I'm all right, I'm ok. [OPEN]

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

When people were arranging for sleeping space in the new crew quarters, Dean just grabbed a room. Not bothering to ask for roomies, or look for offers. When (If) Sam wakes up, the other space was his. In the meantime, Dean set up his few belongings, including some of the supplies from the Impala. He was glad to find his dad's journal among those belongings, and occasionally flipped through it. He kept his guns cleaned before going to sleep at night.

Or rather, seeming to go to sleep. He hadn't had a full night since waking up in the pods. Maybe it was the zombies, maybe it was the Ohm, but in any case, nightmares of Hell had been playing frequently in his headspace. He buffeted offers of sedatives, and would instead pace the room or borrow music from the Media library to blast out to keep himself awake. It was getting to the point of only sleeping a few measly hours a night but Dean felt used to it. It didn't matter, he could handle it. He also taken to roaming the hallways or checking on the Impala. Any way to feel less alone. Kept him from the overwhelming fear that he had been left behind. Left behind by his brother, Bobby, Castiel, hell the whole damn world and universe went away, and it was just him.

His steps took him into the Sensoriums, and this time it was the Roadhouse. His mind couldn't stop him from populating it with fake people as he sat at the fake bar with a fake drink. Maybe he could drink enough to pass out without any dreams at all. Wouldn't that be a change?

Comments

[hero-medic.livejournal.com]

In the midst of the fake people, Peter slowly shuffled up to the bar and sat next to Dean. As he looked at the demon hunter, the bags under Dean's eyes reflected those that he had had on many occasions. The medic waved down the bartender.

"I'll have a beer, and two shots of Jameson's." Peter said casually as money seemed to appear in his hand. Since acquiring his new power, he's had to learn how to adapt and control things quickly. The bartender took the money happily and went to his business.

"Keep the change, man." Peter turned to Dean. "Care for a free shot, man? You look like you could use it." Peter smiled warmly.

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

Dean was too focused on his drink to notice. The bartender was actually some random guy he remembered from another bar outside of Topeka. He didn't want to deal with a fake Ellen or Jo. It'd hurt too much.

He gave a wordless shrug, and waited for the drinks.

[hero-medic.livejournal.com]

Peter could tell Dean was in pain. Hell, his power had initially been based on his natural empathy. He looked down at the bar, and remained silent for a moment before opening his mouth again.

"You know, if you ever need to talk, people are here, right?" He said as something odd happened. As if his own mind started bleeding into Dean's sensorium, a shorter, curly haired waitress approached them as if out of nowhere.

"Carl ain't givin' ye too much trouble, is he, now?" She said with a smile, her irish brogue shining through and carrying a ring of infallible happiness."If he takes too long wit yer drinks, ye just call me over, I'll set him right." She smiled warmly, and Peter took on the immediate appearance of a man whose heart had just been shattered as she walked away to deal with other customers. He returned to staring at the bar.

"This is... hard on everyone." He said after a moment, his voice slightly choked by what might have been holding back tears. "If we can't vent to eachother about it, we might as well be truly alone." The sadness carried in his tone was the perfect counterbalance to their happy waitress.

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

Dean glanced up at the accented voice. She's cute whoever she is, but he could recognize the look on Peter's face. He wasn't about to ask though. Didn't need a chick flick moment with a guy he barely knows.

"Yeah. I'll pass, ok? Nothing to talk about," he then slung back the shot, and slammed the empty glass back on the wooden surface.

[hero-medic.livejournal.com]

"Really? So... You're just not a fan of sleep?" Peter said with sarcastic bent to his voice. "Fair enough, I suppose. I've just never heard of someone who obviously needs it avoiding sedatives." Peter had overheard his colleague's concerns in the medbay. However, more extended recent exposure to Nathan had put Peter in a more confrontational mood.

"Is it that you don't like people, or are you afraid of letting anyone in? No offense, but we're all dealing with a lot of bad reality, and you're one of the few people around who isn't accepting help from the rest of the crew. I don't get it."

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

"That's none of your damn business. And I like people just fine. I don't like those who can't respect personal space!" Dean shot back. He just didn't want to admit to the why. Be too much to explain, and he really didn't want to get into a discussion about hell or what he did there.

[hero-medic.livejournal.com]

Peter shook his head sadly.

"Look, we're all stuck here together. We ARE each others business. The people here, right now? The people coming onto ship regularly? They're the only people any of us have to rely on right now." His tone had calmed considerably, once again reflecting his own empathy.

"I just want to help. And I gotta say, you're making it hard. Doesn't mean I'm going to give up."

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

"Dammit, look there's nothing you can do about it. You're not even from my world so explaining anything would be a waste of time, and you still wouldn't understand the first thing about it."

It's said that the Winchester stubbornness is legendary. Still there was something in Dean's eyes, something suggesting he was about ready to break. Somebody just needed to find the right button to push.

[hero-medic.livejournal.com]

While the Winchester stubbornness is legendary, the Petrelli stubbornness is mythic in it's own right. Peter simply looked at Dean calmly.

