The Universe's Mixer

Dean couldn't believe the crap they were dealing with, and he couldn't believe just how good it felt to be digging through said crap with his little brother, soul and all. It wasn't something he'd done in a while, or at least something he'd felt good about or right about. There had always been something missing. That look or that feeling had been gone, and now it was back.

They'd had to clean up a small ghost problem at one spot. Had to explain away a situation in another. They'd even pulled out the FBI badges, that actually said "CBI" but who was paying that much attention. They hadn't used every trick in the book, but quite a few to get where they thought the bastard was hiding.

The docks. The boys had been to the docks, or dock like area, and on at least one occasion had seen Sam possessed. That wasn't the case now. Nor were they dealing with vampires - though that had been more of a mill. Either way, Dean couldn't exactly hide the smile or the grimace when he thought of his brother; he was torn. He was glad Sam was back to normal or as normal as the Sasquatch got, but he wasn't glad that Sam was caught here. That he'd have to deal with the guilt. They'd have to have a talk about a particular death soon, but right now...right now they'd hunt demon and do what they were raised to do.

"This is it." The older Winchester motioned to a warehouse. "Why's it always warehouses?"

Sam had spent long enough hating himself. Oh, he still hadn't forgiven him self for the things that he'd done without a soul, but wallowing wasn't the way to handle it. He woke up one morning and realized that he needed to be doing something. He needed to get out there and try to make amends.

That meant getting back to hunting, and getting to a point where Dean didn't feel like he had to babysit all the time.

The first thing Sam did was head out to the corner store to buy a newspaper. It was strange leaving the house for the first time in days, possibly even weeks. The sunlight was harsh after sitting in the half-darkness of his apartment for so long, but it also gave him a small sense of hope. Maybe he could start over. Maybe he could make up for the things he'd done.

Sam returned home before the usual time when Dean would come over in the morning. He didn't look at the paper right away. Instead, he took out the waffle maker and waffle mix and started to make breakfast. It was partially a thank you to Dean for being there, and partially a way to show his older brother that he was on the way to okay.

Once the waffles had been cooked, Sam settled in with the paper and started to look for any stories that might point to something that they could hunt.

Sam knew that he couldn't wallow in self-loathing forever. As much as he thought he deserved it, the people around him deserved better. He needed to find a way to make things right. Dean left mid-day for the first time since Sam had gotten his soul back. Sam took that as a good thing-his brother needed to do more than just hang around here. Dean deserved better than that.

The younger Winchester realized, with some surprise, that he was hungry. He hadn't really been thinking about food much over the last few days, though his brother had kept him fed. Well it was now lunchtime and his stomach was growling.

He frowned at the odd gift basket of... waffle mixes and syrups? Who sent that sort of thing? And why would they send it?

He wondered if it was something Dinah had sent to make sure that Dean wasn't going hungry over here. He didn't think on it much further and didn't touch the gift basket that he was sure wasn't his. Instead, he started looking through the fridge for something easy to make. Eggs seemed like they could work. Of course, eggs meant needing a spatula and Sam wasn't even sure he owned one. He started looking through the drawers of the apartment that had belonged to a different Sam before him-a better Sam, from what he knew. At least one that hadn't gone around trying to kill people. It was the second drawer that he tried where he found the card that had been stashed in there.

So I heard you got your soul back...

He stared at the words and then at the signature accompanying the words. For a second, he wondered if there was some other Fred that would be sending a card. Because why would that Fred want anything to do with him at all?

Sam closed his eyes and set the card down, trying not to think about the flashbacks that had haunted him both while he slept and was awake. He remembered Fred. He remembered that she'd been nice to him upon his arrival in the City, though at the time she hadn't realized that he was a different Sam, hadn't realized that he was empty inside.

Worst of all, he remembered hurting her. He remembered chasing her down, shooting her. Burning her building and leaving her for dead. Hot tears stung at his eyes and he was a little glad that Dean wasn't around to see that, that he didn't have to answer the questions that might accompany those. He stuffed the card back in the drawer and went back to his place on the couch. He was no longer hungry. Instead, he just sat and buried his face in his hands.

Dean was reluctant to let Dinah go off with Fred, but they both knew what had to be done. Or something like that. He gave her one more kiss, silently promising that he would return to her, before he let her go. Slipping into the Impala, he followed the women for a few blocks before turning another corner and heading to Sam's apartment.

