The Universe's Mixer

There is an invitation. The envelope it's in is made of a very thick, almost cardboard. Decorated with a design that looks like a mixture of feathers and flames. There is a seal on it, deep red wax, in the center, just a swirl. The paper is thinner, but no less well made. It's almost like touching cloth. The words upon it are done in a very beautiful script:

You are hereby invited to take part in a meeting in which you should discover very great things about what is around you.

Even if you choose to not accept this invitation, your daily movement around the City brings you to a building. There is only one door. The door is a very heavy, dark wood. It looks as if it might take a giant to open it, but it pulls free easily for you. When it shuts, it sounds almost as if a latch has clicked into place.

The room you are standing in is an odd shape. Triangular. The widest part is where the door is set in, and the other two walls meet opposite it to make the point. There is nothing in this room. No chairs, no table. No mirrors. No sign that anybody else will be able to get in here with you at all.

You will wait a while. When the last participant shows up, the walls in the center of the room will raise into the ceiling. From the floor will come a great table, laden with food and drink. Chairs will scoot out from where they were tucked away under it.

There are other people in this room with you.

( Read more... )

Wanda had been attacked by an eagle. Sam was now a Great Dane that lived on his couch - he tried not to think of what he was going to have to explain to Dinah later. It was the first time since both brothers had been in the City and aware of each other that they were actually living together. They weren't even working together much, and Dean was torn when it came to that. He wanted to work with Sam, but he was beginning to wonder if working with the big freak was part of why Sam had gone completely dark side. Plus, here they didn't exactly have the same issues; Gabe wasn't even pushing them to play their roles. He couldn't decide what to think of this bassackwards place.

Sam had somehow gotten out, and seeing as he hadn't heard from Murphy or Jen recently, meaning a night or so, Dean thought he'd take a moment before heading out to find more werewhatevers. The freaking huge eagle was a new one, and the reports seemed to hint that instead of were-eagles, they should be dealing with werewolves, or one werewolf. At least he wasn't having those damn nightmares.

He took a deep breath, then sighed. "Cas. Castiel. I could use some answers. Cas?" He wasn't putting his heart into it, or he was slightly distracted. He was bent over looking into the fridge for something the big ass dog Sam hadn't tried scarfing down.

"Seriously? Salad?" He stood up slowly with a salad shake thing in one hand and a beer in the other. "He's such a girl."

(Happens prior to this.)

Fred had tried calling for Castiel, but that had felt a little odd, just calling someone’s name out loud. She'd even found a summons, but she felt bad about summoning an angel. She didn't think it was right to treat any sentient being like it a dog - called with a whistle, treat, or threat. Plus, she'd done enough as it was. Or not enough. She still hadn't found the cure for whatever had happened to him. There had been moments that she felt like someone was watching, but she chalked it up to being paranoid. Even that one time in the shower; then again, she lived in a city that actually had its own Norman Bates.

She finally decided to give in and hit the Library; only they wouldn't let her near the computers. It aggravated her that they were going to keep her away from information. She wasn't sure what she would do, but there had to be something. After looking through various yellow pages, a few more angel books, and then a comic about Black Canary, she took a small break with a stop at the museum, or the display cases. Yes, nothing overly exciting or new. Dean’s amulet sitting there gave her some sort of comfort. He did exist. She was pretty certain he existed.

Fred headed out of the library and stopped, her brows furrowing. Had she had her clipboard on her when she went in? She stood not far from the side of the building, thinking about what she’d brought with her. Somewhere above something was rocking, something very big and heavy, something that could squish a frail human to a bloody mess. Said possible bloody squished mess shrugged and started on her way, deciding she hadn’t brought the board with her.

“Maybe a cafe!” One of those internet type places seemed like a good place. Did the City even have one of those internet type cafes? ( Well, she guessed she’d have to look. )

Aziraphale might consider Crowley something of a friend, but that didn't mean he trusted the old demon. He knew the serpent well enough, he supposed, to still question anything he said, even after that whole affair with young Adam. So the first thing he'd done when Crowley left was attempt to contact Up There. He'd taken every precaution, not wishing a repeat of the last time. It was enough to be in a strange place, and he had no intention of ending up bodiless as well. The doors were well bolted, and blocked by bookcases for good measure, but he might as well not have bothered. Despite all his pal's warnings, he'd been shocked and disappointed.

( Silence )

It had been a long day. Dean'd slept on the couch like he'd promised. He'd taken Jake to the hospital, made sure everyone had gotten where they needed to be, and even found a free place to stay. Sure, it was above a flower shop, and, no, there weren't any magic fingers. But, there was something good, wholesome, nice about having a place that wasn't paid for at best nightly, at worst hourly. He wasn't going to tell anyone he met that that's where he lived, but he could handle having some place to "come home to." Even if it was lacking two people he'd come to associate the word "home" with.

