Eleventh Unused Utility Belt | Video, Spam

[hellofist]

Um. I'm awake, now.

[Have a wave and half a smile, Barge.]

Didn't mean... to worry anyone. Sorry. I'm okay, though. I know... things have changed. Birthday passed. Was going to be... first one. Never knew it, growing up. Guess weapons... weren't allowed them. Merlin said, can have party. Don't know how, though. Could use tips.

Want to see everyone. Can meet somewhere, or you... come to Merlin's room. Staying here now, moved stuff already. It's... safer, this way. For my heart.

[That doesn't make a lot of sense out of context though, does it? She sighs and her smile fades, dissolves into a look that's somewhere between uncomfortable and just sad.]

There's a man here, David Cain. My father.

[She's truthful almost all of the time anyway, but this is when it becomes clear she's affected by this flood.]

Don't kill him. He's not... worth your time. Deserves a chance. Bad father, bad man, deserves to die, maybe should die, but... deserves his chance, too. Just leave him alone. Don't want people... getting hurt. Love you all too much.

That's... guess that's all.


Private to Bruce Wayne
Don't anymore, okay? Once is enough.

I love you.



Private to David Cain
Promise still stands. You kill anyone, I kill you.

... Hope this place... works, for you.



Spam for Dean and Barbara, separately
[Some people deserve to see her in person without waiting so she goes to them first, knocks and knocks and knocks on their doors until they open up, let her in. Once they do, they'll have an armful of Cass because there's no stopping her once she sees those faces again.]

Comments

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[Dean, as per usual, has been full of network and communicator fail; he just keeps getting pissed off and, well, that's not useful to anyone. In between chewing people out, he's been mostly keeping to himself, though; it's the tail end of his death toll, he's back to a normal, functioning state of being, he can ignore the last few twinges, but there's no motivation to really get back on his feet.

Doyle's attempts at hovering are not, in and of themselves, enough in the end.

So he's there in his room, oblivious, when there's a noise on his door like a home invasion; and he's slower than normal when he opens it up anyway without pausing to check, and gets a chestful of reanimated sweatergirl for his trouble.

With a surprised, wordless sound, the hunter closes arms that know what they're about around her before his brain can catch up to what's going on; he sounds and feels dumb when all he can find to say, slightly disbelieving, is:]

Cass?

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

Came back to you.

[It's a little muffled because she's hanging on so tight and not really all that willing at all to let him go, to stop hugging him, but he's smart. He'll figure it out.]

I'm sorry. Made you worry. It's okay now, though.

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

I was worried - I missed you so much. [There it is: he catches up to himself and instead of just holding her instinctively, his arms tighten and he's actively grabbing her up, hanging on with all his strength like maybe someone might try to take her away again. Like maybe she'll disappear if he doesn't hang on with everything he's got.

He doesn't know when he dropped the side of his face to the top of her head, doesn't know when the world sprang up blurry around the edges in front of his eyes, but he blinks that shit back as quickly as he notices it and breathes in deeply, doesn't ease up at all, huffs out a laugh, and absolutely does not mean to admit to what he admits to next.]

I was sure you were going to just disappear like everyone else. I didn't know what to do.

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

[She's... not actually sure if her feet are still on the ground, but it doesn't really matter. All that does matter is matching the strength of his hug and definitely not drawing attention the the fact that he was so close to tears.]

I'm sorry. Will... make it up, somehow. Will find way.

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

It's okay. It is. [Probably not. She's light and he's strong and he doesn't even care right now.

He's strong in more than one way, and it's easier to be when he gets one small blessing back for the slew of shit that has been the past couple months.]

Don't be sorry - I don't get this. People don't come back when they go. They just go.

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

[She sighs and nods the best she can, but it's kind of hard when she's squishing the life out of someone because she missed him so much.]

I know, me too. But, we're both here. Both okay. Now we can... be happier.

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[Finally, it seems to occur to him that it's okay to relax a little. He has better control of himself, he can open his eyes and see clearly, and this is probably bordering on awkward or ridiculous.

Not that he particularly cares, he's been a moron for lesser reasons, but it's okay.

He sets her down carefully, and pulls back. The smile reaches his eyes this time.]

Look at you, sweetheart. Walkin' and talkin' and everything. Holy shit is it good to see you.

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

[She smiles right back at him and her smile is like his, real again for the first time in a long time. And he might pull back but Cass reaches for his hand, something to hang on to so she can be sure this isn't really a dream and she really is here, they can both be happy.]

Well, mostly talking. Still have... some issues, there.

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

You talk perfectly for me.

