The Universe's Mixer

Sam had heard a rumor, and he wanted to check up on it, and make sure he wasn't completely crazy. Not that he had any doubt that it was possible. After all, he'd seen stranger things in the city--like King Kong on the front page news. But it had been him and Dean for so long--and most of the time these days they just did their own thing--that hearing about someone else from home was a bit of a surprise. So he headed off in search of the roadhouse, determined to keep driving until he found it.

And sure enough, he did.

After excusing themselves from the party, the brothers headed out in search of a bar, or a liquor store, whichever came first. From there, Sam could only assume that they would proceed to become sufficiently inebriated for whatever pending discussion Dean was chewing on--or rather, they had both been chewing on for some time now. It was high time to spit it out.

But none of that was going to be happening until they could actually find a liquor store, and in the meantime, Dean was probably getting more and more restless, and sullen. Sam knew he was, at least as far as the restless part. Though he was more pensive than sullen. That was Dean's thing.

Dinah was thrilled to have Zatanna in the City. She might have had her reservations about her old teammate's methods, but she was glad to have a friendly face. After everything that had happened over the past few months, she was really glad to have someone to just go out dancing with. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't exactly take her to a club-not unless they wanted to risk him shorting out the sound system or something along those lines. For that matter, she hadn't seen all that much of him since they'd patched things up. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him, but they were both busy and a part of her was still proceeding with caution until Murphy was moved out.

But tonight she wasn't going to worry about that or anything else, if she could help. She'd left messages for Fred, Jennifer and Barbara inviting them out. She'd even left a message for Murphy. It might have been an awkward thing to do, but she was still trying to make amends and smooth over the rocky start they'd gotten off to. For that matter, she owed Harry's best friend a thank you for pushing her to talk to him. Not that she was sure that the thank you would be well-received, but she was grateful.

Dinah entered the bar with Zatanna at her side. The two had gotten ready together, and of course Zee looked fantastic in her little black dress, but that was par for the course when going out on the town with the mystic.

OOC note: Dinah left messages inviting Fred, Jennifer, Barbara, and Murphy BUT that doesn't mean those characters have to join, nor does it mean that it only has to be those characters. As they're out at a bar, anyone, male or female is welcome to join. Also, let's just keep this thread as a free for all instead of worrying about posting orders :)

He hadn't been entirely too happy with getting kicked out of Zoe's place almost right after they'd woken up, but he made it to a store and picked up a pack of cigarettes and it made him feel a little better. Going for an entire night without a smoke had been a new and unpleasant experience.

Real joy came, however, when he got back to his place and after a bit of messing around, discovered - accidentally - that he could become the dog at any time he wanted to. Of course, returning to human form meant that he was bare ass naked, which probably shouldn't happen in public, just for the sake of law breaking.

But remembering how much fun he'd had at night, and thought that a daytime excursion would be better. Different at the very least. More people. More animals out and about. The sunshine. Oh, sunshine. How would that feel on his fur? Maybe he could find some kids to play with, too. Run around until his doggy legs wouldn't carry him anymore.

Not having put on his clothes again after his return trip to humanland, Jesse reverted to the dog form again. He spent a moment trying to figure out if he could carry the smokes and a lighter with him, and decided he could not. Even if he could, he'd have to find somebody to get one out of the pack and light it for him, and that just didn't seem like it was going to happen. Zoe had been quite adamant about dogs not smoking. He was guessing that other people would be as well.

He took the same route out of the building as he had the first time, and ran straight to the park. Almost straight to the park. He did stop and sniff a couple of things on the way, including sticking his nose up a cute girl's skirt to see if he could get away with it. He could. She laughed.

In the morning sun, the grass smelled delightful. He was sniffing it and then started eating it, not even thinking about what he was doing. Once he'd had a good amount of it, he suddenly felt the need to throw up. The big green mushy ball that came out of him didn't disturb the dog part one bit. His human part, however, decided that if eating grass gave that result, he was going to do his best to stay away from even nibbling it.

