princeship | Sweet Dreams Ω Open Post

[ And in the meantime, there's a Japanese kid lost in the middle of this storm-ridden countryside. It all looks unfamiliar to him, but he's too mad to realize the fact he had slipped into some crazy dimensional rift that led him there.

But whatever. Yuusuke's been through worse. He's soaking wet and he needs inside some sort of shelter. He sees the motel, ignores the usual ritual of check-in-- because who needs that shit-- and pounds his fist into the closest door. ]

Hey! Open up, will ya?! Sorry for interruptin' your beauty sleep, but I need in!

[ boogeymen? He can handle those. Werewolves? Puh-lease.

Random kid banging on his door in the middle of the night? Yeah, no, unless if he was screaming bloody murder. Which, Dean realizes after blinking a bleary glare over at the door, the kid isn't.

He'd be perfectly happy to try and go back to sleep, but the key word there is try, and so after trying-- and failing-- to get back to hush-a-bye mountain, Dean's swinging his legs over the side of the bed and stumbling his way toward the door. ]

Little early to be selling cookies, don't you think?

[ And color Yuusuke surprised, because he sure as hell wasn't expecting some old guy behind the door. He hoped for someone a bit prettier... he could dream, right? For now, though, all he could be was pissed off. He was fifteen, for God's sake, not five. ]

Do I look like I'm trying to earn my "Endanger My Life to Give People Diabetes" badge to you, jerkass? If you're not gonna let me in I'll just go to the next loser who's feelin' generous.

[ you and him both, kid. why couldn't it have been some busty chick with a six-pack? a squad of cheerleaders? ]

Man, if you go to the next guy saying that I can guarantee you're gonna get a whole heaping of generosity. You might not be glad that you did. [ he's eying the guy up, still trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. ]

But hey, if that's what floats your boat, then by all means. Don't let me stop you. Just, uh, safe sex, bring condoms, all that good stuff. [ another yawn, and he's closing the door. ]

The hell? I ain't looking to sleep with anyone, let alone a dude. Not my thing... no offense. I just want to be somewhere dry.

[ He sticks his arm between the door and its frame before Dean can get it closed all the way. ]

Just let me stay long enough to figure out a way home and then you're free to go back to sleep or to do whatever it was you were doing.

[ Yuusuke pauses. Just as a measure of safety... ]

And if you decide you still don't want me here, you and my fists can have a little talk to do some convincing. You don't want that, do ya?

[ see this face? yeah, this is the face of someone who clearly doesn't give a shit. actually, he looks like he's about to bust out laughing because really? dean's fought monsters bigger than this kid.

but he'll indulge him, for now -- even though the thunderstorm is still hurling buckets of water against the windows, and the wind's whipping around something fierce. ]

Your fists. [ he leans against the door, sizes yuusuke up. ] Fun as that sounds, I'm not really in the mood for any fisting. [ a pause. oh god, he walked right into that one, didn't he?

awkward ]

Since you asked so nicely, though, how about we come up with a different deal? You -- [ he points at yuusuke, then spins his finger around in the air ] -- walk down that way -- [ he's pointing down the highway, into the thick of the storm ] -- and unless you're showing up here with a six-pack and a hot chick, swear never to darken my doorstep ever again. And maybe I'll think twice about kicking your ass into next Friday.

[ he flashes that cocky Winchester grin. ] Sound good?

[ Okay now he's sure he's as far from home as he could possibly be. Unless the Tokyo suburbs got a new shipment of weirdos overnight, which he wouldn't be surprised with. But this guy was just plain, one-hundred percent douchebag and Yuusuke wouldn't take any of his shit. ]

Look, man, I already told you I ain't into that kinky shit, so your mood wouldn't have mattered either way. I'm starting to get in the mood for an ass-kicking, though I sure as hell know I'm not gonna be the one with his face to the floor. That sounds good to me.

[ He just shrugs, laughing quietly to himself. ]

Wanna try? Dunno if I can hold back enough to not kill ya.

[ says the kid who showed up in the middle of the night demanding to be let in. dean was nice to an extent --- usually being around small kids and chicks, but he'd been known to make exceptions -- and sam was a hell of a lot better at all that touchy-feel chick-flick stuff. he's got half a mind to send the kid to sam, but ... yeah. this got personal. ]

Oh, really? [ and he can hear sam in the back of his mind nagging at him, puppy eyes turned on full blast as he tries to mediate between them.

that doesn't keep him from holding the door open, arms held out at his sides. ]

I'd like to see you try.

[A mere instant before, he had been right in the middle of the devil's playground: Jackson County Sanitarium. Drowning in demons and crotes, gunfire loud in his ears. Then, suddenly Castiel was gracelessly dropped elsewhere. He hit the floor loud, caught entirely off guard, and groans at the ache it inspires in his bones.

