ice cream is for while I'm waiting for the eggs."

There's a joke to be made here about gluttony being Dawn's sin.

Dean remembers this. The whole game, the sibling thing. He used to do the same thing with Sam. It was a long time ago, but it still hurts, and Dean has gotten into a routine of picking at, destroying, cutting up the things that hurt. So obviously, this little chat is going to be Dean's victim.

"Uh huh, because that's healthy." Dean rolls his eyes, heading to the fridge. Come on, she just needs to turn, do something to be off guard so Dean can start his job...

"Right, the patron saint of all things deep fried is going to lecture me on healthy eating." Having found the kind of ice cream she was looking for-- peach, because it's almost like fruit, kind of-- Dawn yawns again and turns to sit at the table. "Put lots of cheese in the eggs, okay?"

Gotcha.

Dean stops on his way to the fridge, and turns; she's not paying attention, she's sleepy, she's not going to be able to fight back. He grins, and lifts a hand, demonic powers flickering to life and shoving Dawn against the wall.

"Eh. Maybe later," Dean says mildly, holding her there as he heads to the drawers in search of tools. "Not really feeling the egg-making vibe right now."

Dawn's back thumps against the wall with a painful sounding crack, breath whooshing out of her in a quick rush. She doesn't respond for a second, although the half asleep laziness is officially gone.

"...Dean?" No terror, not yet. Wariness, but this is Dean. He wouldn't hurt her, right?

"I'd say Bingo, but you're only half right," Dean says, and his tone is pretty cheerful; not quite Stepford-y, like it was before, but. He's rummaging through things, still on the search for tools. "I'll give you three guesses, Dawnie."

He pauses in his search, and glances over his shoulder, grinning. His eyes are a deep black.

Now the terror is creeping in. On little cat feet. Demon feet. It's possible lack of sleep and panic are making Dawn slightly less than linear.

"Where's Dean?" She's shaking, slightly, but still manages to lift her chin and glare. "Because if he finds out you used his body to be a jerk to me, you're going down."

"Aw, that's cute," Dean says in a sing-song tone. He's finally found a knife, which is nice, as well as a lighter. The knife, really, is all he needs. The lighter gets placed aside for later.

"I am Dean," He continues, advancing on Dawn with the knife in his hand, examining the edge with a very interested expression. "But like I said. Only half right. Hell ain't an easy place to live in, sweetheart."

"Get out of him." She's not looking at the knife. Not, not, not. Just keep her eyes on his-- black, like... a snake? Or shark. Something black-eyed and creepy-- and the knife won't be real. "Shut up. You're not him."

"Think your tablet got switched on," Max says to the vision of Dean that's popped up on her tablet. She doesn't seem to have noticed the flash of black, instead she's bent over, zipping up her boots.

Dean pretty much jumps out of his skin when he hears the voice on his tablet. Wasn't expecting that. When he realizes the tablet's on his wrist, he blinks once, and then lifts it up to look at it. Oh, right. He remembers this thing.

"Uh... thanks," Dean replies slowly, peering at the tablet. She looks familiar... she was in Taxon, and he remembers now-- "--Max."

Play it smooth, natural.

"No problem," she responds, sitting up and picking up her tablet. "These things can be a pain in the ass sometimes."

"Yeah, no joke. Stupid technology, huh?" Dean jokes, grinning. He doesn't really remember if they were good enough friends for this, but hell, why not? This'll give him a chance to have some fun. His fingers are itching for a good knife.

"Hey, Max, you busy at all right now?"

"Uh...no, not really," she replies after a quick glance at the clock. "Why, what's up?"

"Wanna get some food or something?" Just have to find a way to lure her out.

That strikes her a pretty odd - she and Dean have gotten along whenever they've talked, but it's not like they know each other all that well. But she had been just about to head out to get something to eat anyway, so...

"Uh, yeah. Okay," she agrees. "Where?"

That's what Dean was counting on. Grinning slightly, Dean shrugs.

