trans_9 | I'm all right, I'm ok. [OPEN]

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

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?

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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.

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.

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.

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.

"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."

"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.

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."

"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.

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.

Dean studied him for a moment before sipping more of his drink.

After several minutes he finally asked, "Ever run into demons and angels? Demons are worse than you think, and most angels are complete and utter dicks with wings."

Peter raised his eyebrow.

"Can't say I have, but from what I remember of Sunday school, that sounds about right." He said in response. His face didn't reflect any surprise, in fact, it hadn't changed at all save the eyebrow raise. Not only was Peter hard to phase, he also had learned from his experiences that anything's possible.

"Go on. This might actually be pretty important for me to know in case we run into any while we're here."

Dean then said, "The demons where I come from, they can possess people. Just zoom in and ride you around like you were their own personal pony. Rock salt slows them down, you trap them with a devil's trap, but exorcism's one of the few ways to send them packing back to hell." He wasn't going to give all details, just important safety tips.

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?

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.

Peter nodded.

"You... deal with these things a lot, then?" He remembered Dean's reaction to Lorne in the sensoriums, and their discussion of making deals. The realization hit him as he took another swig, his eyes becoming slightly wider...

"Oh... " He said queitly as he placed his beer back down on the bar. "Uh... Bad choice of words... Sorry..."

Dean's green eyes narrowed at the choice of words, and he didn't respond until after another drink.

"I hunt them."

He then said in a lower voice, "Don't ever make a deal with one. No matter what. Not even for your brother." Not that he wouldn't do the same damn thing for Sam in a heartbeat if he was sent back in time. But that's just how he is.

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.

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."

Again Peter nodded.

"Sounds like good advice." He remembered Adam, and what he had nearly done, all originally to help Nate, thinking he was saving the world. "Not that I can say I'd take it. As much as Nate and I argue, I know that I get blinders where my brother is involved." He looked over at Caitlin waiting tables again.

"To the point where I did make a deal with someone who could easily be one of the demons you're talking about. And I wound up nearly destroying the world and losing... something very important to me..." He looked again back down at the ground solemnly.

"If it's any consolation, at least to the best of my knowledge, none of your demons are walking around happily on-board."

A chill drew down Dean's spine. Because the deal he made did lead to him helping destroy the world. Or at least the first of the seals, and his brother breaking the last.

"You're lucky it was only nearly." He knew he couldn't talk about having blinders on. Sam was his strength and his weakness, and their enemies knew it. Often would exploit it.

He then asked, "So this someone's on board?" Even though he was damn grateful Lilith or Alastair, or Zachariah was on board. And definitely not Lucifer. Never him.

Peter sighed.

"Yeah. He says he's on the level now... But..." A flash of uncharacteristic anger was reflected in Peter's eyes. "After what he did... The manipulation, the cunning, using my family and friends against me... I can't trust him. I'm trying, I know we're all stuck here together..." He shook his head and took a swig of his beer, his body language reflecting what could almost be called shame.

"I'm not perfect. He has me on guard. This is a guy who, because he's immortal, decided humanity wasn't worth it and tried to wipe everyone out with a super-virus. And I'm supposed to believe he just, what, is turning over a new leaf because he's on this ship?"

Dean snorted, "Yeah, sounds familiar. Bet he be good drinking buddies with Zac or Lucy."

"Yeah... Right now I have to admit I've been a little focused on staying a few steps ahead of him. I copied his power so I could use it to help people, but outside of that... I'm not sure what I could do." Peter sighed again.

"So, yeah... Watch out for a shorter, blonde, british guy. If he asks you to do something, examine the action really closely before you just blindly go for it." Peter took another swig from his beer. "Alright, this seems like a good trade so far. I believe it's your turn to fill me in on your enemies." He smiled a little. This was cathartic, and mostly an exchange of information that could be important. Seemed like a good, friendly ground.

Dean shook his head, "I wouldn't go for it anyway."

Unlike *some* people, Dean was too used to cons and lies to easily fall for somebody's offer. He'd only do it if he was working it to his advantage or somebody else's that he cared about.

"You already heard some of them. Demons, and a lot of angels. Both need vessels though. Angels have to get permission before they can take a ride though. So don't go around saying yes to somebody who asks."

"Huh." Peter thought about this. "Again, solid advice. I'm not too comfortable with the idea of people using my body like a subway, though, so I'm not sure how much of an issue that would be." He laughed slightly. "So, on your world, are their people with powers, like on mine, or is it all demons and witches?"

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

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