Deerington Inbox.

[endoftheverse]

 

[A general automated voicemail plays.]
 

Comments

over the course of seven days.

[progeny]

[on the first day, when (if) sam heads outside, there's a brown paper bag left on the doorstep, complete with his name written at the top. inside sits a sandwich, along with a (sloppily written) note that says I wasn't sure what you like in your sandwiches. there's no name though. he doesn't know that it's needed. yet.]

[progeny]

[on the next day, there's a thermos, filled with hot chocolate. again, there's a note underneath that reads The other Sam says you can't leave cream out of the fridge. I'm sorry. can you guess who's leaving these gifts yet?]

text; un: winchester

[perfectantidote]

---

[ un: winchester ]
left you something in your room. the upstairs one, don't let me catch you slinking into the basement to look.

---

[ If he goes to look, Sam might notice the charms Cas and him created, now dotted around the house, some looking quite simple, others like mobiles and some more like macabre dream catchers. They're all etched with Enochian symbols as per Cas' sketches and instructions during their little arts and crafts session.

In his upstairs room, Sam will find two items and a small note. One is one of the bone bracelets with similar Enochian symbols carefully etched in, the bone worked smooth and comfortable sitting on an adjustable leather cord, the other is one of the bone daggers, the handle wrapped in leather, the edge wickedly sharp with small, nasty looking edges and notches. It has some Enochian etchings in the blade itself, too, though different than the ones in the bracelet and charms around the house.

The note reads: ]

---

Thank you for your help with our little arts and crafts project, and for putting the tools back and storing the leftover bones in the garage. I've put the last finishing touches on these items. Thought you might appreciate the results. The etchings are now washed in angel blood, which may or may not have happened on purpose. Enjoy your new toys!
~ Cas

---

text; un: winchester

[endoftheverse]

[It takes a bit of time for Sam to respond, what with his new habit of zoning out and losing himself in thought. He sees the fruits of their labors throughout the house — feels a little pleased by it — but it's the individual trinkets left in his room that really makes him feel... warmer. Warmer? He doesn't deserve this kind of offering, but he'll take it, because it knows it must mean a lot to Cas — he knows because it had always meant a lot to him, too.

So yes. He has the bracelet on immediately. No hesitation in slipping it on and admiring the carving work. It only serves to remind him of his finally finished bit of work, too.]

I didn't slink into the basement.
Thanks, Cas. I went ahead and left something in your room, too.
I don't know if I got your style right, but I tried.

Thanks for giving me something to focus on that day.
I needed it.

[Cas can absolutely find one of Sam's little related projects, too. The enochian scratched into the other side of it isn't as graceful or detailed as Cas', but... apparently Sam's learned an extra thing or two about the language in the last five years.]

[perfectantidote]

[ It's early December when Sam happens to walk back into his room one day, to find it having gained a few items. On the wall, there is, for one, a picture. Attached to it, a post-it note that reads 'For gazing into the far distance'. In one corner, a simple wooden shelf has the note 'Fill it. Small shelf, small steps.' On the shelf, a book from the library, on breathing techniques, and a small bowl with some succulents. On the window sill, two things - an actual crow, as well as a small bag filled with dried fungus, and a note: 'for mental clarity.'

The crow, Cas' dream guide Charis, often spotted sitting in the rafters or on Cas' shoulder, flaps her wings and flies over to perch on Sam's shoulder instead. ]

text.

[endoftheverse]

[.....................]

Your bird is trying to make my hair into a nest.

Uh. What's with all the stuff?
It's definitely not Christmas yet.

[ruined]

[ Not long after the picture, shelf and succulents appear, a roughly homemade style desk and chair appears against the wall under the window. Carved into the top of that desk are the initials DW.

On top of it sits a laptop that looks like it's old, but still functional. ]

text.

[endoftheverse]

Where did you even find a functioning laptop here?

text; un: dw79

[ruined]

[ He's been sitting on this message for a couple days now but... ]

we gotta talk about jack

text;

[endoftheverse]

Alright.

