Outside the bathroom, one foot braced against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest is an archangel who has been spectacularly MIA the past week and a half or so. He needed time to recharge and Murphy could probably stand some time away from his corrupting influence. Oh wait, he doesn't care about that. ...Really, he's just a cat. He wanders off and then comes back when it suits him and there's really no sense in questioning it.
"Guess this means your brain's still broken, hm?" He asks, as soon as she walks back out.
She flinches in surprise and barely resists the urge to punch him in the face. "What the fuck do you get out of doing that?"
If she looks haggard, exhausted, and generally like shit--it's because she's feeling all of the above, in addition to half-crazy from horror and lack of sleep at this point. "What do you want?"
Gabriel looks simultaneously affronted and innocent. "Get out of doing what?" He backs off the wall, throwing his hands up. "Hey, if you're bored of my company, I bet there are a hundred tiny blondes aching to spend more time with me."
He pauses, pursing his lips in a considering look. "You look like six kinds of shit, by the way. What the heck's goin' on?"
Murphy collapses against the wall in his place, scrubbing the heel of her hand against her eyes. "I don't know." It's sharp and scratchy. Murphy clears her throat. "I just. Can't sleep."
Understatement of the year? Possibly. Murphy shivers. "It's different then before, when I dreamed about--it's just different. It's like something's waiting for me to close my eyes. Maybe that's just the fact that I haven't had a good night's sleep since we were stuck two klicks past the end of the world talking, but it's... I don't know. It just feels like something's waiting for me every time I try to sleep."
Gabriel's mouth twitches into a puzzled expression, which quickly gives over to something darker. "Y'know, I never did figure out what happened to Dobiel. I took a gamble in thinkin' the Rift would get her out of you, but I never thought past that."
And if she's around and doing this... Geez, he's never wanted to hurt one of his siblings so badly. It almost makes him sick. Daddy was way off his meds when he made that one though, so it's almost a service. Don't make it any less painful.
Something cold rolls through Murphy, settling in the pit of her stomach and freezing there. "She... Could she do something like this? Why doesn't she just come out and, I don't know... Be a psychopathic bitch at you like last time. Why would she going after me? No offense."
She rolls so her back is flat against the wall, resisting the impulse to slide down and sit on the floor.
Gabriel gives Murphy the full weight of his why are you dumb? look. "'Cause, for reasons I can't even begin to understand, you're her vessel, precious and, like it or not, she can't do a damn thing without you. She breaks you down, you let her in again, and then she can do whatever she wants."
On the plus side, if he's this cut off, being a superior angel (far, far superior), then he can't imagine what's gonna be like. On the other, how the hell is she even getting to Murphy, in the first place? ....The fact that he doesn't know is not something he's going to openly share, of course.
"She should find herself someone else." Murphy leans her head back against the wall. "No vacancies here, thank you very much."
It's hard to think when she's this tired. Even closing her eyes for a moment is an invitation to drift off and into the arms of another nightmare. "You can hear dreams. Right? What else can you do? Visit people in them and all that, but I haven't seen her at all. I don't think." She pauses and huffs a laugh. "I can't think."
She jams the heels of her palms against her eyes again. "Okay. Dreams. Can you, I don't know... Dig her out? If you went into them while I was asleep? Would that even work?"
"Don't work like that. Wish it did, buut it doesn't. Angels pick vessels like they're show horses- anything less than their chosen vessel and it's like fire and nitrate."
Gabriel rubs the back of his neck. "Angels can change.. Any reality. Not here, apparently. This one's stable. Dreams might be free game. Even a weak angel can screw with your head."
He throws his arms up. "I dunno. I could try? There's no way to keep her from comin' back the next night though. It's your head, not the Matrix, and unless you want me standin' guard in your brain until I find out where she is and how she's doin' this, we don't have a whole lotta options here."
"Even if it's just tonight," she says quietly. "If I could get one good night, I might be able to figure this out. If she needs me that badly she might be willing to talk to me."
It's a longshot maybe, but it's what she's got right now. Murphy thumps her head lightly against the wall, feeling tears start in her eyes and clamping down on the tightness in her throat. She hates going without sleep--it makes her angry and stupid and emotional.
Gabe shrugs. "Worth a shot. Not countin' on her being the talking-it-out type, though. You were there with her, Murphy. You know she's a barrel of crazy."
But what the heck? If nothing else, he can go Nightmare on Elm Street and her brain-violating vaguely noncorporeal ass.
The walk back to her room feels a bit like the march to an execution. Or what she imagines that walk probably feels like. She collapses into bed, exhaustion gnawing into her as she collapses.
