hadriel_logs | Event Log: Dreamwalker

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Event Log: Dreamwalker

Who: Everyone!
What: The Dreamwalker event
Where: In your comfy bed and your sleepy head.
When: May 16th-26th
Warnings: Good dreams, weird dreams, bad dreams, straight-up nightmares. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if things are going to be bad!

Have you been having trouble getting a good night's sleep? Tossing and turning, unable to rest those tired eyes? Or maybe you don't sleep at all, and never have. Not to worry! For a little while, you'll have no trouble at all falling asleep - in fact, as night falls, you'll find yourself overwhelmed with exhaustion whether you want to sleep or not. Lay down and rest your weary head, friends. Everyone could use a little extra sleep.

But what will your dreams bring? Something happy, images of a perfect day? Something hopeful, something you've wanted for a long time? Maybe you'll dream of anger, of the face of your worst enemy. Or maybe - just maybe - you'll have a horrific nightmare, and wake screaming, covered in cold sweat.

Not before others have time to see it, though. As you sleep, as you dream, the other residents of Hadriel, friends and enemies and people you've only met once, might find their way into your dreams. Or you might find your way into theirs - and then have to deal with someone's else's nightmares, or hopes, or anger. For the next ten nights, you'll find yourself either a host or a visitor, and no matter how you try you won't be able to stay awake once night falls.

Sweet dreams, Hadriel. Don't let the asshole fear gods bite.

► This log covers May 16th-26th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► You can't die in the dreams, but if you somehow manage to trip and fall and kill yourself getting out of bed, please report it on the death post.

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[ He, in fact, did not get it. Not in any way. He cringed only enough as Castiel's fingers glossed through his hair, making him want to tug away from the touch but running out of time just as he leaned in closer. Speaking in a tone that made Dean's teeth grind together, it was atrocious, rough and garbled and wrong. It wasn't his voice but instead was the sounds of a million beings, their words tangled together to form a mess of speech, a falsified idea of what a human might sound like.

Watch.

Cas' arm curled aorund him and Dean was quick to shift, looking his shoulder at what became immediate mayhem. Lighting cracked, splitting from the sky and turning them to dust, the shrieks from the crowds falling into line along the thunderous earsplitting noise. It made Dean try to scramble, grabbing the leash furiously and pulling hard, wrenching backwards as he tried to push away on his palms, kicking his feet out and putting up an immediate struggle.

He didn't know what he could do to help but he wasn't sitting on his ass watching the scene unfold. Not like this. ]

Cas, if you can hear me- Cas, stop this.

[ When Dean pulled on the leash, suddenly, Castiel half stumbled before catching himself, correcting himself. It was enough to make him just angry enough at Dean's efforts to do something about them, and a moment later he was pulling Dean toward him by his collar, looking him right in the eye with such lethal hostility that it seemed for a moment he might snap his neck right there and be done with it. ]

Do you even hear yourself? "Cas Please!" "Cas, stop this!" You sound like a whiny little bitch.

[ He gave Dean a rough, completely unpleasant superhuman shake, and then tipped him back slightly, forcing him to lose his balance. ]

We told you, we're making him watch, making him listen. So every time you cry for him, he can hear it. It tortures him, you know, but what's he going to do about it? He can't even save all these people, what could you do? You're just one life. And let's face it, in terms of how long he's known you, you're just a spec of dust to him. You're a speck of dust to us.

Good riddance, we say.

[ Dean waited for it, the moment where Cas- the Leviathan did something to him that ended it all, that tore him away from this reality and broke him apart with razor sharp teeth tearing into veins, devouring him whole. Instead, he was yanked forward with such force that the whiplash caught up with him seconds later, the world going bright with the way his spine shook.

But he was being a whiny little bitch, it was true. He sure as hell wasn't helping the situation by filling Castiel, inside of the very being that held him by his collar, with outstanding guilt. Castiel didn't deserve this, this absolute and complete possession by such vile creatures; he shouldn't have to succumb to a mistake like this.

