IIIIIIIIIIII AIN'T GOT NO BOOOOOOOOODYYYYY

[wearyheadtorest]

Who: The Ghost of Christmas Present. As in, WHAT THE HELL KIND OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT IS THIS, WHERE IS MY BODY, HOW DO I GET BACK? THIS SUCKS.
What: the could-be-more-triumphant-what-do-you-want-from-him-he's-a-goddamn-GHOST return of Dean Winchester.
Where: the Hellsing Guild Hall, the graveyard where he's buried, or anywhere else one of his frands/loved ones might be
When: somewhere within the last/next few days, he's just kinda floating around, chillin'.
Notes: If you want your character to be visited for some spectral trollrolling, tag into this post. I will put up a thread or two with general shenanigans... as I think of them. :|a
Warnings: Contains Dean Winchester.

The last thing that Dean knows he remembers is Dr. McCoy heroically working over him at the guild hall’s medical rooms. Sammy brought him there. Sammy’s a good kid, for all that Dean talks shit about him; just gotta toughen him up, that’s all, like Dad did for him.

McCoy’s a good doctor, too. Dean doesn’t always trust them but he likes this guy. Knows he’s trying his best. The last thing he remembers is McCoy frantically trying to stop some of his bleeding with gloved hands. But Dean knows he’s a goner. He knows if McCoy can’t save him, no one can, and he tells the doctor that.

…He thinks he told the doctor that. He’s not sure if the words actually left his lips with his last breath but he wanted to tell the doctor that.

After that, there’s darkness. And after the darkness, there’s confusion. It feels like he’s floating all the time, like he can’t get his feet on solid ground, and he’s trying to perceive the world around him through four wool hats that someone’s pulled down over his face. He can hear but it’s from a distance; he can see but not clearly.

He’s not in Hell. He doesn’t know why he’s not in Hell, but he’ll be damned—no pun intended—if he’s going to question that. He’s not alive, either, he knows he’s died.

Goddammit. He’s a goddamn ghost. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He has to get back. He has to figure out how to hang on here and get some help. If he didn’t report straight to Hell when he died… then there’s still wiggle room.

He tries to focus on what means the most to him, his reason for hanging on. That’s what ghosts do, when they don’t move on, right? They’re clinging to something.

He searches high and low for Sammy, tries to feel his way around whatever the hell state this is he’s in. But there’s no sign of him. Oh God, oh God, please let him have gone home. Please don’t let him be dead. Please don’t let Dean have failed him.

He tries again to find family. He realizes, at one point, all their lights are gathered in one spot. He’s not sure how he does it, but he gets there. He sees everyone filing in, sees the dress uniforms, sees the sad and upset faces.

Son of a bitch. He’s at his own funeral.

He loses it when he sees Liesl making her way into the service, holding her father’s hand. God, he screwed this up so bad. He abandoned her, Lyla, his friends, everyone.

He stands there among them at his graveside, heartbroken. He hopes they aren’t mad at him. He couldn’t take it if they were angry at him.

"I’m not mad," Liesl says as she passes by, aloud, and it stuns him. She heard him?

He has to go back.

His first attempt to go back takes him to the spot where he bit it, more or less. He finds himself in the street outside a convenience store. He goes inside—through the wall, what the hell was that—and tries to communicate but only winds up scaring someone.

…And somehow, grabbing an adult magazine. Look, his is not to argue, okay?

His second attempt finds him back at his grave. Dude. Not cool. He loses his temper, kicks at his gravestone. He gets surprised by a night watchman and somehow he throws his magazine (sob, his magazine) at the guy.

Dean retreats for a bit in frustration. He’s not sure how long he lingers in limbo. And then he thinks, I just want to go home…

…And he finds himself at the guild hall. He spends a few days practicing coming and going. He drifts in and out of the rooms. He manages to get his hands (figuratively) on some silver embroidery thread, and he leaves it for Nuala (where is she?).

He finds Liesl decorating a tree, and he helps, nudging tinsel onto branches she can’t reach. She thanks him, quietly, and it breaks his heart.

He has to get back. For real.

He starts trying, in earnest, to contact the people in the guild hall, and the people who are important to him. He’ll get through, somehow.

Comments

[wearyheadtorest]

Dude. That worked. That actually worked.

Dean feels a bit bad for the guy; it can't be fun to have to try to figure out what the hell is happening. But he's desperate to try to communicate, to them them know he's here, he needs help.

He concentrates on tugging on the man's robes again. He misses twice, sets his jaw, and pours all his focus into the task. On the third try, he manages to tug, there and gone, at a spot several inches above the hem, near the man's back.

Dean's sure there has to be a better way to communicate, but he'll be damned if he knows what it is.

[payglorytoashes]

A very slight expression of irritation actually manifests on his face, and Rodolphus lifts his free hand and waves it in a 'hold on a second' fashion. He's doing it in the wrong direction but the sentiment is still there.

After a few more moments of thought, he makes another little gesture with his wand and says something in pseudo-Latin, very quietly. It is a spell intended to make everything magical in the vicinity glow — the wards will show up, and perhaps Dean may too, who even knows how compatible this spell is with the way shit in Baedal works. This time, though, he turns around slowly to get a full look at the hallway.

[wearyheadtorest]

Dean sees the raised hand, and he stops trying to grab the man's robes. That's good, that's progress; the dude knows he's here, or at the very least that something's up.

He watches Rodolphus stand there, and then he sees the wand move again. Dean has no idea if what he's trying to do will work, but just in case, he waves, wearing his best :D-face.

When Rodolphus turns, there is perhaps the suggestion of a man's form by the wall, the barest hint of a waved hand.

[payglorytoashes]

There he pauses, and now it's clear he sees something, at least. While it's not in his nature to speak much to people he can see, he feels obligated in this case, as silly as it seems.

"Hellsing's guild hall is not a suitable place to wander or haunt," Rodolphus says flatly. It figures that the one person so far who can see Dean scolds him for being around. "I suppose you cannot speak. I'll inform someone."