"So. Do I need to do anything?" She tucks an arm under her pillow and blinks at Gabriel to keep her eyes from drifting shut on their own.
Gabriel flops in his usual chair. "Nope. Just fall asleep. We can do this over distances if we want to. Used to be the best way to communicate with humans... Especially prophets." He looks thoughtful for a second. "Twitchy bunch, prophets."
Go to sleep, Murphy. Or he'll start subverting your paradigm again.
She covers her ears. "No, please don't tell me about prophets. I really don't want to know."
Falling asleep shouldn't be hard. It's a little weird being watched while she tries, but worn as she is, the room blurs out of focus and into darkness in moments.
And she's in Harry's apartment, sans furniture, plus a few dozen black candles.
"It's Harry's apartment. Kind of." She crosses her arms, ducking her head warily into the bedroom and then coming back out. "With a bit more occult and a bit less Harry."
She's about to say something else when she gets thrown into one blank wall. Harry comes up out of the subbasement, wearing bloodstained clothes and holding a knife. His eyes are black all the way through.
For a second time seems to slow down, glitch, then move forward in slow silence.
Dobiel stands next to Gabriel, looking like Murphy and watching the dream-Harry drag his knife across Murphy's stomach. "Hi, Gabe. Fancy meeting you here."
"Guess this means your brain's still broken, hm?" He asks, as soon as she walks back out.
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If she looks haggard, exhausted, and generally like shit--it's because she's feeling all of the above, in addition to half-crazy from horror and lack of sleep at this point. "What do you want?"
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He pauses, pursing his lips in a considering look. "You look like six kinds of shit, by the way. What the heck's goin' on?"
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Understatement of the year? Possibly. Murphy shivers. "It's different then before, when I dreamed about--it's just different. It's like something's waiting for me to close my eyes. Maybe that's just the fact that I haven't had a good night's sleep since we were stuck two klicks past the end of the world talking, but it's... I don't know. It just feels like something's waiting for me every time I try to sleep."
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And if she's around and doing this... Geez, he's never wanted to hurt one of his siblings so badly. It almost makes him sick. Daddy was way off his meds when he made that one though, so it's almost a service. Don't make it any less painful.
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She rolls so her back is flat against the wall, resisting the impulse to slide down and sit on the floor.
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On the plus side, if he's this cut off, being a superior angel (far, far superior), then he can't imagine what's gonna be like. On the other, how the hell is she even getting to Murphy, in the first place? ....The fact that he doesn't know is not something he's going to openly share, of course.
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It's hard to think when she's this tired. Even closing her eyes for a moment is an invitation to drift off and into the arms of another nightmare. "You can hear dreams. Right? What else can you do? Visit people in them and all that, but I haven't seen her at all. I don't think." She pauses and huffs a laugh. "I can't think."
She jams the heels of her palms against her eyes again. "Okay. Dreams. Can you, I don't know... Dig her out? If you went into them while I was asleep? Would that even work?"
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Gabriel rubs the back of his neck. "Angels can change.. Any reality. Not here, apparently. This one's stable. Dreams might be free game. Even a weak angel can screw with your head."
He throws his arms up. "I dunno. I could try? There's no way to keep her from comin' back the next night though. It's your head, not the Matrix, and unless you want me standin' guard in your brain until I find out where she is and how she's doin' this, we don't have a whole lotta options here."
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It's a longshot maybe, but it's what she's got right now. Murphy thumps her head lightly against the wall, feeling tears start in her eyes and clamping down on the tightness in her throat. She hates going without sleep--it makes her angry and stupid and emotional.
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But what the heck? If nothing else, he can go Nightmare on Elm Street and her brain-violating vaguely noncorporeal ass.
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"So. Do I need to do anything?" She tucks an arm under her pillow and blinks at Gabriel to keep her eyes from drifting shut on their own.
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Go to sleep, Murphy. Or he'll start subverting your paradigm again.
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Falling asleep shouldn't be hard. It's a little weird being watched while she tries, but worn as she is, the room blurs out of focus and into darkness in moments.
And she's in Harry's apartment, sans furniture, plus a few dozen black candles.
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He wanders over to one of the candles, studying it like it might be a bomb or something. It's a dream. Stranger things have happened.
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She's about to say something else when she gets thrown into one blank wall. Harry comes up out of the subbasement, wearing bloodstained clothes and holding a knife. His eyes are black all the way through.
For a second time seems to slow down, glitch, then move forward in slow silence.
Dobiel stands next to Gabriel, looking like Murphy and watching the dream-Harry drag his knife across Murphy's stomach. "Hi, Gabe. Fancy meeting you here."
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