thelongnow_logs | (no subject)

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WHO: The Shifter & You. Yes, you.
WHEN: An ambiguous time that feels like a few hours but will, in fact, be the 24-ish hours 'til plot's end.
WHERE: [See NOTES]
WHAT: The house chases The Shifter.
WARNINGS: Language, violence, disturbing images, etc.

NOTES: Everyone in the house (including Castiel and Annie) has perhaps fallen asleep. The dream resembles reality, or vice-versa. You're not entirely sure. Wounds sustained in whatever this is will hurt and act as real wounds; weapons used will work properly, etc. People can form one large group or multiple smaller groups.

You will be encountering nightmares. These will be of your own devising and not The Shifter's direct creation, so please play them out within your group(s) and try to balance and mix multiple peoples' nightmares together (ie Owen might appear alongside Alastair in an empty school hallway, or you might find yourselves in Hell alongside Michael with key!Dawn trying to help you out). Please recall there are other monsters if you care to use them.

The Shifter will enter when he is found (yes, he will be found).. but that means that it's up to the players to get through at least one round of nightmares. A tip: work together! Please also be mindful of other peoples' activity and either break into groups based on that OR be patient. No one should be left out. If you break into groups, every group will get a Shifter and it will be up to you guys to figure out which is The Shifter.

tl;dr Work together, have fun, create your own nightmares and I'll torment you near the end with The Shifter.

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The second Sam finished his Devil's Trap, he was up and next to Rose - wanting to get a look at the damage for himself. He would have to explain the drawing later, there just wasn't enough time right now.

As this was the stuff of dreams, a tray full of equipment was standing near by, but as he dragged it over, the hunter could see it wasn't what you'd normally find in a doctor's office. The tray held tweezers and clamps in all shapes and sizes, as well a scissors, needles, and stitching floss. Beside it all sat an amber bottle of whiskey.

It might not seem like it, but this was a good thing.

"You're going to be alright." Sam promised, unbuttoning Leopold's shirt as quickly as possible.

And all things considered, he was lucky. The hole was small. This must have come from a handgun, too, judging from the minimal mess it left behind. Had it been a rifle or shotgun this would be a very different scene.

Taking a breath to relax, Sam grabbed the whiskey first and unscrewed the top, circling around to help his patient take a drink.

"This is gonna hurt."

Leopold blinked up at the man suddenly looming over him and tried to compose himself. “I am not used to finding myself in the debt of men whose names I do not know,” he whispered. “You have already done a great deal more for me than many would have, you and Rose, and you seem prepared to do more.”

Pausing to take a breath, Leopold grimaced at the pain even that small movement caused, not at all looking forward to the surgery to come. He privately did not believe that he was going to be all right at all, but he kept his doubts to himself. At times like these, he wished he believed in God.

He lifted his head as much as he could when Sam held the bottle to his lips, gulping the liquid gratefully. He coughed as it burned his throat, but most of it did go down, dulling the pain a little. “I cannot fathom how you Americans drink that stuff,” he spluttered, trying for a little levity.

"You get used to it," He answered with a half laugh. "And, my name is Sam."

Sam pulled back the whiskey and poured it over the wound. Under normal circumstances he would have used a proper antiseptics, but this was what the dream provided, so it was what he used.

Moving quickly, he picked up a pair of long-nosed tweezers and removed the bullet, the small lead ball making a familiar tink! as it hit the aluminum trey. After that, he used one of the bandages Rose had found to sop up the gush of blood before threading a needle and making five neat stitches.

"It was shallow." He murmured, cutting the last stitch and setting the needle down. "You're going to be fine."

“Sam,” Leopold repeated, looking the other man in the eye. “I’ll thank you to do this quickly.”

He knew what would be coming next, that his second experience with whiskey would be far less pleasant than the first, and if his hand gripped Rose’s before the alcohol met his wound, well, perhaps some things were forgivable under the circumstances.

It hurt exactly as much as he had expected it to, and only by clamping his jaw shut by main force could he keep from crying out. The sting had hardly passed when Sam put the bottle down and reached for something just out of Leopold’s view. He could feel it shortly, though, but the bullet was found quickly with a minimum of digging, for which Leopold felt intensely grateful.

He knew that the wound could not remain open, knew that there would be a needle involved in the proceedings at some point, but this one felt red hot every time it entered his flesh. He listened to Sam’s reassurances, but the man seemed to be speaking from very far away.

Leopold took a firm grip on the shreds of consciousness remaining in the pain- and alcohol-induced haze that was quickly suffusing his brain. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Both of you, thank you.”

"We've got to stick together." Sam replied, taking the whiskey again and taking a sip for himself before offering it to Leopold.

"Besides, you'd do the same for me."

To be honest, he was glad for the calm moment of refuge the Med Ward provided. Even if it had it's own traumas. And this poor guy laying here... Sam could only hope his injuries would be gone when they all woke up.

