Not Until We Are Lost

The little town was ... well, it wasn't exactly quaint. It was oddly sophisticated. But rural. He spied no cars and no other forms of transportation. There were shops and ... well. It all seemed so modern without being modern. He wouldn't have been able to explain it if he'd been cornered and forced to. Another thing was that the people weren't people. They were people, in the sense that they were alive and individuals, but not human, that was incredibly clear. Humans were not that ungodly beautiful.

They eyed him as he walked through the street, which wasn't really a street so much as a nice cleared path. Like they didn't trust him. Or maybe they didn't know why he was there. He sure as hell had no idea.

The warmth here was welcome though. The cold had kept him inside on the last planet, he'd been entirely uninterested in the snow. Though he had gone out and spied two familiar faces on the ice, skating and having fun. He hadn't said hi, he'd just gotten hot chocolate and headed back to the cottage he'd been placed in. Thankfully there had been a lot of books. Unfortunately, most of them had had to do with Christmas.

He'd also spent some time thinking about Lasher and Annabelle, but it wasn't anything he found he could focus on long, mostly because he had no answers to give himself, and he would drift back into whatever silly story he'd picked up.

Cavan ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting around to find a familiar face. They couldn't have put him here all alone, right?

Snow. So much snow. And lights. And merriment. And what the hell was going on?

Rob had grown comfortable in the university world, even with the mutants and threats of destruction by some force that wasn't exactly supernatural. He'd grown comfortable and possibly lazy. Just a little lazy. Not that he'd stopped working out or looking after himself. He had hoped to see more of Piotr, but the man seemed to need some time to himself, which Rob would give without complaint. He had asked for time, or at least put a pause one whatever might come. Piotr had every right to do the same.

After checking the new Christmasy cabin for bugs, charms, and whatever else might be used to hinder or spy, Rob got dressed, grabbed a muffin that had been set out for him - he was hungry after all that snooping - then headed out to see what other winter wonderland craziness he might find. He was not prepared for what greeted him first.

There sat a not sp sullen yet completely underdressed in little more than a long sleeve shirt and jeans Russian making a snowman.

"Well, that's one way to deal with the cold."

Piotr stood in the admissions office of a university. Just being on the campus had begun to rise unpleasant memories in his mind. Its hallways looked an awful lot like the hallways of Malden. Whether they actually did, or it was just him imposing his ill feelings upon them was up for debate.

He was in a very bad mood. A piece of paper in his hand. He was leaning on the counter that a nonplussed woman sat behind on a stool. She looked like she had explained something to him once already, and was waiting for him to run out of steam so she could explain it again.

The Russian had no idea how long he'd been talking, but he was sure he was talking in circles.

"I am not a student." He said again. "I have not been a student for a very long time. If anything, I am faculty. I have taught Russian, physical education, and ethics. If you need one of those, I will do this. But I am NOT a student!"

"Mr Rasputin, you have your class schedule. I know that it can be difficult coming from another place as an exchange student, but these kinds of shenanigans are frowned upon at..."

"I AM NOT A STUDENT! Exchange or otherwise! I have been a teacher since the time that I was nineteen! I worked at Malden, in England! I will not attend a college!"

"If you do not attend your classes, Mr Rasputin, that is up to you. We can't force you to do it, obviously. This is college, it's optional. But it's too late in the semester to get your money back."

Piotr stared at her, dumbfounded.

Rob hadn't seen anyone he knew since he woke up down below, but he supposed he would see them eventually. The travelers were busy keeping the ship in shape; they had to, or they would die. It was just a matter of fact.

The youngest Winchester had taken the job of a rigger. He would have preferred something a little more academic, but there wasn't much in the way of academy onboard a pirate ship. It was all about moving and working.

So, there he was hanging from a rope, high above many of his fellow sailors/pirates/travelers. He'd taken to wearing nothing more than vest for a top and the loose breeches. Well worn boots covered his feet, so he didn't get much in the way of splinters. He'd started wrapping torn fabric around his hands to minimize the rope burn. Even with the tan/sunburn, he seemed to be in his element. Then again, he was a hunter and a Man of Letters - there weren't many things that wouldn't be in his element if he needed to survive.

