28. I like to keep my issues drawn/It's always darkest before the dawn

[voluntaryapnea]

[Video -- Open]

[Stiles has already packed up a bag, and it's sitting on his bed. There are clothes, food, his laptop and some various other small things including a couple of books inside, and atop the bag is his pillow. It doesn't show in the video when he turns on the communicator. All you can see is that he's sitting at his desk.]

Like Anya said, no one goes after him. You wanna talk about it, you can come and take it up with me.

[And that's all he's saying, because he had to say something. He knows there's a possibility that someone -- or multiple someones -- may take him up on that. He'll deal with it if they do. He disconnects the feed. He doesn't send a message to the rest of his friends. Doesn't really feel like talking about it. He picks up his bag, his pillow, his bat -- because it's his warden's item -- and he drops the note he wrote on his bed.

Staying down in Zero. Stiles. The others will find it. The pack. They all have access to his room, their own keys.

He leaves the room, locking the door behind him.]

[Spam for Dean]

[There's a resigned feeling that's settled into his chest. He's terrible at being a warden. Probably since the beginning. No. Definitely sense the beginning. He is not his dad. He doesn't have his dad's tolerance and fairness and he doesn't have what it takes to do this kind of job, and he wonders why the admiral ever offered him a deal at all. He had to know Stiles would be shitty at it, right?

Regardless of how he feels about it, how he feels about himself, his duty is to Dean and he takes it seriously despite everything else. Right now everything else has to take a backseat to that. He makes his way down to Zero with his things in hand and looks around, taking note of the cell that's been decimated, bars cut away since Dean had locked himself in with Anya. He lets out a breath, purses his lips and slowly heads down the corridor until he stops in front of Dean's cell. He drops his bag and sets down the baseball bat.

Dean doesn't look that bad. Iris took care of that part. There's not much Stiles could have done because he's not a doctor and he doesn't do well with blood and injuries. His nose is bruised, and Dean doesn't even look up at him. For a long moment he just stares at him silently.]

Hey.

Comments

Zero Spam

[theresalwayshope]

[It's not part of the Plan. She has her routine, it keeps her level, together...but the message bothers her, and when she finds the note in his room, she gets irritated.

When she gets a good fix on his scent in the room, however, she decides to keep it to herself.

Instead, she simply takes Duchess and Brownie for their walk, and brings them with her when she heads down into Zero, and unceremoniously plants herself beside him. Brownie greets Stiles with a quick doggie kiss before she goes to sniff around the cells, whole and otherwise, while Duchess remains happily tucked in the purse Allison sets on the floor.]

Hey, Stiles.

Zero Spam

[voluntaryapnea]

[He's not doing anything when she arrives. He's sitting on the floor outside Dean's cell, his head leaned back against the wall. His expression is blank, but not bored. Just...blank. He should have seen this coming. He should have been more on top of things.

Should have, should have, should have. Still didn't.

He pats Brownie when she licks his face and then rolls his head to look at Allison and then at Duchess. He reaches out and picks the bunny up, cuddling her close to his chest.]

Hey. [His voice is quiet.]

Zero Spam

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison watches, equally impassive as Duchess squirms just enough to lick and nuzzle at Stiles' chin for a moment, then finds a comfortable place to snuggle up...right under his chin.

Satisfied the animals are fine, she rolls her own head to glance at Dean's cell door, then back at Stiles.]

So...that happened.

Zero Spam

[voluntaryapnea]

[He blows out a breath and lets the rabbit snuggle under his chin and make herself comfortable. He runs his fingers through her soft fur and shuts his eyes.]

Yeah. That happened. Again. [And not to a psycho vampire who's actively trying to kill all of us. He hadn't even punished Dean for attacking Jerry. For Elena, yes.]

[zero spam]

[routemistress]

[Dean is uncommunicative, all but catatonic, and it kills Iris to see it; it's worse, in some ways, than the punishment inflicted on Anya.

She hadn't set out to guard or babysit him, she just couldn't make herself leave. When Stiles arrives, she walks up to him, slow and very deliberate, and enfolds him into a hug.]

Over to you, sweetheart.

[zero spam]

[voluntaryapnea]

[It doesn't leave Stiles with a good feeling, either. At all. He hugs Iris in return and nods.]

Thanks, Iris. What uh -- what are his injuries?

