Subconscious Week [Party Post]

[beyondriftmods]

[OOC: For all your threading needs during subconscious week. Anything and everything that has to do with this plot no matter what day that it occurs on. :> Even little mini ficlets. Works like a party post, tag around as much as you like. Sorry for the slightly cracky post.]For one whole week, the city of Chicago has been afflicted with a new Rift-

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[enjoythe_ride]

Suddenly he is just thereEvery day, every second. He follows her to work, talking at her, whispering to her. She wants to scream back at him, but it's obvious that she's the only one who can see it, so she ignores him. The more she ignores him, the harder it is to make him go away. He sits there, on the edges of her mind and by the end of the week, she's tried to repress him for so long that he's stronger than he is

[lefttogive]

John's had a very difficult week. He's been dealing with--and is still dealing with--the aftermath of what happened between Sonny and Lena, and he hasn't had much room for anything else. He should probably get a day's worth of sleep, but that won't be happening anytime soon. People have been acting odd all week, and at first he'd been too worried and heartsick over his brother to notice.

He's been noticing now.

He's made his way over to the Tower, presumably to talk to Martha, see if she's noticed anything that's out of the ordinary. He's walking past Bela's room and then he--he can't unsee it. He can't ignore it. The sight of her rams into him and he can't do anything but step forward.

Without knowing what the hell's going on.

"Bela?" he asks, his voice cautiously low, chest hurting a little at the sight of her like that. "Bela, it's John."

[enjoythe_ride]

It takes her a moment to recognize him, so lost in the little world that her room has created, that when her eyes finally come to focus on the man in front of her, her friend, her vision is hazy and unfocused. Almost as though she's on some kind of drug.

"What are you doing here?" she frowns. "You don't belong here."

"What have I told you about visitors, Abigail?" he snipes from across the room. "I need to approve all guests. You can't just invite someone over."

Bela's eyes drop to her lap, and she plays with her fingers for a moment before she looks back at him. "You need to go."

[lefttogive]

"I was just checking up on you," he says cautiously, and his eyes scan the room as if that will give him some indication to what she's dealing with, but there's nothing. It's like any other room in the Tower. "You're my friend and I was worried."

Which is putting it mildly. People are dropping like flies and the supernatural hospital hasn't been able to find why people are getting sick or what they're seeing.

"If you really want me to go, Bela, I will," he says, and he takes another tenteative step forward, kneeling down across from her. "But I want to stay. I can't leave you here like this. Not when I want to help. Something's... happening, and people are seeing things that aren't there."

He's been unable to help his brother or fix anything. He wants to be able to help her.

i am a terrible person.

[sitherequietly]

Lucifer fell through the Rift three days ago.

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive," he murmurs as he follows Castiel through Grant Park. "Isn't that how the saying goes? Or at least -- that's what Sam tells me."

The words coming out of Sam's mouth are bitter and hard, and very much unlike the man he knows, but he also knows that it's not Sam. Knows that the thing inside Sam, the one that has never left his side and simply been taunting him for the past three days has Sam locked away, deep inside. While Castiel knows the end of the story, knows that Sam is stronger than Lucifer and in the end they win, but that doesn't make a difference. He never goes away, just continues to taunt him as they go through the park.

"I'm not deceiving anyone."

"Now, now Castiel. We all know you're a terrible liar." The smirk in his voice is unbearable, and he isn't sure why Lucifer hasn't just killed him already. Lucifer is the stronger angel. That much is certain. He could have, he has killed him with a snap

Probably also just as bad.

[starryeyed_cass]

"Cas?"

Cassie knows that things aren't right in Chicago. She knows Anne's been seeing Robin everywhere she goes. Although there can be ghosts in the Tower - Robin wandering around isn't normal. It's not right. Tonks is being followed by a dog, she found out those things on the journals anyway.

She has her own monster following her wherever she goes, too. She blocks out the whispers with music - trying to ignore whatever's snapping at her heels. She doesn't know what else she can do about that.

And now Castiel is stood talking to himself.. well, that's how it appears anyway. There's no one there. Something's wrong, and she doesn't need to think about it - she's already heading over. There's a frown on her face and she's worried. Whatever's going on can't be good in the slightest.

"Who... are you talking to?"

[sitherequietly]

The familiar voice snaps him out of whatever stupor he's in, and when his eyes land on Cassie, he's confused. It reminds him that he's not home. That Lucifer doesn't have the same kind of power here. But what confuses him the most is the fact that she seems to be confused as to who he's talking to.

However, the idea that he's actually seeing things doesn't occur to him. Instead, he just assumes that she's asking who it is he's talking to, and his eyes track Lucifer as he moves around the girl, reaching up to brush strands of hair from her shoulder.