While he was high in the rigging, he thought he saw someone familiar. Well, a familiar head of hair anyway. With only a whoop of a warning, he swung down and landed by a wayward sister.

Like the well trained soldier that he was, as soon as Piotr woke up in the strange room, he swept it for any signs of his weapons. When he found only the letter, Piotr left the room in search of others. The ones that mattered.

He found none of them.

His Yana. He'd been so happy to have her. Even if she was not his sister, not truly, she was still his sister, and he would have died for her. Given his life for her. Was she back where she should be now? Was that better than here? It didn't seem like it to him. She'd been kept, like he had, turned into something no child should be. Like he had. Castiel was also absent. His friend, the only man that Piotr had called friend in a very long time. They had fought together, they had bonded. He had felt that Castiel had known him in a way that no others could. They were both social idiots, learning to get along in the real world. When he also couldn't find Rayne, the woman he had pledged to keep safe, Piotr gave up.

The brood that overcame him was one he hadn't really sunk into since he'd been at Malden. Since losing JP. He didn't want to look for anybody else, because he was afraid of who else he might have lost. There were other names he had floating through his mind, the names of people he cared about, but he couldn't take it.

What clothing he found didn't make anything better. Piotr had woken up in a bright Hawaiian print shirt with clashing Hawaiian print shorts, and had only been able to find a pair of flipflops to wear out of the room. It made him feel stupid. Abandoning the room in the outfit, despite his reservations of doing so, Piotr sought out the resort bar. He sat on a stool close to a wall, but gave up trying to face the entrance as there was one that went into the hotel part itself, and then the whole goddamned back was open to the beach. All he could do was angle himself so that the wall was at his back.

The mutant ordered vodka and got a foofy drink with an umbrella in it, instead. He didn't have it in him to fight with the bartender. He'd drink the colorful drink and be a lot more specific next time.

Rob sighed as he set the phone down. It was finally time, and he had no idea how this would go down - he didn't see it going all that well. He tapped at the phone's face, avoiding waking it up or making it do anything.

He'd called Mary and Jo, but both seemed okay with it just being Sam. Rob would have preferred not doing this; he didn't want to be the grown up. He didn't want to say anything, but they were all right - Rob did need to tell the last of the Winchesters the truth. He took a deep breath and glanced at the clock.

Sam had set up the meeting. Sam would be there for all of this. Rob stood up with a soft sigh, and he started toward Sam's room where this would all happen. He had suggested finding somewhere a little more neutral, but he wasn't sure where that might be, not in the new city anyway.

A few minutes later, he knocked on Sam's door, hoping he was there before Dean.

Rob wasn't exactly stalking the man who was but would never be his father. No, he wasn't. He was just very aware of where Sam Winchester was most days. He'd quickly discerned a pattern for the tallest of Winchesters, and had inserted himself just as quickly into one part of it. They worked out together. Oh, it wasn't a long drawn out thing, but Rob had to check the man out before throwing it all out there.

He couldn't help notice as he was doing his best to look normal that he wasn't as ...small as he used to be, especially when compared to his father. The Man of Letters had always taken after his father in the healthy lifestyle - Sam had been able to become even more so once he'd settled into the bunker with his wife and two kids. Actually they'd been sort of settled before Rob ever showed, but the place had become more of a home with the second child.

Rob had made them a family of four. Now he was about to be the undoing of another family.

He settled into a few reps with a weight and watched himself and Sam go through their routines. He didn't leer thankfully. He just worked out.

"So, crazy huh?" Yeah, that was the way to start this awkward conversation. "The aliens and all."

Mary needed a few days to really let it all sink in after getting the news that Rob was her half brother. Well, her half brother in an alternate reality. She went through an entire range of emotions-from angry to grossed out. Because seriously? Of all the people her mom could have ended up with if something ever happened to her dad, why the hell would it be her Uncle Sam? Even as she wondered that, she thought she knew. Those two were the most important people in Dean's life. And vice versa. As gross as it was, if something ever happened to her dad, she could see them finding comfort with each other. Just... she wasn't going to think about that too much.

The fact that Rob had lied to her didn't sit well either. She was really sick of people keeping things from her. And yet, she could understand why he did. She could understand why he'd wanted to fly under the radar and keep the details of his world and his family to himself. She could even understand why he couldn't really stay away from his family. Even if it was a different reality. Even if things were so far upside down here, and maybe especially because of that.

