Oct 27, 2015
Text - Meg and Dean
Meg: Wonderboy
Meg: talked to daddy dearest, as predicted he won't help, but I got a new angle to look at this thing.
Meg: Involves getting close to each other and possibly touching.
Meg: sounds good, right?
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Text - Meg and Dean
Meg: Wonderboy
Meg: talked to daddy dearest, as predicted he won't help, but I got a new angle to look at this thing.
Meg: Involves getting close to each other and possibly touching.
Meg: sounds good, right?
Witch of the Wilds ❀ Meg and Dean
Meg felt that warm tingling feeling again. At first she passed it off as her possibly having a rip in her clothes and the still air of Purgatory was brushing against her bare skin. But soon, she realized all too quickly that, that was not the case. Inhaling sharply, Meg nearly let the demon that was attacking new arrivals go and when he started to squirm from her grasp, she tightened it and brought her blade up to his throat. “Now, now… we’re not done playing our little game,” smirking, Meg gave a quick tug and tore the flesh from his throat wide open, allowing the demon inside to perish.
Dropping the body to the ground, she wiped the blade against her jeans and paused immediately. It was much brighter out now, and the grassy, grey bottom of Purgatory was now a sandy brown. The demon shot her head up as she blinked, adjusting her eyes to the bright sun. Sheathing her knife, she brought a hand up to her face as she focused on one building to the next. “Son of a bitch…” Smirking, Meg tossed her brown hair over her shoulder as she made a move towards a familiar building.
Everything seemed the same, everything but the outside. Sure, it may have looked like an old-time saloon, but she knew as well as the residents of the town, that it wasn’t. Kicking open the front door, Meg looked around with a raised brow to see if her favorite pretend bartender was inside. When she didn’t see him or sense him, she moved to go behind the counter. Wetting a rag, she began to clean her face and exposed skin of the dirt and blood she'd accumulated from Purgatory, all too aware that a second presence had entered the room quietly.
“Keep staring Wonderboy and I might have to get you to take a picture.” Slowly, she reached for the nearest bottle of whiskey and pulled the top off, before turning to face Dean and then taking a rather large swig of the alcohol. “So, you got a shower in this joint or am I supposed to keep using these rags?”
Mantelpiece — [Minievent 9]
Starring: Dean Winchester, John Smith & Irene Adler. At: The deck. Synopsis: If everyone you loved was dead, would you be strong enough to continue fighting? Because someone wasn’t.
Irene lost track of how long she had been wandering through the empty rooms of the ship. It felt like days had passed, but the almost bluish-black color in the sky was a constant reminder of how surreal time can be when you wish it'd just stop running at all. It was but just the beginning of dawn, so it couldn't have been more than a couple hours since she began walking, right? By now, it was all clearer than the water surrounding her. Everyone was gone. The few persons she had come to care about this last year, the small stitches for her shattered heart... they had all disappeared. And though it had been a while since she accepted that, there were still no tears running down her cheeks. The ship was still sailing, and it was about to dawn... which meant she was not as alone as she felt. Her guard was up and she had one of the knives she brought with her in her hand as she looked for any other survivors in the deck. For what was probably the millionth time in her existence, Irene Adler was about to fight for her life, she had no time to be sentimental.
Dean kicked a random barrel on deck angrily without caring who might hear him, gripping the First Blade tightly between his fist. He'd been wondering for hours, somehow being one of the last to survive and completely failing to save the ones he cared about. The ones who deserved to get off that ship way more than he did. But he was still alive, and despite all the guilt, he intended to keep it that way. "Well come on then," he shouted. "It's not going to do any of us any good if we keep hiding from each other," he shouted, walking out into the open deck, doing a slow spin to scan the area.
John Smith was pretty sure that something wasn't adding up. The ship was empty, and he somehow knew that everyone - or near everyone - was dead. The only thing was, he couldn't quite remember them dying. If he concentrated hard enough, he thought he could remember fire and the sound of screams, but it all seemed somehow... distant. Like something he'd been told, instead of experienced firsthand. But he didn't really have time to think about it, not when he was sure that whoever had survived was probably going to try and kill everyone else. He made his way towards the deck because he really needed the fresh air, which was when he heard Dean's shout. Stepping out onto the deck, he glanced at the knife in the other's hand. "So," he said, a kernel of anger rising up in him. "Were you the one who was responsible for killing off everyone else?"
Irene's muscles clenched immediately when the fuss reached her ears, and even if this was definitely not the moment for that, her classical mischievous grin appeared in her blood red, thin lips. Though it sounded more violent than she remembered it, she identified the prettiest Winchester immediately. What a silly movement, he could have as well be begging to be annihilated that very moment, did no one appreciate the elegance of the surprise attack anymore? How sad. Yet, she decided it'd be better to attend to the call. He was right after all, and who was she not to oblige what sounded like a ridiculous death wish to her ears? She walked slowly, enjoying the sound of her own heels clicking over the wood... until she heard a second voice which she failed to identify at first. There were two people still alive? That was... unexpected, to say the least. Perhaps the best would be to hide and let them kill each other, if she was lucky enough, they'd might fall to the ocean so she'd just have to claim her prize. Yeah, that's definitely what she would have done if she weren't so close already, close enough to see them and be seen. Well then, time to improvise. "Oh, was he now?" Irene purred, not taking any step closer. There was some implicit threat in her velvety voice that was just as clear into her eyes.
Dean spun around when he heard the familiar voice, coming to a stop when he laid eyes on the lanky half-alien. The problem was, he couldn't immediately answer the man's question, because he wasn't entirely sure who all he was responsible. Everything up until that point was a blur. A blur filled with pain and death and he knew himself enough to know that he probably was responsible for a lot of them, even if was inadvertently. Before he could reply with a lie however, a third person joined them and he tore his gaze away from John to stare at the beautiful woman instead. "I might be," he murmured, shrugging a little too non-chalantly and flexing his fingers around the handle of his blade. "I could ask you the same question. A lot of people I care about are dead down there and it sure as Hell wasn't me."
John Smith had been too distracted to notice that there was a third person lurking around - or maybe she was just that good at concealment. Either way, he jumped when he heard the click of heels followed by another voice, glancing around sharply. "Irene Adler," he said, thinking fast. Between Dean and Irene, he would have pegged Irene as more ruthless, but wholesale murder of everyone on board didn't seem like her style. "Well it certainly wasn't me," he snapped. "Most of those people were my friends. And for crying out loud, put that knife away before you accidentally stab someone with it."
Irene recovered her wicked grin the very instant the two men turned to gaze at her, taking a rapid look up and down at the both of them, looking firstly for the spots where they could be a threat—Dean had obviously more muscles than her, and the other man... John Smith? As fas as she remembered, he always seemed to be the clever kind. Then, automatically planning how to overcome those advantages of theirs with her own. "Then it might have been me," claimed she, too busy trying to build her plan to question herself if she was lying or not. What would be the best way of getting rid of the blond one? He seemed the kind that'd pick muscles over brain... but just to make sure, why shouldn't she mess a little with his nerves? "But people I love are gone too, and I'm just as certain that I'm not responsible of that... sadly, I wouldn't dare to say the same of the others." Irene was a selfish woman, so it shouldn't be surprising how little she cared about the mess that her memories of that dreadful night have become. The one clear thing was grief, and she was an expert on turning it to venom in her sting. She took the time on making a small reverence with her head when she heard her name. "Oh, please dear. If I stabbed any of you tonight, do you really think it'd be an accident? I'm flattered you have such a nice perception of me, though."
Dean looked back and forth between the two others- the only two people still alive apart from him as far as he was aware. Anger washed over him and he let it consume him more than he had in a really long time. His gaze rested on John when spoke up about the knife and he let out a hallow laugh the same time Irene spoke up to defend herself, not really hearing her. "I know how to use this thing. If I don't want to hurt you, I won't. It's as simple as that. It's not going anywhere."
John Smith raised an eyebrow at Irene. He could see her sizing them up, and he could see that Dean was edgy. He would have asked why they'd killed the others, except that he was pretty certain of the answer - the knowledge seemed to float right in the forefront of his brain: they needed to kill everyone else in order to survive. Which, a little part of him thought, made absolutely no sense. "Right," he said, half glaring at Irene. "But question is, what happened to Jack? Because he's immortal, the last I checked. And I'll make this clear: No one is killing anyone. So just put those weapons away and let's see if we can figure out what's happening."
