Not Until We Are Lost

The little town was ... well, it wasn't exactly quaint. It was oddly sophisticated. But rural. He spied no cars and no other forms of transportation. There were shops and ... well. It all seemed so modern without being modern. He wouldn't have been able to explain it if he'd been cornered and forced to. Another thing was that the people weren't people. They were people, in the sense that they were alive and individuals, but not human, that was incredibly clear. Humans were not that ungodly beautiful.

They eyed him as he walked through the street, which wasn't really a street so much as a nice cleared path. Like they didn't trust him. Or maybe they didn't know why he was there. He sure as hell had no idea.

The warmth here was welcome though. The cold had kept him inside on the last planet, he'd been entirely uninterested in the snow. Though he had gone out and spied two familiar faces on the ice, skating and having fun. He hadn't said hi, he'd just gotten hot chocolate and headed back to the cottage he'd been placed in. Thankfully there had been a lot of books. Unfortunately, most of them had had to do with Christmas.

He'd also spent some time thinking about Lasher and Annabelle, but it wasn't anything he found he could focus on long, mostly because he had no answers to give himself, and he would drift back into whatever silly story he'd picked up.

Cavan ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting around to find a familiar face. They couldn't have put him here all alone, right?

Cavan liked and had adjusted well to the university. He'd been enrolled in classes which he went to gleefully. This was his kind of place. It was filled with new knowledge and people who also wanted to absorb it. Of course, he didn't really bond with any of them, or talk to them beyond discussing homework, but it was the idea of it all.

Better yet, Cavan hadn't seen anybody from the group at all. This began to spark ideas in his head. There were certain activities that he hadn't been able to take part in since this weird journey had started. All because of the people he was travelling with. They couldn't be allowed to know what he really was, because he was going to have to see them again. They'd never be happy about him being in the group, they might even - some of them - decide he shouldn't be alive.

He'd stayed his hand and squished his desires down.

But now?

Now there was a whole university of people for the taking, and not one familiar face among them. The itch returned quickly. Cavan thought of his trinkets and knew he needed to add to them.

He'd have to choose somebody first. His eyes always scanned all the faces around him for the perfect opportunity. Cavan wanted somebody who excited his mind, somebody who gave him goosebumps. It had been such a long time, this needed to be special. And perfect.

Cavan sat in the quad, book open in his lap, but leaning back into the grass. His eyes were on passing students.

Annabelle was not here. Even though the Doctor had told him as much, and as much as Cavan trusted the Doctor despite his oddities, maybe even because of them, he'd still gone looking. Not willing to really accept it until he saw for himself. And why did he care so much that she wasn't around? Cavan had no way of explaining it to himself. He'd never experienced anything like this before. The emotion was entirely new to him.

While he'd searched, he'd tried to determine the answer, time and time again he'd come up empty handed.

But it was true, she was nowhere.

It felt a little bit like mourning, what he did next. Something else that was wholly new for the boy. He hadn't even mourned when his father had died. Missing and mourning. What had this girl done to him?

The week following, he was more than a little bit withdrawn. He didn't go into social areas where he might be forced to speak to other people. Cavan kept to himself, taking food to his room, spending time sitting on the beach and watching the waves, but doing it on the opposite side of the island from where the people usually went. The resort staff had managed to find him some books, but they were all bodice ripping smut.

And he read them anyway.

He had tried, and failed, to procure alcohol from the bar. It seemed like the right thing to do, to sit on the beach and get drunk and mourn the loss of Annabelle. Of course, part of that couldn't be done without the booze.

Holding one of the trashy romance novels, Cavan got himself a slushy fruit concoction from the restaurant that had within it an island of plastic complete with tree, monkey, and umbrella. The glass it came in was more of a bowl. It was perfect for his plans of reading out by the water. Tucked under an arm was a bag filled with sunscreen and snacks. He knew there would be a giant umbrella and fluffy towel waiting for him because there always was.

Mouth trying to reach the straw, Cavan turned to make his way outside.

( Read more... )

His eyes roved over the room he woke up in, finding the floral papered walls and leaf shaped ceiling fan to be offensive. Even moreso was the fact that the only things he could find in his closet and dresser were beach attire that were so unlike anything he would normally wear that he gave consideration to just wandering around naked.

The routine was the same, though. Get up, look around for things that were familiar, find nothing, and decide to seek out the faces one knew. The only addition this time was the note. It told him that he'd been asleep for a long time, which was okay with him, he was getting a little tired of planet jumping, and that some people might not be where they should be. Mostly, mostly, Cavan didn't care about other people. He still didn't really care about them, but he cared about their relation to him and generally being the only thing he could count on to be the same and help him. He was a clever boy, for sure, but mostly ill equipped to handle a lot of the stuff that they faced.

Cavan pulled on a pair of Bermuda shorts and a tank top, sliding the flip flops onto his feet with a lip curl of disgust. While he did this he made a list of the people he should look for. Annabelle, who he had to admit he did have some genuine emotion for; the Doctor, who intrigued and entertained him to no end and he honestly enjoyed; the pirate, Sympathy; and Dean. Dean whom he was probably the most familiar with and had some problems with, but who was also the closest thing to a best friend that Cavan could claim since ... well. Ever? They fought like rabid animals, insulted one another, but Dean hadn't ever let him down. How strange was that?