"I don't think I ever caught your name."

Admittedly, Rose was only half-concentrating on the proceedings in front of her. As she held Leopold's hand, her eyes were mostly transfixed on the door. She fully expected company to come breaking in at any moment. Plus, blood made her a bit queasy, AND she was actively resisting the urge to bombard Sam with questions. Now just wasn't the time...

"'is name is Leopold. Duke of Albany," she explained, not wanting the man to strain himself further. Her thumb ran soothingly across the top of Leo's fingers. Smiling, she added, "an''e's very smart, an' very charmin'." Rose lowered her voice and leaned in so that only Sam could hear. "'e's from a differen' time. Late 1800's, I'd say. There's a couple o' these blokes. Commodore Norrington is from th' 18th century 'imself."

Leopold was terribly glad Rose was there to make introductions, although he’d prefer a few people as possible knew about his title. He managed a wan smile for her and lifted his free hand to offer it to Sam. The absurdity of shaking hands with someone who only moments before had been stitching him up struck him as terribly funny, but laughing was out of the question in his present state.

“You are too kind, Miss Tyler,” he told Rose. “I sincerely hope that neither of your lives have been put in jeopardy by barricading yourselves in here with me. Is there nothing we can do to end this madness? Or am I to understand that this is life as usual in this place?”

The men shook hands regardless. A bit late for formal introductions, but never mind. "No, this is...something is definitely going on." Sam said, glancing back at the door. It seemed to be holding for now. Thank god.

"This is a dream," He went on to explain, as if they all hadn't already figured it out. "That shadow is controlling it, like some kind of game." And that was the best he had. There didn't seem to be any clear objective, and neither he nor his brother could put their finger on what the creature was. But he knew it was powerful. And that it needed to die.

Rose winked at Leopold, and gently released his hand. Glancing at Sam, she walked back toward the barricaded door. Since she didn't have the stomach for surgery, the Companion figured she'd be more useful standing guard. She sat herself on the cot, and leaned her back against the door itself.

The blonde stayed uncharacteristically quiet. Her dark eyes drifted from the two men to the pentagram on the floor. She sighed, cradling the shotgun in her arms. It felt a bit like she didn't know Sam at all.

As he worked, Rose's mind wandered- a dangerous thing when their thoughts were being preyed upon. She hoped Amy was safe, and wondered where The Doctor was. She missed her mum. And had she ever gotten her cell back from Dean?

Rose snapped to her senses when she heard something out in the hall. It sounded like... like a baby crying. Slowly, making sure Sam wasn't looking, she pressed her ear to the door. The small, pitiful cry was familiar. It belonged to her newborn brother. The wailing became louder, and Rose closed her eyes. The baby couldn't be here. The dream was just trying to get into her head. She told herself to pull away from the door, but couldn't. Any other time, when Rose would hear that cry, she'd go to Tony. If she did now, though, she'd be separated from Sam and Leopold- what their tormentor surely wanted.

As if hearing her thoughts, the dream around her took a turn. On the other side of the door, she heard the most horrible voice in the universe. "EXTERMINATE." Merciless Dalek. The baby's cry went silent.

"Tony!!" Rose screamed, breaking the calm of the Med Ward. She threw herself from the cot and onto her feet. Her arms flew to pull the barricade away, but instantly, she realized what she was doing. Unable to silence her fear, Rose crouched down, clutching the legs of the bed. Tears trickled down her face. "Sam," she whimpered. It took everything Rose had to keep her hands away from the doorknob.

"No, Rose! Wait!" He yelled, turning from Leo at her outburst. But she had the good sense to fall instead of opening the door.

Sam came over and immediately crouched down beside her, pulling the weeping woman into his arms.

"Hey, shh," He coddled. "Everything is going to be okay."

And it would be. Hopefully. Dean would have found the others by now, and he would come for them.

The dream, on the other hand, was sick of waiting and had other plans. Without warning, the shrill sound of a baby's cry tore through the air, and the door they had been guarding so carefully flung open - the heavy hinges groaning in protest. A mass of black smoke flew in, but it formed into a cyclone - twisting and turning against itself in the prison as it became caught by the Devil's Trap. Electric sparks shot from somewhere unexplainable, and the air turned cold. Faster and faster the demons swirled, their sheer collective beginning to overburden the single trap.

The cacophony of demons grew louder and one could just make out the blood stained walls of the corridor in dim light. If there had been a child out there, it wasn't around any more. The lights in the room flickered violently and a pressure moved in - forcing itself against the body as if someone were sitting on your chest and boxing your ears.

There wasn't time to react when the seal finally gave, inky death spewing out into the room to fill the eyes and mouth. There wasn't a chance to fight them off. There wasn't a chance to think.

There was only darkness.

[ooc: TBC in the thread below]

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