RP: 10 February - AM
In which Sam and Dean explain just how the new canon fits in question their states of existence.
Sam: *suddenly sits up in bed as if from a nightmare, tosses his covers aside and runs over to Dean's room* dude. Dude, i shot you, didn't I?
Dean: *prods shoulder* ...Yeah.
Sam: *scrabbles at dean's shirt and finds a healed over gunshot * ...ohshit
Dean: *vaguely wonders how the fuck he missed a bullet wound, fut teh wuck* *oh, yeah, maybe because he's still scratched and bruised to shit from Faith*
Sam: *trust him - sam's noticed the rest, but he's a little worked up at the moment* ...how? I mean; we've been here... what. months? it had to have happened before.. but... *hand over his mouth* this is fucked up.
Dean: *looking kinda dazed, kinda confused beyond belief* *blinks his way up to Sam* I... shit, I just like... it came outta nowhere, man, I don't know... *furrowed eyebrows as he glances his bruvver over*
Sam: It's like... they're like supressed memories... we didn't really miss them to begin with, but... *turns his thinking/worried face on Dean* ...what was the last thing you remember before you got here?
Dean: I, uh... *never really thought about it... but, hey, it keeps changing, he's remembering more and more, like this place... ate his memories at first or something* There... was... I mean, after everything with... you. There was... us drivin' home after... and... I definitely remember you *waves hand around vaguel* fuckin' disappearing again, to go to that goddamn school. *frown* Dude, there's just, like. This huge fuckin' gap in between - I can't even remember. *looks... pretty paranoid o_O*
Sam: I remember... not much after; I mean-- *hard inhale* Ok. First, *looks up, huge eyes* you've gotta know I didn't come here on my own. I didn't... leave again. I sort of just... turned up here and I don't know how. I remember trying to get a hold of you and sending the owls-- I mean, it's all clear since I've been here.. but yeah, yeah. There's a whole space in between that... I don't know.
Dean: Wait, wait, you just... turned up? Dude, I thought you left. *runs his hand slowly over his jaw, eyes furrowing so severely now* You don't think you were.... again.... do you? I mean, if you can't even remember coming here, man... Because, it's like, I remember that owl, goin' into my car and... Yeah, I don't know.
Sam: *shakes his head violently* No, no. There's a bunch of other people here that don't remember how they got here. *mirthless snort of laughter* Bunch of people who actually remember being dead before they got here, too. I mean, Lily for one, right? *oh christ - what if they really are all dead?* *licks his lip* *the fuck are they going to remember next?* *throws a hand up* I don't know.
Dean: Well, yeah, but it's like... *revelation kind of hits Dean like an anvil, and his blinks again, looking paranoid for a minute* *oh, shit, are they dead?* *...he doesn't wanna be dead, not yet.* *well, except, you know, he definitely kind of does, but* *he thought being dead would = no ebil sammy and more dad..!* Yeah, me neither man, I... *weak laugh* This is fucked up.
Sam: *exhales; don't think that hasn't occurred to Sam, too; I mean, hell, being already dead would fix a whole lot, wouldn't it? but still.. I mean, it's fucked up to now know* *hangs his head with a low laugh, too* *butts Dean's shoulder with the side of his head* Dude. *opens his mouth, and has no further words for the ridiculousness of this situation and laughs again instead*
Dean: *was still musing with a kind of sick paranoia about the whole 'dead' thing, and definitely jumped about a mile when Sam headbutted him* *glances him over, taking in the laugh and... wtf, is he high? honestly* Dude. *They are so eloquent, I loves it :D*
Sam: *lets himself 'whump' backaward onto Dean's bed, thinking; it's just... why them? why a school for magic in freakin' Scotland? Why... how could this be their death? making even less sense, how could this be their life?* *covers his eyes with one hand, half-smiling* *who needs eloquence when you know what the other half of the conversation is thinking anyway?*
Dean: *rubs at his face omg o_O* So, what, we're... we're dead? And... the afterlife is some wizarding school in the middle'a friggin' Scotland? *sounds a bit farfetched, even for their normal playmates*
Sam: *shrugs* Who knows? I mean, has anyone ever really left? They turn into popcorn for godsake. But yeah, why... a school? *and where's dad? or... mom for that matter?* *...or jess? and why does that thought make him stop laughing?*
Dean: Yeah, the popcorn's kinda weird, but... *gives sort of a nervous laugh, plopping into a seat beside Sam and rubbing at the back of his neck again* I mean, seriously, man, Christ. *Jess!* *woobie*
Sam: Alright, no. There's gotta be an explanation. This shit's too real for all that. I mean, we have reapers and gods and shit. Those things don't die.