Jesse took off at a full sprint through the park, tail wagging happily, smelling the air as it rushed into his nose.

Charlie felt strange. It had hurt, turning into this...whatever it was, but in the end, he decided that it could be a good change. He'd never been an animal before, other than the one known as man, so this would give him a different life experience. He was lucky that Lucy-Belle wasn't at home; he didn't think she'd like his new face. It was definitely not his old one, save for maybe the eyes somehow. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, and gave a testing bark. It wasn't a bad bark. He spent sometime testing out smells and tastes before heading downstairs.

He caught a scent back in the kitchen where the attack had happened. There was something that smelled tangy, not bad but not right..blood? He snuffed some more, finding other scents, some good, some bad. He finally found one that told him food. He followed it; it reminded him oddly enough of an old fur coat his ex-wife had had. Rabbit? Strangest coat. Bunny. He may have found his bad bunny.

He didn't leave a note, but he was kind enough to close the door that he had left open this whole time behind him. He started trailing that bad bunny. It had bitten him, and he wanted to bite back, or at least show it the error of its ankle biting ways. Charlie wondered why he couldn't have this ability normally; it seemed like very ideal for a homicide detective.

The trail was leading him away from the mansion and the orchard to the Park. This was going to take some very good detective skills and the keen sniffer this particular incarnation of this particular police detective just happen to have.

The City Park.

They probably weren't related. A giant wolf goes missing from the zoo and a man is spotted running naked through the park. If it'd been Sunnydale, they would have definitely been related. Except it would have been some magic curse. This? Because there were so many kinds of vampires, she had to assume the same was true of werewolves. Magic wasn't completely out of the question, however.

Either way, she was packing a tranquilizer gun. The stake would go hidden in her sleeve. The sword, which was her favorite slaying weapon for The City, would have to stay at home. Beheading was for killing and Buffy had a pretty strict no-kill werewolf policy.

It didn't occur to Buffy until she was already an hour into patrol that she could have asked Willow to help her research.

Huh. She'd been Scooby Gang-less for a long time.

Patrolling wasn't terribly exciting. There was a lot of uneventful walking involved. Eventually the five-foot-two blonde started to get bored. She thought about getting a day job as a security guard but decided against the polyester uniforms. At least she wasn't so bored that she talking to herself out loud. But right now would have been an excellent time for a stray, hungry vampire to come charging her way.

"Heerree wolfy, wolfy, wolfy. I'm small, practically defenseless, and look awfully tasty..."

Arkham Asylum loomed into view as Dinah pulled her car to a stop near the entrance to the bridge. The gothic looking manor that housed the asylum awaited them on the island, seemingly quiet from the outside.

Dinah waited for everyone else to catch up, her eyes sweeping the streets for any sign of the Batmobile. She tapped her communicator once to connect with the Clocktower.

"Are we up and running, Fred?"

She still wasn't completely confident in the plan. A part of her worried that she was just sending the people she cared about to their deaths-or worse, knowing the Joker. But she had to try, had to believe that Jake was in there and could be saved.

Dinah had spent the better part of her day tracking down building plans for the Asylum and starting to form her own plan of attack for rescuing Jake. She already knew that she could count on Harry and Murphy to show up to the planning session, which would be at the cleared out Sherwood Florist. The backroom was a large enough space for however many people were able to show up and she'd cleared the table of any flowers and now had the blueprints all laid out. Now she needed to go through the list of others that she was going to call for help.

Dinah wasn't a huge fan of calling people for help, but she knew that taking on the Joker alone or even with a group of two or three was far too dangerous. She wasn't going to risk everyone getting hurt, or worse because she was too proud to ask for help.

So, she pulled out her phone and began to go down the list of those that she would call for help. There was Fred, and Dean, who had already been helping. Alfred, who could get a message to Bruce for her, since she'd had yet to actually see or talk to Bruce outside of the suit. Even Oliver. While she wasn't entirely sure about asking him for help, they had become allies here, and if he was anything like the Oliver she knew, he'd want to help.