She was ready to talk to him and just trying to find the right way to approach it when her mom gave her the news that the Sam that had previously been here had been replaced. Which was just... that made Mary angry on pretty much every level imaginable. It also brought out her protective instincts towards her sort of baby brother. A new Sam meant going through the explanation of everything all over again. The fact that it seemed to be the Sam from her reality-the Sam who'd been in York... that probably just made things worse for Rob.

So it was with all of these things weighing heavily on her mind that she sought out his room and knocked on the door.

Rob had yet to meet his roommate, but he knew someone was there. Or he thought he did. He tried not to think too hard about things, yet he couldn't help it. He secured his room as best he could before heading out into the world. Or more heading out to find someone in said world.

Being the curious sort, he'd already familiarized himself with the phone he'd found among his new possessions. The Man of Letters was pleased to see that his family had made the trip, and perhaps a little dismayed. If they were all here, then his decision to share certain information would have to be followed through. Just because he knew it had to be done, didn't mean he had to like it. He didn't like it at all.

Knowing his sister like he did, or hoped he did, Rob went in search for her. Rather than go floor by floor, or even bother the people at the front desk about it, he pulled out that handy-dandy device he'd been gifted, and he dialed.

"We need to talk. Pick the place." was the greeting he gave to the woman on the other end of the call. Yes, asking how she was would have been the nicer, better mannered thing to do, but this wasn't about nice or manners. Rob did add, "Please, Mary."

Jo hadn't seen Sam all that much since his arrival. Then again, she hadn't seen Dean all that much either. There was a part of her that missed sleeping in the same room as him, but she couldn't blame him for wanting to spend the time with his brother. This was how it was always going to be when Sam was around and she'd sure as hell rather have Sam in their lives than not. The last two years had taken a toll, and she knew that at least part of that was the fact that Sam had been missing.

She didn't mean to exactly, but it was easy to fall into the routine of this place. She kept watch over the wall. Usually on the night shift because she was the newest in the ranks and she didn't mind being up all night. She didn't sleep all that well these days anyways.

On this particular morning, she was relieved from her shift just as the sun started peeking out over the treetops. Most of the village was just beginning to stir and people started going about their business. She didn't mind being on the opposite schedule from most of the people in the village. There was something calming about seeing the people that she'd watched over through the night going to their jobs and simply living their lives just before she turned in to sleep for the day. It was a nice reminder of what she was protecting.

She thought that she spotted someone familiar as she moved through the city streets. It took her a second glance to realize that it wasn't Sam. But then, she almost always had that when she saw Rob. She frowned at the moment of mistaken identity and sped up a bit to catch up with her fellow abductee. She assumed that he was on his way to work, so she nodded and offered a "Good morning." as she fell into step with him.

This had not gone the way the angel had planned. Of course, he could not have planned for the variable of foreign, powerful beings transporting both him and his vessel out of time and space, nor for being confronted with a version of his vessel's brother who had no intention of keeping their deal. He had known that Castiel would be a problematic variable, and it was his own fault for not having managed to avoid him entirely. Perhaps he had gotten too comfortable with the feeling that Sam would protect him, that the others would hesitate before actually hurting the vessel in order to get to the angel inside.

Where he had failed was not the point. He was now without a vessel, and he was not strong enough to escape this reality without one. He had not been strong enough even with Sam as his vessel, but he had been growing stronger. He needed a vessel that he could control, force into submission, so there would be no more variables. One that was strong enough to hold him, but not strong enough to reject him.

The humanoids here were not properly human. Possession was... potentially possible, but not appealing. Most of the humans that were here were of different realities, and different bloodlines, which complicated things. But there was one...

Sam's son. From a different reality, but of the same blood, both in terms of human and demon. And both bloodlines were diluted, which might mean less strength to resist-- but still enough strength to hold him.

He circled the sleeping human invisibly, reaching into his subconscious as he dreamed. In the dream, he set the background of Sam's room as it had been when Rob was in it, and placed the boy in it.

Sam was lying in the bed, almost exactly as he had been when the angel had first encountered him in the hospital. Except he was awake, barely-- and he was dying, much more slowly and painfully for the fact that he was conscious. His body was emaciated and bruised, but his eyes were open, looking at his son. When he tried to speak he coughed instead, blood came from his mouth, which he feebly tried to wipe away and hide from the son standing at his bedside.