Dean: Well, reapers still kinda definitely gotta right to be there, Sam. *said kind of matter-of-factly, in a wtfduh voice* But, I... Shit, I don't know. There's vampires too, man. And spirits - but that makes sense - and... *rubs his face again*
Sam: *rar. fucking reapers; point*...has Lily ever said anything about it? Does she know anything about how the castle works?
Dean: I... *scratches head* She just says it's a wizarding school, man, but, I mean, I dunno. Maybe she doesn't either? Cuz... *pause, frown* She IS dead...
Sam: *shakes his head* There's got to be someone who knows. Or at least can explain how the people just turn up in the freakin' Sorting room. Right? *someone ought, right?*
Dean: *frowning again, wheels turning* I.. I dunno, man. I... *weakly* I don't know anybody who does, but... *trails off again, glancing up to Sam*
Sam: *shrugs* Ok. Ok, so... so we do some digging when we're in Hogsmeade. We're headed down there to start looking for where to Hunt... we'll-- *presses his lips together and huffs* We'll look around... and maybe see how far out we can get. Spirits attached to a location usually can't get very far, right?
Dean: Well... *rubs at his face, frowning* Yeah, I mean, they usually can't go more than a couple miles of it, right? But... I've been to Hogsmeade, man, and nothin' happened.
Sam: Good. Good, ok. So... so we start in Hogsmeade and then... then we'll see if we can get to the nearest Muggle town. And then... *shrug* Aw man. We start Hunting there and start cracking heads for answers when we get back.
Dean: *nodding back, yes, yes* Sounds good, yeah. *scratches his chin, eyes darting around all paranoid again* Man... what if we ARE dead? That... *weird, whining noise*
Sam: *using his oddly sensible voice* Dude, if we're dead... then we can relax. *snickers incredulously and it's his turn to scrub at his face* Oh my fucking god. I can't believe I just said that.
Dean: *weirded out look homg!* Yeah, seriously. *o_O* Relax? Man, relax? We're fuckin' DEAD! *definitely not looking like he's going to start hyperventilating at any given moment now*
Sam: We're not dead! We don't know that, alright?! *frown* *ducks his head at Dean, willing him to meet his eyes* And if we were, 's not like we could do a damn thing about it. *and there'd be no Feds or Hunters or ... fuckin' Interpol. what? who knows!* We don't know, alright?
Dean: Shouldn't we -KNOW-, though?! I mean... If we're DEAD, it can't be that HARD to tell. *rubbing idly at the gouges scratched out onto his shoulder, looking anywhere BUT Sam's eyes* Wouldn't... can dead shit feel pain? Because. Yeah. I have no clue. How do we... TEST?
Sam: *isn't as if he hasn't had his share of pain since being here* I don't... *looks up* The castle ghosts? Would they know? *really looks at where Dean's hand is, suppressing a familiar twinge of something that feels uncomfortably close to jealousy* Man, you should let someone Heal those. Where'd you get 'em, anyway? *immediately sorry for asking*
Dean: *yeah, pain? not fun. AND APPARENTLY UNESCAPABLE EVEN IN DEATH* Would the ghosts know? *nodding, vaguely, with a slight frown* Yeah, maybe. We could ask'm... *automatically bristles, his jumping away like it's been burned* Nowhere. I, uh. I just. Scratched myself. *Because inconspicuousness is Dean Winchester's strong suit*
Sam: *cocks his head, not bothering to ask again... because the look is enough to say he's not giving up*
Dean: *adamant look right back because... homg, he really doesn't want to answer that question D:*
Sam: *more jealous omg, because it's probably one of the slags that's he's picked up and GRRRR* *....omg, he is so fucked* *shuts that feeling back up where it goes and makes a show of acting like he doesn't care* Fine, ok. So when are we going down to town?
Dean: *looking far more relieved than he should that he doesn't have to answer, because... dear Christ, he can't go there again >.< although he hasn't told anyone and he might want to remedy that if he doesn't want to explode inside* I dunno, man, whenever you wanna.
Sam: *see and he could tell Sam. And then Sam would have to KILL FAITH A LOT; only Sam's convinced that it came from a slag he doesn't want to hear about* *except.. that's not the smug face it ought to be...* *damn it Dean.* *creeps closer, inspecting them on the down low as he speaks* Tomorrow-- wait. Today. We'll start with the ghosts today. *christ, those are bad...*
Dean: *and, you know, normally it would have exploded into that smug face, automatically, but...* *yeah, definitely not so much now* *moreso... paranoid and flinching away from practically everything that touches him* *just lets Sam look, long as he's not asking questions, at least for the moment* Okay. Today. Sounds good.