"No one," Castiel replies. "He's no one." At least, he is here.

[starryeyed_cass]

Cassie stares at him, still worried. She wonders if it's happening to him too, that he's seeing ghosts too. If Anne's seeing Robin everywhere she goes, maybe Castiel has some one following him too. One that's talking, anyway. Anne said Robin's words were silent.

"But... there's no one there," she says quietly, looking around at the space around him. "Who's he? Who's there?"

She shakes her head, "Something is very wrong, something's happening to people all over the city. I don't know why, but it is," she says, not noticing the person circling around her. She feels somewhat uncomfortable, but she's putting that down to whatever's happening in general.

[starryeyed_cass]

Cassie is walking back to Kashtta. She has her iPod on, music blaring to keep the noise out. The voices are getting louder, angrier and she tries to ignore them - but they’re far from giving up. They were just whispers at first, jumbled up and hard to figure out what they were saying to her. She'd hear them outside, inside, they were at their worst when she was alone - sat in silence.

And as she walks, they suddenly scream so loudly over the roar of the guitar and furious sound of drums that she jumps. The music's not working now. It was, but it won't any more. She stops walking, fear in her face and peers over her shoulder at the glimpse of shadows.

But this time, they don’t disappear like they have done. Silently and suddenly vanishing out of view. This time, they’re real. She turns around and gasps at the huge, almost shapeless creature before her. Snapping teeth, snarling and screaming. She puts her hands over her ears, the noise is deafening. And no one else is standing in terror or running for safety.

‘Can’t save your

[lefttogive]

John's about to fire the day.

Really, he is.

Everyone's been screaming their heads off or acting very strangely, and he's vacilated between being concerned and being perplexed. He realizes he should just chalk it up as another day in the Rift, but he can't when everyone seems so scared. He's about to return to the Crowbar to check up on Sonny when he hears Cassie. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of that creature and he grabs Cassie by the wrist, pulling her back so that she's placed directly behind him and he's a shield between her and the creature.

It's okay if she keeps running, so as long as it doesn't get to her.

He picks up his gun and starts firing off shot after shot, but it keeps advancing, so John starts running in the same direction, alternately turning around and shooting back at it whenever he can.

"There's a bar not too far from here!" John shouts at her. "You'll be safe there."

[starryeyed_cass]

Cassie lets out a yell when someone grabs her wrist and she's sure that it's just the creature again. But it's not and she's not thinking - just moving, cowering. "It won't matter, it's always there," she sobs, "It's everywhere,"

The creature lets out a low growl, not impressed in the slightest at the bullets being fired into it. It observes Cassie now hiding behind John. "Hiding. Hiding behind everyone. Too scared to face yourself. You will lose everyone, everyone will die. Snivelling, scared little girl."

The creature disappears for a moment and then reappears behind them, focused on Cassie. It's not interested in John, it just wants her. "Friends gone, rotting in the ground and you couldn't save them. Broke your promise. Failure, failure, failure..."

"I didn't mean to," Cassie cries, shaking her head. "I didn't,"

The creature pauses, staring and growling.

[lefttogive]

John doesn't stop running until they reach the far corner of a street, and he tugs her further into it, momentarily blocking what's scaring her away.

He glances back before focusing on her. The Guardian inside of him is kicking into gear. The Calling is strong, and it tells him to protect.

Always, always protect.

He places both hands on either of her arms to grab her attention.

"Hey, don't listen to that thing. Listen to me. Focus on my voice, alright. It only has power over you if you let it.. Don't hear what it's saying, whatever it's saying, and if you realize you're stronger than it--it might go away."

[halfhuman_hero]

Doyle is down at Navy Pier, waiting for Tonks. In the last week, he's died roughly thirty times. He doesn't realise he's been doing it - completely oblivious to each accidental fall off a building, each mugging gone wrong, each vicious bar fight, each accidental drowning.

His body can't handle the strain of so many deaths in such a short space of time, there's no time for him to heal right. So he looks battered and bruised and covered in blood.

And all the while, he still doesn't realise. The reality of Chicago is far from his now. He's stuck in his own little world where everything is good and warm and normal. Nothing can go wrong, there's no sadness or pain - just the bottle in his hand.

So Doyle stands, leaning against the railings looking across the lake with a delirious smile on his face. Never been happier.

[imwotchingyou]

Suddenly, there was a loud bang. Had she not spent so much time walking and explore the city she would not have been able to locate the docks. She didn't care who saw her teleport in. It didn't matter.

