mandalus :: the city of fates.

[When the video starts, Dean looks very different. Ten years older, at least, and much sterner than anyone would ever have seen him, with the exception of those closest to him. He has a mission, and that's all he's interested in.]

For those of you who don't know, my name is Dean Winchester. You'll probably know a different Dean, if you know any at all, from your time period. Much younger, way dumber, too. [He sighs and rests his shotgun over his shoulder.]

By now, if you haven't already heard, there's a weapon that's ready to be used to attack Mes'Klou. Me, and a few others like me, have come from another timeline to stop it. This weapon will kill the Serpent, only it's gonna take out most of the multiverse and plenty of Mandalus at the same time. [He knows this could incite panic, but it's better people know.]

If you get in our way, I'm not gonna hesitate to take you out of the game, either by knockin' your ass out or straight up shootin' you in the knee so you can't fuck this up for us. We're trying to save you, so stay out of the way if you won't help.


[Filtered to Future Group]

Guessin' by now the rest of you got your hands on the phones your old selves have, so we're making a move soon. That means you too, Bashir. We need to find this weapon and keep Khan and Garak the Hell out of the way. [He glances at his watch and then realises it won't be at the same time and tuts irritably.]

Any information you've gathered, we need to share amongst the group, so talk to each other and we'll decide where to strike.

[When the audio starts up, there's a quiet sigh. Dean is so used to saying this now it's almost routine for him. There's the sound of calloused hands rubbing at stubble and another sigh right after.]

Just to let you all know, Sam Winchester and Ben Braeden went home. I know no one had business with them that I didn't already know about, so... [He groans a little, feeling like everything coming out of his mouth sounds stupid.]

Yeah, just a heads up. And no, I don't need anyone to bring me food or alcohol or to check up on me like I'm some kid who lost his mommy. I'm fine.

[And the call ends abruptly.]

[When Dean fires up his phone, he's sat in Bobby's house, rather than the Bunker. He's looking a little less worn out but he's obviously not in a good mood, even if he's trying to fake that he is. His voice is a little overly relaxed to be genuine and the almost half-empty bottle of whiskey just in view explains a lot for his mood.]

Now things are coolin' off, Singer Salvage is back open for business. [He lifts a cup of coffee, sipping it and setting it back down.] This is also to remind folks that Bill And John's Range is still out there, and we're still selling weapons and training anyone who wants it. If you can't get hold of me, call Jo. She's probably gonna treat you better than I am right now, anyway.

[He sighs, looking down at a book he's got open in front of him.] Also, uh... if I seemed kinda off to anyone recently, sorry about that. I wasn't really myself. [He wasn't; he was possessed by his little brother's ghost. His life is a downward spiral of codependency and insanity.]

So, yeah... that's about it. If anyone needs me I'll be bashing my brains in with one of these books.

[He cuts the call there.]

[The video feed flickers on to Dean looking like he hasn't slept in weeks, which is unsurprisingly accurate. A few hours here or there is all he's surviving on, at the moment. He rubs at his stubbled jaw as he rests the hand holding the phone against the steering wheel of the Impala, the hand rubbing his face coming to cover a yawn.]

Been drivin' around for a while, trying to find 'em, but I think it's safe to say Selina Kyle and Clara Oswald went home. [His tone is a little tired and, honestly, he's had enough of this city. Very little is worth saving here, as far as he cares, but the goodness in him, the righteous side of him, makes him want to fight for this city anyway.]

Now the monsters ain't attackin' us everywhere, I don't suppose anyone's gonna take on Madam Murder herself?

[He sighs, resting his head back against the seat for a moment, closing his eyes, and for a brief moment it seems like he's fallen asleep but a barely audible noise wakes him up again and he rubs at his eyes.]

If anyone had business with Selina or Clara, you can bring it to me. I'll find someone better for the job than me. [He considers for a long moment, his tired mind picking through thoughts, and eventually he shakes his head and hangs up. God damn, he needs a drink.]