"Rob," he said in a hoarse whisper. Into the boy's head came the knowledge that his father was dying, the way knowledge comes in dreams. Sam looked like he was trying to say something else, but instead drew in a ragged breath.

And having set the stage, the angel waited for the boy's response.

Sam had mostly acclimatized to this whole situation. He was almost, but not quite, used to living in medieval times-- used to the strangeness of everything else, the individuals in their 'group' that approached him every once in a while. He was almost even used to the strangest part of all, the simple fact that he was not alone in his own head. The angel hadn't caused him any difficulty since the spectacle of healing Rose, and even that hadn't been purposeful, so far as Sam knew. Ezekiel was, for the most part, quiet and dormant and barely noticeable, except when Sam attempted to reach out to him, mentally.

Of course, it was impossible to forget that he was there. Sam's mind was accustomed to the practice of reminding him what was wrong in any given moment: for years it had reminded him that he was demon-blooded, and then it had very literally taken the task upon itself to remind Sam of his time in hell, through hallucinations of the devil. Now, it kept him aware of the angelic consciousness inside him, which manifested largely in the fact that Sam felt good. Really good, really healthy, for the first time in longer than he could remember. He knew that he wasn't actually as healthy as he felt; if the angel left him now, he might not die, but he'd certainly be a lot worse off. It was more the angel's energy that was keeping him running, and every time he realized that, it reined him in, kept him from feeling too optimistic about the situation. But so far, he had no real reason to complain. The angel was keeping to the agreement.

Until one day while he was out in the town, completely out of nowhere, he suddenly felt a surge of angelic energy rising inside him. He started to struggle, but all the angel did was turn his head, forcibly directing his attention to a person that was down the street. Still conscious, Sam realized that he was being allowed to see what the angel was seeing-- not for the first time, and he stopped struggling for a moment to try to process the information. Angelic sight showed much more than his mind was entirely able to comprehend, though he was so fascinated by it that he'd been trying. And now Ezekiel was showing him something without being asked, so there had to be something important.

The person was human, male, and from a point in time ahead of Sam's, as well as a different reality. But there was something... something that Sam's mind was having trouble processing, though whether that was a translation between human and angelic mental processes or because of simple disbelief, he didn't know. He was fairly certain of what he was seeing, yet he didn't believe it. His mind objected, trying to rationalize it away, that the angel must be mistaken, or that he'd misunderstood what he was being shown.

And he realized, belatedly, that the angel had retreated back into his subconscious, leaving him back in control of his body and mind and still staring at the boy-- man, really-- that stood about a hundred yards away. He was still too stunned by the experience to move for a moment, and then he attempted to pull himself together, before starting to walk in the other man's direction. There was really only one way to find out if what the angel was trying to tell him was true or not.

But once he got closer, he found that he had no idea how to begin this conversation. "Hi," he said, a little awkwardly, unable to help the way his gaze was still searching the man's face for clues, though there was a lot less information to be had when he was looking through his own, human eyes. Still... there was an unnerving resemblance, and although he was thoroughly unsettled by the implications of it, Sam was determined to persevere. "Sorry, it's just-- I saw you at the ball, and I have the strangest feeling that I should know who you are. Do you know me?"

The doors of the palace were thrown open. The grand ballroom was decked out with silver and blue decorations, crystal snowflakes hung from the ceiling and the palace entertainers played merry tunes to greet the guests. The aromas of the feast wafted out the door and down the street. The Queen herself sat at the head table with the princess at her side. The princess didn't look entirely happy at the moment, though there was speculation that she wasn't the sort to settle down and the Queen had been the one to decide that now was the time for the princess to narrow her sights to one single suitor.

Most of the kingdom turned up in their finery. From lords and ladies to peasants, all could be seen dining and drinking and after dinner, dancing.

Those that were the abductees had been invited as well. The Queen had even arranged with the aliens to keep one, should the princess decide that she fancied one of the group that had come to temporary fill the open job positions. Oh, it had taken some diplomatic posturing, but it was her hope that those from other worlds might hold her princess' attention more than those native to this one.