I figured we’d need to eventually.
I’m guessing you have some thoughts already lined up to put to paper.

Action; no reply; December 24th

[borntolove]

[Left outside the house is a dark blue basket. Inside is an associate of tea, chocolates, a box of lemon drops, a bottle of wine and a copy of Charles Dickens, Christmas Carol. A blue Tardis-shaped card attached to the basket says, 'Santa' in silver marker.]

Action | CW: Mentions of panic attack, aftermath of panic attack, torture, violence, self-worth, etc

[nottheonlytraveler]

[Dean is...hollowed out, empty. On a good day, he wants to crawl out of his own skin, at least once every few hours. Now, though? He would give anything to pull himself apart, piece by piece, until he could root out every terrible thing he's ever done and pull, weed out the gnarly, tangled web of a garden he possesses for a brain, heart, and soul.

Lucifer looked right at him and saw straight through to the weakest parts of himself, barely held together by alcohol and duct tape, hardly shielded by every critical thought Dean's ever had of himself. Lucifer saw him for who he is, recognized the darkness within Dean that he tries so hard to keep down, just as with everything else in his life. Lucifer looked into his soul and found him wanting.

Dean, in the wake of the massive panic attack he recently endured, tends to stay out of the farmhouse as often as he can, finding every possible excuse he can in order to throw himself into Deerington proper or just exploring on his own, even without any set destination or plan. He texts the older version of his brother, at least, not wanting to worry him after everything he just put him through.

He tends to try and stick to nature, preferring the brittle appearance of Deerington and the woods touched by winter to everything else. It's easy enough to lose track of time and wind up lost along the edge of the forest, but there's also something comforting in that same fact; something so damn comforting about the way the surrounding forest could swallow him whole at any given moment.

The lake, especially, is gorgeous in the wake of the snow; everything looks as Merry and Bright as it all ought to be, and Dean can't help but be mesmerized by the way the sun glances off the surface of the water, like stained glass, and the gleaming snow that piles up.

He fully expects to be here alone; he doesn't expect company. So when he hears the sound of approaching footsteps, he tenses instinctively, hands curling into fists by his side before he turns to see who it is. He blanches immediately, taking in the familiar sight of...but no, it must just be Sam, right? Lucifer has to be...dormant, he supposes is the right word. He hopes.

He manages a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, nodding in his direction.]

Heya, Sammy.

[endoftheverse]

[Sam honestly hadn't been going anywhere much, himself. He sticks to the farmhouse and he takes short walks around to clear his head. That's really about it, and he prefers it that way. Easier to keep level-headed, and keeps the anxiety about what's inside him at bay a little more successfully.

If Dean needed any immediate confirmation that it's Sam and not the devil, the tall man seems to shrink, surprise painting his expression before his bangs slide down with his somewhat downcast expression. He clears his throat and manages a small smile that absolutely doesn't meet his eyes; not a lot of them do, sorry.

He hadn't meant to run into anyone out here. He's not having a great day mentally, sleep having been a bit of a useless venture the night before. So he's not — safe enough. Or something. Sam's not very kind to himself about these sorts of things. He seems worried to encroach on Dean's territory, so he hovers where he's stopped.]

Hey, Dean.

... Um.

Out for a walk? It's a nice place to clear your head.

[Last time he'd been with him physically, he'd clung to him for dear life and begged him not to follow him. He'd thought it would be the last time he'd see this one — this younger Dean that still had a chance to be spared from his bullshit.

But here they are, all the same.]