[God that sounds so sappy and normally he would be embarrassed by it, but he doesn't even bat an eye this time; he keeps his hand in hers, then hesitates right before he would invite her in.]

You made the rounds yet? A lotta people are gonna want to see you. I expect most of 'em are more important than me.

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

[He wants to invite her in, so she just goes in, tugging him after her because she's not likely to let go of his hand any time soon.]

You expect wrong. Saw Barbara, then you. Done with rounds. Everyone else... can come later.

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

But your family...

[Okay. Dean lets himself be dragged in after her, and if he's confused, well, that's plain enough. He has a new couch ever since Christmas, his various and sundry other gifts either hidden away - the rifle, the leather jackets, the picture of Sam - or displayed - the Led Zeppelin poster on the wall, the Impala model on the desk. And a lot of beer cans.

There's also the fact that his bedsheets are still on the couch, a fact which he only becomes aware of when he sees them and abruptly moves to haul them off.]

Sorry, wasn't expecting company. How long you been up and at 'em?

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

[His second question, along with the state of his room, are kind of forgotten in favor of addressing that first thing he just said. She turns toward him and frowns up at him, honestly surprised she has to spell this out for him.]

You are family.

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[That draws him up short, too, all the stopping power of a rawhead or a 10k volt shock to the chest. He's kind of thick, sometimes, and hesitant to believe that he's important, really important, to anyone.

It's easier that way, if he doesn't have any expectations. Dean hesitates, one hand scrubbing at the back of his neck anxiously.]

You know what I mean.

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

Do you? Know what you... mean to me? Cause it's a lot.

[It's easy to say these things, probably easier than it if for him to hear them, but it's important. There's no telling when the next time one of them will fall asleep or disappear and she needs it out there, she needs him to know without doubt how important he is.]

You're... like a brother, kind of. [A pause, followed by a frown.] Never hit or shot me, though. So, almost brother.

[Thanks, barf flood.]

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[Her earnestness catches Dean's eye and holds his gaze, though it's partially sidelong, neck bent under his own palm. He frowns, too, when she does, though there's one of those things he can do something about and he goes for it, first.]

Honestly? I'm pretty used to being the one thing that falls off the edge. It's easier on everyone if I learn not to throw a fit about it, except normally that'd mean I'd just drive outta town - can't do that, here.

[Okay, now, what?] What's that supposed to mean?

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

You can leave. [She doesn't want him to leave, but if he got to that point where he needed to run, he could.] Right about... not driving out, though. Guess you'd walk?

[She guesses that's how it works, she's never watched someone leave the barge while she's been here. She doesn't really want to either.

For his question, she just shrugs.]

Tim shot me, Dick punched me. Fought with Batman, too. Feels like... right of passage.

[No one ever said the batfamily was a healthy family.]

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

No, I can't. [He might be physically able to leave, which is more than about half the population of the Barge can say, but he's tethered here all the same.] So I gotta be more careful about the bed I make if I don't wanna end up sleeping on the floor.

Or. Something.

[He frowns.] Do I even wanna know?

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

[His phrasing might leave something to be desired, but luckily Cass doesn't need words to understand what he means. She gives him half a smile to show she understands, but she's feeling it too much.]

Had to stage fight, with Dick. Had to let him... beat me up. Same with Tim, only... had to convince gang. They had to think... he'd kill me. So he shot me.

[And speaking of family...]

... Cain is here. My... father.

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[Ironically, the explanation makes Dean feel better. He grew up with a brother, being hit by one isn't the end of the world, and it makes more sense to him even if he still doesn't exactly like it.

It's just that she gives him a much larger target to hit with all that protective anger he can trigger with a thought. He knows, and that knowledge wells up in him long before he actually says anything, the edges of him gone sharp and hard and dark.]

Yeah, I know. He's already had trouble - Iris told me who he was. Can't say as I'm exactly sorry, but then, I'm not sorry for being biased, either. Christ.

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

I know. Told Bruce, no more. I think... he'll listen.

[Which is good, he'd been so close to graduating there for awhile, she could see it in him. Wanting to murder her father over and over didn't really help him reach that goal.]

There's... other people, though. I know... they won't all listen.

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[Dean is quiet for a long few moments, keeping what he wants to say locked behind his teeth. He wants to say good. He wants to say wish I could be one of them. He wants to say he deserves it. Dean can't make himself stop feeling any of these things, but he can stop himself from acting on them, and furthermore he must.