The only person she left out of things was Barbara. She felt guilty, and she'd done her best to avoid the Clocktower apartment that day, but she didn't want Barbara anywhere near the Joker. Or Jake, for that matter. She had a feeling that the presence of a younger version of Barbara would just be a trigger for Jake and she had no idea what the City's Joker would do if he knew that Batgirl was in town and still had the use of her legs.

In retrospect, the time that Sam had spent in the City seemed to have flown by in the space of a blink. He'd gotten used to hunting on his own, and the best part was, no Lucifer haunting his dreams. It was probably the best thing that could have happened to him after he and Dean had split.

On the other hand, he knew that Dean had lived roughly two years in what was now for Sam an alternate reality. One in which he--Sam--had probably lived as well, and he--Sam--wasn't sure he wanted to know what his other self might have done, left to his own devices.

But he knew he'd rather have all the cards on the table than allow the rift between himself and his brother to remain, yawning, between them.

After some serious thought, Veronica took out an ad in the City paper and put up a web site Mac would've been sort of proud of. She still intended to get back to FBI work, if she could, but for now, she needed money, and she'd take the cases she could get as a PI.

Mars Investigations was back. Only this time, it was hers, and not her dad's.

Her first bite for a case left her with some interesting flashbacks to 'Ghostbusters': the librarian thought someone was trying to scare her to death. Apparently there had been some pranks and some... poltergeist-like things happening in the place. Could Veronica hang around there, see if there was anything going on?

Yes. She could.

So now, at 9 on a Thursday night, she was sitting in the fiction section with a flashlight, her camera, a taser, and a candy bar. Waiting for something to happen. The library closed at 6:30. It was quiet, and she'd had plenty of time to look around. It was much bigger and much more impressive than the one she worked in at Hearst. There were some glass cases here that were... really, really disturbing. They weren't what she was here for, but she couldn't help looking at them and wondering about them. Logan's surfboard? Here? Lilly's plaque? That was hanging in the foyer area of the... she guessed museum was the word... wing of the library. And then there was the case full of medical drawings, with a name on them that really scared her. Hannibal Lecter? An eye in a jar? What exactly was going on here?

She'd get to the bottom of this.
Once she figured out why she was hearing footsteps.

She'd sounded concerned. No, she sounded more than concerned, even if she was trying not to. Dean Winchester knew that sound. He'd heard it in many women's voices before, and he'd probably had something like it in his own voice. No, he hadn't lost a child, but he had lost someone he loved. More than one. He was going to help her get Jake back. The kid wasn't all bad; he needed to relax, but Dean guessed that the kid was high strung, if that's what it could be called, for a reason.

He'd "borrowed" a car to get most of the way, dropping it off a block away. He walked the rest. The older Winchester found it with a little looking; it wasn't exactly in the same place Dinah had seen it last. He wished that Sam was around. Not so much to help, though the sasquatch would have been helpful in seeing over really tall obstacles, but to know that the guy was safe, okay, whole.

Fred, the almost hot geek, had said somethings that bugged Dean; actually she'd a whole hell of a lot that had bugged him. Yet, the time travelling bit, which Dean was getting somewhat use to, gave him a small hope. It would explain Castiel, and if Sam could be whole here...Dean didn't think too hard about it. But, if Sam was okay, soul intact here, Dean was going to do what he could to keep his brother in the City. Soulful Sam, puppy dog eyes, girly habits, and all, was a good thing. Plus, if Sam was here pre-apocalypse, there was no way he would ever go to hell. It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't the worst idea ever.

Dean didn't see Dinah right off, so he started looking for clues. Even if the blood was a really big one. There might be other things. She'd said something about pictures for Fred? So, out came that handy dandy phone he couldn't get rid of to start snapping prints, whatever.