[The video flickers on and Dean, looking a little worse for wear with the split on the left of his lower lip, the cut above his right eye, and the bruises - not to mention the dirt - sits heavily down on the chair in his room in the Bunker, though only a few people would recognise it as that. He sighs, rubbing tiredly at his left eye, showing the dried blood all over his knuckles.]

In case anyone cared, I'm back. You can blame the Cult. [He frowns worriedly, glancing over the room towards his bed.] And just FYI, Sam's out for the count. Coma. If he's not awake in a week, then we can start worryin'. Dude probably needs the sleep, if I'm honest.

[Dean is having trouble keeping his eyes open but he shifts to sit up a little more in his chair.]

If anyone wants to know about what happened in the Underground, ask now, 'cause I'm gonna clean up and hit the hay soon, too.

[With that done, Dean gets up and, before he shuts off the video, there is a quick glimpse of Sam in his coma, just left on Dean's bed like he's sleeping. Dean'll sleep in the main room, maybe on a table.]

[The video comes on discreetly at first, and the view of a worn wooden floor comes into sight. Beyond that, the most noticeable sound is a guitar being strummed slowly. Eventually, the random strumming finally sorts itself into a clear song. A quiet bark from off-camera results in the camera being moved to a bulldog puppy barking at the bare feet of the person apparently taking the video.]

Ash wants to sing. [The camera person laughs, a sleepy laugh that some may recognize as Jo’s laugh. A deeper laugh comes right after and the video shows Dean sitting on a bar stool with a beaten down old guitar.]

Kinda hope she sings better than human Ash probably would. [Dean flashes Jo a smirk.] You recordin’ this?

No, I’ve just got my phone out so it looks like I’m textin’ people and you’ll ignore me. [She laughs again, moving around the bar counter to get a better shot of Dean on a bar stool.] ...I’ll keep it around for the next time I’m hungover.

[Dean shakes his head at her with a little roll of his eyes and just looks down at the guitar in his hands.] Been a while since I even picked one of these things up. I was probably like… nineteen, twenty, somethin’ like that.

[He looks back up at her briefly before deciding to sing a few of the words, his voice a rough and low sound when he’s not actually wailing at the top of his voice in the car.] She’s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories, where everything was as fresh as a bright blue sky…

[Unseen on camera, Jo opens her mouth with a retort prepared about how long ago that must have been. When Dean begins singing, she shushes herself and sets the camera down on the counter off to her side, propping it up against an empty bottle and making sure that they were both in the shot.

Dean keeps singing, his voice sometimes a little too quiet and a little too deep to be made out clearly on the audio but when he gets to the chorus he picks up a little, his fingers moving the strings more firmly.] Oh, oh, oh, ohhh, sweet child o’ mine…

[Jo shakes her head as he reaches the chorus, turning back to make sure the camera is still on with a broad smile before she joins in for the last part of the chorus and the second verse.] Oh, oh, oh, ohhh, sweet love o’ mine. She's got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain. [Jo turns away from Dean and the camera, watching her dog run around the bar as the verse continues.] I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain.

[Dean flashes another grin at her.] Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place where, as a child, I’d hide and pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by.

[It’s then that Dean hits a bum note and laughs, stopping playing and giving Jo a playful smirk.] You’re pretty good. Didn’t make my eardrums bleed or nothin’.

Oh, come on. I don’t do anything bad. [She shakes her head with a quiet laugh before reaching out to grab her phone, zooming in on Dean’s face with another laugh.] At least you didn’t make my hangover worse. I’ll give you points for that.

I can think of like… ten different things you suck at. Now, gimme that, I’m deleting this. [He snatches up the phone, then pauses as he realizes it’s recording to the network, not Jo’s phone.] Jo! What the Hell? It’s broadcasting!

Shit. You’re kidding, right? [She grabs the phone back, turning it over once to investigate, accidentally revealing a flash of legs barely covered by the shorts she’s wearing, before cursing again.] Well, that’s that. ...Hey, everyone.

Yeah, hey. Jo’s an idiot. [He flashes a big false grin and gets up, moving around the bar to grab a drink for himself.] Oh, hey, since we’re here, tell ‘em about the range. [He pops the top off a bottle of beer and slides it across to her before he grabs another for himself.]

