OPEN

[notamachine]

Characters: Dean Winchester and YOU!
Date: Feb. 12
Location: Throughout the Water sector.
Situation: Dean is on a turtle. This is not, actually, the weirdest thing to happen to him.
Warnings/Rating: Dean's potty-mouth. :(



[He's taken a few days to adjust and a few things are apparent. First, this is definitely not a dream. It was a possibility he briefly entertained, but everything really does appear to be just as real as he was told it is. Two, he has a serious shortage of spellwork ingredients. The only finger bones he has are the ones in the hexbag that came with him and he has no idea where in god's name he's supposed to find raw opium on a giant turtle, which means he has no way of working a spell to try and contact anyone on the other side.

On the upside, nothing has tried to kill him (yet. Iorvath, we're looking at you.), which is a definite advantage over ...pretty much anywhere else he's ever been in his life, Heaven included. So there's that.

So okay, Dean's come to the conclusion that he may be stuck here for the long haul and he might not be able to get the same kinds of supplies Bobby used to have lying around, but he can at least build up a minor arsenal. Step one: salt. This proves more difficult than it sounds because buying anything involves dealing with kedan and it's apparent to anyone that they make him incredibly uncomfortable. He might not be openly antagonistic toward them at the moment, but it's obvious he's not a fan, either. No, he looks at them the same way someone might look at dog crap smeared on a shoe. Gross.

It's cool. He's still managing to successfully get the things he needs--or at least, some weird approximations of them that he's pretty sure might work--and he meanders his way from shop to shop with a slowly growing number of items in his hands.]

Comments

[notamachine]

[Dean watches the changes that flicker across Kyle's face closely. He knows that look, he knows what loneliness looks like. He also knows what it looks like when someone is lying to him. God knows he's had years of experience with Sam and Cas both.

Still, he barely knows this guy, so while he can sympathize with what he's seeing, he's not going to pry. He's not exactly the most forthcoming guy about his own feels, after all.]

Well, if you don't mind a shopping list, I'm still looking for a place that'll sell me some salt. And by some I mean somewhere in the neighborhood of ten pounds.

[imaginate]

Salt huh. [Oddly enough, he doesn't sound surprised by this at all.] There's a place nearby. They probably don't have that much, but near enough, you could always go back next week. [A beat, and he remembers something Dean mentioned in the network post.] Do the locals freak you out or something?

[Again, he's not judging, merely curious.]

[notamachine]

[Dean shakes his head. No point in hiding his unease--not that he was trying terribly hard in the first place.] Where I'm from, things that look like them aren't friendlies, so yeah, I guess you could say they freak me out.

[...He'd like to salt and burn all of them.]

[imaginate]

[Kyle shoots Dean a look that says I don't blame you. Not everything he'd met out there in the universe was agreeable either, but there were also very few real monsters.]

They're friendly, for the most part - once you get past the fact that they've all drunk some kind of Kool Aid. We don't have gang activity in Water Sector, but you might want to watch your back when you're in Fire or Metal. [Beat.] What kind of world do you come from?

[notamachine]

Creepy and cultists. That's awesome. [That's not awesome.] Since everyone keeps talking about other worlds, you ever hear of a place called Kansas?

[imaginate]

Yeah, Dorothy, we're not there anymore.

[notamachine]

[8|] Shut up, Toto.

[imaginate]

[He laughs; a rare, genuine laugh.] Should have been more specific. There's people here from worlds with magic, superheroes, space travel, and there's some which don't have those at all. Which type is yours?

[notamachine]

Huh. [That makes sense, given the things he's seen. Still a little weird to hear it out loud--wow, is this how non-hunters feel when they find about about the supernatural?

...No, Dean. They feel terrified. Not faintly bemused. Big difference.]

Little bit of everything, I guess. We've got your witches, werewolves, demons, vampires, angels...aliens. Not many people know it, though.

[imaginate]

[Kyle frowns - that's unpleasant.] Magic?

[notamachine]

Loads of it. Demons and angels each have their own special brand. The kind humans use is a little different. Plus, y'know, there's rituals and shit.

[Dean shut up now pls]

[imaginate]

Let me guess, everything supernatural is out to kill you in horrible ways.

[Watching movies with his big brother pays off, huh.]

[notamachine]

[Dean tosses Kyle a pained little smile.] And eat your liver. Or your thyroid. Or your heart. Usually your heart.

[imaginate]

[Kyle's instinct is to mock it mercilessly, but he tones it down.] You're going to fit right in here. We had Night of the Living Dead a couple of weeks ago.

[notamachine]

[Kyle wouldn't be the first person to mock it mercilessly.]

Glad I missed that. Killed zombies, been chased by zombies, been a zombie. I'm done with them. Rather deal with another siren than more zombies...

[imaginate]

Really? I'm holding out for our re-enactment of the Great Escape.

[notamachine]

[What's that? Pop culture? Just for Dean? Kyle, you wonderful substitute younger sibling!]

Now that sounds awesome--but I'm McQueen. That motorcycle is mine.

[motorcycllllle]

[imaginate]

[Kyle's response is automatic, as though he's used to having this argument and knows exactly what to say when it comes up.] If you're only going to answer to 'The Cooler King' from now on I'm disowning you.

[notamachine]

[Dean pretends to consider that very carefully for about...oh...ten whole seconds.]

Naah. I won't make you call me that. I'm not a dick. Just 'your highness' will be good enough.

[imaginate]

If you're planning to walk around wearing Iolande's unifor-- [He freezes, realising what he's saying, and the brief expression of joy he had at bantering crashes immediately.]

[notamachine]

[WHOA that is not a good look on Kyle's face. That is misery or heartbreak or...indigestion, maybe. Hard to tell.] Hey, hey. What's up? You okay? Need to sit down?

[imaginate]

Sorry. I'm fine - just... ignore that. I didn't mean -- [He looks away, and tries to regulate his breathing.

Because the man standing in front of him isn't Guy Gardner. He repeats that to himself, like a mantra, quietly, until he can look at Dean again.] I'm fine. Sorry about that.

[notamachine]

[Fortunately for Kyle, Dean is not exactly the touchy-feely, let's talk about our feelings kind of guy. Or at least, he didn't used to be. Unfortunately for Kyle, Dean's gotten better at articulating and encouraging other people to do the same in recent months.]

Someone you miss, I'm guessing. Family?

[imaginate]

[Encouragement is just what he needs.

He smiles, but it's painful. Family. Everyone else from his world had family. Even Jason. It wasn't fair, and he thought it was stupid to feel jealous about it. He knows he'd give so much to see Guy, or Hal, or John... and at the same time he'd want to tear the Emperor or whoever had brought them here to pieces if they did show up. It hurt, to look at Dean and want him to be Guy; and it was unfair, too, to expect him to be someone else.

It feels like an eternity before Kyle replies, when he's sure his voice won't be strained:] My brother.

[Of course it was more complicated than that, but the sentiment was real, and that was good enough for Kyle.

Another smile: warm, wistful, before it's replaced by a neutral expression.] You're a lot like him. It's not unpleasant, just [he searches for the word] uncanny.

[A beat.] Sorry. I'll try not to do that again.

SOB I'M SORRY i am the slowest tagger

[notamachine]

[Kyle is so, so lucky that Dean is a) already used to having a younger brother and b) knows what it looks like when someone is thinking about more and bigger things than they're telling you about. He knows that look of...maybe not quite loss, but definitely loss. He's seen that look on Sam's face...and on his own in the mirror.]

Believe me, I understand uncanny. Look, don't apologize, okay? You remind me of people, too.

[Not that he's saying which people.]