[zero spam]

[routemistress]

Broken nose, stab wound in 'is arm, a couple of laser burns. Nowt that'd even slow 'im down if 'e 'adn't wound 'imself to a stop. I think 'e'd got a lot riding on this succeeding. Well, of course 'e did, that's 'ow Dean works. Throw 'imself into the last chance as 'ard as 'e can.

I've done all I can for 'im. For now. Let us know if you need anything, won't you, Stiles love?

[zero spam]

[voluntaryapnea]

[His gaze is already focused intently on Dean and he nods slowly, taking that all in and making mental notes on what exactly to be keeping an eye out for.

Of course Dean had thrown himself into it. He thought that Anya was the Admiral. That she was some kind of deal-making demon holding people hostage. Putting them through hell.]

Thanks. [His voice is quiet and he nods.] I will.

[punched_hitler]

You need anything down in Zero, let me know.

[He expects Stiles to be camped out in Zero, or to be planning it.]

[voluntaryapnea]

[It takes him a minute because Steve looks so different that it's startling. He stares.]

Uh. Yeah. Dude, what -- happened?

[punched_hitler]

[He'd thought about voice or text, but Stiles would've found out eventually, so it's easier just to get the staring out of the way.]

Told the Admiral I didn't need the serum to be a warden.

I also don't need it to make sure you and Dean have stuff to eat. [So, you know. He can stop by with food when you need it.]

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[There hadn't really been anything obvious leading up to this; there was no real way for anyone that wasn't inside his head - or who hadn't taken seriously the things he'd said when he arrived here a year ago, spoken at the time in vicious, half-deranged certainty - to know what he had planned. He hadn't told anyone. Not even Clementine, who he trusts more than anyone else on this ship. He hadn't told anyone.

But he had withdrawn from what little of the Barge society he had engaged, filling his time with activity from an external point of view, reading, repairing his room, constantly moving from place to place, bothering no one and asking no questions.

Hunting.

But that's over now. He'd been on the wrong scent the whole time, and he knows that now, knows it with a cold certainty like he would the weight of a knife in his hand; he is a vicious, brutal, desperate man, barely a man anymore but still close enough to count, but he'd thought he was managing that as best as anyone could expect him to. He'd thought the sharpest, most jagged edges of him were, generally, aimed in the right direction.

He tortured a human girl. He failed to find the Admiral. He failed to break this place apart. He failed.

These are all things he knows when he comes groggily out of the stupor from Kara's laser, and they do not encourage him to come any further into consciousness than that, so he doesn't. The physical pain is negligible. The knowledge that for how much he deserves to burn, how much he deserves to never forget a single moment of the ways he's been too weak and too slow and too stupid to make the differences he's supposed to make, he still wants nothing more than to end is what keeps him from bothering. Someone is moving him, wiping at his skin, poking at his arm, setting his nose; someone who stays nearby but Dean doesn't care. When the hands go away, he stays where they put him, and he does not bother opening his eyes, or speaking, or answering. He does not bother.

And he does not bother when he hears a new voice - or maybe he doesn't hear it at all. It does not matter. They'll hurt him or they'll try to save him and everything in between and there's nothing he can do for any of it except wait for it to happen.]

[ Spam ]

[voluntaryapnea]

[He stands still at the cell door and when Dean doesn't respond, he wonders if he's literally just unconscious. He shifts from one foot to the other, keeping his eyes on the older man. When he doesn't see Dean move he purses his lips and reaches for his bat. He uses it to open the cell, then pulls it open. He doesn't hesitate before stepping inside and pulling it shut behind him.

There've only been a couple of times where he's been legitimately afraid of Dean, and right now isn't one of them.

Even if Dean had just finished torturing someone, and logic should dictate that Stiles be careful, that he take precautions, he doesn't. He doesn't, most times, when it comes to his own safety. He never has. He makes his way to Dean's bedside and gazes down at him for a moment.]

Dean. Can you hear me?

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[There is usually a wariness to Dean that speaks to the life he's lead, to how he expects to be attacked at any moment, expects any element or any person in his surroundings to become a threat and to be prepared to deal with that. He sleeps with his boots on. He's always wearing his jacket no matter the weather. Even too drunk to string a sentence together he tracks the movement of the people around him and reacts to them.

Stiles steps up to the bed and there is none of that in Dean now. He's breathing, shallow and slow through his mouth, and upon further inspection his eyes aren't completely closed but neither could they be called open. He either doesn't realize Stiles is there, or does not care.

