logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

characters: everyone.
location: around town.
date/time: october 9-17.
content: the hallucinations begin...
warnings: psychological horror. please cw tags appropriately.

it's probably something that shouldn't be said out loud

October 9 feels like a normal day at first, save for the red lighthouse beam cutting through the darkness overhead. You know by now—or you've heard—that the lighthouse is only active during ferry arrivals and events... And there's definitely no ferry docked at the, er. Beach. The town is quiet, the forest spirits behave business-as-usual, Rastus doesn't know what's up. Whatever's going on, you'll have to figure it out for yourself.

And you will, though the hallucinations are subtle at first: objects moving when they shouldn't, people's proportions looking just a bit off, voices in an empty room, and so on. Is it just your mind playing tricks in the darkness? Might be! Will did warn you all about the effects of living without a sun and a proper day/night cycle.

As the days go on, the hallucinations are harder to ignore, no matter how much you may wish to wave them off as flukes. What's wrong with everyone's faces? When did all the howling start? Who do you hold onto when the world drops out from under you? And those hands...

While you might know it can't be real, it certainly feels real. But at least it can't last forever!

...Right?

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Oh, Crowley remembers. He'd offered to take away the human soldier person's fear. He'd done that loads of times on Earth. Gotten boys to ask the wrong woman out on dates by taking away their fear, made warriors on the battlefield stronger by taking away their fear. It was really minor, in the way of miracles. But for the human soldier person, it could be everything.

And he looks like he's absolutely terrified right now.

"What happened?" he asks. "Why do you need this now?"

"Seeing things, hearing things. Handlers, hands, the Chair...." It looks sidelong at Crowley, gaze half-hidden by loose hair. How has the demon not noticed? Even just the Soldier itself, but everyone else? (I mean, he hasn't left here much, has he? Hasn't he? Right, you weren't paying attention. No, he hasn't.)

"Not a memory malfunction-- or not just a memory. It's not just me. Almost everyone is." If Crowley hasn't noticed... "Not you?" Lucky bastard.

"Not yet."

Crowley isn't putting anything past this town. He's been hallucination free so far, at least. He's not about to just sit idly by and watch the human soldier person---his friend---suffer, though.

"All right," he says. "All right, we'll---I'll do it. I'll take your fear away."

It just about sags with relief, shuts its eyes briefly, before shaking itself a little and looking at the demon's face again. Crowley hates being thanked, but unspoken gratitude is obvious. "I just-- I don't want to hurt anyone. What do I need to do."

Of course he doesn't want to hurt anyone. Satan, Crowley surrounds himself with a lot of do-gooder people, doesn't he? Between Aziraphale and the human soldier person, he could start his own superhero club with all the not-wanting-to-hurt-others they do.

He raises a hand and focuses on the miracle. He hasn't done many since arriving in the town, when he used to just toss them around left and right. Now, it's important he uses them carefully.

He clicks his fingers.

"How do you feel?"

That was easier than anticipated. Crowley had before said something about touching and trust. Maybe trust is enough (and there is, actually, a little tiny bit of that now). The Soldier blinks once, twice, looks around. The tension in its shoulders and face is already bleeding out.

There's no silent screaming in the background. There's no terror just under the surface. There's no thought that it needs to inch away from Crowley's presence, or check the door and windows for the fifth time today to make sure they're secure. It's not just the stress of the past few days-- it's all gone.

"Not afraid," it says, sounding completely floored by the sensation. It swallows once, looks back to Crowley, not afraid to actually look at the sunglasses instead of just generally at his face. This is so weird. "How long."

"A few hours," he says. "I could make it last a few days, but I'd have to touch you. Could try that now, if you're feeling up for it?"

Usually, when he'd snap his fingers and make someone not afraid to do something, it was from across a bar or in a politician's office. For warriors, he'd have to be trusted, he'd have to make contact with them. It was a very different sort of sensation, being blessed into fearlessness by a demon.

There's no hesitation at all. "Please. We have no idea how long this...." It pauses, searching for an accurate description that fits within its mental framework, comes up with: "Group malfunction will last. I am not the only one who is twitchy. Was twitchy."

(Because we're not fucking twitchy. Goddamn. Never thought I'd see the day.)

Crowley nods. "You can't do this forever. Fear is----well, it's part of being a person. But you can do this once in a while. To help through the bad times."

He reaches out, putting his hands on either side of the human soldier person's head. The takes a breath and concentrates. Demonic miracles aren't hard to perform, but he wants to get this one right. It's his friend's sanity on the line, here.

"Not a person," the Soldier reminds him, but with half a smile rather than the flare of fear. Because there's no fear. It's just a rote response, maybe shading slightly into a private joke. (Yeah, hilarious.) "But I understand."

There's a twitch, brief and more out of habit than anything else, but the Sergeant reminds it soothingly, (It's okay. It's just Crowley.), and it settles again. Eyes open an on Crowley's face, as if looking for a sign in his expression of what exactly is happening. Curious, not entirely comfortable perhaps, but not fucking afraid.

Crowley concentrates and pulls the fear away from the human soldier person. Pulls it away, as much as he can. It's a sort of blessing, really, and if he can do something, even something like this, to help, then he's going to.

It's harder than he remembers. Miracles used to be easy, even relatively large ones, like this.

He tries not to think about it.

"How do you feel?"

That did feel like something. Not a bad something, but definitely something, a little like bleeding but without the sensation of weakness. More like a growing steadiness, even beyond the fearlessness of before. The Soldier considers, eyes on Crowley's face still, and says, "Good. "

It gives Crowley's hand on its head a little pat with its metal one, then climbs to its feet. "A few days, you said?"

"A few days," he agrees. "I can give you a top-up after if you need it. But no more than that. Not for a while, anyway."

He releases the human soldier person's face and gives his hands a little shake. "Person or not, you're still human. You need your emotions to survive. It's part of who you are."

"If we're lucky, this group malfunction won't last that long. I can handle being afraid. I'm used to it. Just not if I'm seeing the fucking Chair every time I turn around, or people being shoved into it when it's not me in it." That was the worst. "I fell apart on Misty. Thinking I was going to get wiped again."

It checks its weapons, mostly so it doesn't have to look at Crowley again. Because it's not afraid, and Crowley is a friend and so helpful, it admits grimly, "I really don't want to get wiped again. I don't want to forget any of you here."

"They can't get to you here," Crowley says, firmly. "We're not going to let them get to you here. You're safe with us."

Of course, Crowley doesn't have a lot of his powers and his leg is broken, but he hopes the confidence in his voice will hide how helpless he really is right now.

"And when we get back to Earth, I'm not letting them take you back."

Here, none of them are safe. But right now, that's all right. The Soldier can deal with physical threats... and malfunctions like this, they'll figure it out when they get to them. Like this.

If they get back to Earth... the Soldier isn't holding its breath, but if it does happen, a demon and an angel might be able to hold off HYDRA. At least it's a little less dubious of their potential success. "The magic might help with that. As far as I know, HYDRA doesn't have magic."

"HYDRA won't have anything by the time I'm done with them," Crowley vows. He doesn't like a lot of the things he's seen on Earth, but he definitely doesn't like the torture that the human soldier person has endured. He'll stop it any way he has to.

For a demon, Crowley sure does care a lot. It's kind of sweet. Even if it does still harbor doubts about their success against a worldwide organization of evil... it's nice to hope, just a little. So the Soldier gives him a small smile. "I'd like to see that."

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EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

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