Irene barely registered the almost scolding wasn't meant to be for her, and she cared even less. If she didn't knew it'd be probably deadly to take her eyes away of this men even for a second, she'd be nonchalantly looking at her perfect nail polish to wait until they finished talking and hoping it'd wouldn't take too long before they got into action. Luckily, a certain comment caught her attention, and of course she couldn't keep herself from making a snarky remark. "Oh, please dear. To take someone's immortality away wouldn't be the most unbelievable thing this place has done, would it? Besides, haven't you heard that the only thing we can take for granted is death? Go ask everyone else if you don't trust me, I'm pretty sure they'll all agree with me." The irony in that last comment was so evident it almost sounded as an insult. The most likely is that that was her real intention.
Dean stared at John, because up until then he hadn't thought about that and the man was right, and while Irene was right too, it didn't make sense for the Pocket to suddenly make Jack mortal now when he's already died several times before. Hell, he was responsible for two of those deaths himself. But almost instantly he was distracted by what else Irene had to add to the subject, and immediately turned on the Woman. It took everything in him to hold back from pressing the edge of his blade to her throat then and there. "What's the point?" He asked John without taking his eyes off Irene. "And you can shut the Hell up." He snapped, pointing at Irene. "What's the point?" He repeated. " Everyone is dead already and if Jack's alive, he's not making an appearance, is he?"
John Smith rolled his eyes at Irene's remarks, exasperated. "The Pocket is many things, but Jack isn't just immortal; he's a fixed point. You can't just alter a fixed point, not without breaking all of time and--" he shook his head, wondering why he was even bothering. "What's the point of what?" he snapped back, stalking closer. Something in the back of his head was still telling him to kill these two, the same something that was making it increasingly hard to think rationally. "Put. The Knife. Down," he said. "I'm not going to ask again."
Irene bit the inner face of her lower lip to suppress an exasperated growl. She was so tired of obeying her brain before her guts... the knife on her hand felt as if it were throbbing, urging her to be dropped or used at once. To stay still, just listening to the men's remarks, gave her mind the perfect chance to drift to the blurry reminder of the death of her few acquaintances. Oh, she was not strong enough to live with that, not again. Maybe she should just... drop the knife and let them do whatever they had to do. "Mr. Pretty Eyes here is right," said she, pointing at Dean with her chin. Despite her gloomy thoughts, that sarcastic grin on her face seemed permanent, at least. "Even if your precious friend is still around—which I highly doubt, it hardly matters. If we don't go down, this ship will, and you may excuse me, but to deal with whatever creature's in the water is definitely not part of my plans." Dean glared at John, matching the man's steps until they were standing directly in front of each other. In the back of his mind, he knew that he respected this man, even trusted him. But instincts that he'd been suppressing for a long time were kicking in stronger than they had the entire time he'd been in the pocket apart from the time he'd killed Jack. The only thing giving him comfort was the fact that it didn't seem to be a pull from the Mark this time but from the actual Pocket itself and that he wasn't the only one. Gritting his teeth, he glanced over at Irene before slowly putting his Blade away. "What's the point in pretending that every single one of us isn't here for the same reason. That we aren't all looking for blood, whether it be to be the last man standing or to get revenge for our dead loved ones." He answered finally, "and like she said, I may not care about being the last one standing, but I sure as Hell am not going out by that damn creature.”
John Smith huffed in annoyance. Humans, always so thick, always overlooking the obvious when it stared at them in the face. But Dean was putting the knife away, and John decided to let it go. Especially since Irene still seemed... edgy, for the want of a better word. Glancing sideways at her, he thought he sensed... desperation? Resignation? "No one is killing anyone," he said, though he was starting to think that his words were falling on deaf ears. "We could work through this, find a way to get this ship to land, neutralise Monty--" but just as he said the words, something seemed to ram against the side of the ship, jolting it with a massive crash.
Irene didn't even attempt to put her weapon away, the knife was still clenched firmly between her fingers, though it wasn't currently threatening anyone. Just ready to be used if it was necessary. Dean was not only right again, but surprisingly and accurately describing exactly what The Woman was feeling right now. She wanted blood, even if whoever hurt her acquaintances was gone, she just knew the sight of her favorite colour would make her feel better, just like she knew that the whimpers of the pathetic would be a good way of haunting her own demons away before even becoming a dominatrix. But even despite this, and though is no news how her emotions have this annoying tendency of taking the best of her, she could start to see the logic on what John was saying... besides, she could be a hypocrite, blackmailer, liar, manipulator, among many other things... but murderer was not one of them. Not without being legitimately attacked first. Her grasp on the knife started to ease as John's logic tickled her own common sense... but it all went to the hell when they bumped against something. Was it land? The beast underwater? Some sort of reef? She was too busy trying to keep her balance—and failing, to try to go and look outside, though by the way the ship continued to rock after the first impact, she was almost sure they weren't landing yet. Irene fell to her knees, so it made it easy for her to stand up as soon as she was certain she wouldn't stumble again. "Monty? You... really named that thing?" She snorted in disbelief, probably trying to divert her attention to something rather than what she now was certain was definitive. After a small pause, and while taking careful steps to get a little closer to them and brushing her recently short locks of hair beneath her ear, she stared at both men with a glance entirely different than the daring and mocking one she had been using so far. There were doubt and fear in her eyes, but also a blazing spark that gave away that The Woman had made a decision, and she was not changing her mind anymore. "Listen, whoever survives this, will be completely alone in this godforsaken universe, and who knows if anyone will show up again? It... it'd be a fate worse than death, don't you think? And I don't know about you, but I have been alone my entire life... and the one thing I know is that I don't want to be alone ever again..." Her knuckles had turned white for the pressure she was using over her knife, that had to be the most wholehearted thing she said the whole night... and even so, she was the first to attack. With a fast movement, she jumped closer to John, pointing her knife directly to his throat.
Dean barely had time to register what was happening after the boat was hit by what he assumed was 'Monty'. His arms flailed out for balance, nearly knocking over John due to their close proximity, but instead he wrapped his hand around the man's arm to stop him from falling. He let go almost immediately when Irene spoke up, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the look on her face. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was something between fear and determination and quite frankly it put him on edge. "I think it might be too late to neutralize him." Dean muttered, mostly to John as he turned to fully face the Woman now, sensing that now she was the ultimate threat on board. He'd have to think about the whale's (or whatever it was) motives later. His eyes glanced down at the hand holding the knife and then back up to meet Irene's eyes. "You can't wi--" he started, before jumping into action, pulling out his blade and shoving John out of Irene's way in one swift movement. "Going for the one without a weapon first? Really?"
John Smith stumbled as the boat rocked. Would Monty really attack them? They knew next to nothing about the creature, which had seemed content to just follow them around so far. It didn't make sense, but then again, nothing about this entire thing made sense. He was just about to move to the side of the boat to check on what was going on, when Irene leapt at him. Survival reflexes trained over the long years kicked in, as he immediately ducked back, bringing up his arms to shield his face and throat, but Irene might have gotten him anyway if Dean hadn't intervened. Don't want to be alone ever again... his head was ringing, and a large part of him was so tempted to let Dean just go ahead and kill Irene, which was what she wanted, wasn't it? He struggled with indecision, even as he recognised that she was, in some macabre way, forcing their hand. If he wanted to talk at all, he was going to have to get the knife away from her. He dove at Irene, grabbing at her wrist.
Irene meant completely what she just said, but why did she even bother? Perhaps it was some sort of apology for not being able to hold down her survival instincts? An attempt of letting them know that, even if she somehow managed to win, she'd have to endure a fate that for her would be worse than death? Or maybe it was her very particular way of asking not to be forced to have to go through something so horrible? Maybe it was even a mix of the three things. Who knows anymore what's going on into The Woman's mind? Probably not even herself is very sure. She wasn't surprised that Dean pushed John out of her way, but the way the second man grasped her wrist did make her lose her focus for an instant. "Oh, please. He's a clever one, that's ten times more dangerous than our ridiculous weapons." Irene snorted again as if it was obvious, using those few words as a small break for her own mind, planning on what to do next. After all, even if Dean was stronger than her, she could always trick him into falling to the water or through the stairs, but she knew for experience that one should be more afraid of the mind than the muscles. What wasn't obvious to her right now was if John was trying to immobilize her to attack or just preventing her from hurting anyone, but it didn't really matter, since she didn't plan on wasting time finding out. She moved her hand to grasp him back, hurting herself with her own knife but not minding it at all, and pulling him towards her to throw a kick right to his diaphragm.