And Dean didn't know what to do. Didn't know the magic words to spring Cas from the cage he'd placed himself within and couldn't do a single thing to save those attempting to run to freedom. The Leviathan were right and as he was shaken violently and forced backwards, Dean stumbled, crashing down onto his ass and his palms, skidding by inches. But that wasn't the end of this, no. He grabbed for his leash, giving it a fierce yank, doing everything in his power to fight back and no longer seeing a thing he could do beside provide defiance in the face of monsters that knew no end. ]

Then why don't you do it. Show me who's the big bad boss. I matter so much to him, why don't you fuck with me. Or are you all too big of pussies to actually go after the one thing that matters in this room. I mean, the rest of them are just easy prey, but look at what you've got in front of you.

[ The hunter was irritating them. All this pulling and fighting. He should sit still and watch them kill all these screaming people, and be glad that he was being left alive. But no, he had to go and struggle and make life difficult for them. Castiel cocked his head, peering down at him, and then slowly he stepped closer again, crouched down in front of Dean, and lay his hand softly against his cheek.

For a few seconds it was a complete deception. The Leviathan were slippery, and they were good at pretending to be something else. They were tender, even affectionate, and the look in Castiel's eyes was that desperate, pleadingly miserable look that Castiel bled practically constantly in any other circumstance. ]

You do matter to me, Dean. I wouldn't be who I am without you.

[ Inside his head, Castiel was screaming, wailing, clawing to get some kind of control. The Leviathan dropped its hand, gripping the collar around Dean's throat with rough fingers. He bent in, pressing his cheek against Dean's, exhaling into his ear. ]

Since you're so eager to participate... Where shall we start? What do you think Castiel wants to see first?

[ Of course he was irritating, he was trying to be. Trying his absolute hardest, if only because it was the only thing he knew to keep the Leviathan from taking millions of lives. If Castiel could only withstand whatever would be done to him through his body, then he could save him from watching his own hand take the souls of thousands of others and that alone would be worth its weight in gold. It wasn't as if Dean hadn't been tortured before and he could only hope Cas understood, knew that there were limits he'd already surpassed, knew how to become numb in the face of everything that hurt.

That he could take it, no matter what came. That it would all be all right in the end.

The hand against his cheek made him jerk his head away, sharp as if he'd been smacked by the touch. But then the Leviathan crept in closer, pressed in against him and breathed words that were all lies, things that mattered naught when spoken through slippery tongues. The words were like filth, crude, toxic and foul and Dean could do nothing but roll his gaze elsewhere, the brush of skin to his own hot and distressed.

He knew that inside, Cas was howling from this but he would have to endure for the sake of those that wouldn't be sacrificed in tandem. Dean still refused to make a noise as the collar was gripped, air caught crooked in his windpipe and he huffed through his nose, furious and prepared to be turned inside out. ]

Why don't you surprise me. 'Cause I don't think you could manage that if you tried.

I think I could manage a few things, [ it purred. ] We are God now, after all.

[ The pronoun switching was the least of the creature's offenses, because now it rolled its head back on it's neck, snake-like, and angled its eyes upward, twisting Dean around in its grip so it could see.

In front of them, a woman holding onto her little boy literally turned into Mary Winchester. The boy she was holding tight, with his ashen hair, could have been either Winchester, truly, but the Leviathan were powerful, and Mary of course, was in Heaven. Not out of touch with its capabilities, even if it were the real thing and not an illusion, or a glamour. ]

I don't have to touch you to tear you apart, [ The creature purred, holding Dean tight with one hand and walking its fingers up and down his neck on the other side. Mary suddenly began to hemorrhage blood from her eyes, nose and mouth, and the small child in her arms cried out in fear and turned toward her, pulling on her arms in terror and crying out "Mom! Mom!" But as Dean watched, the Leviathan couldn't resist having a taste of his terror anyway, licking a wet stripe across Dean's shoulder. ] Fear. Some of them think it affects the flavor, but I like it. Just the right shade of bitter.