"Whatever's good. I usually just grab stuff from the hatches and go. There any bakeries or something 'round here?"

"I don't know about bakeries, but there's a diner in Osten," she replies. "That work okay for you?"

Drusilla didn't make a habit of leaving her dungeon during the day. She didn't trust the false sunlight any more than she trusted the bracelet on her wrist or the people who had pulled her here. But the footsteps of the little Slayer ghosts - echoes of the battles that had been fought here, before Taxon - that haunted the walls were making it impossible for her to sleep. They'd been restless ever since the true Buffy, her Buffy, had arrived.

She stepped out into the hall, running a hand over the brickwork and feeling the pulse of the stones. Something was here. Or a someone. Not right, though. Wrong enough to fight with.

The Slayer ought to be more careful with her invitations.

Dean's done with Buffy and Dawn at this point. He has no idea where they are now, but he figures they'll probably start getting pissed soon, and go for the torches and pitchforks. His desire for a knife and an unwilling victim has be sated for the moment, but he's quickly starting to itch for someone else.

When he turns the corner, he sees a girl down the hallway. He's never seen her before, but something's telling him she's no regular human girl. Either way, there's no way she could tell what he was, he figures. Play it safe.

Dean walks down the hallway, all casual and collected. "Hey. Y'alright?"

Drusilla didn't know what he was. He was very different to the demons in her own world, after all. They were nowhere near as pretty and they were rarely as interesting. All she knew was that he was interesting.

Curiosity killed the cat, perhaps, but Drusilla wasn't a cat. And she'd died a long time ago.

"I was just going for a walk. It's an interesting morning. I should try and read the clouds."

Dean doesn't recognize this chick, but he can definitely sense something off about her. For one, she looks sort of spacey, and two, she's got that vibe that supernatural things give off. If Dean had been human, he wouldn't have sensed it, but being a demon has it's perks. That grabs his interest. What would it be like to take apart something supernatural? Would she scream?

"Yeah? Y'think the clouds got anything to say?" Dean asks, raising an eyebrow. He's good at acting.

"They always do," Drusilla replied, pleasantly. It wasn't always easy to read them, but the words were there for those who wanted to look. "Maybe they'll tell me who you are. Does the Slayer know you're wandering in her castle?"

She'd been careless enough to invite Drusilla inside, but Buffy at least kept track of all the ins and outs. It was probably easier to do that now that there were far fewer Slayers.

A half-awake captain made his way down one of the many long halls of the castle, bound for a wing that had a hatch, in need of something to eat on this fine morning and not in the mood to put fourth the effort to make something. While things between himself and Buffy have been mended, Kirk's not yet warmed up to the season and the fact that his twenty-sixth birthday is less than a week away isn't brightening his spirit any. If anything, it's darkening it. But, the issues he has have nothing to do with the people here and he's done well so far-- snapping at Buffy after a mistletoe glitch run-in with an already glitching Uhura aside-- with keeping that anger and frustration separate.

Spotting Dean, he pauses. Kirk doesn't really know the guy all that well, but he can't help but speak up. The guy seems...lost? Odd, considering Dean's lived in this castle a lot longer than he has.

"Get turned around?"

Oh. Oh. There's an odd sort of excitement that Dean gets when he sees Kirk, a feeling he got whenever Alastair put new victims in front of him to play with. This guy-- Dean didn't know him well, couldn't remember much except for the fact that he was Buffy's boyfriend. That was all he needed to remember, though, because that gave him a reason for talking to Kirk. Buffy'd hurt him. So Dean would hurt her boyfriend.

Dean glances at Kirk, and flashes him a grin. "Yeah, looks like. Freakin' castle's huge. You'd think I'd know my way around by now."

Mary thinks that if she lived in a castle, she would be as confused as her son looks when the tablet shows her an image of him wandering around. He has perfect timing though; she's baking muffins, and had planned on telling him to bring some over to his new home. She has a tendency to make more than she needs of, oh, everything. It might have something to do with the son who has a bottomless pit for a stomach.