Shut up, Mr. “I’m going to take the guitar in Jo’s living room and play sappy songs all morning”. [She rolls her eyes and ignores the beer for the time being.] What Dean’s talking about is the gun range we’re opening. Bill and John’s Shooting Range. It’s outside of town, on the desert.

[Dean rolls his eyes right back and takes a sip from his beer.] Basically, this place needs to learn real gun control and, between us, me and Jo know pretty much all there is to know about firearms. So, yeah, we’re openin’ and you can come learn not to shoot yourself in the face.

...We’ve got guns you can buy too, if you don’t have one yet. Just come out and practice so you don’t kill someone you don’t wanna when the time comes for you to protect yourself. [Dean looks over at Jo, then shrugs and cuts the video. That’s all they need to say on that matter.]

[When the video starts up, Dean is loading a shotgun. Across his chest is a bandolier, holding as many bullets as it can carry. He slots bullets into the shotgun one by one, a severe frown on his face.]

Whoever the Hell thought they were gonna get away with this crap, they're kidding themselves. They killed and strung up innocent people. Three people I gave a crap about. [Although his feelings towards Meg were debatable, he'd decided long ago he didn't want her dead unless he or Sam were the ones who killed her. Not some asshole cult on an alien planet. Add on Gene and he was already spitting nails. With Ben involved, he was positively murderous. More so than usual.]

I'm not gonna sit on my ass and wait for more to happen. This... Mes'Klou asshole is gonna keep coming at us, and we don't know for how long, or how to gank him, so what we can do is take the fight to the Cult.

[He pumps the shotgun to get it ready and sets it down, grabbing a handgun to start loading that up.]

Anyone who wants to join me is welcome. I'm not waiting around, though. Sam? Cas? You comin', or what? [Once the handgun is fully loaded, he tucks it in the back of his jeans. With that done, he cuts the feed.]

[He's furious, not at anyone else but at himself. He believed. He damn well let himself believe Sam would come back in a week and he hates the fact that he let people with optimism wear down his cynicism enough that he thought maybe, just maybe, his baby brother would come back here, all screwed up by something that happened at home but safe here with him, where he'd be protected from the mess that was bound to happen back home. He let himself think that something good might happen to him, and that he wouldn't be alone here, without his brother, and the fact that he even got his hopes up that high is why he's so angry.

So the feed starts up to show Dean, with a backdrop of old concrete walls, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, and a look on his face that has terrified grown men so much that they knew killing him was the only way to protect themselves. And he still came back. It was the face of a man who didn't fear death because his purpose in life wasn't there for him to live for.

Dean wasn't the depressed alcoholic he was just a eighteen months ago, but so much was wrong right now he didn't know what else to do. He took a long drink from the bottle of liquor and a cynical laugh came out of him.]

Next time you optimistic jackasses wanna sprinkle your rainbows and positive thinkin' my way, don't. 'Cause all of you who said Sam would come back were wrong.

[He shifts against the wall he's sat against and takes another drink, glad he can stay in the bunker where no one can get to him, not even angels.] And if anyone tries to tell me that he'll be okay, expect me to start swingin', because you don't know him, or me, or what kind of crap keeps hitting us. [A frustrated little sound rumbled out of him and he clenches his jaw.]

Fuck, I'm done with this bullshit. I am just done.

[And the blurs as the phone is tossed across the room and breaks something as it cuts out. A lamp, to be exact.]

[Dean is dirty, covered in filth and sweat, and he's got an ache through him that says he's done something good today, but coming home to find his home eerily vacant unsettled him quickly. He'd searched the phone and the evidence was clear. Sam was gone. He wasn't as optimistic as his brother and he already has a bottle of beer in his hands as he sits on the hood of his car in the dark light of the evening.]

Sam's gone home. Don't... don't anyone come around trying to be sympathetic. It's probably better he's at home, anyway.

[Because Dean knows where he and Sam are at back home, he knows Sam might be damaged from the First Trial and he might be bleeding out on the floor of Lucifer's Crypt, but they're doing something good for the world.