Keep tellin' yourself that.

[ Dean would never believe it, never give in to the idea that these things had a grip on the world in the way they saw fit. They might have believed themselves to be a holier than thou entity but the only thing they were was a disease, a creation that needed to be destroyed before it overtook everything in sight through the vessel that was Castiel. They were abusing him and that alone was enough to enrage Dean.

But they dug in hard and fast, wrenching Dean around so he could watch the visage that appeared of his own mother.

It was always a difficult sight to see, something that sparked inherent childhood memories, fresh as the day of the fire. It was as if she stood before him, the same mother he'd always loved, the one he'd clung to as a child and had felt the kind of love for that he hardly understood himself. She was a woman he had raised to a pedestal that nobody could hope to reach, an idea, a fantasy as much as a memory. His mother was a woman he felt profoundly for and one of the very few he did, if only because she was an image of all the things he never had a chance to live through, a life he wasn't meant to have. She had hers stolen and for that he would never forgive the world, but at least she had years of her own, happy years. Years that Dean could imagine but would never truly know.

She was a lie. And this wasn't real.

But as she began to bleed, Dean still shouted. It was an immediate reaction, trying to wrench himself free from the grip on his collar, fighting furiously as he struck out at Castiel's vessel. The wet tongue against his skin just made him that much more furious, squirming and kicking out at Cas' feet. He knew he wouldn't be saving his mother, she was a ghost, a spectrum, nothing was truly there, but he tried to turn in the grip just from pure rage alone, already rearing to pull back a fist and aim it anywhere, just to make the sight stop. Just to make his mother go away. ]

[ They were hitting all of Dean's buttons, they knew. They knew, because Castiel knew, and everything that the angel knew was theirs to steal and manipulate, turning against the wayward hunter. How dare he come here and interfere. Castiel should have known better than to let him. They laughed at him as he spun and fought and struggled, and when Dean hit him they knew that they would be as hard as rock, so that not even a hair would be knocked out of place by the impact. Instead, Dean would break his wrist.

And they laughed at him some more, and dragged him up to his feet, making him watch all over again.

The mother crumbled to the ground, and as she did her hair returned to the dull auburn shade that it had been before. She was someone else's mother, after all, and this tiny little child shaking her arms and crying against her chest was simply allegorical for the pain that Dean had suffered. ]

We know how to hurt you, Dean. And Heaven is ours. We can bring a whole happy hamper of old friends for you to watch die all over again, if that's what we want.

But we don't want to desensitize you. It would stop hurting then, wouldn't it? You're just as upset about these people, these individual lives, these sinners. Oh look, Daddy's coming.

[ And sure enough, the child's father was coming over to them, horrified, scooping the young one up into his arms. He was terrified, and grief stricken, and looked up at Castiel and Dean on the stage just above him, either frozen on the spot or memorizing their faces, who could know. ]

What do you think he's going to do?

[ Something cracked loud as Dean's fist connected, a gasp of a breath catching in his throat as he yanked back his hand, letting it fall into his lap with his fingers curling uncomfortably. Even in the dream it hurt bright (or maybe he only thought it would, a figment of pain, an idea of it) but that wasn't what his attention was on. The crunch of bones didn't matter to him while he instead feared what would happen next, what brutal thing he would be forced to face while he still tried to struggle away, boots skidding on the slick stadium stage.

Dean watched as the mother fell to the ground, as she became the human that she was before and not even remotely his mother. It still made his chest burn, swallowing the ache that tore through him as the Leviathan's words dulled, muddled in his ears. It didn't matter what they said because no part of it was real, was Cas, was anything he needed to hear.

His expression couldn't fall more than it had as the father scurried to his child, stood by his wife's body and fell to grief. Dean had seen far too many moments like this over the course of his life and he still had never become desensitized to it. He kept waiting for the day where he could watch without pain, without grief and remorse, but it never came. He never hurt any less to watch a life fall through his fingers, a life he couldn't save. ]

Take your kid! Go!

