taxonomites | 012: [machine] Don't hurt yourself, Dean. [locked to Toby]

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012: [machine] Don't hurt yourself, Dean. [locked to Toby]

[A few seconds of awkward silence, and then Dean's voice comes on, somewhat stiff.]

... Toby. Hey, man. I... uh. Crap, I'm not even-- [The sound of Dean clearing his throat, and then he's starting over.]

Listen. It wasn't-- life or death, but still, you went through a pretty friggin' nasty time trying to help me out, and I-- I'm grateful. Shit, I really suck at this.

So this is... I don't even know if you'd want to deal with my head after that whole thing, so if you don't, don't reply and I'll get it. But if you're not pissed, and that'd surprise the Hell out of me, reply back. And we can-- shit, I don't know, go get drinks. Or something.

... Yeah. God dammit, that was pathetic. Where's the delete button-- [There's a few more mumbled curses, and then the message clicks off. What say you, Toby?]

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[a... while later, after a bit of debate, Toby's answering --]

... Hey. Good to hear you're okay.

Look... I don't know what I saw, what you were dreaming about... what it meant, or even what happened to you. I don't think I want to know. But I'm not pissed, 'cause it's not your fault.

So, uh... [pauses hesitantly, not wanting to see any of that stuff again, but...] Tell you what, I'll take you up on those drinks.

[This would be relief, in Dean's voice.]

Good. Good. It's... [Pause; he's thinking about what sitting with Toby might do, and he's hoping he can control himself. He's had a few days to think this over, so he thinks he can manage.]

You sure, man?

I'm sure. Five minutes? Or, uh - do you still need that wheelchair? [/kids]

Five minutes. [Snort.] I resent that, dude.

Yeah, sure. See you there.

Dean heads for The Bronze, since he feels like having a bit of Boston to go along with his booze. It's not often that he's in a Boston mood, but hey, why not.

So he messes with the music again, like he had the last time he was here, and soon he's sitting at the bar with a bottle of booze and a nervous tick; his fingers drum against the counter, sometimes in time with the music, sometimes not.

He's concentrating on locking down his thoughts, so he can concentrate on not giving Toby migraines.

And Toby shows up, hearing the Boston as he steps over the threshold. He's doing his best - even though he knows that Dean is trying, too, - to block out any and all thoughts. He wants to have a drink with Dean, let him know that things are still cool between them, and that would mean avoiding anything like their last encounter.

Toby raises a hand in greeting, glancing around at the Bronze.

"Hey."

Dean hears Toby and turns, flashing him a small grin. He's pretty sure he's alright with squishing any and all thoughts of anything unpleasant to the back of his mind at this point. Between the two of them he thinks they can manage to at least have something normal.

"Hey," Dean answers, offering Toby one of the beers he'd commandeered a few moments ago. "How's it going?"

Other than the massive migraines I caused you-- cut that out. And then silence from Dean's end, as he thinks nice, blank thoughts.

Toby takes it, smiles a little, ignoring the whisper of a thought he catches before Dean smothers it. He cracks open the beer and takes a seat.

"Not too bad. Getting to meet everybody, mostly. How's the hand?" He gestures at it with the beer.

Dean takes a sip from his beer, glancing over as Toby sits.

"Good. You meet anybody more interesting than me?" Dean jokes. And then he lifts his hand, revealing more of the cast. "Still broken. But it's alright."

"Tough contest." He smirks, takes a drink, nods at Dean's cast. "I've gotta say, though... I don't mean this to be a jerk or anything, but there are some weird people here."

"Nah, I totally understand," Dean snorts. "Who'd you have in mind?"

"What... the two I met who got attacked by a guy who... turned into a vampire? And that friend of yours, Anna, I haven't heard a single thing from her since I got here." Not to mention she calmed Dean's head just by touching him. "I know my gift well enough by now to know that that's not normal."

"Oh, yeah. That wasn't that long ago," Dean nods. "One of the vics, this chick named Inara, was passed out right outside Bobby's house. When it was still here."