After dinner, the princess stood at the edge of the dance floor as a line of gentlemen were introduced to her. Those who attended had more than the princess to focus on, however. The minstrel strolled through the crowd as he played, and various other entertainers were stationed throughout the ballroom. Wine flowed generously, which resulted in some of the guests sliding towards entertainment themselves.

The days were long and exhausting here. Being a blacksmith was a different sort of work than cocktail waitressing as she had back in the 1940s world. She was sore at the end of the day but there was something zen about the process. Mary found that she could easily zone out and keep her mind off all of the things that she had bouncing around in there while she was working on forging weapons with steel and iron. She still didn't know what to make of the randomness of the aliens' choices of planets. On some planets, they had housing taken care of. Here, they had jobs and houses and it was almost as though they'd slipped into other peoples' lives. In fact, some of the items in the house that she'd been directed to indicated that someone else had lived there. Mary wasn't sure if she wanted to think too hard about what might have happened to the previous occupant. In fact, she'd heard a few whispers about 'the war' and that gave her a pretty good idea as to why there were so many job openings to be filled here.

Unlike the 1940s planet, the gender roles were very different here. It had taken her a little while to even realize that she was treated with more respect than even what she was used to in her own time. And that men were sometimes treated as accessories or as though they didn't matter. She didn't like it, even if she was relieved to no longer have to deal with some of the crappy attitudes that she'd dealt with a few planets back.

Of course, all of that was less important than the fact that she hadn't been able to find everyone that she needed to. She'd found her mother and heard that her dad was around. More importantly, she'd heard that her Uncle Sam-or a version of him-had joined them. She wanted very badly to see her uncle, but she was holding back for now. He needed to acclimate himself and she wasn't sure that she was ready to look into his eyes and see the lack of recognition. Not when... certain members of their party were missing.

Maybe it was just like those islands all over again. Evan and Johnny were gone. Possibly others, she wasn't sure yet. It mattered, but didn't matter quite as much. The fear was there. The fear that Johnny was gone for good. That the aliens had decided they were done experimenting with him and...

Well, she supposed that each new planet when she didn't find people immediately, she'd have this fear. Wouldn't she? Especially when she and Johnny had just started to figure things out. They'd just gotten to a very good place and she... well, she missed him on the nights that she woke up screaming.

She'd already lost track of the days that they'd been in this world. One day blended into another when they were all the same. She just kept working her way through it and hoped that they'd get to another planet and that she'd find him again. Unfortunately, today seemed to be a day when there was little work to be had. So she decided to explore a bit more. There was a marketplace in the middle of the village and she wandered through it, idly looking at some of the clothing and fabrics on display, studying the weapons crafted by the silversmith and admiring them. There were also various foods on display-everything from treats to produce. And of course, other fineries that she had no interest in. She did her best to keep walking as various venders called out to her. She had a few gold coins but wasn't quite sure where she wanted to spend them or if she wanted to spend them at all today. Instead, she wandered through the marketplace and kept checking the faces for any sign of a familiar face. There were others that she still hadn't found within the village and she wanted to know who else was here.

The Man of Letters needed to know that his family was okay, even if they weren't exactly his family. If they were, then he'd be in a bit of a fix without his father around. So, he had accepted they were his family one or two realities removed. This meant he'd have to look after them, even if at a distance. Keeping a distance wasn't going to be easy, not after talking to two of them.

Rob went searching for family, just to check on them, as well as for the Russian. He'd met Isaac who was interesting in definitely the right sort of ways, even if he was a little dangerous. Hell, Piotr was just as dangerous if not more so. There were also Betsy and Lucretia.

He meandered, getting a small snack in the form of a yogurt parfait - it wasn't overly masculine, but it was good and good for him. Enjoying his snack, he headed toward the observation deck and spied a blond head. He'd guess it was Jo, but he wasn't going to go say hi. Not yet. He sat down not far away where he could watch her to make sure she was okay. He wasn't exactly hiding, so she could probably see him.

Just when he'd almost worked out how to brew something that would knock his socks off, Isaac woke up in a new place. Not that this was upsetting, after all, as he sat up he found... well, everything.

He quickly went through his equipment lockers, the gear on his table, and found to his delight that his pot plants and alcohol cabinet, disguised to look the same as any other locker in his lab, were all there. Everything. His hand crafted tools, even some of the projects he'd been working on before he was here.