When Castiel opens his eyes, it's not to the dilapidated world that is 2014. No matter how dingy the motel, it doesn't compare. It looks habitable. He's not high enough to be hallucinating this. He could be dead, perhaps. It's not the pills still in his system that make a miserable laugh bubble forth in nothing but bitter gallows humor.

He can theorize all he likes, but the terrible truth is that he left Dean back there in the big fight. No, he doesn't appear to be dead. It's much more likely that he's being toyed with. Wrongly presuming the room empty, he moves to push himself up.]

[ he's used to sleeping lightly, hell, most of his life has depended on it. The only time he's really let himself go, when he's really wrapped up in his dreams is when Sam's in the bed next to him. Even then, he's still got his hand curled on the knife under his pillow because hey, he's still got the role of big brother to play.

the storm is enough of a deterrent to keep him awake, and so he has no problem at all floating in that happy little space between sleep and awakening. as a result it's pretty easy for him to wake up, even more so when he hears... something in his room. ]

No rest for the wicked. [ he grunts, body tensing reflexively as he wakes up. ] You'd think they'd want some vacation time, or something...

[ it's a simple matter to turn his head, eyes straining through the darkness to see what it was that had made that noise. could have just been his imagination, but then again, it never is.

one thing's for sure, he'd be doing a hell of a lot better with some actual light in the room, so he reaches over to the nightstand and pulls the cord on the lamp glued to the wood. light floods the room with enough intensity to make his eyes water, and he dean squints at the shadows in the corners. ]

Who's there?

[His eyes are under the same constraints as any mortal, unable to determine much in the dark. That voice, though -- that, he knows and it washes relief over him hearing the familiar rough tenor. Groggy, it sounds, but still alive. He goes stock still with hope as light floods the room.]

Dean? [He calls back, abruptly sober, as he peers towards the bed, unable to make out enough. With the hope their fearless leader is present, it inspires action and Castiel is quicker in pushing himself up from the carpet, groaning a little as his shoulder aches from the impact. Distantly, he realizes he's dropped his gun and he didn't drop it here. That only leaves the handgun he's tucked into the back of his pants.

The thought leaves his mind completely when he's up and his eyes settle on Dean, whoa -- and it is Dean, but he freezes for an instant before his head tilts in wonder. It's merely not the Dean he was expecting. Yet again. The bed, no matter how inferior the motel, is nothing like Camp Chitaqua. It's condition is an improvement, as is the electricity.

Of course, there is more to it than that. His eyes flit over Dean, over his shoulder, intrigued.]

You don't know me yet. [He concludes simply; it's written on Dean's face.] What year is it?

--
( ooc: okay, so i looked it up. 2006 for Croatoan and the episodes before; episodes past the shifter at the bank is 2007 mostly january/february. )

[ he's pretty damn sure he's never met this hobo before in his life, and suspicion is quick to flood onto his face. he's got the knife under his pillow, but he goes for the gun sitting on the nightstand instead.

it's been his experience that the only people that know his name are either demons or ... well, dangerous enough. he's not willing to take any chances, here. ]

Course I don't know you, Rain Man. [ it's easy to slide the confident smirk on his face even when he doesn't feel it. hell, he's the one with the gun here, but he's faced better odds and still come out with a bruiser on his jaw in the morning. ] We just met.

2007. What, did you leave your calendar in your other pants? Cause I gotta say, man -- [ he gives a cursory sweep at the guy's clothes. ] -- you look like shit.

[There's no surprise when Dean goes for the gun, but he doesn't tense or so much as flinch. What is a surprise, he realizes distantly, is Sam's absence. 2007. Well before their meeting, but he recalls that year for Dean. He recalls them losing John. It was a hard year, not as hard as the ones to come. He doesn't recall this night, though. He had been too busy to devote all his time to watching the Winchesters.

Castiel doesn't bother stopping a chuckle, shaking his head, and the hapless smile sticks. He supposes he does look like shit. As terrible as things are, past Dean is refreshing.] Yes, well... [In better light, he might need to explain the blood splatters.] I'm afraid that was the least of my troubles.

[Despite the confident smirk on Dean, Castiel knows well enough to know the scrutiny he is under. It is a delicate situation. A mistake could change the future drastically. He holds up one hand in a show of peace, his other hand pulling his handgun from where it's tucked into his jeans and slowly moving to set it on the nightstand. He trusts Dean.]

I'm not here to harm you. I'm not a demon. Or would you prefer to douse me in holy water yourself?

If I had a nickel for every time I heard that... [ like he's gonna put the gun down. he does take in the guy's form with renewed interest, sweeping over the tattered clothes and the scruffy beard. usually demons went for a more... cleaner look when they were after something. more appealing to the senses, some crap like that. ]

So let's say you're not here to hurt me. [ his finger slides, covertly, onto the trigger and squeezes lightly. it's not enough to fire the gun, but it is enough of a reassurance and a thread. ] What, come to deliver a message? Needed to get out of the rain? ... late night booty call? Cause, man, if it's that last one I'm gonna have to say no. [ a pause. ]

Unless if there's a chick in there somewhere.