[ Dean shouted as loud as he could manage, willing the people away. And knowing they wouldn't survive it no matter what he said. ]

[ Castiel smiled to himself, watching Dean go beyond himself to try and change the way that this was going. It was torture, and really that was the point. Not physical, no. Breaking his bones--well, Dean could handle that. It wasn't like he hadn't broken his bones and carried on going despite it for most of his life. No, this was much better. This tore raw through him more than anything else.

He ducked down toward Dean's ear, so that he could speak softly. ]

What do you think? Shall we let them go? Or shall we--

[ He jerked his hand up, like he was pulling a puppet on its strings, and the man jerked too, the child in his arms.

Dad?

Dad reached up, took hold of the boy's head in both hands, and Castiel chuckled, once, before snapping his arm upward. The child's neck was broken, and it crumbled into its mother's lap. The father wept, crumpling over his child, begging "No, no, no. No, God, please."

And Castiel let Dean go, taking a step back. ]

Are you having fun yet?

[ It was torture but admittedly, it wasn't surprising. It was the kind of pain that was meant to tear him up from the inside out without actually pulling his intestines out through his nose. He was supposed to be crushed and of course, it stung, the made him bow his head and look away the second the child's neck was broken, the sight of it something that made his blood boil.

He was furious that this was something they were doing to Cas. Furious that the Leviathan were causing this, and he was in agony because he couldn't do a single thing about it.

And so his anger made him near growl, coaxing his gaze up towards Cas, angry and disturbed and aching. There was nothing he could do for Cas, nothing he could do for these people, and all he had left was his rage, the thing that was spurning him on towards his stupid temptation to fire back with as much as he could. ]

I keep telling you son's of bitches, you want to hurt me, you should actually do it to to me. Everyone else? Won't even matter.

You're right. They don't matter. They're already dead.

[ It was an icy, unsettling calm, and for a moment it was Castiel's voice and not the Leviathan. That was how it had been the first time. Castiel's voice, Castiel's control--or so he'd thought. But they'd been inside him all the time, manipulating, twisting. They'd done this, sure, but he had, as well. And it was already done; they were already dead. So Castiel clicked his fingers. At once the screaming stopped--everyone in the concert hall dropped down dead at once.

Everyone except himself and Dean. He returned his hands to his pockets, and began to circle Dean slowly. ]

Now. I suppose without all that noise we can actually get down to some hurting. What do you say?

[ He flicked his wrist, throwing Dean onto his back viciously. He drew his blade, stepping forward. ]

Now, don't move.

[ It was so much worse when the whole thing smelled of nothing but Cas, when his voice didn’t have the same terrifying echoes of the Leviathan. It was horrifying if only because his angel was the only thing commanding him, even if the Leviathan had stolen him away, were making him into another being entirely. Cas might not’ve been in there but it seemed solely like him, only like this singular entity that Dean couldn’t fight back againt.

It should have helped maybe, that the screaming stopped entirely in the hall. That the only sounds were his own breathing and Cas’ footsteps circling around him.

Hurting? Yeah, right. Dean’s angry gaze still flicked up to Cas, refusing to go scurrying away, even when he was thrown onto his back with wide, furious eyes. ]

Kill me. Do it.

[ The question was to see if he even would, or if he’d just draw this out more. If he’d make it hurt or end it all. ]

You'd like that. It's what you crave, isn't it? An end to your suffering, an end to your misery. An end to your failure.

[ Castiel came closer, looming over Dean. He stared down at him, quietly, looking dangerous, and then he crouched down beside him, laying one hand right in the center of his chest. He cocked his head, smiling. ]

I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to make you suffer, and then I'm going to send you back to Sam. If you want out, you're going to have to fix it yourself, once you get back home. When you remember all these dead people, and how you failed to save them, how you failed to provide any kind of help at all.