Beretta? Check. Silver bullets? Check. Knife? Check. Flask with holy water? Check and double check. ID…? Sam ran through the mental checklist, making certain each item was physically accounted for and on his person before taking further stock of his surroundings. At first glance, it appeared to be a normal motel room, in a normal city, but this time Sam knew better. And it still him flashbacks to the time the Trickster had stuck him in an endless loop of Tuesdays. “Come on, Sam,“ he muttered to himself as he stepped outside, “What is wrong with this picture?” 

The car parked outside his room, for one. That hadn't been there the last time he'd stepped out the door. 

It made him wonder...what else had changed?

Howl had spent the day shopping. It was probably the most enjoyable shopping trip he'd ever been on, once he figured out that he could have anything he wanted. All he had to do was reach in his pocket, and the exact amount of money he required was right there.

( It had all started in a clothing store... )

The Library seemed the best place to go. Surely, it would have something there about the leprechauns. They reminded Fred of Lucky, but the language she heard some of them use, the way they drank, and the bawdy gestures they made certainly did not seem very Lucky the Leprechaun like. Not one bit. So, with the need for information, and not knowing what to do once the leprechauns had left, she led the way to the Library.

Of course, the City was being difficult in letting them get there, and she'd had to explain, even if Sam didn't need it, that the City could move places. It didn't seem to be held by the normal laws of physics, or even the abnormal ones. In fact, she even when she thought she had finally figured out how the world, the City actually, worked, it went and did something that went completely against what she'd finally figured out. There were days she felt as if she were some Fred shaped rat in a very confusing maze, and she wasn't even getting a piece of cheese for all her troubles. At least it wasn't the pleasure button; Fred had a feeling many people would have died by now if that were the case.

She sighed as they turned a corner she had promised for the umpteenth time to be the right one, but then she smiled. Well, if they couldn't go to the Library, maybe the Library could come to them.

"It's the office. Angel Investigations. Maybe Angel will be there. He's another hero type. He was a vampire, but he isn't anymore. He went to some place really bad. Hell, maybe, I didn't really ask much, or if I did I am going to pretend like I didn't. Because the two of you are really odd when it comes to the feelings thing. He knows about..." The phsycist gave him the once over. "You know. Emonday loodbay." Just a quick smile and a motion for him to join.

"Who knows. Wesley may be in. Oh, you have to meet Wesley again. He's smart, really smart. He knows all sorts of things about demons, and I hope you ..the other you, the you before you you, put up the books Angel said you could borrow. Probably did." She nodded and started walking again. The office was in a small hole in the wall kind of place, or seemed to be, and it was in so many shades of green, Fred hoped Angel wasn't around. He probably would not have liked it.

When Sam rolled out of bed and into the shower that morning, he'd just grabbed the first clean shirt that he could get his hands on. He didn't really know where half of his clothes had come from, despite the fact that he still had to do his laundry from time to time. He certainly hadn't had much on him when he had arrived. But this was a new shirt, he was sure of it. It just happened to be in his closet. It just happened to be green.

When he came out of the shower, tugging the green shirt over abs that would make Twilight and Supernatural fans alike want to bake cookies on his stomach and sigh when said shirt met his jeans, he went back to the closet to grab another layer--wondering what was up with the crack-fic commentary in his head. Was it something in the City air? And what was up with all the green? Was it March already?

Green, green, green. Button-downs. Tees. Everything but his jeans and his old jacket, and whatever dirty laundry was stuffed into the hamper that was in need of taking to the laundromat. He glanced down. Even his boxers were green plaid. He went to his drawer and pulled out a pair of socks. "Thank God." They were regular, white-and-gray crew socks. He didn't think he could have dealt with argyle.

Not when he was hearing strange noises from the kitchen area. He poked his head out once he was satisfactorily dressed, his brow furrowing at the sight of an open cupboard door. He didn't remember leaving anything open the night before, but he shrugged it off and turned on his computer. Another scuffling, scurrying noise, followed by a creak, and then a thump. He peered into the kitchen again and the cupboard door was shut. Was it his imagination, or did the revolving corner cupboard swing on its carousel an inch or two? "Oh, no, you don't..."

