18: [Action/Video] Touch Me

[dashboardlite]

A video camera, recording, is propped up on Dean's bedside table, giving any viewers a wide frame of his torso and head.  A bottle of Scotch sits next to it, half-empty.  The Doors' Touch Me is playing in the background, fairly quietly as Dean's music goes.  He's thumbing through an automobile magazine, predictably, and humming along (a wee bit off

Comments

[sadfreezingbrit]

[ The transmission starts off with a sheepish look from Phil, but quickly turns into his best perfectly cheerful and our last meeting didn't end on awkward terms nope no way smile.

And granted, he actually is in a fairly good mood for a change, so now is as good a time as any to make sure he doesn't break off contact with his new acquaintance. Neurotically worried because Dean didn't get back to him for over a week? Him? No way! ]

Hey... [ SMILE. ]

Happy birthday!

...Did you actually just almost forget about that? Your own birthday?

[dashboardlite]

[He looks surprised at first, mostly because, admittedly, he hasn't kept in touch with Philip since the last time they hung out and shot guns and Philip had wandered away sort of mumbling to himself and looking vaguely guilty about something.

And then there was that thing where Dean went hunting the Operator with very little information to back him up, and he got disemboweled and Cas put him back together.

But Dean shrugs off any spiteful comments in favor of accepting the birthday wishes, and he cracks a smile, rubbing the back of his head.]

...yeeeah, sorta. In my line of work, we don't exactly find time to celebrate a buncha stuff. But thanks, man. Feels kinda weird to be so close to thirty, but...eh. What're you gonna do, right?

[sadfreezingbrit]

Grin and bear it?

...It's really not that bad once you get past it.

{ You tell him, grandpa! }

[dashboardlite]

[To be honest, it doesn't really bother Dean - He's never cared much about his age, since he looks attractive all the damn time - but being on the tail-end of his twenties is weird.]

That ain't exactly the issue. [He quirks a wry grin.] In my reality, I'd be dead right now. I wasn't gonna live past twenty-nine no matter what.

[Angels be damned, Castiel can talk about the Apocalypse all he wants, but Dean is pretty set on the fact that he's going to Hell and nothing's going to bring him out of The Pit.]

[sadfreezingbrit]

[ Oh. Wow.

I mean... ouch. ]

You're...

[ He stops himself. Nope, 'prod further to find out what Dean is going to die of' is not on the list of approved things to ask during this conversation.

Even if 'wasn't going to live past twenty-nine no matter what' sounds oddly specific for a disease. Prognosis, sure, but there's always some leeway and besides--

And that really doesn't exactly matter now, does it? ]

I'm... sorry.

[dashboardlite]

Don't be.

[Dean waves off the condolences, shrugging a little. It doesn't bother him to talk about so much, anyway - Particularly having experienced a death as gruesome as he has recently, at the hands of the Operator. Hell will be Hell; it's not supposed to be a cakewalk.]

S'my own damn fault, and I had my reasons.

[It's then that Dean remembers that not everyone is up-to-date on the lore of his own world, so he elaborates.]

I sold my soul to save my brother. [He explains bluntly, unbothered.] Normally you get a pretty sweet deal - Whatever you want, and you fork it over after ten years when the repo man comes callin'. [Dean is quiet for a moment.] ...they gave me one year. When I first got here, I had around two months left, so I'm way past my expiration date. I ain't complainin' since Hell ain't exactly dinner with the Kennedys, but I didn't expect to be older than twenty-eight when I bit the dust.

[sadfreezingbrit]

[ Selling your soul is hardly a foreign concept in Phil's world, but it's been very exclusively restricted to fiction, so that story... is kind of a lot to take in. ]

...Wow.

[ Give him a moment. ]

And there's-- There's nothing you can do, you're just going to die when you get back?

{ Hey, looks like you two got somethin' in common after all! Unless you still think you can fight us, put things right and get away with it too... }

[dashboardlite]

Yep.

[Dean picks at his cuticles, glancing back up at Philip after a moment to take in the Englishman's expression. Oh wow, he really is surprised. Dean chuckles dryly.]

Yeah, 'm gonna die when I get back. You're like my br- [He did not just nearly make another comparison to Sam. Dean is feeling the loss a lot more recently; like he's emptier without his brother and desperately trying to find parts of Sam in other people.] ...someone I know.