[ He curled his fingers tight against Dean's shirt collar, and pulled him up, slamming his fist into his face once, twice, three times, before on the fourth time yanking him just a little higher, pulling Dean's face close to his own. ]

[ Dean craved an end to a lot of things. An end to the fight he had to face, an end to the pain and the misery and the hopeless lives that couldn't be saved. There was nothing he could do but take it day in and day out but it wasn't his fault that he craved for there to be a light at the end of the tunnel. Anyone would have dreamed of one. Anyone at all. ]

At least I know I tried.

[ But that wouldn't be enough.

Castiel, the Leviathan- they were right. Dean would blame himself for this, for being unable to save the lives before him and he would look back and hate himself for it. For not being there, for not knowing how to do more. Even as the fist came crashing down into his face once, twice, three times- one more after that- Dean knew that this would be his wrongdoing. That he couldn't do more to end these people's suffering, just like he never could do enough.

Lifting a hand in an attempt to stop the punches, Dean didn't flinch, didn't try and skirt away, just took it apart from the lifted palm. ]

It's okay, Cas- you hear me? It's okay.

It's anything but okay, Dean.

[ He tightened his grip, unfolding his punching hand and reaching back into Dean's hair with it, stroking hard nails through the fine strands. He bent in closer, until they were practically nose to nose with each other, his eyelashes half closing as he considered what to do, where to go next. ]

You haven't been properly tortured since you were in Hell, have you? Not so long ago, really, not for how long you were down there. I'm astounded you're still sane, considering you're carrying all those memories with you still. How many years was it again, that you were left rotting away in that hole before I pulled you free?

And I couldn't have done it a little sooner, saved you before you broke those seals. Saved you before the course of fate threw Sam into worse. No. You needed an Angel of Monday Morning, and I was Late Thursday, or Friday Afternoon. Much too late to make any difference.

And here we are again, and even if Castiel ever comes back from this, he'll be too late to help you again. Too late to save you from suffering by his own hand. That's the pattern, Dean. This brother of yours? This friend? He will always let you down. He'll always. Be. Too late. Too weak. He'll always screw everything up, because he learned that from you.

[ Nobody spoke much about Hell and him anymore - nobody much needed to, he'd pushed it all aside years ago. But to have it brought up again still stung, still felt like a significant smack to the face. It wasn't helped at all by the fingers that drove through his hair, the words drug out with the gentle petting that made him want to rip the hand out of his hair, no matter who the hell it belonged to.

But that wasn't the point right now. The point was that he not ingest any of the words, that he let them all bounce off him like so much rubber and glue, refusing to let anything settle in a way that actually mattered. Because the second he started to pay attention was the second it began to hurt and Dean couldn't do it. Couldn't take it right now, and couldn't try to keep Cas from hurting all at the same time. There was only so much he could manage, and so he finally lifted his chin, furious and stubborn, uncaring yet unflinching all the same. ]

At least we taught him how to try.

Oh yes, you taught him how to try. You gave him free will. Well look around you. This is the cost of that decision. Fifty thousand three hundred and twelve lives. Are you happy now? Are you satisfied? Was it a choice well made?

[ He pushed Dean back onto the floor, and sat back up, brushing his hands off slowly. A moment later he was pulling an angel blade from his sleeve. ]

I have dozens of these, from the angels I killed. So many dead angels. I thought for sure if I killed enough of them, someone would show up to stop me. But they didn't. Nobody did. Nobody ever does.

[ He licked the edge of the blade, cutting his tongue in the process, and then he bent forward again, raising the blade, ready to stab it down. ]

Remember when you stabbed me with it? You were quite prepared to kill your friend. So fortunate for him that we were no longer susceptible.

[ He slammed it right through the fleshy part of Dean's shoulder, just below his clavicle, so hard and so deep that it buried itself in the wooden stage, and sat right to the hilt. ]

Edited 2016-06-04 13:40 (UTC)

[ Dean was following along. Sort of. The words the Leviathan spoke were starting to become a cloud, a haze of sorts that clung around his head like some sort of viscous soup, almost making sense but not quite. There was just too many words and he'd been punched a few too many times and Dean had long stopped caring about whatever they chose to blather on about.