It was strange that they lived in real places, or as real as the City allowed. The brothers had few opportunities to live in one spot for long, and when they did, it was usually after something very bad happened. Dean had lived with Lisa only after making a promise to Sam, only after Sam had sacrificed himself. Sam had lived with Jessica for how long when he decided to leave his family and become a regular boy - a college student? They had become isolated, yet here in the City, they didn't have to be so separated. So, why were they?

Because Sam wasn't himself.

No, it was more than that. Probably, possibly. Dean wasn't going to let himself think about it right now. He was good at avoiding the whole thinking thing. He was damn good, and right now he was going to have to act, in more ways than one.

Along the way, Dean had picked up a bucket of chicken, a six pack, and a pie. He'd also made sure he had rope - the kind they sold to survivalists and worrywarts, it collapsed down to seemingly nothing - and a good bit of holy water. He'd hidden away a silver blade or three in his jacket, and he was ready. Or as ready as he could be.

A few minutes after getting out of the Impala, the older Winchester stood at Sam's door and knocked.

Fred seemed to have relaxed a little since she was finally let out. The lights weren't coming on, and she was a little concerned. Yet, the City seemed to be working normal other than that. It was probably another test. She was aware enough, remembered enough, to know that the City liked to test the captives.

She had bought the cop, who was pretending to be her friend out on the town, a cupcake on the mayor's dime. Fred didn't have any dimes, so she was agreeing to borrow a few of the mayor's. She would pay it back because those dimes were more the City's dimes than the mayor's? Plus, it was her friend Jack, not the mayor who was letting her borrow the dimes. But, a few dimes to get a nice woman who was working a strange shift by guarding a near nobody a cupcake wouldn't hurt, right?

The plan had been to get more clothes, some shoes, some night things. The quick trip out with Jack had gotten her enough to cover two days if that. There was only so much washing clothes should take after all.

"Thank you, Caroline. I really appreciate-" Anything else she was going to say was cut off as something bum rushed the brainy female, taking her away into a poorly lit alley. Caroline who had drawn her guy was the next attacked and whisked down the alleyway.

After finding out that Fred was okay, Sam had made his way to the hospital. He wanted to talk to the woman that he'd tried to kill and make sure that she actually did have those supposed memory issues. He had to make sure that she couldn't spill the beans on the fact that he'd tried to kill her or perhaps on what she'd read. The book would have burned in the fire, so as long as Fred's memories were gone, then that knowledge could stay buried.

There was a low level of frustration when he discovered that Fred wasn't currently in the hospital. In fact, Fred had been allowed out on an outing. The nurse that he spoke with didn't seem too thrilled with giving the information but apparently the man who was watching out for Fred had left a contact list and the Winchesters and Dinah had all been on it.

That was a good thing, Sam thought. It would make it easier to keep tabs on her. He thanked the nurse and then headed to the park. It was a big park, but he had the patience to comb the place thoroughly while seeking out his prey.

Unlike Dean, Sam had no pressing need to look for Fred. He knew what had happened to his former girl Friday, for lack of a better word. He didn't care all that much though he was certainly pretending he cared. He was also pretending to help in the search, which meant that he'd done a few things on his laptop to try to triangulate the position that Angel Investigations had been in before the fire.

Or at least, he'd been doing those searches on his laptop until the damn thing broke on him. Sure, he could use his phone but that didn't mean that he wanted to give up the laptop entirely.

Dean had mentioned the technogirl, Annie or Amy or Ally. Something with an A like that. He'd also briefly mentioned the shop that whatsherface worked at, Fixit. Sam thought that it couldn't hurt to stop in and see what Ashley could do for him.

So, laptop in hand, he let himself into the shop once he'd found it.

Dean had settled into the normal mode when finding out that something terrible might have happened to someone he knew and/or cared about. It could be a truly frightening and dangerous mode. The look in Dinah's eyes when the couple realized the voices on the scanner were talking about Fred's place was more than enough fuel for Dean's anger. He cared about the brainy Southern gal, and he cared even more for one of her good friends. Begrudgingly agreeing to investigate the fire, Dean let Dinah continue with a slightly larger problem...alone. He'd get back to her as soon as possible; he'd made that promise.

He pulled up as close as the fire trucks and police cars would allow, and his heart sank as he realized just how much damage had already been done. It was too the point that the experts were letting the fire burn itself out. The City, being a true survivalist, had sequestered off the burning building to a strange little island. Nothing else would be damaged.