[Castiel shouldn't be lingering; he should be trying to get back. While he is here, Dean is alone. One less distraction for the demons and Crotes. It's not something he can control. He is at the whims of the one that brought him here.

There's nothing to do but appreciate how Dean used to be. He still stands unconcerned in Dean's aim. His life has been in Dean's hand for years now. He grins, looking down at his filthy clothes, a few sizes too big.] No, no chick, sorry.

[The grin doesn't last, the conversation's direction sobering.] I suspect someone is toying with us. Me, mostly. I don't doubt you as well. I could have shown up anywhere. [But the fact that, of the entire world, he shows up in this motel room is answer.] I'm not supposed to be here.

You're telling me. [ outside, the rain lashes even harder against the windows. dean's thoughts stray, briefly, to his precious baby parked outside and he hopes to God it isn't going to be hailing any time soon.

there's a vial of holy water he keeps in the nightstands of the hotels they shack up at during their travels. not taking his eyes off the man in front of him, he slides over in front of the drawer and reaches back, fingers yanking it open and pawing through it for the silver flask inside. ]

If you're not here to hurt me, you wouldn't mind standing still for a little test. [ another crooked smile, and that's all the warning Castiel gets before he's being doused in splatters of holy water. it's not enough to get him too wet, but it is enough for him to fail the test if he had demon blood in him. ]

[It would be unreasonable to assume he's been around Dean this many years -- was it seven years now? -- and hasn't up on the routine himself. Once he was mortal, he done the drill himself.

So he knew exactly what to expect and isn't surprised when the flask is procured and water is splashed on him. It's ridiculous. He used to be an angel. Cas breaks into another smile, another laugh as he starts wiping off the water.]

I told you I wouldn't mind, didn't I? Though you should know you could really do that more gracefully. [Considering the most of the water ended up on his face like a surprise facial. Dean almost got him in the eye.] Should I let you pull out the salt and silver as well or are we good?

[ Dean knows as well as anyone that the holy water had its faults -- Azazel, anyone? -- but there's just something about this guy that isn't screaming crazy homeless person that's... familiar. he can't really put his finger on it, but it's enough to make him give pause before lowering the flask and jerking his head in the direction of the window. ]

You crawl in through there? Some kinda Peter Pan thing? [ a pause. ] Not that I'm against, y'know, the whole... yeah, but I'm already all grown up. Kinda wanna keep it that way, if you know what I mean.

So if you're not here to hurt me, and I'm assuming you're not here to whisk me away to Neverland, either.... then why are you here?

[And Castiel knows just as well that holy water isn't always the answer. Just the same, he turns his attention towards the window, shut tight and locked. Like the holy water, it could be flawed. Locks can be opened from the outside and locked again once inside.]

Dean. [He says in that way that says Dean should already know the answer.] I'd be wet if I was outside to crawl through the window, wouldn't I?

It's not Neverland, I can promise you that much. Someone is toying with us. You've got a lot of powerful enemies. It's just a matter of which one.

[ huh. well he had to admit, Chuckles the Hobo had a point. not that he didn't doubt that demons had supernatural blowdrying powers or anything, but it was something to consider. ]

Yeah, well, get in line. [ he doesn't relinquish his grip on his gun and sort of shuffles his way closer. he hasn't heard enough to make ease his doubts, and he's pretty sure the guy knows it. ]

You say toying. [ he peers, briefly, around the room, like he expects the shadows to start moving or some kinda ghost to appear from the ether. nothing. ] Toying how?

[ Why didn't you check the closet? Why didn't you check the closet?!

Here. Have the Joker stepping out into the room, water from the storm still dripping from his matted hair, with a wide grin on his face. ]

Ah-hah. Surprise.

[ because the hotel was ratty enough to not warrant closet-checking?

he doesn't like rats, okay.

which is what he would have thought the noise coming from his closet was, if not for the fact that rats don't normally talk. maybe if they were six feet tall -- and a huge, unwanted maybe, knocking on wood, here -- but that wasn't something that's likely to happen. hopefully.

whatever the case, he's rousing in under a few seconds, and his grip on the knife reasserts itself even as he flips on the lamp. ]

... little early for Halloween, don't you think?

[ Certainly sounds like there're two in this room who need to get their heads checked. From his coat, the Joker pulls a knife and twirls it between his fingers. ]

Early? Oh no no, tsk, you misunderstand. It's always halloween, see. Now, you know precisely what that means, hmm? Precisely what I'm about to ask you? Oh, you're the smart type, do fill in the blanks, you know what to say...