24th of December

[heraldingangel]

On the eve of the 24th, a brightly colored dreamguide vested in black and yellow comes marching into your space. A golden hue surrounds it, shimmering with every flicker of its wings creating a venerable light show. Hanging from its short limbs is a ziplock bag with a few tablespoons of honey and no note attached. Freshly collected, the little buzz maker circles around you once, twice, and on the third drops the bag above you - hope you catch it. Once it's made its delivery it will go on its merry way.

gift | December 25th (cw: mention of dead animals / skeletons)

[possessum]

[ While he'd like to gift Lucifer with one of the little dolls he's been working on making lately, Paimon has experience with Vessels Who Throw Your Things Away, and he's pretty sure there's a danger of that here. He also understands that Sam is actively trying to keep Lucifer locked away. So perhaps a more subtle gift to the archangel trapped within the man's mind, for now....

There will be two jars left on the doorstep of Sam's residence, with a triangle drawn in permanent marker on each.

The first has a collection of small animal bones in it — birds and mice.
The second jar is filled with dirt, and a large root. To help suggest who it might be from, he's also sprinkled in a healthy amount of ✨gold glitter✨ for ✨loud golden King Paimon✨ but hopefully it's also vague enough that Sam won't have any clue what it's about.

Just some little gifts so that Lucifer knows someone is thinking of him. ]

on the 24th

[perfectantidote]

[ It happens within the span of hours. Perhaps Sam is outside - or perhaps he's in his room and emerges, eventually, after a long time. Either way, nothing seems amiss... at first. Until he steps into the living room.

It looks like someone bought a sack of christmas decorations and upended them all over the place, with little understanding of where things should go. There's even a small, scrappy looking christmas tree, lopsided and sad and not at all a glorious christmas tree sight to behold, yet lovingly drowned in baubles and tinsel, with a star precariously wobbling on its tip. There's a stack of board games, unearthed at some second hand store or another. A crate of various christmas flavoured beers, with a glittering bow on top. Two bottles of eggnog - no labels. Homemade, perhaps. The fireplace is crackling. There's a beat up looking record player, and a box of vinyls, both with a gift tag that reads 'Dean'. Next to it sits a stack of leather bound books with a gift tag reading 'Sam'. Judging by the overflowing trash can, an attempt at wrapping both was made and given up on.

Later, he will find sitting on top of his pillow single, black feather, smooth and silky, and too large to have come from Charis, even though it has the same very subtle iridescence. Touching it feels strange, a little. Like the slight tingling in the air when a storm is gathering in the skies. And a note, that just reads:

'You're worthy.' ]

[savingthrows]

[ There's a small box outside of Sam's house, with a note attached. It says 'For Sam from El' in struggling handwriting.

The box contains a green friendship bracelet and a note, penned in the same poor handwriting that looks like Eleven's struggling a lot more than someone her age should: ]

I'm not good at making friends, but I'm good at finding them. The bracelet means we're friends, it's a rule.

text. un: jack

[progeny]

[he shouldn't be sending this message. even though the other dean is gone, they'd come to an agreement over burgers that he know he has to stick to. and part of that meant keeping his distance from sam. but with his conversation with castiel underway, the one thing he wants right now is the one thing he can't have. not with his own sam having left deerington.

which is why the agreement goes out the window. why he ends up typing out a panicked message in the search for some kind of advice. this might not be the man who found him, but it's still sam. and that's all that matters.]

Castiel's forgotten everything and I don't know what to do.

text.

[endoftheverse]

[Sam is... not okay. He hasn't been okay for a while.

Because while Jack is suffering over the loss of Sam, Sam is suffering over the loss of Dean. The walls of this house, they ring with the silence. It bounces off the walls and leave Cas and him numb, fingers tingling and heads swimming from the loss. Sam doesn't answer most messages. He just blanks on time; one moment it's one in the morning, the next it's nine at night.

But he manages to reply to this one. At least this one.]

Jack? What do you mean?
What happened?

action; after his canon update

[heraldingangel]

[ After two weeks spent in a coma-like sleep inside the bunker, Castiel finally wakes up with no memory of his previous stay. The last thing he remembers, he was driving down a dark road with Dean leaving the Apocalypse behind. Sam was gone and Dean had miles to go before it sank in.