"You don't know I wouldn't understand it. Hell, in the past few years I've been tossed through time, blown up, been close to a god, fought a few guys who might as well actually be gods... Recently, I got creeped out that I can talk to an anthropromorphic reindeer without even getting phased." He couldn't help but chuckle at that a little. "The fact is, maybe I'd understand better than you'd think. And even if I didn't, I'd be willing to try." Peter left it at that and awaited a response as he took a sip from his beer.

[not_the_philistine]

Night is Goliath's time. None of the human crew are on quite as fixed a time frame as he is, but they are still mostly active during the "day" set forth by the artificial rising and setting of the City's sun, and so activity in the Sensoriums at this hour solicits his interest. A bar is a social setting, and so he sees no harm in entering, even knowing that humans tend to take their more private visions during the mid-hours of the night.

Now the question is which of these humans is the real one who conjured the rest - and how long it takes before Dean notices the remarkably demonic-looking creature who just entered his simulation. How clean did you say those guns were?

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

Very, and Dean was currently focused on his drink. Still a cursory scan of his surroundings, made him check his knife and gun. Didn't have a shotgun with him. But had a few rock salt rounds as needed.

He coolly watched the being to see what he would do.

[not_the_philistine]

The illusion is well-programmed - realistic - right down to the AIs, and so Dean is not the only one to notice his entrance. Goliath pauses by the door as several AIs representing entirely mundane and slightly inebriated humans react appropriately to the appearance of a gargoyle in their midst. Dean's reaction is one of the subtler ones.

A babble of voices rises - "The fuck is that thing? Someone call the cops, there's a monster in the bar -" chairs are knocked over, a panic, in general, is raised. Goliath stands by the door, motionless but for an expression that beneath his natural facade of grimness, might be slightly exasperated, and scans the crowd for clues to which one of them is the real human. His gaze lands on the one who continues to nurse his drink, other hand concealed, probably near to a human weapon.

Stacy takes the brave. Goliath is not as certain she spins them into her illusions.

"This illusion is very convincing. I cannot tell for certain which of these humans is a living being, but I intend harm to no one."

His tone is polite, but laced with an undercurrent of "please control your illusion."

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

Dean sipped his drink, and then concentrated as the bar abruptly emptied of people. Including the tenders. The jukebox was playing Running with the Devil by Van Halen, but he ignored it.

"No harm huh? That to avoid a tentacle whip or personal morals?"

[not_the_philistine]

"No harm? Look at the thing, it's a fuckin' demon!"

"I risk no violations in defending myself from illusions," Goliath points out, coolly. "Regardless, I am a gargoyle, a sworn protector of humanity." He does not manage to resist growling at the vocal AI. "I am most certainly not a demon."

"Like hell it isn't. Rodney, get the shotgun."

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

Dean glanced upward, "Hey hey! I thought I already gave a note to clear out the space. Lose the pixels already!"

The surroundings changed to the side of a road, still at night. With miles of fields in the background.

Wasn't what he had in mind, but eh, it's quieter.

"Gargoyle, you like hanging out on top of churches?"

[not_the_philistine]

"My kind turn to stone during the day. And we prefer guarding castles."

He looks around. This is preferable to the bar. He resettles, folding his wings, as he takes in his surroundings.

"But any building or suitable environment can be our territory."

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

"I've heard of the statues being used as wards on those buildings." So maybe there was something to the protector remark.

"Never seen any of you moving around though, and I've seen a lot over the years."

[lastofkuith.livejournal.com]

Well, look at that. A bar. Though it had some differences from the ones she'd been in, seeing as hers were built in a time that would be centuries before this, the basic look and feel was about the same.

Pirogoeth was silent a few moments, thinking of leaving, but there was no loud brawling or drunken stupidity going on that was obvious. Which said that maybe the person hadn't summoned the bar because they just liked beer.

And that made her curious. She walked inside, looking around until she spotted Dean. It was clear he was the one who made it.

He was the only one who felt 'different.' She walked over, taking a seat next to him. "So, does this bar serve anything alcoholic with a fruit taste?" She asked. She didn't like the taste of normal beer.

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

Dean eyed her, partially for appearance, partially for choice of drink. But eh, female and their girly fruity drinks.

"You can ask, most have one or two."

[lastofkuith.livejournal.com]

"Barkeep, anything's fine as long as it's a strong fruit taste," Pirogoeth called. She didn't have any preferences on the kind of fruit.

She looked at Dean. Her face was rather passive, but she was getting a good look at him too. Might as well see what she could figure out about him since she came in.

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

It looked like a cheap version of a daiquiri persuasion by the drink's appearance.

Dean rolled his eyes a little, and had more of his beer.

"You just come in to drink or just want to stare?"

[lastofkuith.livejournal.com]

Pirogoeth took it, taking a sip. Not a fine wine, but at least it didn't have the strong bitter alcohol taste without something to counter it.

"I do not need something too strong to get drunk," Pirogoeth commented. Not that people could tell. She was pretty much the same she always was except for how fuzzy her head was.

"But I decided to see who made a bar, but did not act the fool most do in these places."

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

"It's early still." He hasn't had nearly enough drinks as he wanted to.

[lastofkuith.livejournal.com]

"That's a goal, but not necessarily for the same reasons that I would find more annoying than...interesting," Pirogoeth commented.

[notadamnangel.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, well got my own reasons to get drunk."