Dean was busy calculating his next move when other two got into another altercation despite him having just pushed John out of the way. He grit his teeth, putting his leg out to trip John after he was kicked. He wasn't aiming to kill, or even hurt him (yet), but he hoped it would be enough to keep him out of the way for at least a little bit while he dealt with Irene who was obviously keen to end this the hard way. Then without overthinking it, he aimed his blade for Irene's throat, pressing the tip roughly to her skin as he stared wildly at her. "If this is how you want this to go, I will not hesitate. Give me one more reason to use this against you. Please, I've been dying to for months now. And you know what, I'm tired of holding back." His voice was low and dangerous, and his eyes narrowed as he pressed the edge of his blade harder against her throat.
John Smith was vaguely aware of several things happening at once. He tripped over a foot that definitely hadn't been there a moment ago, at the same time his hand closed around Irene's wrist. She yanked him further off balance, and it was only Dean's intervention that probably stopped him from being skewered. He went sprawling, using his momentum to twist himself away from Irene, tumbling to the deck, as Dean went for the woman. Curses in several languages flickered briefly through his mind as he watched Dean threaten Irene - he wasn't going to be able to talk them out of this, and he wasn't going to win in a fight against two knife wielders. Glancing around, he slowly regained his feet, thinking hard.
Irene was usually daring and bold, but she wasn't crazy enough to take another step to the front as if challenging Dean to actually hurt her. We can't give her much credit though, because the only reason why she didn't do it was because the knife would pierce her skin, and if she survived, she didn't want to have any scars of this dreadful event. Or at least, she wanted to avoid as many as she could. However, to be standing right there, with a death threat about to be impressed over her throat, made her next movement unclear. No, it's not like she didn't know where to move to be as away of the blade as she could, but she didn't know if she [i]actually[/i] wanted to move. Irene exchanged a quick glance between Dean and the blade as her mind worked, and the look in her eyes changed just the slightest bit as she made a decision. She had gone through so many things completely on her own... and she was so tired of doing so. It was always as if she had no choice but keep fighting and fighting when all she wanted was to give up. This time she had no way out. If she gave up, she'd have to continue fighting to survive. If she fought, she'd be giving up to taking another step. One, two... five deaths. Five deaths from loved ones and another Irene coming out from the ashes of the previous one was what she'd have to endure if she decided to win this fight, and at last, she was willing to embrace not being strong enough. "Dean, Dean. When I like someone, the first thing I look are their eyes, and yours are quite beautiful. I wonder what I would have done to you had our fates been a little different." Irene sighed, looking up and down at him once before looking at John and winking to him. There was no hint of sadness in her eyes when she rose her knife, apparently ready to attack.
Dean was too far past the point of thinking rationally at this point. At one point he was genuinely trying to protect John, who was someone Dean respected and even considered a friend. But he wasn't even sure that that could even be said anymore. He barely registered what Irene was saying before he saw the knife in her hand lift up and without hesitating he flicked his wrist just enough to slice her throat before roughly jamming the tip deep into the wound. When he pulled his hand back, it was covered in Irene's blood and he stared at his own hand as he slowly realized what he'd done. Before he could make another move or decide what he was going to do now, the ship rocked again, harder than the last and this time knocked Dean off his feet.
John Smith could do absolutely nothing except watch, utterly horrified, as Dean slit Irene's throat. He lunged forward - too late, forever too late - grabbing Irene as she fell, the rocking of the ship sending both of them to the floor. He knew it was useless, knew that Dean wouldn't miss from that distance, was too experienced with a knife to get it wrong, but all kinds of lies were tumbling from his lips anyway - 'it's fine, I've got you, you'll be fine...' With an effort, he bit them back. Irene didn't need or deserve those false platitudes. "What have you done?" he demanded of Dean instead. "Is this how it is? Are you going to kill me now? Be the last man standing all alone in the world? What kind of life do you think that would be?!"
Irene's knife falling from her grasp and hitting the floor was the first thing to break the layer of mutism that had appeared over her ears, then, slowly, all the other sounds began to reach her once again. The roaring ocean and it's waves hitting the ship, her own heavy breathing, her heart pumping blood through her veins as fast as it could, trying to get enough adrenaline to control the bleeding before it was too late... oh, but it was already too late. Then it came the pain, and though it was insufferable, it wasn't the worse pain she had gone through. The most sadistic and sarcastic part of her own mind wondered why was death always seeming to aim to her neck? Norton choking her, the almost beheading back in Karachi, and now this... the last two times there had been an alarm to save her, either the doorbell announcing the arrival of unexpected guests, or her own muffled moan in Sherlock's pocket. This time there was nothing she could use as an escape. Oh, wait, wasn't she standing just a second before? Why was she lying now? No, not lying. John was holding her tightly, but shouldn't she have felt at least when she hit the ground? Apparently her senses were all focused in the worst wound she ever had, too busy to mind ridiculousness as losing balance. Her consciousness was slowly fading away, and with the remains of it she couldn't help but be sorry about wearing her favorite white outfit just today. 'Boys, boys, don't fight over me. There'll be enough Irene Adler for the both of you as soon as I get up, I promise.' That's what she would have said under other circumstances, her cheekiness present even at the end—oh, this was really the end, wasn't it?—, but she couldn't get her voice to work properly but to gasp and growl, like a fish trying to breath. She stared at John with big eyes, and then tried to look at Dean, but for her position she couldn't see him, so her eyes returned to the British man. What was she looking for in his face? He was practically a stranger to her, but even so she seemed... relief? Yes, that's exactly what she felt, even though she was dying... she lived alone her whole life, her worst fear had been to die alone too... she was relieved there was at least someone who seemed to care, even if she was the one who started it all.
Dean felt his blade slip from his hand when he fell over, the sound of it sliding across the deck somehow sticking out to him more than any of the other sounds. Until John's voice broke through, and he pulled himself onto his knees to stare at the two of them. 'What have you done' echoed through loudly through his mind, as if John was still shouting at him and with the blade no longer in his hand he started to have a little more clarity. "She asked for it." He spat, defending himself uselessly. He tried to stand up, needing to get away because he really had no idea where to go from there, but then something hit the side of the ship again, apparently trying really hard to send them tipping into the water if they didn't take care of things himself. His knees buckled trying to catch his balance and he fell backwards, hitting his head on something on the deck and the next thing he knew, everything went black.
John Smith could feel the guilt wrenching through him, even as he tried uselessly to stem the bleeding, watching Irene's blood slip through his fingers as her life slipped away. At least Dean had made it clean, and it wouldn't be long, but watching her trying to speak made his gut twist. He spared a glare for Dean, no amount of withering sarcasm sufficient to rebuke that inane response that the American had just shot at him. He would deal with him later, preferably before Dean got it into his head to off him as well, but for now, Irene was his main concern, for what little good it could do. Unfortunately, Monty clearly had other plans. Something crashed into the ship, sending him sprawling across the deck. He saw Dean fall, then the boat seemed to tip over crazily. He had a moment to reflect on the fact that physics probably didn't work that way, not even here, before he found himself flung into the water. He hit the surface with a crack, and sank like a stone, plunging into the depths.