Dean glances at Toby, very briefly, then takes a significantly larger gulp of beer. "Probably 'cause she's an angel. I don't think they've got the same Wi-fi connection as us."

Toby pauses with the bottle to his lips, staring at Dean. He'd been about to ask how many victims there were, and if they were okay -- but hold up, angel?

"... Okay, vampires and monsters are one thing. You're joking, right?"

Dean snorts into his beer.

"You have no idea how many people ask me that. No, I'm not kidding." And here, Dean lets his thoughts relax enough for Toby to get a flash of Anna's grace returning to her, if he's open for it. The barriers are back up as soon as he can get them, and he's realizing this is way harder than he'd thought.

Toby laughs disbelievingly, rubbing his head as he lets those images in. He closes his eyes, massages them briefly.

"Holy crap."

"Actually, that's what I said." Dean chuckles. "Didn't believe in angels. They're not so bad once you get used to 'em."

"That's crazy," he says, but it's not an accusation -- just an observation. He's never really believed in angels, either, or God. He respected people who had faith, because he could understand it, in a way. But in his life, he needed proof of something like that.

"You, uh... hang out with angels a lot, Dean?"

In Dean's line of work, God was a curseword, not a belief.

"Yeah," Dean flashes Toby a grin. "I do. Cas used to be a dick, but he's been working on the whole pleasant company thing. Anna's cool, used to be human, but now she's an angel."

Amused, Dean watches his fingers tap to the rhythm of the song playing on the loudspeaker.

"In case you haven't noticed, I lead a pretty friggin' weird life."

"Yeah. I noticed." Toby grins, shakes his head and downs a mouthful of beer.

"So other than ambulance rap, what kind of weird stuff happens where you're from?" Dean asks, raising an eyebrow.

Toby shrugs. "It's Toronto. Murder, accidents, crazy Much Music parties, crazy people..." He pauses, taps the neck of his beer bottle to the beat thoughtfully. "So far I've met one other person like me, but she can heal people, too. And that's about as weird as it gets."

"You met someone like you?" Dean repeats, surprised. He shouldn't be, considering how used to psychic stuff he is, but still. "That had to be a shock, right?"

Toby nods, looking down at the bar. "Yeah. I mean, I've been looking for these people my entire life, but it was still pretty unbelievable. ... I just hope this means there are answers out there somewhere."

Dean nods. "Just... watch out for that. The whole psychic thing isn't exactly good for the general public where I'm from."

Toby raises an eyebrow, although he figures as much.

"Hey, no wonder."

"No wonder?" Dean repeats, glancing over at Toby.

"Well... it's a psychic thing. Don't mean to sound pessimistic, but when do psychic things ever end up being good for you?"

He thinks about his mom. That man.

"What do you mean, though? Specifically?"

Dean nods thoughtfully, like he's thinking back. Nope, psychic does not equal any good experience in his life like... ever.

"Not exactly." Dean replies, and then he pauses. He's arrived at that mental roadblock, where he always struggles on weather he wants to tell or not. But Toby's seen just about everything else, and Dean figures he's curious about other psychics.

"... My brother's like you, sort of. I told you that. He's... part of this thing. Not by choice, but he was picked for it. And it's bad enough to make the angels freak out about it." Dean explains vaguely.

"Well that sounds good," Toby mutters, trying to keep out of Dean's head. "So obviously it wasn't some kind of God-given gift, huh."

Dean swallows a huge swig of beer.

"God-given's not the word I'd use to explain it, no." Dean says, looking the other direction. "But you don't got anything to worry about, since it looks like you don't have demon problems where you come from."

He's distant, remembering when he'd watched Sam killing Samhain. And then he remembers who he's sitting with and immediately thinks of something different. Like beer.

Edited 2009-06-30 17:11 (UTC)

"So did he always have that... ability?" Toby shifts a little.

"Nah. It started happening when he turned twenty-three. As far as I know. He doesn't like to talk about and I'm not pushing."

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012: [machine] Don't hurt yourself, Dean. [locked to Toby]

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[Location: The Bronze]

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