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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[ 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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