Irene's consciousness didn't last long enough for her to get Dean's response, even less for her to witness the bump against the ship. Her body was completely numb by then, and finally, she lost enough blood for her brain to start shutting itself down. Every sound became just muffled, and her vision became blurry... was this really dying? Woah, it felt almost like falling asleep... she tried to sigh, but the air wouldn't go through her destroyed throat anymore, so she just settled with closing her eyes. This was better than anything she could ever wish for, even despite the many deaths of that night, she never thought she'd feel so much peace... and then she woke up. "Mnagh!!" She gasped, immediately trying to sit on her bed as her uneasy mind tried to process what just happened. A dream, a dream, it was nothing but a dream... Irene thought, but there was still something off with this reality... her pupils moved around the room, but even though there was some sunlight peeking from the windows to the wooden floor, there were endless dark spots blinding most of her vision... she moved a weak hand to her throat, in an attempt of assuring herself that she was just still trying to recover herself from her nightmare... but her fingers were greeted not with the sweaty skin of a restless night, but with a warm liquid and an unsettling gap right over her throat. Blood. It was then when a very frightened Irene Adler realized that it wasn't just a dream. It had never been only a dream. She tried to ask for help, yell, cry, to make any sound at all, but the only thing coming out of her lips was the unnerving sound of one who's choking, and as if to be actually dying wasn't horrible enough, she realized that her biggest fear was becoming truth. She was alone. She was dying alone in her bedroom, and it'd be perhaps hours before anyone realized what had been of her. You know about how they say that your life runs in front of your eyes when you die, right? Well, Irene had nothing but the sensation that very recent events left behind. The happy warmness in her chest and cheeks from the movie night she shared with the others from her universe, the cold fear and intense rage at Eve when she attacked her at the flower shop, the return of that warmth and a deep sadness when John Watson took care of her wounds and supported her, the peace from just a couple seconds ago that she thought she wouldn't die by herself... and the boiling rage and black emotions when she threw that last glance to Sherlock Holmes, and how now she'd never have time to make it right. The last tears rolled down her cheeks as she realized how many things she would never get to say... how many unsent messages would die along with her in her cellphone. If she could only reach it to send those drafts... but when she rose her arm again to reach for the cellphone, it fell numb on her side. 'No, no, no. Not alone, please, please...' She begged. Twice. And those were her last thoughts, because after that, her mind finally started to shut down... and just a second later, her eyes, still wide open, lost all of their light... the only spark remaining on them was the memory of a tear that she couldn't even get to shed, and her always brightly colored lips were half opened with a prayer she'd now never say. On her pocket, her Vertu phone sent one last alert, one last beating of her heart. Then, the battery died.
TEXT MESSAGE || DEAN 💪
CLARA: Hiya, found your number in my phone -- mysterious and convenient. Wanted to say thank you for the other day. You know, with the tiger and all.
CLARA: Guess it's me who owes you a drink now, eh?
[ a few minutes later ]
CLARA: Oh! This is Clara, by the way. Probably should have mentioned that first.
Is it true Mycroft Holmes' sense of humor was found belowdecks? I hear it's been lost for a long time.
I’m sure we could find a lot of things below deck. Like Dean’s sobriety.
So we wouldn’t be surprised at all if Mycroft’s humor was to be found down there.
Either way, you’ll have to go and look for it.
Happy hunting!
In which Dean vanishes and Gwen sees, causing the Doctor to prompt an adventure and to get Dean’s name wrong. [x]
The Lick Test ☤ The Doctor(12), Dean Winchester, and Gwen Cooper. - Event 7, mini-event.
TAGGING: The Doctor, Gwen Cooper, Dean Winchester
TIME FRAME: June 2, late afternoon
LOCATION: The ‘shifting’ room of the ship.
GENERAL NOTES: The Doctor, Gwen, and Dean meet up and decide to explore a mysterious room. What they discover inside is horrific and also... hilarious?
Dean felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders now that he had found his car, and not just that, but the alcohol he'd stored in it from the bar prior to his move to the Town Hall. He'd been on the intent of doing a little bit of exploring to keep his idle hands busy, but as soon he found Baby, he'd pretty much parked himself on the hood of the car with a bottle of whiskey, pretty content on downing as much of it as the Pocket (the boat?) would let him. That was until two people walked in- who he assumed saw his message about the alcohol once he saw Gwen, remembering that she wasn't a stranger to drinking herself. Capping the bottle of whiskey, he hopped off the hood and waved at his sudden visitors. "You guys wanna drink?" He asked in loo of a proper greeting.
Gwen figured that with her medicine helping, her gun pocketed, and her belly hidden easily enough beneath an oversised jumper, she had no more excuses or desires to stay confined to her room. She'd seen John's warning about what the TARDIS had caused the below decks to become, but she couldn't resist a look. She grinned when she found the Doctor headed in her same direction. This was a face she liked and she'd be glad not to be alone even if she wouldn't say so out loud. Perhaps subconsciously, she found the room Dean mentioned and immediately stepped closer, nodding to the offer and facing mixed feelings towards having to reject it. "Not right now, but that's great," she said. "That's gonna make you some friends."
The Doctor decided that now would be a good and festive time to look for his TARDIS. Of course he'd mentally planned to not have John anywhere near her, and once he saw Dean Winchester had found his car on the internet, he figured that finding his own vessel wouldn't be that hard. However, there was one thing he didn't plan for and that was company, though if he had to choose, he was glad that it was Gwen Cooper. Smiling at her briefly, the Time Lord wordlessly followed her until they entered a room that held both Dean and his beloved Impala. Making a face at the offered alcohol, the Doctor frowned and held up a hand. "No. It ages me, can't risk looking old." Giving the American an unamused smile, the Doctor began to poke around the room (and even risking to open the passenger side door to the car).
Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow at both of their refusals - both of them for different reasons. He muttered a 'Suit yourself' and bit back a comment about the Doctor not needing to worry about the alcohol aging him when he seemed to be doing a fine job of that himself already with that face. But then he got caught up thinking again about how he changed faces in the first place and just pushed the entire conversation aside, not really in the mood for a long winded answer that may or may not have been irrelevant. Instead he moved around the car, following the Doctor closely, not entirely trusting him that close to his Baby. Especially when he just re-found her. "What are you two doing then, if not looking for alcohol?" he asked, keeping a close eye on the Doctor when he opened the passenger door, ready to intervene at any moment.
Gwen wouldn't touch the car but she got close enough to study it and mused quietly on just how much she missed driving even if this particular car wouldn't be her style. It was summarised easily enough with a mumbled, "Glad the car's okay." She considered her options for a beat before she answered honestly, "Just looking in general, I suppose... There's a lot to see down here. 'Keeps changing."
The Doctor sniffed the car door before pawing his way onto the front seat and crawling in on his hands and knees, all while picking up odd bits and sniffing them, even giving pause to lick the steering wheel. When he heard Dean's question, he shot his head up and smacked it on the roof of the car before letting out a 'oof' before crawling back out and shutting the door and leaning against the vehicle. "Looking for my ship. Which, after a thorough test, your car is not my ship."
Dean frowned, distracted long enough from the Doctor to allow him enough time to somehow climb entirely into the vehicle to give Gwen a look. "Changing? What do you mean by that?" He had suspected as much himself, but he hadn't made it far enough to do some actual invesigating. But he had been sure he'd checked this room for his car before and now it was suddenly there. He was going to say as such when he finally took note of the Doctor who was making his way back out. "What the Hell? I could have told you that. How about you just... back away from the car now." he said cautiously, shooeing the old man away from his car. "Are you going to be checking things out more now? Because I was planning on doing a little poking around too before I found her." He said, jutting his thumb in the direction of the car and directing his question more to Gwen without actually taking his eyes off the Doctor.
Gwen looked a little too amused by the scene before her. She'd get involved if necessary but if Dean's request wasn't enough to get the Doctor away from his precious car, then his next question at least posed a nice distraction. The hunter seemed to have things covered but she could contribute some enthusiasm. "We could check some of the other rooms. Come with us!"
The Doctor jutted his neck out and rose his eyebrows while narrowing his eyes at the hunter. Crossing his arms over his chest, the Time Lord backed away and stood beside Gwen while still openly glaring at Dean. "Well I was going to look around but since you two happen to be here, I guess you could come with me." Sticking his nose in the air, the Doctor turned sharply to his left before he stopped dead in his tracks and pointed accusingly in the direction opposite him. "What is that!? That's not been there before, and I would know, I've been licking this ship like a stale lolly for days now!" Cautiously he leaned towards Gwen and whispered, "trust me, the lick test helps."
Dean locked the doors to his Impala as soon as the Doctor was distracted before moving to follow them, appreciating Gwen's enthusiasm that lead the alien away from his car, not even sure if it had been on purpose or not. He narrowed his eyes at the man, muttering a 'that can't be sanitary,' and making a mental note to touch the ship a little less before his own curiosity won out and he stepped closer to the door across the hall. "I thought this door was black the last time I saw it..." He murmured, pushing past the Doctor to press his ear to the door, but the little bit of pressure was enough to apparently push it open and he immediately jumped back, admittedly caught off guard by the swinging door.