Dean takes a sip of his drink and grits his teeth just after swallowing.] I'll deal with anythin' he's got going on for a week, in case the... son of a bitch gets back, but after a week I'm done. If he's not back then, consider him in a better place or whatever gets you through the night.

[He finishes his drink and sets the bottle down beside him, drawing attention to another opened but untouched bottle next to it. The absolute grief flickers in Dean's green eyes for only a second before he chokes it down.] Cas, we need to talk. And I got something to show you. Come home as soon as you can.

[And with that, he shuts off the feed.]

[The searing pain of the hilt of the angel blade hitting him in the face sent flames of agony shooting through him, the constant pounding of pain in his broken wrist only adding to it all, but he wasn't going to just give up and die. He'd only ever been willing to die a handful of times in his life and all of those times had been for or about Sam. He wasn't going to die because of Castiel, because this wasn't Castiel. Well, sure it was him, but there was something very wrong with him and Dean had no idea what but he'd figure it out. As long as he could get Cas to stop beating his face in. Cas looked at the Angel Tablet and Dean glared up at him.

"You want it? Take it! But you're gonna have to kill me first." He took a weak breath. "Come on, you coward. Do it. Do it!" And Castiel brought the blunt end of his weapon down against Dean's face again. And again. The pain was incredible, almost as bad as when Lucifer broke him to pieces in Stull Cemetary. Almost.

"Cas. This isn't you-- This isn't you." Another blow. "Cas! Cas! I know you're in there, I know you can hear me." With each attempt at words, Dean's voice was more and more slurred, from pain, from the blood filling his mouth. The angel paused, the point of his blade directed towards Dean, held up by his own head, and Dean tried hard to just get through to him, to save himself.

"Cas, it's me.

We're family.

We need you. I need you. Cas..."

And the angel dropped the blade, he let go of Dean's wrist. Dean collapsed down, breathing hard through the pain and the blood, cradling his broken wrist against him. As he looked up, seeing Castiel pick up the Angel Tablet, the Crypt was filled with blinding light, so bright that Dean had to close his eyes.

Suddenly the air wasn't so hard to breathe through his broken nose and battered mouth. There wasn't blinding light, just sunshine, shining through the windows in Avasta Station. People were crowding and someone pulled out a phone to put it on the network, muttering something along the lines of "Someone probably knows him." as the image of a very bloody, very wounded, very distressed Dean Winchester on the floor of the station flickered into view on the network feed.

Dean tried to get to his feet, staggering a little and almost falling back down to his knees, to the sound of gasps from the crowd. He looked around through his right eye, the one that wasn't swollen shut, and he tried to breathe more deeply, but it was hard to get even a short breath in without choking on his own blood. He needed to just get home, back to the bunker-- the Yard here, he reminded himself. God, it'd been a long time again. He staggered a few steps and into someone - he couldn't see who, they were to his left - but the person helped him stand upright and he made a noise, attempting a "Thanks" though it came out as a grunt of the word.]

Are you okay? You should go to the hospital! [A woman's voice came, and several other voices agreed.]

I-- yeah, gonna... gonna go there now. [No, he was going to find Sam and then he was going to wash his face. He didn't want anyone to see him like this but some asshole had to broadcast it. God, there were people he never wanted to let see him like this. Selina, for one. Christ, it'd been forever since he'd seen her. He didn't want anyone to touch him either but someone else reached out to grab his arm, fingers curling around his broken wrist. Dean let out a pained yell and tugged away, though the person recording just followed him.]

Don't friggin' touch me! [People gasped and shuffled away. Dean spat out some blood on the floor and reached up with his good hand to snatch the phone away, shutting it off and shoving it back at the man.]

[It's early evening when the oldest Winchester turns on his device to make a video. He's not fond of addressing people on a whole, he doesn't like sharing secrets that are secrets for a reason and that's why so few people know what he actually does. He's sitting on the hood of his car and he has a crowbar resting on his shoulder. He's been out whacking nightmares. It's not exactly fun hunting things you can't kill but at least he can try to help.]