It's a little of both. He doesn't react to his name and does not acknowledge the question. Whatever happens will happen. Dean intends to let it. There is not a single scrap of energy left in him to bother answering.]

[video]

[tucky]

[She sees the bag, and quickly draws the wrong conclusion.]

Are you leaving? The Barge?

[video]

[voluntaryapnea]

No. No, I'm not leaving the Barge. I'm gonna stay down in Zero with Dean.

[video]

[tucky]

Oh.

That's great. I really think that's great.

private, text

[imfollowinghim]

is anyone giving you a hard time?

[Bucky doesn't have much of an opinion about Dean, but Stiles is still definitely someone he cares for.]

private, text

[voluntaryapnea]

no, not so far anyway. i'm kinda surprised.

[lydiascreams]

[She knows Dean has been up to something, even if she doesn't know the details. It's actually one of the reasons why she's planning on going to see her boyfriend in the first place.

The note on the bed gets a death glare from her. Because really, Stiles? Would it have killed you to send her a text? But then, the fact that he didn't speaks volumes about his mental state, too. Which is why she won't girlfriend at him the second she sees him. She'll figure out what's going on first.

Lydia figures since Dean is zero, Stiles will be staying with him. Which means she'll be spending a lot of time there. Probably Scott, too. Maybe the whole pack.

So before she makes her way down there, she stops to collect a few things: the sleeping bag from the back of Stiles' closet. His adderall. A cooler bag with plenty of fruits, snacks and water from the kitchen. Some books. And her dog.

It's a lot, and it's hard to carry it all downstairs -- especially in heels -- but she manages. And she figures that, as she sets it all down next to him, it should send a pretty clear message that nope, she's not going anywhere.]

What happened?

[voluntaryapnea]

[He knows she's on her way down the stairs as soon as she starts down them. The sound of her high heels clicking against the floor is unmistakable. He winces, knowing he'd been an asshole not to send her a text, or stop by and see her before coming down to guard Dean.

He's pretty sure she'll understand his urgency to get here, though. He blinks at the sight of all the things she's carrying, and he smiles a little when Prada runs over to him. He scoops the pup into his arms and looks up at Lydia, holding his breath.]

Hey. Sorry. [His voice is quiet, and she's probably aware she's one of the few who actually gets to hear an apology pass his lips. Apologizing isn't something he's ever been particularly good at or fond of, and he usually just doesn't. Lydia's an exception to nearly all of the rules.]

Incident down here. [He nods toward the cell that's chopped to pieces -- the bars sawed off and awaiting repair.] Dean and Anya. [He sighs softly and lays his head back against the wall.]

[lydiascreams]

[When she gets there and an apology is the first thing out of his mouth without her even having to say anything or give him any looks, she feels a little bad for being irritated at his note at all.

She unrolls the sleeping bag and sits down next to him, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek to let him know she's not actually mad at him.]

I saw Anya's and Kara's messages. [She glances over at the bars and cocks her head a little, frowning.]

Do you know why it happened?

[Spam]

[semifreakingnormal]

[He doesn't need to see the note. Scott's spent his whole life with Stiles, he knows him as well as he knows himself. He'll be down in zero, and he'll be planning on staying there. So Scott empties his bookbag of stuff he doesn't need - text books, notebooks, things he hasn't touched in ages - and stuffs it with some clean clothes a tooth brush and some other essentials. Then he heads straight down, until he has to swipe his mom's watch over the lock to let himself in.

Looping his thumbs under the straps of his backpack, Scott gives Stiles a wan little smile, glancing toward Dean's cell.]

Brought some Oreos. Want one? [Because why the hell not. They're going to get through this together, like always.]

[Spam]

[voluntaryapnea]

[He's not even a little bit surprised when Scott shows up. Not surprised that it only takes him a few minutes before he's showing up with a backpack of his own, and he's reminded of Scott showing up on his doorstep with a backpack on his back after his dad had left. After Stiles's mom had died. This isn't either one of those things, but the stress weighs heavily on his shoulders.

He returns the smile with a faint one of his own.]

Just one?

[Spam]

[semifreakingnormal]

One sleeve.

[The smile flashes closer to a grin, and Scott swings the bag off his shoulders, dropping down to sit on the floor. It's not an unfamiliar situation, even if what caused it is: when Claudia died, when his dad left, Scott knows this is what got him through. He pulls out the package of cookies, passes it over to Stiles. Then he nods toward the cell, and drops his voice.]

He okay?