Gwen shivered with something halfway between disgust and amasement. "I believe you," she told the Doctor. "But maybe that's more of a last resort test." She aimed a finger his way in order to imply as vaguely but deliberately as possible that if he licked her, they'd have a very different conversation. In truth, three separate exploring missions had just become one and although she liked thinking it had been her idea, she had no issue letting Dean take the lead. She stared at the door in question as it swung and agreed, "Okay, that's new. At least it's not the tiger-one."
The Doctor brightened when Gwen spoke about the tiger. "Oh I nearly met him. Sharp-witted, that one. Absolutely hilarious once he opens up to you." Smiling genuinely at her he turned to look at Dean when he heard the door swing open. Throwing his hand up he rolled his eyes and openly sighed. "Now look what you've done! No one said to open the door, what'd you open the door for!? You wouldn't even let me sonic it fir-he wouldn't let me sonic it!" The latter half of the sentence was more of a whiny complaint to Gwen than anything, but the Time Lord soon found himself following the hunter. "Well in any case, it's a strange room with a strange thing behind it, might as well explore it since Mr. Prematurely-Opens-Doors here has already ruined the surprise."
Dean gave Gwen a 'is-this-guy-serious' look before turning his perplexed stare back at the Doctor. "I'll give you something to sonic," he retorted, pointing his finger at him and nearly poking the alien in the chest. His retort came out more as a suggestive innuendo than threatening and Dean couldn't help but smirk when he realized as he turned back towards the room. He stopped just a few short paces into the room, a chill running down his spine at the sight in front of them. Suddenly they were standing in a lifelike was museum, at least he hoped they were wax as some of the things he was seeing looked too familiar for his liking.
Gwen thought the only thing worse than moderating this insanity would be having to take a side. "I don't think it needs sonic-ing," was her first attempt at neutrality. "But keep that handy, Doctor," she said immediately upon stepping into the room. "Woah, this is..." 'Creepy' might have been a better word but Gwen went with a more troubling observation, "Huge." She made a face at what appeared to be the first artwork in their path. "Let's walk though," she said. "It might be a good hiding place, who knows?"
The Doctor continued to widen his eyes towards Dean, trying to show that he wasn't intimidated at all by his threat. "Oh? Is that supposed to scare me? Well I've got news for you, it'll take a lot more to scare.... me." His tone died down once he hit 'me' as he stared at the room before them. "No, I don't think this is going to be a good hiding place for any of us." Carefully, he pushed past Dean and Gwen and started to edge towards a scene that looked a little too familiar to him. "Oh look at this! All cheap copies! Who'd believe those were actually Daleks!? Bah!" Throwing his hand in the air, he turned towards Gwen, ready to launch into a rant.
Dean didn't pay the Doctor any attention as he made his way further into the room. Some of the things looked just completely bizarre to him, but it didn't take long to figure out that some of what he didn't recognize, was recognized by at least the Doctor. Dean was immediately drawn to a replica of Bobby's house though, and he was standing right in front of it before he even realized he'd made the decision to move to it. Every thing looked so real, even the body laying on the floor in the corner that made his stomach twist and turn painfully as soon as he realized who it was. With a frown, he leaned forward to poke the glass that separated him from the room, but then he felt himself being pulled in, like he was being sucked through a vacuum and the next thing he knew he was standing in Bobby's front room. Except now he was more than certain it was real. The smell that hit him immediately gave him a huge douse of nostalgia that turned to nausea. There was someone else there. Someone apart from the dead body that he still refused to look directly at, and slowly he pulled out his blade from his back pocket and spun around. "I know you're there, so why don't you stop hiding like he coward you are and come out here." He called, the cackling he was hearing giving him chills.
Gwen knew it hardly mattered, but she felt the need to clarify anyway. "I don't mean we should hide in here. I mean, the things we're looking for. This would be a good place to hide them when the ship plays games- with all this creepy.. shit." She looked Dean's way, hoping he'd agree but he seemed a little too transfixed. "They're not real," she tried to reassure both men. "None of it's-" she tensed, stumbled a step backwards and bit back a scream. She got as close to the display as possible without the risk of touching it and waved her arms in useless disbelief, "Doctor, what the hell just-?!?!"
The Doctor flung his arm towards the Dalek while still keeping his eyes trained on Gwen. "Well of course they're not real! Is your pregnancy making you pudding for brains!? That's not what I'm saying, what I'm saying is they're a poor excuse at trying to scare us!" Blinking when he realised that something had scared the woman before him, the Doctor paused and dropped his arms to his side. "What? What is it? What's going on? Has the American done something stupid?" Whirling around, the Time Lord looked about the room. "Dan?" Pausing once more, he turned to look at Gwen. "That's his name, right?"
Dean 's heart was pounding hard in his chest as he scoped out the room. The cackling sounded familiar, but he couldn't place who exactly it belonged to and he thought that might have been aggravating him even more than the way the walls felt like they were closing in on him. With how real everything looked, sounded, smelled, he'd just about completely forgotten that he wasn't actually standing in Bobby's cabin. In fact, he realized the same thing could have happened to him that had happened to Rhys and Meg. Or maybe whoever was clearly having the time of their lives in one of the other rooms was behind the entire thing. "If you don't come out, I will find you. And trust me, your fate will be ten times worse if you make me chase you." He warned.
Gwen extended her right hand and pressed her fingers together to mime a closed mouth. It might have been useless at this point but she was still trying to keep her new baby a secret. She had bigger problems at the moment though, like the fact that her friend had literally just vanished into one of the displays. "His name is Dean," she snarled with misplaced anger and then risked leaning in closer, straining to hear what was going on inside the house. Then, "Can you sonic it or something?!"
The Doctor rolled his eyes dramatically at Gwen before pulling out his sonic and heading closer towards the area Gwen was moving closer to. "So I missed a letter, he'll live without the 'e'." Pulling Gwen out of the way, the Time Lord held the sonic screwdriver up to the house and buzzed it before pulling it back and reading it. "Do you fancy an adventure?" Raising his brows, the Doctor pocketed his sonic before grabbing a hold of Gwen's hand and leaping into the wall, effectively tugging his friend along with him. "Well that went over a lot better than I expected, at least we're not eating the wall. Oh, Dan! That's where you've wandered off to. Find anything interesting?" Smiling, the Doctor looked around realising that they weren't on the ship anymore. "Hang on, where are we? And where's that laughing coming from?"
Dean jumped back, immediately going into the defensive when he heard people in the room suddenly, but only half relaxed when he realized who it was. "We're in my friend Bobby's place... I haven't checked... But I think that's Bobby." His voice caught both times he said the name but he pointed with his blade toward the body laying on the floor in the corner. "It doesn't make sense for him to be here though. And I don't know where the damn laughing is coming from but whoever it is needs to shut the hell up." He explained, spinning around and yelling out the last four words.
Gwen didn't get the chance to say that while she did fancy an adventure, she was in no mood for a suicide mission. Seeing they'd made the transition safely, she moved on to her next senseless priority and murmured, "Dean," under her breath. She listened to the man's summary but was not the least bit reassured. "Yeah," she said. "I'm not a fan either." Without a second thought, she lifted her jumper, briefly exposing her stomach and finding the pistol she had secured at her hip. She raised a brow at Dean's outburst and waited for a response from anywhere in the room. Still, she drew her gun, cocked it, and held tight.
The Doctor moved closer to Gwen, probably too close for comfort but he didn't seem to really notice or care. Leaning down to whisper in her ear as he eyed the body, the Time Lord moved his gaze over towards Dean. "Who's Booby?" Fishing for his sonic in his pocket, the Doctor moved over towards the body and knelt down as he carefully turned the person over so that they were on their back. Slamming his ear to their chest, the Time Lord listened for any sign of life. "I'm sorry." Grimacing he sat up and looked towards Dean and shook his head slowly. When the laughter grew more intense, the Doctor jumped up and held his sonic out before turning to look at Gwen's weapon. "Really? A gun? Really?"
