Philip LaFresque and Jack Daniel's depressing day in the kitchen [29/??? artefacts collected]
[ And then this happened and Philip was back in his body. Just like that. Just... like that.
Not that the time off was a breeze, oh no. The things he said to some people, the things Clarence did, but... there are the things he didn't do. The things he could've done so easily and yet--
And yet Philip is back in his body and nobody is hurt. Nobody ( Read more... )
Not that the time off was a breeze, oh no. The things he said to some people, the things Clarence did, but... there are the things he didn't do. The things he could've done so easily and yet--
And yet Philip is back in his body and nobody is hurt. Nobody ( Read more... )
And knowing that Philip feels worse makes Dean wish he wasn't so goddamn helpless.
But he calls back. It's what friends do.]
...hey, uh. Phil? You there?
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Dean! I-- Yeah, I'm... I'm here, are you-- Are you okay?
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[There's a sloshing sound. Philip might recognize it as the melodious call of the elusive whiskey bottle. Dean clears his throat (because damn, it's hoarse), and adds:]
I was gonna ask about you. You were kinda...more worse-off than me, dude.
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[ Finally. Finally he can do what he wanted to do since the moment he came back to life. Pretend that he's perfectly fine, that it's not a big deal. Pretend that he already forgot all about it and that Dean's voice doesn't still make his stomach tie itself into all sorts of knots, because ]
It wasn't your fault.
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...is what Dean wants to say.
But he doesn't. Because he knows that it's probably hard enough on Philip having to hear Dean's voice. The voice that screamed I'M COMING FOR YOU down the halls, followed by a bloody ax.]
Yeah. Sure.
[Doesn't that sound convincing? Almost as convincing as you, Philip!
Dean changes the subject, just like a good friend would. When they're not suffering from mutual trauma, they can broach the subject again in the distant future.]
How ya holdin' up, anyway? What with the past, uh...few days?
[He switches on the video. Dean looks like shit, by the way, but what's new? Lack of sleep will do that to a guy.]
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I'm back, Dean.
[ But first things first.
Philip looks... good. Well-rested, well-fed, well-groomed, well, one might almost confuse him for a perfectly wholesome character of sound mind if it wasn't for the troubled expression and the haunted look adorning his face. ]
I'm back, he just-- He just left.
[ DOES THAT NOT STRIKE YOU AS ODD, DEAN? BECAUSE IT DOES STRIKE PHILIP. RIGHT IN THE FACE. ]
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He what?
[That isn't like Clarence the Virus. That isn't like Clarence the "I'll Kill Everyone and Your Little Dog Too" Virus at all.]
He left?
[Dean has a rather hard time believing this.]
Did he say anything?
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He called Alex, said to pick me up for a walk. And then... I was back in my body.
[ Philip shakes his head again. Maybe that will help him make sense of everything. ]
That was, um, a few hours ago.
[ A pause. ]
He didn't... kill anyone either...
[ There's an audible but at the end of that sentence, though Philip falls very decisively silent. ]
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If that isn't the strangest thing ever, then Dean is a monkey's uncle.]
...if he didn't kill anybody, what'd he do?
[Because Clarence was pretty damn excited about whatever he had plans for when he last spoke to Dean.]
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[ Philip trails off. He isn't stalling. Mundane as the list may sound, it's that very quality which makes it so noteworthy. Unusual in its exceedingly ordinary way and a routine which... which in part was even healthier than his normal lifestyle at times.
Philip falls silent and remains that way for a long time. Okay, he was stalling a little. Those were the other days, the days Clarence spent alone. Not the first day ( ... )
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It's so...boring. Dull in comparison to everything he ever seems to threaten to do - everything that Clarence does.
Philip goes quiet and Dean waits, because that can't just be it. Confirming something is easy enough, so Dean nods; he saw the transmission, but he wasn't exactly inclined to ring in and be Lucky Caller Number 7.]
What?
[...and then panic. Clarence saying hello to a few people over the landline is bad enough, but gracing them with his presence? Philip's hesitation is a pretty obvious sign that something went horribly wrong.]
What happened? Is she okay?
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I don't know.
[ He shakes his head. ]
I mean, I- I haven't talked to her since then, but he--
[ He tries to make eye contact again. ]
He didn't hurt her.
[ Bracing himself Philip begins retelling the afternoon, any and all emotion audibly forced out of his voice. ]
He pretended to be me. They had dinner together in the dining hall. They watched a stupid movie, he... he got her drunk. He--
[ Philip's teeth clench. This is not the difficult part. This is the irritating part. ]
He kissed her.
[ Now this is the difficult part. ]
He told her who he was and... and then he let her go.
[ During all this Philip hopes Clarence will provide some insight. An answer, a hint, even a taunt, but the virus stays silent. ]
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...and what a fucked-up story it is.
Quite familiar with Clarence's impeccable impression of Philip LaFresque, he's not really surprised that Evelyn fell for it. But Clarence's grand day out, on something that sounds suspiciously like a date (Which Dean will gladly pester Philip about later, you can be sure of that), seems to have ended in a surprising lack of bloodshed and tears.
This is great news and all but it's still really weird, and Dean's confusion is plastered all over his face.]
So...lemme get this straight. He wined and dined her, got himself a little nookie before the big reveal and then let her go?
[The real question being:]
Why?
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Honestly, I...
[ This would be a good time to shake his head. Perhaps twice. And then once more, just to make the message abundantly clear. ]
I haven't got the faintest idea.
[ He has a theory however.
A theory according to which this was the warning, the metaphorical head of a horse in his bed and if he doesn't change his course then the metaphor will be dropped and so will another head, only it won't be that of a horse next time. ]
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[Another pause. Dean can't come up with many convincing arguments either, aside from similar situations he's experienced involving demons. They take hostages to get what they want, but this...this seems different.]
...shit.
[That about sums it up.]
You were in his head, though, right? I mean, what kinda stuff was he thinking at the time?
[Professor Winchester prescribes starting with remedial psychology and its viral applications.]
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...I didn't get much. He was happy. Not content, just... schadenfreude and he'd talk to me, he'd remind of everything he could do, he.... he kept remembering the- the last time--
[ Just a quick pause, if you please. ]
I think it that must've been deliberate, it didn't feel like I was spotting information so much as I thought he was pointing me towards it, like... like it barely did more than scratch the surface and I--
[ He frowns. ]
I can't, I-- I don't know to look deeper.
[ At some point Philip thought that Clarence being in control of the body would at least have one advantage. Turns out he was wrong. ]
...It's like he's got a map of my brain and I don't.
[ Philip's confession comes reluctantly. It's hardly traumatising on the grand scale of things, but he still doesn't like the idea of admitting to that particular piece of failure.
At least he can offer a shrug. ]
Maybe that's all there was to it. Just... just a scare.
[ A terrible, terrible scare.
He doesn't sound all that convinced, personally. ]
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