She's standing close enough that he doesn't have to think when he brings up one hand to smooth back a piece of hair from her face, carefully pulling it free from her eyelashes with his fingertips and then leaving his hand at the crown of her head, palm warm and steady. The anger is still making his expression hard, the line of his shoulders tense, but his touch is gentle, his eyes are bright; he loves her enough that he would go back and kill that man before he laid his claws into her if he could, and feel no regret for it whatsoever. He can't do that, of course, but he can do his level best to avoid causing her more pain by participating in the vicious cycle now.]

Iris is on his side for whatever reason. I told her I'd help, if she needed it; 's about all we can do right now.

[He hesitates, and normally he'd let it drop there, but there's something else pushing the words out, one after another until they're all out in the air between them.]

It was him, wasn't it. In that place. You were hearing him.

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

[She hardly has to read him to see all that love, all his desire - need, really - to protect her. This is what family is supposed to feel like, to look like. Not... whatever it was she got from Cain. Even if she saw his love for her, it didn't feel like this. Bringing up Iris makes Cass frown.]

Iris wants... to have sex, with him. [The way her face closes up should make it clear Cass doesn't like the idea, that she doesn't understand it at all.] That's... part of why.

[Iris is completely forgotten when Dean keeps talking, though. She'd tried not to think about Overlook after they left, it was too painful, too embarrassing. She still feels shame over being Batgirl... and hiding under a table. Batgirl isn't supposed to hide.]

Sometimes. Sometimes, was... Tim, Dick, Steph... Kon. Not- the Kon here. Kon from my world. He was... boyfriend, kind of. But, mostly Cain. Calling me monster, broken, weapon. Failure.

Killer.

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[Cass closes up and Dean isn't at all surprised by either the revelation or her reaction to it; he shakes his head, not exactly wild about the idea of Iris and Cain, but neither does he care enough either way. Not his business and he doesn't care.

Besides, he's far more interested in something else now, looking up while his eyebrows pull together and he listens. He's not happy, but he's not surprised; and maybe more surprisingly in and of itself, there's no blame in him.

Just an ingrained, bone-deep disgust with that entire affair. That fucking hotel, and how he should've been able to do something about it but couldn't.]

Yeah. That place was good for that. I don't... I guessed. Some-a the stuff you were saying, I just... I guessed.

You know he doesn't get to call you that, right? He of all the fucking people doesn't get to call you a monster or broken. He failed, not you.

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

Weird part is... to him? I'm... a success. Plan worked. He got... exactly what he wanted, making me. Perfect machine for killing. Perfect assassin.

To me? Do feel... like a monster. Am broken. Starting that little, seeing... death, so early... broke something, in me.

[She's looking at the floor as she speaks and it all pours out of her, thanks to the flood. Her face is pulled into a frown that suggests confusion, but her voice is soft. She's trying to sort through it all herself, hopes it makes sense to someone.]

Five, when he started... taking me. To his hits. Watched him, admired... how he worked. Faizul came later. He was mine. No one... questioned eight year old in pink dress. They laughed. I jumped on... his desk, tore out his throat. Thought it was a game. He didn't... no time to react. Read him, while he died. Felt like I died. Terror, and then nothing.

[She lifts her hands to look down at them, but there's no blood.]

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[It breaks his heart to hear her say those things, not the least because he knows well how no matter how many times he says she's not broken, she's not a monster, she can't believe him. It's not the type of thing anyone else can convince another person of, not when it's a belief that sinks all the way down to the core.

Not when she looked into the eyes of death and felt it look back. Dean doesn't read bodies like she does, but he's seen the impossible,

Dean lets her talk, and when she stops and she's staring at her hands, he lets his own slip off her head to take them. There's no blood, and he covers her palms with his, closes his fingers firmly but gently and dips his head to try to find her eyes.]

That isn't your fault. You were a kid, you trusted him, and he let you down. That's all.

[Normally he'd stop there, but he doesn't even notice himself going on instead.]

When I was four, my mom was killed by a demon, and my dad was never the same. He grabbed up me and Sam and never looked back - I was terrified. I thought he'd gone crazy. So did everyone else. And then he was right - there were things out there. Demons. Ghosts. Monsters. And I couldn't talk to anyone about it without risking being taken away from him, from Sam.

There was this hunt in Indiana. Shtriga. It was feeding on kids, it... Dad told me to watch Sammy, but I didn't, and it almost got him. I nearly lost him then. Dad blamed me, because I wasn't there to stop it. I was nine.

None of us were ever quite the same after that. 'Cept Sammy.

[He trails off for a moment, because he can't not; but he knows the way around that gaping hole, knows how to focus and put one foot in front of the other, and he does so now. Drawing himself back together, he breathes out.]

That wasn't my fault either. [He doesn't believe that. He's trying, but he doesn't, but he's trying.]