So, uh, these nightmare things. Since there's supposedly no way to kill them, and we're resorting to hitting them with things, has anyone considered trying to trap one?

[He chews absently on his lower lip.] They're just sand, right? Super messed up brain-raping sand, but sand nonetheless. [A shrug.] If anyone can get their hands on one, let me know. I wanna see what makes these sons of bitches tick.

( [Private video to Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle, Castiel, Meg Masters.] )

( [Private text to Selina Kyle.] )

( [Private text to Ben Braeden.] )

( [Private text to James T. Kirk.] )

( [Private text to Kaylee Frye.] )

( [Private text to Ruby Lucas.] )

[Dean is sat on the hood of the Impala and he's got some music playing from the radio, just loud enough to be heard properly. He has a little grin on his face, even if he's pretty worn out from stressing and worrying again.]

So, it's May 2nd tomorrow, and my little brother, Sammy, is turnin' thirty. This is a pretty big deal, [especially given their occupation] so party at the Salvage Yard tomorrow. Bring as much booze as you can. There'll be plenty to drink but I'm plannin' on getting everyone dirt drunk.

[His grin spreads wide across his face.] Thing is, at my birthday party in January, the overgrown jackass decided to offer the exclusive guest list the chance to get embarrassing stories about me. So.

[Dean gets up and moves around to the trunk of the car, popping it open, leaving the weapons hatch secure so nothing illegal is seen. Flipping the lid on a wooden box, he pulls out several photos of Sam at different ages.]

Here's a few pictures of Sam for you all to look at. [He avoids any important and personal ones, especially ones with their parents in, though John is in one or two, and he's in several of them with Sam, and he purposefully brings out some of the more embarrassing pictures.] And you've all got the chance now to ask me anythin' you wanna know about Sam. Go on, dig deep.

[Dean turns the phone back to his face, grinning brightly.] Happy birthday, Sammy.

[And with that, he ends the video.]

[Obviously nursing headaches and looking quite like they’ve got hangovers, thanks to all the sugar they consumed, both Winchesters are seated on the couch in their home. Dean adjusts the phone where it’s propped up and sits back beside Sam, knocking his knee against his brother’s affectionately.]

So, uh... yeah. Last week was weird as Hell and I’m pretty sure you’re all as creeped out by us as we are. [He looks at Sam, expecting him to be better at this than him.]

So for all you new people here, here’s a fun lesson about this place. It sucks sometimes and plays with your heads. Which is what happened last week.

[Dean makes a noise of agreement, reaching for a cup of coffee and sipping it slowly.] So, yeah. Sorry for being creepy sons of bitches. We’d say it won’t happen again but, with this place, it could.

[Sam isn’t as bad off since Cas helped take away his hangover] What he said.

Right. That’s enough of that crap. Later, guys. [And Dean just ends the public transmission.]


[Private text to Red from Sam]

Hey, um... sorry about the other day when you came back. I really was excited you were human again, but um... the whole Sesame Street level of enthusiasm may have been a bit overboard but I had no control over that. Do you want to come over and talk tonight?

[/text]


[Private text to Selina from Dean]

Kitty, I’m not even gonna ask how bad your week was. Let’s agree not to discuss it. Okay? I’ll swing by when I’m not half blind from a sugar coma and shedding glitter like I moonlight as a stripper. Tonight good for you?

[/text]

[The footage flickers on to Dean Winchester in a light grey t-shirt with a red and light blue plaid shirt over it. He has a grin on his face that no one would remember ever seeing on his face, save for his brother, perhaps, having seen it when he was much, much younger.]

Good mornin’, everybody! Isn’t it a great day? Who’s up for some fun this morning, huh?

[He chuckles brightly and settles his hands on his hips.] If anyone is feeling a little blue today, I say you should just grab a friend, hold their hand, and sing a darn good song to lift your spirits! How ‘bout it?

[And at that exact moment, Sam rushes into the room. He’s dressed in a green and yellow plaid shirt, and his hair is perfectly sculpted and bounces a bit as he runs. His cast has also been painted green to match his shirt.]