Ever the soldier, he pushes past the uncertainty and gets to work figuring out where he is and why his grace is acting up. He manages to get an inkling of what's happening in the town when he finally looks at his device. The first thing he comes across is a slew of messages from a Nephilim claiming to be his son. He speaks with Jack, and shortly after, he goes to find the brothers Jack claimed to live with.

Wasting no time, Castiel searches for the brothers Jack claimed were here. It takes time, but he manages to search every nook and crevice of the town before he comes across Sam. He's almost surprised, worried. If Sam was here, then where was Lucifer? Did he escape the cage?

The sound of dozens of voices whispering in an ancient tongue heralds his arrival, they crescendo to a higher octave rising higher and higher in volume. Moments before the sound becomes painful to hear, the wind picks up and the sound vanishes without a trace. In its place stands Castiel a few paces away staring at Sam (?) from across the room. ]

We need to talk.

action;

[endoftheverse]

[Jack had given Sam a heads up about Castiel's current predicament, but that doesn't exactly prepare him for Castiel's habit of appearing out of seemingly nowhere. Sam has... kept to his room. It's dimmed, and it's not particularly full of things the same way anyone else's rooms are. He's on his bed, looking out his window distantly, and his whole body jolts to life when Castiel eclipses the light from the outside.

He stands up, barefoot, still in his sleepwear. Looks nervously at Castiel.

(It's fine, it's just Cas; he trusts Cas.)

Swallowing hard, he nods.]

... I heard you've lost memories. From Jack.

Are you okay?

[Delivery]

[laminae]

[A few days before Valentine's Day Sam will find a package at his door.

It's a box of chocolates! And it comes with a handwritten note:]

Hey,

I just learned about this rad human holiday where you give people stuff if they're important to you, so I hope you like chocolate!

And if this isn't how the holiday works, sorry. I'm trying my best here.

-Fern

text; un: DestroyingAngelsFlush (3/7ish)

[venatoris]

[ at some point the day or so after their meeting—- ]

You alive?

text;

[endoftheverse]

What kind of dorky username is that supposed to be?

["yes"]

text; un: DestroyingAngelsFlush

[venatoris]

should I change my un

text;

[endoftheverse]

... That entirely depends on your list of runner-ups.

text; un impala67 - 4/1

[venatoris]

Hey - think you can come lend another helping hand, Crockett? Got a hole in my bedroom ceiling.

4/2

[venatoris]

Okay, if you didn't wanna help, you could've just said.

4/3

[venatoris]

Bitch.

4/4

[venatoris]

This isn't funny anymore. Where are you, Sam? What's going on?

4/5 - voicemails

[venatoris]

1. [ alright, what the fuck. he's tried to give Sam space, but now he's pissed. ]

Sam, answer the damn phone. Call me back.

2. Sam, call me.

3. Sammy. Answer the goddamn phone.

4/6

[venatoris]

I'm gonna keep blowing your phone up like a needy girlfriend if you don't answer me.

text; un: Wesson 17/4

[family_remains]

I've got a new lead on the translation. When you're back let me know.

If you need anything I'm here. I'm not sure Dean is

It might be better if we

I don't know how he's going to come back from this

I'm sorry I wasn't there, then. You did the right thing.

text;

[endoftheverse]

Hey

Im here

Spoke with dean
resting at his cabin


You dont have to be sorry.
This isnt on you or Dean or anyone else.
Im just sorry I left you to handle that by yourself.

[Sorry for the slow responses, buddy, he’s kind of looking... rough. God, this death flu, though. Almost as bad as the other part where he got his face nearly punched in.]

un; impala67

[venatoris]

[ needy winchester ignite! ]

my kitchen has no power

[endoftheverse]

[Sam, of course, responds with tender love and care.]

I'm pretty sure no kitchen has power over you and your obnoxiously oversized stomach.

[He also may or may not be packing a few things in his apartment to carry over to the cabin.

Without telling Dean, of course, but still.]