[He nods slowly.] I made a deal with a demon, Phil. I can't break outta that no matter what I do, and believe me - I've tried everything. The bitch has me by the short 'n curlies. Hellhounds are on my trail. [And practically breathing down his neck.]

Not gonna lie, man...I'm not lookin' forward to it. But as long as my brother's alive, s'all I need to know.

[sadfreezingbrit]

[ Philip nods slowly, but what follows then is yet more silence during which he frantically searches for a direction he could take this.

Hellhounds? What are those? And wait, demon? Not Satan? Then can't Dean just kill the demon? Isn't that what he does? And if he dies when he gets back, maybe he could just stay here? Apparently they can't get him here, right?

But any question Philip begins is followed by a sting of guilt, by the belief that they really shouldn't be talking about Dean's death on his birthday in the first place.

In the end Philip opts to keep his thoughts to himself, at least as far as follow-up questions are concerned. ]

Your brother is... lucky to have you.

[ Philip is fairly certain that nobody he knows would trade his life for him like that. Or vice versa. ]

[dashboardlite]

Lucky? [Dean snorts. He's long-since decided that luck has absolutely nothing to do with how he and Sam manage to scrape by. It's more like the skin of their teeth.] Eh...you could say that.

[He scratches his chin, thoughtful.] He's a lot like you, actually. Likes research. Thinks I'm irritating. [Here, have a snarky grin. Dean rolls his shoulders in a casual shrug.] But he's got his demons, too.

[Not that Sammy is possessed, oh no...but he's using these weird, psychic powers with the help of some demon bitch named Ruby, and Dean feels like it's all gonna go to pot when he isn't there. But enough comparing. If he keeps finding something Sammy-like in everybody, he might actually regret it when he dies again. Speaking of which...]

Y'know, I went after the Operator.

[sadfreezingbrit]

[ Philip almost worries about that particular comparison. He almost points out that Dean is really a decent and quite bearable guy as long as he is not permitted access to the library. Philip also almost cringes at the mention of demons; personal demons that are nowhere near as metaphorical as he wants them to be.

But all of that is cut short to the point of nonexistence when Dean adds his last comment. ]

You- you did? And?

[ Did you find it? Did you kill it? What happened? Details! OMG! ]

[dashboardlite]

[Dean stretches languidly, rubbing a crick out of his neck. He doesn't mind talking about this, but it's still not his favorite subject. Coming back to life sucked.]

Found it. Motherfucker turned me into confetti. Took a whole day to come back together, and it wasn't fun. [Dean makes a face.] Castiel found my arm...somewhere. I was in pieces, man.

[sadfreezingbrit]

You. Died.

...You died?

[ Once more, maybe? Third time's the charm? No? Okay then.

So please enjoy Phil's mixture of shock, OHCRAP and a hint of wondering whether Dean is talking about mansion revival or some magical demon hunter ability to pierce yourself back together. ]

[dashboardlite]

[Geez, did he stutter? Dean did say 'confetti', right? He gives Philip a funny look.]

Yeah. It sucked. Like a great big bag of dicks.

[He scratches his elbow. It's not as though Dean hasn't nearly-died before, but he's never come back like this. He's never felt every excruciating second. One minute he isn't all there, and the next he is. ]

The sonuvabitch went to town on me like an Iron Chef. Never thought I'd look at my feet and see nothin' but my own guts all over the place, but I did. I think that was one of my lives...Mark was telling me somethin' about people either reappearing a day after being ganked, or comin' back together like rewinding a tape.

[He purses his lips and gives Philip a sidelong glance.] ...you okay?

[sadfreezingbrit]

So it's true after all, [ he mutters quietly to himself when Dean recounts his resurrection story.

He frowns at the gory details, but in the end it only seems like a minor step up from what he's experienced so far and after the initial shock it doesn't faze him too badly. It should. It doesn't. He hates that it doesn't.

And then there's Dean's question. It gets a chuckle out of him. The disbelieving kind. ]

You're the one who died, not me. [ But since there's apparently reason to ask he might as well answer, just to reassure. ] I'm fine.

...What about you?

[dashboardlite]

Could be better, but I ain't bad.

[He quirks a cocky grin.] Got chewed out by an angel. First time that's ever happened. Other than that...avoiding "overly reckless behavior." S'hard work bein' good, Phil. [The smile widens.]

And it looks like you got a sense of humor. That's the first time I've heard you laugh, dude.