The hunter got out of the car, went to the back of it, and found a hopefully convincing jacket and a badge. Fire inspector. He never thought he'd use this one. Well, not since that one time in Pasedena...a flicker of a naughty boy smirk slipped across his lips before it was gone and he was walking toward a crowd of official looking types.

"What happened here?" he asked in one of his gruffer more authoritative voices.

Everything was ready. She had programs running through her tablet that connected her to the Tower computer room; it was still hard to be in there for very long. She had books around her, and she was waiting for more information. While she waited, Fred thought she’d get a little side work done. A favor for a friend while she was saving the world, that was okay wasn’t it?

So, she had settled down at the receptionist desk, seeing as it had a little more room on it. The book was open before her, and there were notes everywhere as she worked on a translation. There were also a few other books that were assisting her in the texts.

“Only when it’s complete?” Her nose wrinkled as this didn’t seem to make sense. Not hollow, not empty. Full. It made sense, but it didn’t. She tapped the pencil against the notebook. She wasn’t sure why Dean had her looking into the book, but he wanted it translated, or the bits about Alastor translated.

( ---- )

The soul-themed presents left outside his door over Christmas had been momentarily ignored and hidden before Dean could see them. But Sam hadn't forgotten. No, he certainly hadn't. This needed to be addressed. As soon as his brother was gone.

They had been signed Lestat. Sam didn't know who this person was or if it was actually that particular Lestat. Hey, if Dean was banging the Black Canary, he supposed anyone could be here. No matter how crazy fictional.

Ordinarily, Sam's first instinct would be to just kill whoever it was that seemed to know about his lack of a soul. But he needed information first. He needed to know who else might know and he needed to know how this Lestat had found out at all. He needed to make sure that there was no chance anyone else could put the pieces together.

It wasn't that difficult to find the listing for the only Lestat in the phonebook. Sam showed up outside a lavish building and rang the doorbell without a hint of hesitation. He was armed as always, but not in an obvious way. Each weapon was hidden under clothing, ready to be snatched up if needed.

After the information garnered from the CBI agent, it wasn’t hard to follow the breadcrumbs and surmise that it was tied into the feud between the two families that owned the buildings involved. From there, they had both started researching. When Sam came across the Greek mythology involving Alastor, the god of blood feuds. A little bit of digging gave Sam all of the answers that he needed. Once the two brothers traced the family trees, it was easy to pinpoint the next victim. It would seem that the spirit was working his way down the branches of the family tree. Those that were the closest relations to the source of the feud had gone first and then it had continued to work its way outward.

What Sam didn’t bother to tell Dean was that Alastor could only be killed immediately after he’d taken a life. The next victim wouldn’t be saved, but would instead be bait for the trap. Sam had no emotions either way about the collateral damage, but he imagined that Dean might have a problem with it. It was better to at least keep up the appearance of trying to save that next victim.

Both brothers had armed themselves with a stake before setting off for the separate apartment buildings, but Sam was pretty sure that Dean wouldn’t be in much position to use it since he was focused on saving the victim as well as killing the demi-god.

( Same name, different creature )

Upon his arrival in the City, Sam had found keys to an apartment and a car. He assumed that they had belonged to the previous Sam, but truthfully he didn’t think too much on it either way. He didn’t much care whether or not he had a home but it made things easier to not have to find a new motel every night he supposed. It was just one less thing to worry about.

Dean’s phone call hadn’t garnered much reaction on his end. Though he did toss a few pillows on the bed in his second bedroom. It might be difficult to hide things with his brother around, but he would manage.

Sam had given the address and now he was going over the clues. He’d set up a corkboard in which he’d pinned all of the the things that they knew already. He frowned at it, studying each piece of information and trying to figure out how things fit together, trying to find a pattern that would explain what it was they were hunting.

( A role reversal of sorts? )

Dean stared at the building. The owner of said building had called Fred about something living inside it. Fred done some research and found nothing that would suggest ghosts or poltergeist or anything else they usually looked for. In fact, it seemed like a very normal building, but things weren't right. There had been multiple deaths recently; none of which seemed more than mere accidents. Not that any accident was mere when it took a life.

The older Winchester called in the younger for a hand. He had said that they should hunt together, and so he thought he'd take the chance to do so. Some of their work was already done by the brainiac that Dean was still refusing to claim as boss. She was more of a mediator or contractor than boss. She was his pimp - not that he'd ever say that to her or Dinah. It did amuse him somewhat.