Trick or treat?

[ there's a pause and he's giving the Joker a look, like did he really just ask that. he's dealt with fewer corrupt humans than demons, but it's enough for him to recognize the signs.

and boy is this clown emanating all waves of crazy. ]

Not really a big fan of treats. Well, not candy, anyway. [ he lets a grin slide onto his face. ] And I really don't think you wanna give me that kind of treat. Hell, even I don't want you to. More of a meat and potatoes kind of guy.

So I guess that means I'll go with trick.

[ She's outside the door, breathing a tiny sigh of relief. Being found out too soon may have aroused more suspicion than she would have liked. This was work, despite her wish to be on a worry-free vacation, so she had to be careful.

Not that work would have been her only reason for approaching either Dean or Sam-- their alleged escapades had caught enough of her attention as it was. The human obsession of the supernatural was one that Kanra indulged in only in necessity, but it was fun to watch it consume the lives of others. She leans her back against the door, exclaiming loud enough for Dean to hear: ]

Oh dear, I hope that ghoul doesn't break into that nice-looking Impala... would be a shame to pay the cost of repairs.

[ he's in the middle of having a really nice dream with a set of twins and a giant marshmallow when the voice cuts rudely through his subconscious and he near jolts awake. it takes him a few moments to really comprehend it, and an even longer amount of time to actually pull on a shirt and slide out of bed.

he's not stupid enough to go traipsing around outside because of a voice, so he draws the curtains open a bit to peer out into the angry storm outside. nope, his baby's nice and safe. no ghouls.

just in case, he makes sure that his pistol's loaded with rock salt and tucked securely into the hem of his jeans before pulling open the door and squinting at the girl standing outside. ]

... if you wanted to come in, lady, you coulda just asked. [ he's cupping a yawn, looking more half-asleep than awake. again he squints at her ] Though I do have to say, thanks a lot for the warning.

[ Time to pretend to act surprised. She's pretty sure he won't fall for it, though. An abrupt turn back and she blinks, as if she wasn't aware that he was trying to sleep soundly. ]

Oh, I'm sorry-- did I wake you? People do tend to say that I talk a bit too loudly. At least your car-- it is your car, right? -- wasn't damaged. I think I scared it off. For now, at least.

I wasn't expecting an invitation, seeing as I'm a few doors over; I don't mean to be rude but I think I'll pass. You don't look like my type either way.

[ Kanra plasters on a signature vulpine smile, flitting off a little wave before heading to her room. ]

Sweet dreams.

Nothing wrong with being a little loud. [ and the grin that accompanies that is more cocky than it should be. Dean's too sleepy to really make much of an effort, though, and the rest of her conversation is met with little more than a dismissive wave of his hand and another yawn. ]

I appreciate the sentiment, I really do; but, see, the truth of it is, if you know half as much about ghouls as you apparently seem to do, you'll know that most ghouls? Spirits? They don't really act without a reason.

[ his gaze sweeps to the Impala parked just a bit away, and a rather appreciative smile lights his features. ] Breaking into a car as sweet as that for kicks? Yeah. Not high up on the Ghosty Agenda. I call bull.

So tell me, sweetheart--- [ and before she can really escape, he swings an arm out to block her path. ] What's with the wake up call?

[ She can't help but grimace. Kanra hates people who can smile so confidently, if only it serves as an indication of how much more effort it would take to mess with them. She sighs, a combined feeling of tired and frustrated to go along with it. So he was smarter than he looked at first glance. ]

I'll give you your due credit, Mr. Winchester; you are much more aware than most people I come across. Though I would ask you to drop the "sweetheart" or any similar nicknames-- they aren't cute.

I was originally in the area to gather info about some suspicious activity for a client. Though I'm more vacationing than anything right now. I was just curious if you were one of the infamous Winchester siblings, and lo and behold you are. Other than that, no reason. But really, I must be getting back to bed. As should you, to be honest-- [ She scans him quickly, seemingly unimpressed ]-- so I won't be keeping you.

[ it's been his experience that people didn't just hunt him or Sammy down out of curiosity. a lot of bad mojo was attached to his name, and most people who knew enough about the Winchesters knew to stay out of the way.

he lets out a low whistle of appreciation, hands held up as though to placate her. ]

All right, all right, lady, I hear ya loud and clear. [ he's got his doubts, still, but it's not like she could actually hurt him. not really the smart thing to do, and though his brain is screaming "DEMON" loud and clear, she hasn't really done anything that warranted wasting.

him and Sam'd be out of town soon enough, anyway. ]

Don't forget to pick up an umbrella on your way home. [ he casts a look up at the sky and shrugs a shoulder with a grin. ] Doesn't look like it's going to be letting up any time soon.

Sweet Dreams Ω Open Post

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what am I even doing anymore

fantastic things

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