The hunter settled down the couch, groaning softly. The beer and sandwiches were tucked away in the fridge; what clothes he had needed to be washed, and he was a little surprised that there was a washer/dryer combo waiting for him. Dean hadn't asked for specifics, and maybe on some of it he probably should have - the decor was a little girlier than he'd like. But, who was he to complain? It was free, more or less.

The bottle of Blue Label sat on the end table beside him along with the glass. He hadn't poured any yet. No, he was just going to sit in his new apartment and wait for the hint of anxiety at the idea of 1) Lisa might find out and really break up with him and 2) he had settled down again. Drinking would help, but drinking didn't seem like the best idea sometimes when the world could change on him in the blink of an eye. ( Dean really thought he'd gotten used to that. )

Fred had had fun, for the most part, but she was feeling a little down as she walked home. She hadn’t planned on someone walking home with her, so the walking home alone part really wasn’t all that surprising or unexpected. Yet, there were times she missed being in a group, waking up and walking down the stairs to find people who cared about her. They might not have “loved” her, but they certainly cared. Okay, so some might have loved her.

If asked, she’d say she was happy for Dinah and Harry; they were champions, and champions were meant to be together. But, that didn’t mean she didn’t feel a small twinge inside. When she got back to the office, she sat down on the couch, rather than going down to her/Angel’s basement apartment and stared at the box. The night had been fun, sort of. Being able to time travel had been fun, even if a little frustrating because she couldn’t quite figure it out, and she knew that if she wasn’t careful she could upset the space-time continuum which could be an issue even in the City where space and time weren’t normal. Seeing Lorne had certainly lifted her spirits a little, but it wasn’t the same.

She continued to stare at the box then blinked as it decided to come open. “Oh.” ( Her brows furrowed as she pulled out a small piece of origami paper and some instructions. )

The recent news cast was on his mind. Murder wasn't a new thing in the City. Strange murders weren't even particularly unusual. But something deep inside of him said that this was only beginning. It could have been because they'd both worked at the asylum. Somebody out there had a grudge. He couldn't exactly fault them for being angry. His time, he knew by instinct, had been long. He didn't have a lot of memories of it, however, for good or for bad. Between the scarf nullifying his powers and the drugs they'd then pumped into him he'd been pretty much guaranteed nothing more than foggy half formed ideas.

On top of that, he was still trying to figure out the fancy new device that had been given to him. He would have opted to stay with the old one, if he could have. It'd taken him forever to get used to it. He knew he didn't use it for everything it was capable of, either. But that had vanished shortly after getting the new one. It had literally just vanished within minutes of opening the box containing the shiny device. Why he'd gotten the new one after the personal ad hilarity was beyond him. Maybe the City had wanted him to see what it had done. Or maybe it had been going alphabetically backwards in it's handing out of the thing. Or maybe it gave the new one to the new residents first and then worked it's way to him. Probably though, it was just that he hadn't checked his mail in a really long time since getting out of Arkham.

The news cast had popped up on it without his bidding, then had gone away again. After that, he'd spent a really long time trying to figure the damned thing out. It was no use. What he really needed was to find somebody who knew about this kind of shit, have them walk him through it or something. It's what he'd had to do the last time, too. Kids and their newfangled crap.

Because of this, he ran into somebody. Actually bumped right into another body. It was enough to jar him out of his thoughts and look up.

"Sorry fella." He offered, automatically putting a hand on the guy's elbow to steady him.

Castiel took Dean’s suggestion of reconnaissance very seriously. Though demons could not track angels instinctively or vise versa, and Castiel was not afforded the senses that would reveal any of his brethren to him, he looked in what might be termed ‘the old fashioned way’--that is, by looking. That meant a lot of traveling through the City, staring at people and making them nervous, watching day-to-day activities and noting the patternless shifting of the Cityscape. It was truly one of God’s more bizarre creations. Since not even an archangel could create a reality that would fool Castiel, he was increasingly certain that his presence here was God’s Will.

( This reassured him somewhat. )

Dean was meeting all sorts of interesting types. So far, he had met a fishnet wearing superhero, a girl who knew him from before (whatever that was supposed to mean), a girl who had some major emotional and apparently mutant (yeah) issues, a demon he'd rather see dead, and an angel he knew should be dead. He was having one grab bag hell of a time. He'd yet to find his baby, and he was getting a little tired of not having answers, not even a little one. He still hadn't been able to get in touch with Sam and Bobby, meaning he couldn't even get help by phoning a friend. He didn't even want to consider getting help from the audience, as if he were on some tv show. Who'd watch a show based on his life anyway?

He grunted as he settled down on the Magic Fingers bed; he'd almost given up on buying alcohol anywhere that wasn't a bar, but it seemed he was getting lucky today. The Blue Label had been pretty damn cheap considering, and he was going to enjoy getting drunk off something that usually cost over two hundred dollars. Of course, it did make him miss everyone. ( Drink to remember, drink to forget. )