"Bet it's some lame ass curse. I know Fred said no one died in there, and let's face it - there isn't much else it could be. A demon? A demi-god? You do any digging?" He didn't think Sam would just take Fred's word for it, even if she did seem to have a way of getting information. Hacker. He'd bet she was just that. He didn't mind. Sometimes hacking was the only way to get anything good.

Christine was a little unsure about leaving the manor since her strange accident but she could not stay cooped up for much longer. Mostly because she needed the fresh air. She wouldn’t go too far from the manor, though. Her arm still ached from time to time and having it in the cast made some tasks difficult. Especially given it was the hand she used most. And that was one of the main reasons she didn’t stray too far and why she didn’t walk too far from her home. She wanted to be close by in case she felt in pain again.

First stop for her turned out to be a small chocolate shop. She could treat herself. Like most women she had a sweet tooth but would not eat the treats in abundance. She was strict enough on herself not to do so after all. She had to remain healthy and she had heard that eating too many of the sweet treats would go against that. But a few from a box on occasion wouldn’t do her any harm.

Next she found a small restaurant, a diner as she had been told, she decided perhaps she could spend some time in there. It would split up the time she spent outside and keep her occupied. Though she knew she would eat something simple and then head back to the manor. But when it came to the door, which she had to pull open, she had a slight problem. The box was in one hand and with her other in the cast she wasn’t really able to do so herself. Glancing around, she tried to see if she could find someone to help her.

Veronica sat in the library, a serious stack of books on her right, a puzzled look on her face.

Since finding out that Logan was... well, all she could think about was that awful 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' movie she'd seen as a kid, and the phrase 'blood sucking fiend from beyond the grave' coming out of Luke Perry's mouth, and she knew that that wasn't helping anything.

So, she'd grabbed a copy of Dracula. And some books by Anne Rice. And currently, her face was buried in a book by some Mormon lady about vampires who sparkled in the sunlight. But one of them was dating a human, so she kept reading.

But not without sarcastic snorts and comments every five to ten minutes, depending.

Finally, mid-sentence, Veronica closed the book in disgust. "This is such crap," she said, to no one in particular.

The holidays were going to be hard for Dinah. She’d expected that. Facing the prospect of Thanksgiving and Christmas without Jake made her heart ache. She still thought about her lost son often, but she was in the process of making peace with it. Having Dean around helped a lot. It helped to keep her mind off the grief and gave her a shoulder to cry on when she really needed it. It had also helped to get back into fighting crime. Having a purpose, having something to drive her made it easier to avoid falling back into the despair that she’d felt in the months after Jake’s disappearance.

Since Thanksgiving was the first holiday without Jake, she’d dreaded it. But she’d also started to make plans. It was her first holiday with Dean, and she wanted to do something to celebrate that. She knew he liked pie and all kinds of food, really. And from what she knew about his life before the City, she doubted he had had many big Thanksgiving meals.

Since Dinah’s form of cooking generally ended in things being burnt to a crisp or over-seasoned or some combination of the two, she’d enlisted Alfred’s help. She’d invited the butler (though really, he was so much more to Bruce and to everyone else who had stayed at the Manor or been a part of the inner circle) to dinner, but he’d politely declined. Dinah felt bad about letting Alfred go back to the empty manor on the holiday, but he’d pointed out to her that Thanksgiving was a traditionally American celebration. So she’d given him a hug and thanked him profusely once everything was done for the turkey dinner.

Then it was a matter of waiting. She’d asked Dean to try to be home at a certain time today, without telling him exactly what was going on. She had hoped it could be a surprise. Whenever he did come home, it would be to a table filled with turkey, mashed potatoes, yams, stuffing, rolls, and to an assortment of pies waiting in the kitchen. She knew he liked his pie after all.

Where there should have been compassion and remorse, there was nothing
but drive for Sam. The time since he'd been returned to life had been
better than any period that remained in his memories. He certainly
retained those memories, minus the emotional connection to them and
the people that frequently featured in them. Instead, there was simply
the hunt. Killing things, doing his job. And of course sex. A human
didn't need a soul to enjoy sex. In fact, Sam found it more enjoyable
without the emotional attachment and that ridiculous feeling of owing
the girl in question something that his former self had always had.