He immediately sent a text to his twin, but he had to utilize the time given to him. The technology in his chest was acting up too much for this whole trip, and maybe that was why the aliens finally gave him everything he needed to fix it.

Using his own, slightly more focused version of Jarvis as a lab assistant, he scanned himself and pinpoint a few problems that had developed in the period of time that he'd gone without maintenance and working on it. The project had still been in progress when he'd been kidnapped, after all, he hadn't been in a place to go weeks on end without more work.

Self surgery was something nobody really got used to. Of course he'd developed a device that prevented most of the pain from registering, confusing the nerves into making everything just feel fuzzy. The tech allowed him to open up his chest and acces the implants he'd left over and through his rib cage.

The process took a good chunk of the day, and by the time he stitched himself up and turned off the pain nullifier, he was exhausted. He barely managed to bandage himself before passing out on the bed.

The next day he woke up, as usual a much deeper hangover slowing his movements. The readouts were positive, though, and he got up and dressed, smoking a joint to help his recovery and packing a belt with a few of his best and most multi-functioning tools. The dark button up shirt wasn't his usual fashion, but it hid the bandages around his torso well enough, and pocketing a small screen device that relayed the information from the chip in his head he moved to the door and let himself out of the room.

The rolled joint was hanging off his lip as he exited, a small metallic container of them on his person, a large bottle of his favorite whiskey in one hand. He didn't trust these aliens not to whisk him off in the next second, and although they generally liked to redress them anyway, he wasn't about to not make an effort to bring what supplies he could while adventuring.

He noted that his chip stopped broadcasting as soon as he left his room, but he ignored that in favor of exploring, finally making his way to the common area. That was when his post-surgery haze caught up with him and he took a seat, leaning back with his feet up on a table, unscrewing the lid of his bottle and taking a sip.

His eyes didn't leave the aliens around him, but he didn't move to approach them or to speak to them. They weren't the only ones good at silently studying, after all.

Arlene didn’t think of the women she took as people. She didn’t care to know their name or what they did for a living. Didn’t care for much beyond what she’d learned while staking out her prize, while following them and watching and waiting for the best opportunity to take them. She didn’t look at them as victims either. They were all a part of her grand plan. She’d left the bodies all over the city, adorned with her artwork and faces covered in mud. They could be anyone. They were anyone.

The blonde one that she’d taken wasn’t much of a screamer. That was... disappointing. Usually the good girls broke first. The other women, the broken, tarnished ones. They’d seen more, so it took longer. But this one? This one was surprising. The whore had broken before the good girl in this case. Instead of screaming, the blonde had doled out several threats that first day. There were less threats by the second day. Soon, she would scream just as much as the woman in the room down the hall.

Arlene wasn’t too worried about the friends and family that would supposedly find her and make her pay. No one was looking for a woman. And certainly, no one was looking for her. She lived a quiet life outside of this place. She visited the tea room regularly-there were so many lovely girls there. She walked her dog, ate in diners, made small talk with the neighbors. She was careful not to linger for too long with any of the ladies that she took. The neighbors might start to question things if she wasn’t home by sunset every night like clockwork. She certainly did make it home at that time, only to sneak out yet again so she could keep a watchful eye on her prizes through the night. And then she slipped home just before dawn so everyone could see her leaving in the mornings.

She would break this one too. In the end, they all welcomed oblivion. When she sensed that they were ready to welcome that final departure, she was happy to grant it like the merciful artist that she was.

----

Mary wasn’t sure if she’d been in the dingy room for hours or days. She thought it might have been at least a day or two because her kidnapper had had time to carve up both her arms and had fed her at least a few meals. The Slayer didn’t talk much but seemed to want to take her time with the torture. There was just as much time spent cleaning Mary’s wounds, feeding her, caring for her. And yes, her. It had been a surprise when Mary had gotten the first glimpse of her captor, who was a woman not much older than her. A woman who probably wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of those high society clubs. She was a classic beauty, and her expression was permanently fixed with a cold and remote stare. She never made eye contact with Mary, never made conversation. She only came in the room to carve more intricate designs in Mary’s flesh or to offer meals or medical aid.