She hadn't been having a very good week either. For the past several nights she's been haunted by nightmares, dreams and memories. They served to remind her of what she allowed to happen. They told her of who robbed from. No riches, no but memories. They didn't have to say it to her face, that they blamed her for stealing a best mate and a godfather. She did that enough on her own.

As bad as the dreams were, they weren't as bad as that big black dog that followed her around. It was always out of reach though.

"Doyle!"

When she had talked with him over her journal, she had really needed a friend only he seemed to need one more. She hated it. Tonks wanted just once for someone to put her first but she realized that she didn't deserve it, not when she got people killed.

"Where are you?"

[halfhuman_hero]

Doyle's humming - oblivious to pretty much everything around him. He doesn't even notice the people who stop and stare at his torn, bloodstained clothes. He takes another swig from the nearly empty bottle scotch and turns, a look of pleasant surprise on his face when he hears someone call from him.

He looks about for the colourful Witch and waves as soon as he spots her. "Over 'ere, darlin'" he calls brightly.

He's somewhat drunk, he's already died twice drowning himself with alcohol already. But the gleeful giddiness about him isn't normal. There's drunk Doyle and then there's this.

"You done sommat with yer hair? 'tis right colourful t'day," he asks with wide eyes. In his fantasy world, everything is brighter and vivid. He can't see how tired she looks or that she's got her own problems to deal with right now.

He doesn't see reality any more - he can no longer tell the difference between what's real and what's just in his head.

[imwotchingyou]

Tonks saw the wave and approached Doyle. She stopped close enough to him that she could've touched him. She did not like what she saw.

He was filthy. His clothing was torn. There was blood on him everywhere. She would've been sympathetic had he not reeked of alcohol. Tonks liked her drink but this was ridicules. This is why he needed me? He's drunk? "What the bloody hell happened to you?"

She was angry. Tonks reached forward in an effort to jerk the bottle of booze out of his hand. If she was able to, she was going to toss it over the side of the dock. "Yeah. I did something with my hair alright."

[isaywe_party]

Buffy Summers killed her best friend.

It's not survivor's guilt, and Willow wasn't collateral damage. She wasn't even Willow anymore at the time, but that didn't change the fact that it was Willow and she dragged Buffy two hundred years in the future to kill her. She killed her best friend.

She can still remember the feel of the scythe dragging up through her body, and the feel of the blood on her skin. It's the kind of sensation you can't easily forget, and even if she never actually saw Willow's body, even if she just jumped and didn't look back, the fact that that is the way things have to be, that death is still all she's good for, eats at her every day, and she doesn't know how to handle it.

She wants Willow. Her Willow. But even here in Chicago, she can't have that.

"You're going to have to admit it some day, Buffy. You kill me. Do you really think that if you ever get home, you're going to be able to look at Willow every day and not feel that lump in your throat? That you'll be able to look at Xander here and not

[enoughtocarry]

Sam's surprised he's unaffected by whatever's going on in the city. He's surprised, but not unpleasantly so. He's always the one stuck right in the middle of things. He's always the one that people die for or people get in trouble for. Guilt is such an easy thing for a Winchester to feel, and they have plenty of ammo where that comes from. There are plenty of things he's in denial of and plenty of things he simply never allows himself to face, but there's nothing haunting him.

The image of Jess doesn't follow him around. The yellow-eyed demon is nowhere in sight. A younger Mary isn't whispering into his ear, before she's pinned to the ceiling and fire breaks it all apart.

There's only a deserted street and Buffy. Buffy and the sound of her crying.

When they met, something big and terrible had happened to her. He could tell, but she wouldn't say--and who could blame her?

Sam swallows hard, swallows past that feeling in his throat, and he makes his way over to her. He wants to reach for her, but he doesn't know how that's going to

[isaywe_party]

For the longest time, Buffy isn't aware of anything around her. There's so much that needed to just be released and let go, that she didn't have the focus for anything else. She just needs to let it all go, and in the end she'll be fine

[enoughtocarry]

It doesn't occur to Sam to ask anything right now. He'll want to know later, because he wants to know more about her, but he isn't going to push about it, either. All he thinks to do right now is get close enough to her to reach out. He can't get the image of her crying in the middle of the street out of his head, and he doesn't think he will anytime soon.

He brings her to him, an arm slipping around her own waist to draw her in further, pressing her closely to him. She's so small, far stronger than her frame would make it seem, but still--she's small, like she might break in half when Sam knows better than that.

"It's okay," he whispers into her hair, running a hand up and down her back.

Whatever it is, he can tell it's not okay, but what he means is she's not alone and she doesn't have to carry it alone, whatever it is that made her react like that.

And he'll keep holding her tightly to him until she pulls away, or until she lets it all out.