The time since Dean had been brought back into the fold had been a
careful dance at first. Keeping the secret, pretending to care. After
Dean had found out, it had been easier to just be as he was, even if
his older brother suddenly had demands and expectations.

Sam knew that the other shoe would drop eventually, if Dean ever found
a way to try to recover the soul. When that way was discovered, Sam
did what any being would do-he fought to survive. He went after Bobby,
attempting to make his body uninhabitable for the soul.

Instead of succeeding, he found himself in the middle of a strange
city. Sam blinked and frowned as he looked around. He didn't feel any
different, so Dean hadn't succeeded in shoving the hated soul back in,
and he couldn't be dead. Souls went to the afterlife, not... whatever
was left without the soul-not whatever Sam was now.

----

Fred was feeling pretty good about herself. Sure, she hadn’t heard much from Christian, and she still felt too awkward around Jack to just check on him. She wasn’t ready for that. But! But! She had helped Dinah, and maybe made Annie another friend. It was a good thing. It was a very good thing.

The tablet was held close as she read over the latest report, looking at the figures. The business was actually doing rather well, and she’d be proud if it weren’t for the whole people needing to be protected and put down and all that. All happiness came at a cost, didn’t it?

She would have continued on in her own little world, where she normally existed, but she saw someone she knew. Probably.

“Sam! Sam!” It had been a while since she’d seen him.

----

Sam looked up as he heard his name called. A small smile spread across his lips at the woman approaching him. She was hot, in a sort of naughty librarian way. He also didn't recognize her, which might not mean all that much. Since he'd been brought back to life, he'd indulged in the pleasures of the flesh more often than not and he didn't usually pay attention to pesky things like names or personal stories of those who'd ended up in his bed.

He still didn't know where here was or why he would know anyone here, but he'd been in stranger situations... Maybe, possibly. Hadn't he?

He wasn't going to tell her that he didn't know who she was. After all, he didn't have much patience for drama or that sort of thing. So instead, he flashed a charming grin.

"Hey, how's it going?"

The last thing Molly Carpenter knew was Lea was dragging her back to their hideaway near one of the many entrances to Undertown in Chicago. The Ragged Lady had lost it on a trio of college guys who were getting handsy. Of course, her mind had slipped back to Chichén-Itzá thanks to an emotional overload brought on by the holidays being on her. It wasn't the first time she had missed the Carpenter family holiday traditions, but that didn't make it any easier. If anything this time it had been worse. Last year she had still been recovering. Thomas had told her that Harry was dead, and she was still physically damaged. The Leanansidhe had nipped her out of the hospital as soon as possible, healed her up more in a manner that really wasn't pleasant then picked up where Harry had left off with her wizard training. That had been the birth of The Ragged Lady, and a whole lot of things that had cemented the emotional and mental damage.

This year she still couldn't go home to her family. She couldn't take the chance of leading anyone to Her. She had been put there to be kept safe where she could grow up loved and warm. Molly would be doing Harry's memory no favors by going anywhere near Her. It still tore a chunk out of Molly's damaged emotions and her mind had slipped back into the war in South America where she had been surrounded by Red Court vampires. The three guys hadn't meant her any good, but they certainly weren't bat faced, blood sucking monsters hell bent on killing her in messy, painful ways. It also wasn't their fault that she mistook them for exactly that, and if not for the intervention of Lea, Molly would have killed them.

But something went wrong in the transportation. Whereas Molly was used to being dumped onto a filthy mattress and told to sleep it off, this time she landed in the middle of an intersection. A shriek escaped her as cars laid on their horns, screeching to avoid hitting her by swerving or slamming on their brakes. She pulled up a hasty, but strong shield to avoid getting hurt, cowering beneath it. When she was certain the vehicles weren't going to hurt her she dropped the shield. Mistake! Because now people were rushing to help her, and to Molly they all had bat-like faces.

Oliver saw to it that anyone who had worked with the Justice League had been invited. He wasn't sure how many of them would actually show up, but he'd made sure to contact them all, one way or another. At the rate things had fallen apart, he was beginning to feel less averse to the idea of Dean coming along with Dinah. But that remained to be seen.

He'd set the meeting for a Monday, mid-morning, to allow everyone time to make it, or at least to check in, if there was something going on out in the real world to prevent attendance--and hopefully to start the week out right. The younger of the Winchester brothers was already present, working on some IT stuff at Oliver's behest. Now all they had to do was hurry up and wait.

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.