Dean narrowed his eyes and looked over at the Doctor, giving him a slightly crazy look when he caught him asking Gwen who 'Booby' was. "It's Bobby," he snapped, before following him over to his surrogate dad laying on the floor and watched as he checked for any sign of life. Gritting his teeth, he moved to the other side of the room, a new rage building inside of him from having to see Bobby like that again, even though there was a small voice in the back of his mind that told him he wasn't real. Using the tip of his blade he pushed open the door that led to kitchen, and found himself face to face with Abaddon. Instantly he went on the attack, kicking himself for not realizing the laughter was coming from her. But she was too quick for him and knocked him back. He hit head on the ground, but that didn't stop him from pushing himself and grabbing her by the hair to try and get a good enough hold on her to run his blade right through her chest. But as soon as he thought he did, he found himself going through the front window of Bobby's house.
Gwen could hardly believe she'd been reduced to spouting corrections but she was glad Dean got to this one first. It gave her a moment to double check her own weapon and frown at the Doctor's. She had a witty comment ready about what kind of sonic-screwing he could do, but the danger was only momentarily forgotten. She went after Dean but not fast enough and the resounding commotion was enough to get her heart racing. Rushing through the kitchen door, she fired two shots on instinct; one missed completely and the other seemed to follow Dean and whatever monster he was facing through the window.
The Doctor felt it all had happened way too fast and he didn't like it. Watching as Dean launched into a fight with what looked like a severely aggressive red-headed woman, he startled when Gwen shot off her gun at her. Dodging the last shot, he ran after Gwen and reached for her before leaping out the window to follow Dean. Once he made sure Gwen was with him, he whirled around and aimed his sonic at the window and.... paused. Dropping his arms, he looked around until he found Dean by himself on the ground. "What!? Where!? This isn't..." Holding up his screwdriver and turning it on, he buzzed it around the golden lit room and stopped in the middle before holding his tool to his ear. "This can't be! Listen, if you hear ticking, look to the clocks! If they're broken, then we are in danger."
Dean hit the ground at a weird angle, and a load groan fell past his lips. But as soon as he remembered who he'd just been fighting, he temporarily forgot the pain and pushed himself off the ground. Except Abaddon wasn't there, and neither was Bobby's house. "What.." He mouthed, looking over at Gwen and The Doctor. "Where the Hell did Abaddon go? Did you guys see her?" He asked, completely ignoring the alien's warning.
Gwen failed to see where her other bullet had ended up and reached the same conclusion: they could move between rooms, formerly just displays and now interactive nightmares, but everything else stayed trapped. If that was correct, they'd just have to keep moving, it had to end eventually, and she could count her blessings too, knowing she hadn't hit Dean and that her two companions were insufferable but still perfectly intact. She suffered a delayed reaction to whatever the Doctor was on about and, wanting nothing to do with this particular game, given the look on his face, she did her best to sound reasonable, "Forget the clocks. Look for another window. They won't follow- isn't that right?" She had to hope so.
The Doctor was agitated that the two seemed to ignore his warning. "No, no, no, no. You misunderstand me. Don't forget the clocks, a window or door won't do you good in this room." Shaking his head, the Doctor began to mutter to himself before he turned sharply towards Dean. Marching towards him, he grabbed the man by the shoulders and placed his face inches from his. "You! We were just in a place that you and only you knew. It was a memory of sorts? You knew the woman you fought? Yeah?" Letting Dean go, the Doctor stood in the middle of the room and stared up at the giant mirror that was behind his two current companions. "This is mine. I had the face other Doctor wears now, and I had Rose and Mickey with me. There was also a horse, but that's another story. Anyway," Spinning, he pointed towards the fireplace. "We're in France. Specifically Madame De Pompadour's room. Oh Reinette.... I'm so sorry, ah..." He spaced out as he thought about her once more before he caught a stare from Gwen. "The fireplace or the mirror, that's our way out... Though Gwen," he walked towards her and half-smiled. "If the pattern seems to be going in the way I think it is... the next room's yours."
Dean felt like he was still reeling from a serious case of whiplash when the Doctor suddenly took him by the shoulders and what he and Gwen were saying was starting to sink in and make sense. He made a face at the Time Lord's closeness, and was still growing increasingly annoyed, but nodded anyway to his question, taking another look around the room as it was explained to him. When the Doctor pulled away, he brushed himself off and gave Gwen a look as he stalked off to look for the way out. "Does he just get more alien with age?" He grumbled towards Gwen and cautiously poked the nearest window, preparing himself to be pulled into something new. He let out a quiet breath of relief when nothing happened, and turned around to announce his finding when he spotted the broken clock on the wall. "What were you saying about broken clocks?"
Gwen shook her head, denying it even as acceptance inevitably set in. "That's ridiculous. They can't tailor rooms specifically for what we're scared of. How would..." She trailed off there because it no longer mattered. Irrationally, she was excited. She wouldn't admit it aloud but she'd missed the dangers and uncertainty of Torchwood. "Okay, how'd we get to France from Bobby's house? Weren't you the one who said it wasn't real?" As the Doctor seemed to be preoccupied, she agreed with Dean instead, "He gets more.. something, yeah." She followed his gaze over the clock in question, readjusted her hold on her gun and willed everyone to focus, particularly the Doctor who should know. "What kind of danger?"
The Doctor widened his eyes and stared over at Dean before looking over his shoulder at the broken clock. "Shhh! Shut up!" He waved at the two of them and craned his neck to get a good listen of the room. A soft ticking could be heard from the wall where the fireplace and giant bed were placed. "Do you hear it? The ticking? Why's there ticking when the clock is broken?" Blinking, he looked to Gwen and Dean before frowning at her gun. "Actually, for once, good. Glad you have it." Holding his hand up, the Time Lord crab-walked over to the bed and slowly crawled on top of it before ushering to Dean to come over and made hand signals to get him to prepare to stab at what was underneath. "Harvesting organs danger." Raising his brows he looked at Gwen before connecting his gaze with Dean and nodded once before he slumped down and yanked the covers up. "Haha! Gotcha yo-oh you're not there. Okay, new plan." Hopping off the bed, the Doctor smacked his head against the wall and listened for the ticking. "If you see an eighteenth century man or woman with a pretty mask, don't talk to them, just kill. They're robots, human harvesting robots."
Dean frowned, actually doing what he was told (even if he wasn't happy about it) and strained his ears for the ticking he kept going on about. His face shone with recognition as soon as he heard it and crouched into a defensive pose even though he had no idea what he was about to be up against. But for now he was willing to trust the Doctor, despite his senile antics. He nodded and tip toed toward the bed, willingly ready to attack whatever was underneath at the Doctor's signal. As soon as he gave it, Dean launched and ..... Effectively punctured an empty bed. "You have got to be kidding me." He mumbles, straightening out and pointing at the fireplace. "Didn't you say that was a way out? Why don't we just leave?"
Gwen repeated, 'harvesting organs' miserably under her breath. "Of course it is," she sighed. Turning a slow full circle confirmed that nothing else in the room looked promising. Just like Dean had set off his monster, this was a trap waiting to be sprung and now Gwen just as good as had the Doctor's permission and what she interpreted as a suggestion from Dean. She turned her full attention to the fire place, knowing that had to be it, got close enough to peer inside and then leapt back, screaming. She'd known something was coming but even with the Doctor's warning she wasn't entirely prepared for the sight. She lost count of the shots that rang out, only knowing she'd done her best to aim. She remembered learning that bullets did no good against Daleks and now had to pray that the Doctor hadn't set her up to fail here.
The Doctor waved his hand dismissively at Dean while he listened to the ticking. When Gwen got closer to the fireplace, the Doctor lept forward and held out his hands before screaming a 'no don't!' only to be drowned out by Gwen's hail of bullets. "Ah you idiots! It's times like these where I miss Mickey! At least he was a competent idiot who listened!" Smacking his forehead, the Doctor reached for Dean and swung him over towards him as he watched one of the Clockwork droids climb through the fireplace. "That's the thing! We need to get past the thing to get out of here!" Shoving the hunter towards it, the Doctor scrambled around to pick up the heaviest object he could find before running towards the robot at full-speed and slamming the statue down onto it's head. "I'm sorry Gwen, I thought bullets would harm it. I was wrong, now run for the fireplace!" Giving the robot another hit for good measure, the Time Lord waited for the other two to dash out before he followed suit, not really sure what to expect next.
