![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
11:29 PM
:: ACTION ::
[ About time for him to be dealing with something completely wacky. What's it been now? A month? That's got to be a record.
The last thing Dean remembers is heading to bed for a nap after checking in on Ben. Lisa was out with a few friends and wouldn’t be back until later. Dean had set the alarm, but that obviously never rang.
Scrolling through the various posts in the communicator, he listens to the random messages and takes a moment to watch some of the videos, trying to spot a familiar face. Dean has no idea what's going on here except apparently he's been imprisoned.
He's not worried though. This isn't the first time he's found himself trapped somewhere and it won't be his last. Underwater prison or not, there's bound to be a way out of here. He's escaped Hell. This should be a walk in the park -- a very wet, very muddy park, but no big deal.
Keeping out of sight, Dean heads in the direction of the apartment buildings in Sector 4, intending on breaking into one in order to get hold of a weapon. A silver fork, a kitchen knife, a hammer. Whatever. Judging by what he's seeing here, this place doesn't look like much of a prison and the folks, oddly enough seem alright — they sure as hell don't look dangerous for a bunch of criminals, but he's not about to take any chances. ]
:: AUDIO/VIDEO ::
[ As he's heading up the stairs in one of the buildings, he turns on the communicator again and decides to try getting in contact with his friends back home. Figured it'd be worth a shot, right? ]
Bobby? ... Bobby Singer? Castiel? [ When that doesn't work, Dean decides to verbally state the name of his brother -- Sam Winchester -- for the heck of it. It's then that the call seems to go through and he just stands there dumbfounded for a second or two.
See, Sam had died back home and it's just been a little over a month. He'd promised Sam he wouldn't try to get him back, but knowing what he knows about what it's like down there in the pit, he couldn't just sit around and do nothing. He'd tried everything to get his brother back, but so far, nothing had worked.
Well, nothing had worked until now. ]
Sam? Sammy you there? [ Dean probably should have made this audio call a private one, but he hasn't figured out how to and frankly, he doesn't give a shit right now -- so yep, this is 100% public. ]
Sam, if you’re out there…
[ Not willing to just stand there and wait for a response, Dean decides to make a video post. ]
Anyone knows where I can get a hold of a Sam Winchester? He's tall. A bit of a… a geek. He's my brother. [ That last bit comes out a bit shaky.
Dean had tried his best to live that life that Sam had wanted for him; or that Sam had thought he wanted. He'd moved in with Lisa and Ben and had gotten a job as a construction worker and you’d think everything was fine and dandy, but the truth is, he'd been hurting. Every minute of every damn day, he'd been mourning Sam's death. The nightmares, the paranoia, the urge to pick up a gun, to get back in the hunt, to ride out of town and never look back again; it was always there. He couldn't shake it, but somehow — somehow he'd managed to stick to that brand new life of his even though the guilt was eating away at him. ]
[ About time for him to be dealing with something completely wacky. What's it been now? A month? That's got to be a record.
The last thing Dean remembers is heading to bed for a nap after checking in on Ben. Lisa was out with a few friends and wouldn’t be back until later. Dean had set the alarm, but that obviously never rang.
Scrolling through the various posts in the communicator, he listens to the random messages and takes a moment to watch some of the videos, trying to spot a familiar face. Dean has no idea what's going on here except apparently he's been imprisoned.
He's not worried though. This isn't the first time he's found himself trapped somewhere and it won't be his last. Underwater prison or not, there's bound to be a way out of here. He's escaped Hell. This should be a walk in the park -- a very wet, very muddy park, but no big deal.
Keeping out of sight, Dean heads in the direction of the apartment buildings in Sector 4, intending on breaking into one in order to get hold of a weapon. A silver fork, a kitchen knife, a hammer. Whatever. Judging by what he's seeing here, this place doesn't look like much of a prison and the folks, oddly enough seem alright — they sure as hell don't look dangerous for a bunch of criminals, but he's not about to take any chances. ]
:: AUDIO/VIDEO ::
[ As he's heading up the stairs in one of the buildings, he turns on the communicator again and decides to try getting in contact with his friends back home. Figured it'd be worth a shot, right? ]
Bobby? ... Bobby Singer? Castiel? [ When that doesn't work, Dean decides to verbally state the name of his brother -- Sam Winchester -- for the heck of it. It's then that the call seems to go through and he just stands there dumbfounded for a second or two.
See, Sam had died back home and it's just been a little over a month. He'd promised Sam he wouldn't try to get him back, but knowing what he knows about what it's like down there in the pit, he couldn't just sit around and do nothing. He'd tried everything to get his brother back, but so far, nothing had worked.
Well, nothing had worked until now. ]
Sam? Sammy you there? [ Dean probably should have made this audio call a private one, but he hasn't figured out how to and frankly, he doesn't give a shit right now -- so yep, this is 100% public. ]
Sam, if you’re out there…
[ Not willing to just stand there and wait for a response, Dean decides to make a video post. ]
Anyone knows where I can get a hold of a Sam Winchester? He's tall. A bit of a… a geek. He's my brother. [ That last bit comes out a bit shaky.
Dean had tried his best to live that life that Sam had wanted for him; or that Sam had thought he wanted. He'd moved in with Lisa and Ben and had gotten a job as a construction worker and you’d think everything was fine and dandy, but the truth is, he'd been hurting. Every minute of every damn day, he'd been mourning Sam's death. The nightmares, the paranoia, the urge to pick up a gun, to get back in the hunt, to ride out of town and never look back again; it was always there. He couldn't shake it, but somehow — somehow he'd managed to stick to that brand new life of his even though the guilt was eating away at him. ]