015: [holo] [location: Sunnydale Cemetary] Yellow Fever

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Accidental posts seem to be all the rage for Dean these days.

This time, he's sitting outside, lounging on the back section of his Impala. His expression is a bit tense, like he's uneasy about something, and every once in a while he scratches at his arm, which are turning a bright red color. Maybe there's something on his mind?

Or maybe he's got this weird suspicion that any second now, something nasty things are going to pop out of gravestones in that cemetery he's parked in front of.


[[ooc: Glitch start! ♥]]

Comments

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

"Look, maybe you should put somethin' on that before you tear your arm up." Dammit, man, why do you worry him so much?

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Because that's what Dean does best?

"Like what? It's not gonna get infected, is it?"

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

"If you scratch it raw like that, then yeah."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

ASDF Dean looks vaguely panicked here, and he sort of drops the tablet. He also might be cussing a few times.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

... That's it, Toby's sighing and heading out of his apartment now to find Dean. Luckily the cemetery isn't very far from his place.

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Sorry, Toby. Dean doesn't mean to worry you. When Toby arrives he'll find Dean in the Impala, eyes closed with LOUD music playing.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

He stops outside the car, trying to think of a way to get his attention without making him jump too badly. After a moment, he gives in and knocks on the window.

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Good try, but Dean nearly jumps out of his skin. He fumbles for the volume, turning it down, and then opens to door to the car slowly, almost hesitantly.

"Uh... hey." Scratch scratch.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Yeah, the near-heart-attack isn't helping his concern. Toby steps back so Dean can open the door, looking at him a little warily, thought-blocking not so strong. Maybe he can figure out why he's so anxious.

"Hey." His eyes land on Dean's scratching. "Stop scratching that."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Dean stops scratching immediately, because he's thinking about the whole getting infections and diseases thing. He looks up at Toby, and he's got that expression on his face like he's panicking a bit but trying to keep it under the surface.

"Sorry man, I don't know what's wrong with me, it's--" Pause. Long pause. And then it clicks. "Shit!"

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Toby looks at him expectantly, worriedly. "What is it?"

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

"This has happened before," Dean explains, staring down at his hands. "It's a sickness. A disease. But there's no friggin' ghosts are here, or dead bodies that I've touched, or..."

He looks up at Toby with wide eyes, and crap, there's no ghost of that factory worker here, or anything that can help him.

"I'm gonna die. There's no way out of it," Dean says slowly.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

That scares Toby a bit - and he sees some of the images, and - what - but he tries not to let that on. Dean's freaked out enough for the two of them.

"You're not gonna die, Dean. Okay? We'll figure this out."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

"Yeah? How we gonna figure this one out? You probably know how it worked out the last time, and that was just barely!" His voice is definitely panicked, and that takes the venom out of the words. Dean also might be close to hyperventilating here. "There's no ghost here! And who the hell knows how long I've had it, so I don't even know how long I have--"

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

"Dean." Toby puts a hand on his shoulder. "Breathe. Okay, what have we got here? Different people, different worlds, maybe somebody knows how to fix this before it gets you."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Oh, right. Breathing. Essential to not dying. Deep breaths, Dean.

"It's a sickness. You get scared. Really scared, and eventually you get scared enough that it makes your heart give out. Passed around by a ghost first, then humans." Dean explains shakily.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

... Toby takes his hand off of Dean's shoulder at that, but stays where he is.

"And as far as you know, there's no cure."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Don't worry, Toby, it won't get you.

"Not unless we salt and burn the ghost I got it from, but I haven't even been near anything, so there's no way I'm gonna survive this time," Dean replies, breathing hard.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Toby rubs his eyes, thinking. Ghosts. Ghosts... okay, that's just ridiculous. Right? "Sure being in a cemetery doesn't have anything to do with it?"

He shakes his head. "I dunno. Maybe we should just ask somebody."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

"Yes, I'm sure, this is my job, I know what I'm talking about," Dean snaps, and then stops. And gets out of his car so he can start pacing.

"Like who? Who else is gonna even know what this is?" Pause. Long pause. Then Dean starts coughing.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

It's times like these that make Toby realise that he has no idea what he's doing when it comes to Dean's world, so he decides to stop with the theories. He's in the middle of a shrug when he notices Dean's sudden silence, and the coughing - well, here goes a hat-trick of concern.

"Dean? Dean."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

There's some pretty impressive hacking going on here, and he almost sounds like he's choking, and then he turns, back to Toby, hands bracing himself against the Impala and choking up something on the ground.

"Aw, hell, not this crap again," Dean groans, letting his head thunk down on the top of the car.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

... What the hell? Toby moves, then crouches to look at whatever it was Dean just hacked up.

"... Is that a wood chip?"

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, it's a wood chip." Dean grumbles. "Happened last time, too. Ghost I got it from died from being roadhauled. I'm living it-- or dying it," Pause for a 'hmph' of dry amusement, "--in slow motion."

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Toby rubs his forehead, deciding that he doesn't want to see that. He glances at Dean's arm to distract him from the images waiting to jump into his head.

... Yeah, he's got nothing. For once he feels completely useless.