Dean just caught himself when the Doctor pushed him forward, and he tried to stab the robot as it came towards him but it didn't take him long to figure out that even his blade was useless against it. Give him any kind of monster any day and he was fine, but here he was clearly out of his element. It wasn't a feeling he particularly enjoyed. Still, he gave the thing a good kick and ran for the fire place, pushing Gwen through first and crawled out soon after. The change in light was the first thing that registered, as the brightness temporarily blinded him after being in the dimly lit room. The next thing that registered was the grass under him as he stood back, shielding his eyes to look for Gwen and make sure she made it through safely. "Where the Hell are we now? And I don't see any windows or fireplaces, so basically we're fucked." he grumbled, looking to Gwen for any sign of recognition. Because if the Doctor was right, this place would have something to do with her if the pattern continued.
Gwen debated how much she wanted out of the room against how little she wanted to deal with what was coming next. She wouldn't have moved without Dean's guidance and when she finally got though and assessed her surroundings, she had to share his sentiment, "We are fucked. You have no idea." She wasted a few seconds checking her gun and she announced, "I've got two shots." She squinted at what looked to be a small crowd approaching. "They're just people," she said, thought it was hardly reassuring. "But they want your organs for a different reason." With no desire to be shot, sliced, or gutted, Gwen scrambled for something easier. "It won't be a window. 'Think we have to go in to something." She knew the way to that nightmarish cellar, but was desperate for a more reassuring idea. "Look for an ambulance or police car..." She couldn't be certain but she got her gun at the ready and her mind and body geared up for a fight
The Doctor blindly ran after them only to be stopped when he smacked into the hunter. Stepping back, he brushed his coat off and huffed as he straightened out and blinked a few times at the changing from unnatural light to natural. "If they're just people do we really need the guns?" However, hearing her talk about organ hunting made realisation dawn on his face as he scanned the group heading towards them. "Tell me they're not what I'm dreading..." Taking a few steps to the side, he stood behind Dean and pointed down at him. "Eat him, he's tough. Me? I'm old and alien. Not much for the human palette." Leaning to whisper in Dean's ear, the Doctor kept his eyes scanning the surrounding area. "Keep them occupied, you're charming, Dan. I'm sure you're good on your feet." Moving towards Gwen, the Doctor pulled her aside. "In ten seconds or less, tell me what we need to do."
Dean cringed as realization set in and he stared down the people heading their way. He looked around for any sign of a police car or ... anything really, but was distracted when the Doctor decided it was a good idea to put him on the center palette. "Thanks," he muttered, elbowing the alien in the side. He heard the wrong name, but considering the situation, he decided to deal with that later before gritting his teeth, twisting his neck and stepping forward. "Hey handsome," he called out, winking at the one in the center, ignoring the way it made his stomach churn just looking at them and imagining what they had planned for him, Gwen, and the Doctor. "We're a little lost. Could you just direct us towards the nearest exit? Thanks."
Gwen had her gun held steady in both hands. Her heart raced as she waved it to get the attention of a man who'd been smirking at Dean a moment ago. She couldn't feign cluelessness or innocence at this point and so had to settle for trying to look at lot more capable than she felt. "I don't know," she admitted to the Doctor. "I don't know. It's not like it was." With panic setting in and the majority of her ten seconds wasted, Gwen meant to suggest either fighting or running. They'd have an advantage knowing these people wanted to catch them alive, but that was it. She averted her eyes for a moment, knowing that the lack of emergency vehicles and additional weapons nearby meant in comparison to what their pursuers held. "Run," she said like it should have been obvious all along, she fired a shot into the crowd and took off without a second thought. She didn't get far before stumbling over the red picked-apart corpse she should have anticipated. She waved without a sound this time and vocalised a long-shot idea in case Dean and the Doctor had managed to keep up. "We just.. have to get out of the forest." Not the villiage. There should have been a road. A dim artificial light in the distance looked like the most promising thing in the world, "Come on."
The Doctor gave Dean an approving nod and genuinely smiled at him before turning to listen to Gwen. Realising that she was panicking, the Time Lord hunched out of the way and allowed her to take aim and shoot out at the crowd before turning and doing as she instructed. "Run? That sounds like my sort of plan. Come on, Dan!" Yelling at the top of his lungs and making a face at the corpse on the ground, the alien began to notice the light in the distance. "Either we're going to get out of this or we're heading for another trip into Dan's world. Either way, prepare for what's to come." Making a last minute rush, the Doctor turned and pointed his sonic as he ran backwards. "They're not far behind us, any chance either of you know how to run faster?"
Dean took a few step backwards, letting out a hesitant laugh. "You know what, actually, I think we are good. We'll see our way out ourselves." He lifted his hand and gave the mob of cannibals a mock salute, barely reacting when the shot rang out and used that as his signal to turn around, taking off at a sprint. "My name's not Dan!" He yelled, glaring at the Doctor even as he pushed to run as fast as he could go towards the light and trying his best to ignore the mangled body on the ground, and definitely not imagining it as one of their own.
Gwen shook her head and wondered briefly what shouting, 'it's not real!' would get her. Between sheer terror, a sudden cramp in her side, and the added strain of a baby, she thought she deserved some credit for being able to run at all. She caught the Doctor by the arm, whimpered and did her best to press on. It was senseless but the distraction worked, however briefly. "It's Dean," she panted, not daring to look back and only relaxing when the light fully engulfed her. But the trouble didn't stop there. She squinted and looked around warily. "What now?"
The Doctor whirled back around and as soon as he did, it seemed like the distant light swarmed them and immediately they were engulfed by a room. However, the room had no windows, no doors, no anything... except it was all white. Blinking, the Time Lord turned to Dean. "That's what I've been saying, isn't it? Your name? Since when hasn't it been Dan?" Looking around the room, he muttered something about how Dean was just as bad as Clare before he headed towards the nearest wall and placed his hands against it to feel. "Oh, look at this, we're in a box. Must be someone's present!"
Dean 's first thought when he found himself in the white room was that they were safe. They'd made it out of wherever it was they were somehow and there didn't seem to be any immediate dangers this time. "It's never been Dan!" He snapped, whirling around on the Doctor. "Dean Winchester. It's Dean." He knew it was a petty thing to get so angry about but that didn't stop him. Huffing out a breath, he took a step back and examined the room and it's lack of doors and windows and started to realize that the danger wasn't over. His eyes widened after the Doctor's observation. "Oh god, it's mine, isn't it? I'm dead, aren't I?"
Gwen did her best to ignore the others. She walked over to the wall she thought the'd come in from, slapped her palms against the white surface and then kicked at it before she turned round and let out a barely intelligible cry of frustration. "You're not dead," she snapped, but she didn't have any proof to offer beyond denial. "We're not dead, we'd know." She didn't have to turn the Doctor's way to make her next demand heard, "Can you- I dunno -sonic something?"
The Doctor scowled at Dean before rolling his eyes. "Oh so I miss one letter and it's all Hell breaking loose. Good for you Dane, I'll try to remember your name." Huffing, the Time Lord watched with mild amusement as Gwen began to kick and slap the wall. "Lick it," he paused before raising both brows and then shrugging, "it might help." Sighing irritably and turning to look back at Dean, the Doctor shook his head. "No, you're stupid but you're not dead." Moving to stand in the middle of the room, the Doctor pulled his sonic out and attempted to use it before realising that it wasn't.... working. "Sorry Gwen, looks like we've got to use our heads on this one." Looking up, the Time Lord hummed before looking straight down at the ground. "No windows, no doors... what would be your next logical step?"
Dean returned the Doctor's scowl, resisting the urge to cross his arms and pout like a little kid when the old man got his name wrong once again. "You're not even trying," he whined, turning his attention to Gwen with a frown, finally taking notice to how she seemed to be handling every thing that just happened. "Great," he grumbled, kicking at the floor aimlessly after the Doctor announced that his sonic wasn't working. "You got a spoon on you, old man? Planning to spoon our way out or something?" He asked sarcastically, with a raised eyebrow.
Gwen checked and then re-pocketed her mobile with the same conclusion. "Nothing works. I can't shoot anything either, can-" she hesitated, strongly considered it and then let herself finish sarcastically instead, "Can I?" She leaned against the wall and sank slowly into a seated position with it for support. She had something to add to Dean's comment, something about shoving something larger than a spoon into a very dark place, but she surprised even herself when she snapped, "You know, you're the one who jumped in here in the first place."