Dean! Dean! Is it adventure time yet? Can we go on an adventure?!

[Dean looks over at his tall little brother and the angle of the phone shows the two of them, and the height difference. The older Winchester beams up at Sam.]

We sure can, Sammy! Let’s go on our biggest adventure yet! [He flings his arm around his brother’s side, patting him on the back.]

[Sam just beams at the camera, so happy to be doing something with his brother.]

Awesome! But first - we need to pack our special adventure bags. Where did we put them?

I don’t know, Sam! Let’s look for them! [He puts his hands on his hips again and looks around dramatically, side to side.] Are they over here, to my left, guys?

[As if he’s waiting for an answer, Dean pauses. Then he turns to Sam.] Are they over there, by Sam?

[Sam waits for a pause too, then his eyes light up. He has an idea!]

Could they be in the trunk of the Impala, Dean?

[Dean snaps his fingers and points to Sam.] Now that’s a good idea, Sammy!

[Grabbing the phone, the shot is shaken all over the place, and he leads the way outside to the car. When he pops the trunk, instead of all the usual weapons, there are brightly coloured toy guns, bottles of water with rainbow lids and all kinds of silly things, including a rainbow slinky that Dean pulls out, playing with it once he’s set the phone down.]

Do you see our special adventure bags in here, Sam? What about you guys?

[Sam does the waiting for a moment pause, then gives a dramatic sigh and a big puppy pout.]

This is making me sad, Dean. We can’t go on an adventure without our special adventure bags!

[Dean gives Sam a sad face too and then turns to the camera on the phone.] Well, we can’t have a sad Sammy, can we guys? We’re going to have to look real hard for our special adventure bags. We’ll see you again when we find them, and maybe Sam will have a big smile because we’ve got them!

[The sheer amount of crap that has heaped itself on Mandalus recently had done little to stop Dean from slipping back into old habits. While he hadn't drank himself stupid in a long time, he had been drinking more and more, but he knew his limits now. He preferred coffee or even tea in the morning, coke or some other kind of soda with his lunch, and maybe a glass of water after dinner, but he drank whiskey in between, he drank beer when he was working on the cars, and he was pretty sure he was always holding something to drink or eat, these days.

Seated in a dive bar in the shadier area of the Business District, Dean had a glass of whiskey on the table next to two empty bottles of beer. Drinking alone was depressing, that much was obvious to anyone, but he hadn't wanted to drag anyone out with him. After all, a lot of them still looked at him like he was a raging alcoholic. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to drag people out to drink with him when the two people he'd drink with comfortably, Sam and Cas, would both likely rather be elsewhere at the moment.

Sighing to himself as he rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, Dean took another sip of his drink and rested back in his seat. Yeah, Mandalus sucked royally. Maybe he'd head out and hunt alone for a while.]

asdhsjjsdfkl ffffffggh Sdm?/?? sAM?

0578723dsha21 cbn wher m i//?

Fcukthss.

[After the poor attempt at texting, the audio clicks on first, for a very loudly spoken set of words.]

--the Hell is even goin' on, can't even hear myself, I swear to God... [A loud thud comes and it'd be easy enough to guess Dean just fell over.] Son of a bitch! [Then finally, after a series of beeps, the video flickers on to show Dean, slumped on the floor of the panic room, his eyes wide and glassy, no real focus in them, and the angle off, the shot too close to his face.]

God damn. I don't even know if this is recordin', but I'm blind and deaf. This is some God damn bullshit. Who the Hell do you people think I am, Helen Keller? Where the Hell am I? Who the fuck did this to me? I better get some damn help here, or I'm gonna just grab my gun and start firin'. And it's god damn cold!

[Alright, so someone's a little angry about being brought back missing two senses, and more than that his face shows the panic, because he has no chance to hide it now. He can't even try to calm down at the moment, especially not knowing where his brother is, or if Sam's even alive.]

Where's Sam? Sammy, if you-- if you made it back, I could really use some help, man. [Of course, not being able to hear himself, Dean doesn't hear the way his voice shakes a little with the distress he feels, but the vibration in his throat is enough to make him go quiet for a long moment in which he just tries to breathe calmly.]