Currently, Mary hadn’t seen the woman in awhile. She’d heard screams from somewhere else in the building and she couldn’t help but feel like she should be helping, not tied to a godforsaken chair. She was half-conscious and trying to call up the determination she’d had when she’d first come in, that knowledge that no matter what else happened, the people that mattered the most would hunt this woman down and make sure she didn’t hurt anyone else again. There had been a good amount of hope that they’d find her in time, but Mary was starting to lose hope. She was starting to let her mind wander down the darker path of what might happen to the people she loved if this didn’t have a happy ending. This was going to kill her parents, she knew that. And Johnny. What were the odds of something like this happening a second time to someone he cared for? And Rob. And Cas. There were a lot of people who were very good at blaming themselves and Mary couldn’t help but think that she was letting them all down.

Her head lolled to the side just a bit as she drifted in that half-conscious state, trying to get at least a little sleep before the torture started anew.

Rob hadn't called Mary; he was taking it slow. He also hadn't heard from Piotr in a while; was that taking it slow too? Then again, he knew that the Russian big guy had another mouth to feed - if he only knew, he might have felt a little differently about that whole relationship. As it was, he was only mildly curious with a small hint of disappointed that Piotr hadn't been around. Then again, Piotr owed him nothing.

The youngest Winchester had decided to get a bite near the docks. If he saw a certain dock worker, well, then he saw a certain dock worker. Plus, there weren't many places that served the fish stew Rob liked on rare occasions. He'd also been smart enough to avoid the suit; he went for the hardworking man's attire. He wanted to fit in while he wasn't stalking.

The Man of Letters had only intended to eat out in a very "exotic" spot. He was not at all prepared for what was coming his way as he stepped out of the bar, pub, hole in the wall to make his way home. He had a few books waiting on him there; he wanted to keep his translation skills up, especially for some of the older languages.

Rob had had some interesting days as of late. The fact that he had to keep his boss off him as he worked was definitely the strangest of it all. He’d had to deal with overly aggressive types before, but he’d never had it coming from an employer, male or female. Thankfully, he had a small plan should the geezer continue to be overly forward.

The Man of Letters was quietly putting away some of the new stock. He’d noticed a few titles that came from different years, or at least he thought they had. Not that he was an expert in pulp. It was just a feeling. Not that any of the dates as far as copyrights went made sense.

“I’m going out for lunch. You want anything?” Pendergast moved closer to the young Winchester, a little closer than he preferred.

“No, I’ll eat later, thank you.” Rob shook his head, ignoring the way Pendergast was breathing down his neck.

( ---- )

Lucifer moved as easily in the female body as in the male body, even though she spent less time in the female. Only one week out of every month. Not always the same week. Sometimes, for the fun of it, it was two weeks that bumped up against one another to prolong the time. Others, it was stretched as far as possible, but most of the time, there was no thought to it. The time just came for her to be walking the earth, and so she did.

The differences were, of course, only physical. Everything else remained the same. The mind, the thoughts, the powers, the charm, the wit, the sensuality, the sexuality. It all oozed from whatever body was put forth as the current face.

Another thing that stayed the same was the apparent disregard of the people in this time of what color the flesh held. While they would have turned their noses up at a woman who looked like her walking on this side of town at all ordinarily, they smiled at her and even held doors. Politeness and pleasantries abounded. That sphere of influence would stay, because while she wasn't really ready to show her hand completely at this time, she did not want to deal at all with the prejudices of an ignorant time if she didn't have to. And she didn't.

As Lucas, an apartment and car and money had all been collected by persuading various people that they wanted to hand them all over. As Lucretia, they were given freely, with very little effort. So her dress was of very good material, of a fine cut. Her shoes were custom made, and the hat with small veil that she wore was the height of fashion. She clutched a small bag to her side as she walked, choosing to move among the people right now on foot than in the vehicle she had at her disposal. She wanted to see faces. Eyes falling upon her.

Lucifer moved into a bar, carefully finding one where Mary did not work, pushing through the door and moving straight to the high seats. The habit of smoking was not let go of, though Lucas' fine cigars were traded for Lucretia's thin cigarettes in an elegant ivory holder. As soon as she was settled, she fished one out of her purse and settled it into the shiny accessory, picking up the big bar lighter and looking around.