Sam: *distracted* --K.
Sam: *suddenly sits up in bed as if from a nightmare, tosses his covers aside and runs over to Dean's room* dude. Dude, i shot you, didn't I?
Dean: *prods shoulder* ...Yeah.
Sam: *scrabbles at dean's shirt and finds a healed over gunshot * ...ohshit
Dean: *vaguely wonders how the fuck he missed a bullet wound, fut teh wuck* *oh, yeah, maybe because he's still scratched and bruised to shit from Faith*
Sam: *trust him - sam's noticed the rest, but he's a little worked up at the moment* ...how? I mean; we've been here... what. months? it had to have happened before.. but... *hand over his mouth* this is fucked up.
Dean: *looking kinda dazed, kinda confused beyond belief* *blinks his way up to Sam* I... shit, I just like... it came outta nowhere, man, I don't know... *furrowed eyebrows as he glances his bruvver over*
Sam: It's like... they're like supressed memories... we didn't really miss them to begin with, but... *turns his thinking/worried face on Dean* ...what was the last thing you remember before you got here?
Dean: I, uh... *never really thought about it... but, hey, it keeps changing, he's remembering more and more, like this place... ate his memories at first or something* There... was... I mean, after everything with... you. There was... us drivin' home after... and... I definitely remember you *waves hand around vaguel* fuckin' disappearing again, to go to that goddamn school. *frown* Dude, there's just, like. This huge fuckin' gap in between - I can't even remember. *looks... pretty paranoid o_O*
Sam: I remember... not much after; I mean-- *hard inhale* Ok. First, *looks up, huge eyes* you've gotta know I didn't come here on my own. I didn't... leave again. I sort of just... turned up here and I don't know how. I remember trying to get a hold of you and sending the owls-- I mean, it's all clear since I've been here.. but yeah, yeah. There's a whole space in between that... I don't know.
Dean: Wait, wait, you just... turned up? Dude, I thought you left. *runs his hand slowly over his jaw, eyes furrowing so severely now* You don't think you were.... again.... do you? I mean, if you can't even remember coming here, man... Because, it's like, I remember that owl, goin' into my car and... Yeah, I don't know.
Sam: *shakes his head violently* No, no. There's a bunch of other people here that don't remember how they got here. *mirthless snort of laughter* Bunch of people who actually remember being dead before they got here, too. I mean, Lily for one, right? *oh christ - what if they really are all dead?* *licks his lip* *the fuck are they going to remember next?* *throws a hand up* I don't know.
Dean: Well, yeah, but it's like... *revelation kind of hits Dean like an anvil, and his blinks again, looking paranoid for a minute* *oh, shit, are they dead?* *...he doesn't wanna be dead, not yet.* *well, except, you know, he definitely kind of does, but* *he thought being dead would = no ebil sammy and more dad..!* Yeah, me neither man, I... *weak laugh* This is fucked up.
Sam: *exhales; don't think that hasn't occurred to Sam, too; I mean, hell, being already dead would fix a whole lot, wouldn't it? but still.. I mean, it's fucked up to now know* *hangs his head with a low laugh, too* *butts Dean's shoulder with the side of his head* Dude. *opens his mouth, and has no further words for the ridiculousness of this situation and laughs again instead*
Dean: *was still musing with a kind of sick paranoia about the whole 'dead' thing, and definitely jumped about a mile when Sam headbutted him* *glances him over, taking in the laugh and... wtf, is he high? honestly* Dude. *They are so eloquent, I loves it :D*
Sam: *lets himself 'whump' backaward onto Dean's bed, thinking; it's just... why them? why a school for magic in freakin' Scotland? Why... how could this be their death? making even less sense, how could this be their life?* *covers his eyes with one hand, half-smiling* *who needs eloquence when you know what the other half of the conversation is thinking anyway?*
Dean: *rubs at his face omg o_O* So, what, we're... we're dead? And... the afterlife is some wizarding school in the middle'a friggin' Scotland? *sounds a bit farfetched, even for their normal playmates*
Sam: *shrugs* Who knows? I mean, has anyone ever really left? They turn into popcorn for godsake. But yeah, why... a school? *and where's dad? or... mom for that matter?* *...or jess? and why does that thought make him stop laughing?*
Dean: Yeah, the popcorn's kinda weird, but... *gives sort of a nervous laugh, plopping into a seat beside Sam and rubbing at the back of his neck again* I mean, seriously, man, Christ. *Jess!* *woobie*
Sam: Alright, no. There's gotta be an explanation. This shit's too real for all that. I mean, we have reapers and gods and shit. Those things don't die.