The Doctor straightened up and eyed Dean for a moment before grinning at him. "As a matter of fact, I do have my special spoon on me!" Reaching into his pocket, the Time Lord pulled out a spoon and began to walk around the room tapping it gently on the walls before going back to the center of the room and began to hop up and down while staring at the floor. "Oh come on Gwen, Dane was only exploring, can't blame him for being an idiot." Kneeling, he tapped the spoon on the floor before moving so that he was lying flat to the ground and placing his ear to the floor and tapping the spoon against it once more. "Dane! Come lie here next to me and listen!" Looking up, he ushered for the younger man to lie next to him. Tapping the spoon on the floor again, he stared at the other, "Do you hear it?"
Dean 's eyebrows shot up at both Gwen and the Doctor's remarks. Not sure which one to address first. "Of course you do," he muttered, in regards to the spoon before shooting a glare at Gwen, feeling somewhat (however misguided) betrayed when she turned on him. "Right, because I should have known tapping on some glass would get me sucked into some weird fucked up memory," he retorted. "You're seriously going to call me an idiot and by the wrong name and expect me to get on the floor with you?" He snarked, but just a few seconds later he knelt down on the floor too and mirrored the Doctor, half expecting to end up sucked through it. At first he didn't hear anything, and he was finally going to tell the Doctor just how crazy he thought he was. But then he heard it when the old man starting tapping the spoon. Furrowing his brows together, he hit the ground himself with his knuckles and frowned when the sound echoed underneath them. "It's hollow." He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and started to feel for an edge.
Gwen was not going to apologise. She'd done her fair share of jumping into stupid things and it was a momentary relief being able to direct the blame elsewhere; but Dean was preoccupied with the Doctor who'd provided a greater insult so Gwen just averted her eyes with nothing more to add to the subject. The question wasn't directed at her either but she held still to listen nonetheless. "It's what?" She knocked forcefully at a section of the floor where she was sat next to the wall, paused and announced, "This isn't." With an exaggerated groan, she shifted position and crawled a little closer to her companions, seeing the way out was apparently in the centre. "Well, I don't care what's next; let's find it."
The Doctor stood up and stood back as he pocketed his spoon. "Alright, well no use standing on it Gwen, might as well let Dane do what he's doing. Which is looking for an edge, I'm thinking the only way out is down." Pausing, the Time Lord whirled around and clapped before laughing. "Don't be surprised if we drop from the ceiling and into the room with the car. Though for your sake, I hope we don't come in over the car." He looked towards Dean and shrugged.
Dean sat up so that he was standing on his knees and narrowed his eyes at the Doctor, imagining how fulfilling it would be to just stand up and wring his neck. It wouldn't get him out of that room, but he'd still feel better. "No worries, guys. I've got it. Just keep sanding around." He snarked, just before actually finding an edge. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out his blade and stuck it in the floor to help lift it. "If someone lands on my car and dents it, I can't be held responsible for my reaction." He warned, glaring at the both of them before pulling more at the floor to reveal a hole.
Gwen , short of plying up the floor with her fingernails, couldn't be much help and that wasn't a good feeling. She had a final round in her gun and figured they might need it in the next room. She tugged half-heartedly at some pieces but otherwise she made a point of giving Dean some space. "You get to see the car again," she said. "You'll be so happy, you can forgive anything." It was a theory and one that probably didn't need vocalising at the moment, but she'd say the same for most of her possessions, and she'd never thought she'd miss the ship, but there was another thought: "'And wouldn't it be funny if we found the TARDIS this way?"
The Doctor largely ignored them until he looked up instantly at the mention of the TARDIS. Staring at the two of them, the Doctor shooed them out of the way before staring down into the hole. "Well, I know it's not this face that usually says it but," he paused once more before grinning at them, "Geronimo!" Jumping feet first into the hole, the Time Lord closed his eyes and anticipated for what was next. It wasn't until his body turned and he smacked against a wooden floor that he realised where he was. Standing up and brushing himself off, the Time Lord looked up to where the hole was "It's alright, we're safe! And look, two inches from the car, imagine that." Patting the Impala, the Time Lord smiled before realising that the TARDIS was still nowhere in sight.
Dean squinted at Gwen as he knelt down next to the hole, mouthing 'Geronimo' at her before shrugging and taking the leap. Almost immediately he realized either he did something wrong or the Doctor did, because he landed right on him and the two of them ended up a mess of limbs on the floor next to his car. He let out a slew of curse words and literally rolled off the alien, letting out a groan until he came to the realization that Gwen would soon be coming through the same way he did, and without saying anything, he pushed the Doctor out of the way.
Gwen judged the hole with some resentment. She at least had confirmation that it would take her back to the ship and that the fall was survivable, but she couldn't see very well and whether the car or something else would break her fall was anyone's guess. She scooted to the edge, willed herself to relax and announced, "I am not going to say 'Geronimo'," before she let herself drop without a second thought, screaming and then squirming midair to protect her stomach at the last second.
The Doctor yelped as soon as the hunter landed on him. Muttering a string of alien curse words, he pulled himself up before he started to brush his clothes off, only to be interrupted when Dean shoved him out of the way. Looking up to see Gwen fall, he pointed uselessly and began to scream at Dean. "Catch her! She's fragile!" before shielding his eyes and hoping for the best.
Dean was still in a mode of minor panic when he heard the Doctor's shout, and held out his arms to catch Gwen. His knees buckled when she landed and he nearly dropped her, but somehow managed to hold on. "You're -- safe." He grit out through labored breaths as he helped her into a standing position. He was going to say that she was a lot heavier than she looked, but thankfully realized that would be the beginning of his own death sentence and quickly changed course.
Gwen gasped and clawed senselessly, trying to hold on to Dean until she realised that he'd been a lot gentler than the floor-landing she'd anticipated. "I'm preg-" she started to explain her obvious concern, before she caught herself and repeated his sentiment instead, "I'm safe." Safely on her feet and testing it before backing up and allowing Dean some space, Gwen recongnised an odd combination of lingering panic and adrenaline. "Ha," she said. "What now?"
The Doctor nodded at Dean and smirked. "She weighs a ton, I know. It's because she's round." Holding out his arms, the Time Lord raised his brows and nodded before coughing into his hand when Gwen steadied herself. "Dunno, guess we can just go our separate ways or something. Not really sure I want to go exploring with you two again."
Dean made a sound that was a weird mix between a laugh and a cough and shook his head, choosing not to comment. Instead, he looked back at his Impala and pat the top of it, almost affectionately, and thanked whoever was out there that they didn't land on it. "Avoiding rooms with wax figures sounds like a good start. And maybe having a drink." He shrugged, glancing into the car where his favorite stash of whiskey was. He side eyed the Doctor and scoffed. Considering how many times he considered killing the old man, he had to agree with his sentiment.
Gwen narrowed her eyes in reaction to the Doctor's comment about her weight as well as his decision to part ways. "It was fun!" she insisted with her old Torchwood instincts. "We didn't find anything we were looking for, but..." she shrugged and let that thought die unfinished. "Okay. Later, then."
Harlequin ☁ Winchester & Adler
It took a long while, but at last, her leg was entirely healed. She was still supposed to stay as still as she could for another week just to make sure she wouldn’t get any injury again. But she couldn’t do that, not when she had so many plans yet to fulfill.
Not more than three hours had passed since Irene sent that dreadful message, and she was quite amazed that Eve haven’t gone to chase after her yet. As far as Irene thought, it could be either because she hadn’t returned home or gone to the flower shop that afternoon which made her harder to track, or she just hadn’t seen it yet. Whatever reason it was, Irene knew she didn’t have much time to do what she had to. Every second was a second closer to the now unavoidable fight against Eve. A fight in which she didn’t plan to remain still again.
Thanks to Gwen, and Eve herself, she had a good idea of how to avoid it.
That’s what took her to the bar, in which she walked inside making no noise whatsoever. She just sat in a corner and watched the rain fall through the window, waiting for the owner to show up, as if she had no pressure over her shoulders at all. Silent and peaceful, as if she couldn’t hurt a fly.
Yet, she made a small stop before going to the bar. Sherlock’s house. Eve made her be terrified of his face, but there was one thing she didn’t manage to take away from the dominatrix... his scent didn’t scare her in the slightest as her brain didn’t found it in that horrible previous fight, ergo, she could wear his coat completely comfortable as she waited. It was so oversized on her small frame it was hard to say what she was wearing behind it... or if she was wearing anything at all.