Not Until We Are Lost

Johnny hadn't slept.

It wasn't a long enough period of time to determine if he didn't need to shut his brain off like a normal human being. One night wasn't a good indicator. He felt like shit as the sun rose, and couldn't really tell if it was because he had been sitting on the couch, waiting for the door to open, the sound of keys jingling to unlock, not sleeping or if it was because of the anxiety he'd been filled with the whole time.

He'd been turning the events of the night over and over in his head. Wondering if he'd done something wrong. Maybe she'd changed her mind over the course of their time together. Maybe she'd come to see him as nothing more than a friend. Their night at the movie might have been affection she lavished on those closest to her, and not the sort that went along with deeper feelings. Maybe he'd misread. And now it was him stepping over lines and boundaries.

This, of course, was not what she'd indicated when she'd left. But she might have been saying those things to be nice, hoping that he'd take the night to think things over and realize that it wasn't the time or place for those kind of feelings. Or maybe he'd realize that he didn't really feel those things, that they were just the product of the game that he and Mary had been playing for the rest of the world. Then she wouldn't have to let him down, gently or otherwise.

She'd said she'd be back, either way. And that's what Johnny was waiting for. For Mary to walk through the door of their shared space so he could tell her he was sorry. That if she didn't want that from him anymore, he'd let it go.

Johnny waited until noon for Mary to come back to the apartment. When she didn't show, he went up to the bar to ask Harry if she'd been seen there, and to wait for her. He knew that if she didn't find him in the apartment, she'd come upstairs. Then they could go back to the tiny basement dwelling and talk. In the mean time, he could use alcohol as a distraction, though it wouldn't do much for actual brain quieting, at least the ice and liquid would give him something new to look at. And maybe Harry would have work for him.

But Harry saw the worry and ordered Johnny to sit on the customer side of the bar. He glanced hopefully at the back door and the front every time Johnny did. He kept the talk light and far away from any subjects that might call her to mind, and continually supplied Johnny with new drinks. He didn't pry. He didn't ask if there had been a fight. Harry knew only that Mary had said she needed to take a walk by herself, and that Johnny was worrying about her.

As two pm approached and rolled by, Johnny's worry was in high gear. Surely Mary should have returned by now.

Following the failed hunt with Cas and Jo, Piotr was more determined than ever to find something that would make him feel like he was doing something with his life. He went to the docks before the sun even started to rise, and ended up with a job fifteen minutes after that. The foreman admitted that he’d hired the Russian based on size alone, but it didn’t take very long at all for Piotr to prove that he had actual muscle behind the look.

He worked all day without tiring. It felt good, getting his hands dirty. That wasn’t just euphemism, either. Piotr was completely filthy by the end of the work day, hauling boxes from the ship to the dock and vice versa. There was no sweat, however, which impressed the foremen and some of the other guys as well.

Very carefully, he’d said almost nothing all day, using physical movements to indicate his answers as much as he could. And when that didn’t work, one word answers took over. Piotr could say yes and no with very little of his accent coming through. Longer words betrayed him slightly, but most didn’t seem to care.

After his third day, Piotr was approached after his shift by a group of men who seemed to be more excited than the average beer-post-work crowd. They cornered him, and he wondered very briefly if they were going to try to bring him down with violence. Perhaps somebody had finally taken ill to his nationality.

It was made clear very quickly, however, that they wanted something else. More than one of them started jabbering away at once, and Piotr had to get them to slow down. Eventually it was expressed that they wanted him to join a bare knuckle boxing ring. Underground kinds of stuff. Maybe not truly illegal in these times, but the kinds of things that would be eventually. Immediately, he agreed to it.

Maybe it was cheating, having his training, his size, and his invulnerability when his steel was present. But that last one wouldn’t be used at all in these endeavors. It was still an incredible advantage. He wasn’t going to let that information out, however. He was just going to get in the ring, bet for himself, and rake in the cash. He even found a fellow who was willing to make these bets so nobody else would know about them, for a very reasonable cut, at that.

Piotr’s first match went well. He let the guy get in a couple of hits, then took him down with a few of his own. After he went through half a dozen men with no signs of slowing or tiring, they pulled him out of the rest of the fights, deciding that they needed to find somebody worthy of standing against him. He became the one to beat. He became the monster under the bed, the myth that circled through the city’s lower classes.

More importantly, he made money.

He moved Rayne to a much nicer place, renting a hotel suite for the both of them, giving him a way to make sure that she was safe while allowing her a private room at the same time. And he began to save money to not only pay Rob back, but take him out on the date that he’d promised. The way he was going gave him hope that it would all go much faster than he had anticipated. Especially considering he kept the day job for appearances.

Having to explain his trangressions to Anna the night he'd returned from the Simmons party, Cas had made a point to go to work and return home immediately after. He was well-aware that Anna had faith in his abilities and wished for him to do what came naturally, but he knew that on some level, she was just as concerned for him as he always was for her. And while a part of him did acknowledge that engaging in that fight was foolish, it had been much-needed and he'd done it because he'd disliked that man's treatment of both Jo and Piotr.

As it would have turned out, Harry also apparently let it slide. Apparently 'disrespecting a dame' was unacceptable, which was a relief to Cas. Had that not been the case, he only would have been infuriated further.

He was...definitely not tired, however. He came home from an afternoon shift at the bar and simply set to washing his hands and helping Anna prepare whatever meal she had in mind. Dean had always told him to find a woman who was capable of preparing a meal and though he'd never understood the necessity of it, he did have an appreciation for her cooking. It was better than anything that came in a box. As for helping her, he was merely pleased to make the task easier. She'd never needed to ask and even someone as inept as him could cut vegetables. The only problem was that he had the vaguest sensation in mind that he'd forgotten something. He didn't know what it was so much as he only had a distinct feeling, such as when he sensed something others could not. Assuming he was paranoid, he merely kept chopping.

"Am I...am I doing this right?" he asked, frowning at the onion on the board before him. "My vessel's vision is compromised."

His eyes wished to water and since he'd never shed actual tears and he'd only once experienced a particularly bad allergic reaction, he didn't know how to react. He only wished his vessel would finally cooperate, but then it very rarely did. He'd grown used to assuming there were many things wrong with it...yet, there was still something at the back of his mind that he very much doubted had anything to do with a malfunctioning vessel.

Mary was missing. That was the only thought running through Jo's mind as she left the Duchess. Mary was missing and there was a serial killer on the loose. Maybe it was unrelated, but did they ever have luck like that? She had to find Dean. Maybe things weren't great with them right now, but their kid was missing and she'd be damned if he was left out of that. Besides, Jo couldn't think of anyone she would want on the case more than Dean.

Which meant that she had to find where Dean was staying. It was a little frustrating that Johnny had seen him and hadn't gotten an address or phone number of any sort. There wasn't much time to waste, but she just had to hope that she could find Dean quickly.

Before she set off on the hunt for either her boyfriend or her future daughter, Jo stopped in at the boarding house. She could start her search there. There had to be a phone book or something she could reference to find motels and other places that a guy might stay in the area. Didn't there?

( Searching... )