Cas? Dude, seriously, where did you put me? Is Selina still in the hospital? Did Jo make it out or are we still at war? You know what, screw this. [He's scrambling to his feet and trying to feel his way out of the room, the phone moving around enough to show he's shirtless.] God damn, this is stupid. [At that moment, Dean unintentionally walks into a door frame, making a pained noise and stepping back, blood dripping from his nose.] Son of a bitch!

[He just steps back a few more paces and crouches, patting around for the floor and once he feels it he sits down, resting his back against the cot in the center of the panic room.] Those hostages better appreciate this bullshit. [He huffs a bit, trying to focus on being angry rather than unnerved.] It's kinda weird not bein' able to hear or see. Kinda like a bad trip, only without the fun part of getting high in the first place. [And Dean is going to rely on rambling for the next week, but for another few moments he goes quiet again, his blind gaze searching around him for nothing. He can't even hear if someone is coming to get him. He's hasn't felt this vulnerable in a very long time.

His gaze lowers to stare at nothing in particular, and his hands tremble a little, shaking the phone slightly. When he finally speaks again, his voice is rough, heavy with emotions he doesn't want to show, and his expression has turned into a scowl.] You better've made it back, Sammy. Come help me, dude... [His jaw tenses and there's a slight quiver to his lower lip before he fumbles with the phone and tosses it at the wall, causing it to shut off. He'll grab a gun from the rack if he can damn well find it...]

[Dean's gaze is dark and he has no obvious brightness about himself like he normally does. He is severe and stern, but he has every reason in the world to be. Blood is splattered up his face, and dirt, and he almost looks as bad as he did when he got back to Mandalus. He has a shotgun resting against his shoulder -- the one Jo gave him when she died.]

Sam Winchester is dead. [His voice wavers at the end and he swallows a thick knot in his throat.] We end this battle by winning it. There's no other option. If anyone needs guns, blades, or ammunition, come by the Yard now. I'll be around for another hour, then I'm headin' back out there.

[Tapping his shotgun once against his shoulder, he tenses his jaw.] I'm gonna make every last one of these sons of bitches pay for what happened to my brother, and anyone else out there who's got dead because of this bullshit.

[He makes a rough noise in the back of his throat as he shuts off the video.]


((OOC: This is backdated to a few hours after THIS log.))

[Dean has weapons all gathered from the trunk and he looks about ready to stab someone in the face, but he's trying to keep his cool.]

Sam, Cas, we need to mount a search and rescue for Selina. We're going now so get your asses here. Cas, pick Sam up on the way if he's too far out. [He clenches his jaw and the muscle in it twitches in frustration.]

This is my fault, I said I'd have her back and I didn't, so we're gonna find her. I already scoped out her place, there's nothing of our kinda evidence, so this is probably a normal kidnapping.

[Or she had an accident and is lying dead somewhere.] She's been stealing from business men to get info and tech for people. We should start there.

[He opens his mouth to speak again but has nothing else to say, so he just shuts off the feed.]

[It's a while after they've all woken up that Dean finally makes this call. This isn't what he planned for Castiel's coma, but he supposes it's one way to fix it. He still wishes his best friend was still here, and the distress in his green eyes is obvious even if he's trying to keep calm. All the overwhelming things in this world are making him twitchy enough, and now he doesn't have Castiel here to talk to about it.

Still, he manages to turn the video feed on and get this message out there. Certain people need to know and he's not sure how many friends Castiel made here.]

Castiel went home. He's not here. I've searched, and his name isn't in the list. [He clenches his jaw and swallows thickly.] If he had business with anyone, you can bring it to me. I'll handle it. Deliveries and baked goods, right? Well, you can have your crap delivered but I'm not bakin' for you.

[He takes a slow, shaking breath in and just turns the feed off.]


Private to Sam

[Dean looks a little less composed now it's private.] Before you go freakin' out, you return to where you were snatched from, in the same condition you were in. He's not gonna be in a coma when he gets back.