Which was why everything returned to bright, startling reality when he was stabbed through the shoulder, ripping a scrambling shout from his throat as he thunked to the floor, maneuvering along the length of the blade painfully. ]

Would you shut up already? You ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?

[ Gritting his teeth against it, Dean growled under his breath, slamming a hand up towards Cas' throat, underneath his chin. He couldn't reach far enough to do any real, substantial damage, but he wanted a half inch of space, of room provided, anything to give him a moment to breathe while the pain scorched a hole through him. ]

[ Castiel stared down at Dean quietly, watching him trying to resist, the hand shoved up against his throat like it would make any difference. But it did, didn't it? He removed his hand from his hair, at least, in order to curl his fingers around Dean's wrist instead, and a moment later the bones were shattered, even though he still held the arm fast as he spoke. ]

You're such a silly puppy, aren't you? You never seem to learn. We're just better than you.

[ He drew out another silvery blade, swishing it through the air tauntingly. He pushed the arm up, with its broken hand, and slammed the blade down through the wrist, pinning both of Dean's arms in different ways, holding him fast, and spread eagled beneath him. ]

I think I'm going to crucify you, and leave you here for them to find you. You want so badly to be sacrificed for his sin.

[ He knew Dean could barely hear him through the nausea of his own pain, and so he only glanced sideward at him as he took his other hand, roughly twisting it back and putting a third blade right through his wrist. Then he stood, thoughtfully, looming over Dean. ]

Maybe I'll fetch Sam to help you down. He has a better understanding of these things. He'll get it.

[ Everything clouded over in an instant, the pain from his wrist ricocheting down through his arm, his shoulder, his ribs. It seemed as if it went everywhere at once, his hand spiking with white hot heat, his elbow suddenly trying to pick up the slack from the slump of his hand. Dean's eyes grew, his lips parting with the inclination to shout but nothing came, the silence of a dream flitting against the blood pounding against his ears.

And yet the Leviathan kept talking. They sure loved to hear themselves talk, didn't they. Talk talk talk, it didn't matter what they said, it was all distant now, all a tyrade that Dean couldn't care less about.

Especially when he was speared within seconds, his broken wrist slammed against the ground in a way that made him rattle with pain. He struggled suddenly, every inch of him screaming as he fought to free himself, tugging against blades that tore even worse, trying to fight and panic and free until the pain practically shut itself down, his whole body refusing what was happening to it. It didn't stop at that either, Dean suddenly feeling as if he was watching from a distance while a third blade made its appearance, spearing down through him and he cringed at his own body, always amazed at just how much he could withstand. ]

Don't let- Not Sammy. Not this.

[ It was all he could sputter out, dropping with a thud until he was flat on the floor, suddenly left frantic and trying to knock Cas' feet out from under him. It was hardly an effective move, especially when he couldn't feel himself, when the pain was his only real enemy in this, fiery and shaking him, whirling his insides up into a frantic mess, swearing he was going to vomit as he grit his teeth, his gaze rolling upwards while he disengaged, forgot his own goddamn name. ]

Not Sammy~

[ He mocked and teased and rolled his eyes. Anything for Dean's baby brother. He's suffer any blow to his pride, any harm, except for his little brother seeing him like this. Really, though, it was the least of the things that Dean ought to be worrying about right now. Castiel cocked his head, and suddenly Dean wasn't drilled onto the stage, but attached to a cross that had appeared from nowhere, still pinned through the same points, two more blades through his ankles, half naked, a crown of thorns on his head. Most of the bleeding had stopped, and now Castiel was standing below him on the stage.

He was weighing a spear in his hands, before he turned it, and spin it in a whirl at his side, humming as he tilted his face up toward Dean again. ]

Wakey wakey, Dean. I want you to pay attention to this part.

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Event Log: Dreamwalker

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