Dean: Well, reapers still kinda definitely gotta right to be there, Sam. *said kind of matter-of-factly, in a wtfduh voice* But, I... Shit, I don't know. There's vampires too, man. And spirits - but that makes sense - and... *rubs his face again*
Sam: *rar. fucking reapers; point*...has Lily ever said anything about it? Does she know anything about how the castle works?
Dean: I... *scratches head* She just says it's a wizarding school, man, but, I mean, I dunno. Maybe she doesn't either? Cuz... *pause, frown* She IS dead...
Sam: *shakes his head* There's got to be someone who knows. Or at least can explain how the people just turn up in the freakin' Sorting room. Right? *someone ought, right?*
Dean: *frowning again, wheels turning* I.. I dunno, man. I... *weakly* I don't know anybody who does, but... *trails off again, glancing up to Sam*
Sam: *shrugs* Ok. Ok, so... so we do some digging when we're in Hogsmeade. We're headed down there to start looking for where to Hunt... we'll-- *presses his lips together and huffs* We'll look around... and maybe see how far out we can get. Spirits attached to a location usually can't get very far, right?
Dean: Well... *rubs at his face, frowning* Yeah, I mean, they usually can't go more than a couple miles of it, right? But... I've been to Hogsmeade, man, and nothin' happened.
Sam: Good. Good, ok. So... so we start in Hogsmeade and then... then we'll see if we can get to the nearest Muggle town. And then... *shrug* Aw man. We start Hunting there and start cracking heads for answers when we get back.
Dean: *nodding back, yes, yes* Sounds good, yeah. *scratches his chin, eyes darting around all paranoid again* Man... what if we ARE dead? That... *weird, whining noise*
Sam: *using his oddly sensible voice* Dude, if we're dead... then we can relax. *snickers incredulously and it's his turn to scrub at his face* Oh my fucking god. I can't believe I just said that.
Dean: *weirded out look homg!* Yeah, seriously. *o_O* Relax? Man, relax? We're fuckin' DEAD! *definitely not looking like he's going to start hyperventilating at any given moment now*
Sam: We're not dead! We don't know that, alright?! *frown* *ducks his head at Dean, willing him to meet his eyes* And if we were, 's not like we could do a damn thing about it. *and there'd be no Feds or Hunters or ... fuckin' Interpol. what? who knows!* We don't know, alright?
Dean: Shouldn't we -KNOW-, though?! I mean... If we're DEAD, it can't be that HARD to tell. *rubbing idly at the gouges scratched out onto his shoulder, looking anywhere BUT Sam's eyes* Wouldn't... can dead shit feel pain? Because. Yeah. I have no clue. How do we... TEST?
Sam: *isn't as if he hasn't had his share of pain since being here* I don't... *looks up* The castle ghosts? Would they know? *really looks at where Dean's hand is, suppressing a familiar twinge of something that feels uncomfortably close to jealousy* Man, you should let someone Heal those. Where'd you get 'em, anyway? *immediately sorry for asking*
Dean: *yeah, pain? not fun. AND APPARENTLY UNESCAPABLE EVEN IN DEATH* Would the ghosts know? *nodding, vaguely, with a slight frown* Yeah, maybe. We could ask'm... *automatically bristles, his jumping away like it's been burned* Nowhere. I, uh. I just. Scratched myself. *Because inconspicuousness is Dean Winchester's strong suit*
Sam: *cocks his head, not bothering to ask again... because the look is enough to say he's not giving up*
Dean: *adamant look right back because... homg, he really doesn't want to answer that question D:*
Sam: *more jealous omg, because it's probably one of the slags that's he's picked up and GRRRR* *....omg, he is so fucked* *shuts that feeling back up where it goes and makes a show of acting like he doesn't care* Fine, ok. So when are we going down to town?
Dean: *looking far more relieved than he should that he doesn't have to answer, because... dear Christ, he can't go there again >.< although he hasn't told anyone and he might want to remedy that if he doesn't want to explode inside* I dunno, man, whenever you wanna.
Sam: *see and he could tell Sam. And then Sam would have to KILL FAITH A LOT; only Sam's convinced that it came from a slag he doesn't want to hear about* *except.. that's not the smug face it ought to be...* *damn it Dean.* *creeps closer, inspecting them on the down low as he speaks* Tomorrow-- wait. Today. We'll start with the ghosts today. *christ, those are bad...*
Dean: *and, you know, normally it would have exploded into that smug face, automatically, but...* *yeah, definitely not so much now* *moreso... paranoid and flinching away from practically everything that touches him* *just lets Sam look, long as he's not asking questions, at least for the moment* Okay. Today. Sounds good.
Sam: *distracted* --K.