Not Until We Are Lost

Cavan woke up in a place that he didn't know. That would have been bad enough by itself. But to top things off in a completely fucked up way, everything around him looked like it was off the set of some scifi movie. He didn't know a whole lot of pop culture, but he knew enough to think this wasn't the best place to be.

He had no idea how he'd gotten there. He had no memory of leaving his hotel in York. He didn't think he'd been drugged, since he hadn't accepted drinks from strangers aside from Dean, and Dean seemed like the kind of guy who didn't poison his own flask just for the giggles of seeing somebody else taken down. Nothing on him hurt, so he didn't think that he'd been manhandled and knocked out.

The fact that he was on the floor didn't really make him feel any better.

Getting up slowly, to make sure that he really was unhurt and to also not call attention to himself before he could assess the situation, Cavan looked around. There didn't seem to be another soul with him, though the blue glowey thing at the middle didn't inspire within him any confidence.

Cavan spotted the door and went for it quickly but quietly. It opened for him with no effort and he spilled out, grateful.

That he was in a living room struck him as odd. The living room itself didn't seem to be half the size of the interior of the thing he'd just been in. That wasn't possible just by the laws of physics. Cavan glanced about, then moved away from the door he'd just left and turned to see what he'd come out of.

There stood the blue call box he'd seen with Dean in York.

"Oh, no. No no no. Nope. No. That's. No."

They had moved him when he'd been asleep, during the little catnap he'd decided to take with - funny enough - the cat. Simon still didn't know who "they" were, or what their purpose was, but it was a bit unsettling that the would have the ability to render a fairy into a state of supreme passivity and move him without him knowing. That part bothered him. The rest of it? Honestly, Simon couldn't be too upset. He was having an adventure. Seeing things that he'd never get to see.

The strange little house that he woke up in was nice enough. Filled with interesting little baubles. That he was missing his own things was a bit of a concern to Simon, he'd spent many years with his collection. But they were ultimately only things, and he did have some more important bits in his pockets still.

Simon sat at a small kitchen table overlooking a nice garden outside, watching the sun set. He was waiting for his housemate to rise. He knew she was there, and he knew what she was. Experience with Archer and others had taught him well. He hadn't, of course, known it was a she until he'd sought her out and had a look for himself. A very careful look, since some of those vampire types tended to get a little testy when you poked at them while they slept.

Sabev woke with a start.

Things assailed her from all sides. The room she was in was unfamiliar, the view outside the window was unfamiliar, and more importantly, there was a piece missing. A very important bit of the puzzle that she'd grown very used to and very fond of.

With her mind, the little phoenix called out to him, searching for him, begging him to please come back. But she was met with emptiness. Not the blank slate that could be found when one phoenix was blocking themselves from others. But nothing. Well and truly nothing. There was no trace of him, either, no lingering tug. There should have been something. Even if Ilyien had returned to flames, there should have been a glimmer of him remaining. Something she could touch with her mind and know that he had been.

To make it worse, Sabev could feel no other phoenix at all, either. There were no others like her here.

She felt very, very alone.

And suddenly very, very scared.

Not knowing what to do, not knowing how she'd come to this new room, Sabev buried her face in her hands and wept quietly. She did not make herself aware of her surroundings as she probably should have. All of her teacher's words about the world faded from her mind.

His eye stung.

Dean blinked. And then he blinked again.

He realized that there was something in his eye. Something that was doing the stinging. His hand went to his eye, to rub at it in that stupid reflexive way that never did anything but drive the cause of the pain further into the eye. Soap.

It was soap.

And now that he had a second to breathe, Dean realized he was naked. And wet.

The water was warm. He was standing in a shower, in a bathtub with one of those sliding glass doors instead of a curtain.

And standing not a few inches from him was a woman with dark hair and shampoo on her head.

Dean almost slipped taking a step backward. His eyes grew wide, and his eyebrows drew together.

"Holy shit!"

He managed that step back now, without falling.