Lestat was bored.

Boredom was dangerous, with Lestat around.

He'd taken to filling Aeon Flux's apartment with straws more often, making her more harried and unnerved. He'd taken to following Dr. Henry Jones Jr., whistling his theme song. He'd taken to lounging in bars with a glass of red wine, writing in a leatherbound journal.

He couldn't find Mona. She must be gone. Dr. Wilson was too busy most of the time to be much of a help in alleviating his boredom. He kept, as always, a close eye on Hannibal and River. And he knew this place was down to only one crazed hormonal female that might try to ram a piece of wood through his heart.

That was just fine.

The pen scratched across the fine paper, and the vampire smiled darkly behind his purple glasses, even though the bar was dark enough already. A stray though assaulted him from across the room, and he fought back a laugh.

This would be fun.

The day was crystal clear. Warm, even, considering what time of year it was. Kids were happily running around the park wearing their shorts and maybe a light sweater. Flowers had bloomed unseasonably. Bees and butterflies busied themselves while birds sang.

To top it all off, in a nice grassy area some picnic tables popped up. They were all covered in food and drink. A big banner unfurled across a nice space that could be seen from the road. It touted "Annual City Picnic" in bold black lettering.

Betty's hand traced along the stone of the castle wall. Castle. In the City. This was really the strangest place she'd ever been to, and she hadn't even gotten her voluntarily. Sure, the journey had been voluntary, but the end result, not so much.

( Even so, she wasn't unhappy. )

Beretta? Check. Silver bullets? Check. Knife? Check. Flask with holy water? Check and double check. ID…? Sam ran through the mental checklist, making certain each item was physically accounted for and on his person before taking further stock of his surroundings. At first glance, it appeared to be a normal studio apartment, in a normal city, but the longer he was there, the more it felt like something was off--only he couldn‘t quite put his finger on it. All he knew was that it was giving him flashbacks to the time the Trickster had stuck him in an endless loop of Tuesdays.

He'd checked his cupboards--or rather, the cupboards in the apartment he'd woken up in that morning,seemingly at random--hoping for salt.  Rock salt would be ideal, but even table salt would do--and sure enough--he found a canister of the latter above and to the side of the stove, as well as a bag of the former under the sink. Just like the doctor ordered. Only he told himself it was probably left over from winter...or something. He opened the fridge/freezer with the thought that he should find something non-greasy and hopefully non-disgusting--like waffles--to eat, and there was a box of Eggos. He shut the door, his brow furrowed. He opened the refrigerator door again, deliberately thinking about maple syrup. The real stuff, not Mrs. Butterworth's. There it was. Coincidence? He shut the door again. It had to be. It only made sense that someone would have syrup to go with their waffles. Right?

“Come on, Sam,“ he muttered to himself as he stepped outside, “What is wrong with this picture?” Maybe he would find someone on the street who could tell him where the hell he was.

It had been a long night. Before that, it had been a long day; and even before that, it had been another long night. The Winchesters were used to getting sleep when they could and where they could, but they never just dropped in the middle of a gig.

At least, not unless they were very, very tired.

The three tables were situated on an open green in one of the park's numerous clearings. A battered tin trash can was chained to the only occupied table, which supported a heap of books both open and closed and black thermos with the lid off. The younger Winchester had his head cushioned on the curve of one thick arm with an open book as a pillow, a book that was literally indecipherable unless you were used to picking out meaning from handwritten medieval French. The little cup of coffee was stone cold next to his other elbow, which rested on a few newer books that proved to be facsimiles of other French manuscripts. Lay le Freine was the uppermost. His cellphone marked a page of an Old French Language Resource.

For once, Sam was unarmed and unharmed. He looked more like a student than someone who had recently come off a battlefield. He was not so much asleep as "dead to the world" and it took a lot of the grimness from his usual expression.