Ninteenth Unused Utility Belt | Video, backdated to after the breach ends (cw: fire damage)

[hellofist]

[The feed comes on to show Cass... well, she kind of looks like crap. But more than that, behind her her room, her real room on the Barge, seems to be confused about what it wants to be. In some places it's a replication of what Merlin's room looks like - there's his bed in one corner, a large wooden table with a red rose in a pot, for example.

Other parts are what the inside of a burned down building would look like. There's smoke damage, blackened walls, the remains of a dresser. The big computer is halfway melted and warped, the screen cracked and beyond repair. Looks like the Barge couldn't recreate what home is for Cass because she doesn't even know herself anymore.]

I'm back.

[There's not... that much to say after that, really. She's back, yay, no she doesn't want to talk about it.]

It was... about a week? I think. Learned... lots of things. About me, about... what I'm for. Why I... was made. It's funny, how you can... be so sure, who you are, but be... completely wrong.

Anyway. Back.


[Private to Merlin]
Are you... working? Or in room?


[Private to Dean, Chris, and Cassel, sent separately]
Have... to give you something. Can I come over?


[Private to Stephanie]
I understand, now. Why... I'm not Batgirl. Why you are. I didn't really, before. But... I'm glad you are.


[Private to Kon]
[After far too long passes with no answer to Steph, Kon gets a slightly panicked message from Cass.]

Where is Stephanie?


[Private to Dick Grayson and Tim Drake]
I know... that you won't see this. You can't. I just miss you. I shouldn't, but I wish... you were here.

Comments

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[Dean waves a hand impatiently, dismissing the misunderstanding. He's never been good with words. He'll be surprised, later, that suddenly she's the one nitpicking his word choice and not seeing what he meant.

Maybe she doesn't want to.]

That's not... I know who raised you. But if that's what she said then either she meant for it to go exactly like it did, or she was lying.

Either way, that's not a mother. That's not what mothers do. You wanna talk about mothers, you talk to me about Babs.

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

[There's a flash in her eyes at the mention of Barbara, the sound of her name. Everything about her expression, from her wide eyes to the slightly parted lips, the quiet gasp, it's all something you'd see on a caged animal, something small and weak that wants to escape because it knows it can't survive.

But it's gone as fast as it comes, not pushed down so much as dragged back deep inside where no one can see it. She won't be that. She's not a dancing hunter, she's not a bat, she's only a girl, but she's not weak. Whatever it is that's wrong in her now, she'll figure it out. She has to.]

Just wanted to... give cowl. Put with Sam?

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

Fine.

[Dean doesn't know what to do with what he saw for that moment, though there's a part of him that wants to chase after that gentler, more fragile person and reclaim her. He'll stand guard jealously, protectively, viciously over Cass for any reason, from any threat, and there's nothing at all - nothing - that can change that. But he can't stand between her and herself.

Or maybe he can. He already has the cowl in hand, and his concession is less an admission of defeat as it is a hedging tactic. He'll keep it safe, anyway, which is more than he can say if he tries to tell her no and she takes it back with her. He'll keep it for when she needs it again. He's confident she will.

And when she needs him again, he'll still be right here, too.]

Sweetheart, I... [But he doesn't know what to say that he hasn't already, that she doesn't already know just by looking at him. He wants to help. He'd do anything to help. He doesn't know how, though, or what.] I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't do more.

[ Spam ]

[hellofist]

[She nods, reaching up to touch his cheek as some way to show him it's okay, she understands, please don't blame yourself. It's nothing to do with him, all of the things that are wrong are hers, hers to carry and hers to fix.]

I just... need to figure me out, now. Figure out... what I am, without a cowl.

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

Who you are.

[But Dean gets it. He doesn't know what he would do without hunting, he doesn't know who he is if not Dean Winchester, son of John, brother of Sam, lifelong hunter of the supernatural. She touches his cheek and he doesn't flinch, doesn't look away, though something in his expression softens the way it only does for his close friends. Those who know bits and pieces of who he really is, some of them more than he does.

He lets out a slow breath and nods.]

Alright. I just... ...if the Admiral won't do it, I can at least fix your room. Otherwise what good is being head of freaking maintenance around here?

[He can't do this for her, though he promises himself he won't be far away if she needs him. He trusts she'll already know that without him needing to say it.]