"Morning," she smiles, giving him a cheerful greeting to match her good mood. She hasn't been in touch with anyone who might make her artificially happy, but the holiday season has done a lot to lift her spirits. "You look like you're lost. Take a wrong turn somewhere?"

Edited 2010-01-02 02:37 (UTC)

Cue slight alkfjdh-ing in response to the voice coming from his tablet; he's not expecting anything to come out of it, and he's definitely not expecting to hear his mother's voice. For a moment, when he stares at her on the tablet, he's motionless, stops right in his tracks and just stares. That's about the point where the hole in his chest where his humanity used to be starts trying to kill him.

Oh, man. His mother. Decades and decades of Hell, and he comes to this random point in his history, only to find his mother. Karma is a bitch.

But, he gets a hold of himself (no time for memories, she's going to pay for making him feel like that) pasting on a sheepish grin and shrugs. "Yeah, guess so. Big castle, y'know?"

"I don't think you'd be able to call it a castle if it wasn't the kind of place that you could get lost in," she laughs, turning away from the tablet long enough to take two trays of muffins out of the oven. Once she has them out to cool, she turns off the oven and picks up the tablet again. "We can talk later, if you need to contact one of your friends. You know that all I have is time."

Oh, man. Muffins. Memories are flooding Dean's mind, memories of being taken care of. That aches. And she's going to pay for it.

"Nah, I'm good. I'm probably just gonna go back to my room," Dean replies, scratching the back of his neck. He hesitates for what he thinks is the right amount of time, then awkwardly continues: "We can talk now, I guess."

Edited 2010-01-02 23:32 (UTC)

"I don't want to bother you, sweetheart." It's hard for her, because seeing him on that tablet reminds her that he's the only one still in the city. Ever since Sam left, she's been even more worried about Dean and Toby than she was before. She wants to make sure that they're safe all of the time.

"How is life at the castle? Everything alright?" Mary asks, curious as to how things are going over there.

He doesn't remark on the first comment Mary makes-- she is bothering him, and as capable a liar he is, Dean's sure he couldn't answer that without blowing his cover. Sour-faced for a moment, Dean goes back to where he thinks his room is, and settles on the edge of the bed. He has to rearrange the expression on his face into something more pleasant, but it's fine, only takes a moment.

"Yeah, it's good," Dean replies, letting some of that irritation creep into his voice. Have to set up an opportunity, after all. Pause, and then, almost casually: "Better family than what I had before."

Oh. Ouch.

Dean's words might as well be a knife piercing Mary's already fragile heart. She knows that it's different for him without Sam - it's different for her, too - but they haven't talked about that. She was expecting him to be a little less blunt if it ever did come up, so she winces instinctively, immediately trying to recover and act like that didn't bother her at all.

"As long as you're happy," she says quietly, ready for this conversation to be over. "I'll let you get back to them."

Later, he's going to hate himself for this. Hate himself. As much as he may ever feel resentful, there's no way that he'd ever blame his mother for it. His father, maybe, but never Mary. Right now, there's decades of pain and suffering on top of everything else, and Dean is too much of a demon to care about her feelings.

"Guess I will," Dean says casually, like he doesn't realize he's just hurt her. He does realize it, and he's amused by it. If Mary's paying attention, she'll be able to see the gleam of black in Dean's eyes as he prepares to throw the tablet aside.

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030: [Location: Buffy's castle/ Accidental Visual] we're not in Hell anymore, Toto--

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[ location: summers castle]

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aldkjfh I FEEL BAD NOW

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAM

SOB

stranger danger :(

lkjhsd wrryyyy

WOW LJ THANKS FOR THIS NOTIF /EVER/

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[Location: Buffy's Castle]

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[ location: buffy's castle ] i should've tagged this days ago, curse you irl.

[ location: buffy's castle ] lol don't worry, i'm a fail at replying >>

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