First the Doctor, he thought. That man would be the easiest to find.

Should have been.

The TARDIS was nowhere. Cavan wondered if it was inside one of the rooms. He wouldn't put it past the aliens. But then again, he'd woken up with absolutely nothing that was his, not even his trophies, so it wouldn't surprise him either if the Doctor didn't have the blue police box this time.

Deciding there was no other way to it, Cavan started to knock on doors.

There was a whole lot of nothing that Cavan wanted on the island. Peopled with only those who were a part of the experiment, there was no way for him to satisfy urges that had been rising to the top and threatening to boil over since before he'd met the woman back on the last planet.

He wasn't the type to take it out on animals. Animals were far better than people and made more sense in life. They didn't do it for him at all. He needed screams and pleading for mercy. He needed hands and fingers, jewelry, hair and delicately sculpted eyebrows. He needed men too masculine for their own good and women who thought that sex was a valuable item for trade.

Cavan wasn't sure that he should be around the people that he shared the island with, so he was doing his best to stay back from them. When he encountered them, he did his best to not be weird, and didn't say anything more than 'I like sleeping on the beach' to their offers of joining the camp.

It was easy enough to find food. The island was absolutely teeming with it. It was on the trees, growing on bushes, buried in the ground, running around like it'd never seen a human before, and just sitting there. Water was easy, too. There was a freshwater stream running through the island. And he had enough knowledge to capture the smaller creatures for himself. Which is what he'd done today. He was able to construct rabbit snares and find things in the ground that might have actually been potatoes. Start a fire, and get a little banquet going. The smell of the meat was good, and Cavan closed his eyes and inhaled.

There was a lot going on.

He knew where the Doctor was, the TARDIS having been formally and somehow easily inserted into the museum where he and Annabelle had discovered the man. He knew where Annabelle was, or at the very least what she'd be up to. There seemed to be an absence of the others entirely. He'd not seen Dean in a while, which he couldn't decide his feelings about. Or the pirate, but she wasn't quite the concern as the others.

Cavan had not been alone since arriving on the planet with the evil bunnies.

The freedom went to his head a little bit, and he found himself thinking of the hobby he'd not had a chance to engage in since York. The real York, not the pretend one made by aliens to lull them into a false sense of security, thus ushering them on to Electric City and perpetual planet-hopping Hell. It was easy to get caught up in the surrounding aloneness. To realize that beyond being alone, he was in a time period in which forensics were not what he was used to. And also, it didn't matter, since they'd be eventually whisked away to some other strange place. He could leave all the prints he wanted. He could write his own name in blood across the body of his victim, and there would be very little anybody could do about it. His only real concern surrounded those he was traveling with. No doubt there were several of them that wouldn't take kindly to the things he liked to do best.

Still, Cavan found himself stalking. It was likely that he wouldn't be here, on this planet, long enough to develop the full relationship that he really preferred. He'd have to act fairly quickly. Make a day of it. Add to his collection in a more impromptu manner.

In his hand, which was in the pocket of his coat, was a silver chain. Woven into the links and held up by centers that were not made for the purpose were the little items he took off of each one. Earrings. Rings. Brass buttons. Tie clips. Zipper pulls. Charms. Whatever small bit caught his eye and he felt like keeping forever. It was a comfort that he had not lost it yet, that it hadn't been taken from him by the aliens. He didn't dare leave it in his room at the hostel, even though carrying it on his person did more harm to his nerves than good.

Cavan found a bench to sit on and watch people go by. His eyes scanning each to measure them against his current desires.

The Doctor hadn't been in the diner by the time that Cavan and Annabelle had left Dean. And he hadn't been anywhere near it, either. Which meant that trying to find her any help was put off. They had to see to themselves first, since it seemed that neither of them had been left with money that actually worked.

Their choices were kind of cut down because of that. They couldn't get a hotel, and they couldn't rent a house or apartment. They'd eventually found a youth hostel type situation, which allowed them both to take rooms, without it costing them anything. They just had to lie and say they were in school. Cavan was amazed at how they didn't ask for ID or any papers that would have backed up the story. Their word was taken for what it was. They were given three meals a day and their rooms, but they had to share them with other people (of the same gender) and they had a curfew.

After they had a place secured, a roof over their heads, the next task was finding Annabelle shoes that she could walk in. Cavan did this by himself, since she was having a lot of trouble and her current shoes hurt her feet. This consisted of him taking her shoe with him and presenting it to clerks in stores and telling them to match the size. He finally found a pair of relatively flat shoes and opened a credit account with the store that was entirely too easy to open.

He spent time with Annabelle, learning about her powers and one time asked for a demonstration. When she'd moved an ash tray from one table to another in the common room, he'd sat smiling for nearly an hour. He didn't want to push her any more than that, lest somebody walk in on them, or she got too worn out and lose control. He was pretty satisfied with what he'd seen.

Since they were all settled, he decided that they needed to try to find The Doctor. He arranged to meet Annabelle at the front door of the hostel so they could start their search.

Cavan didn't particularly enjoy anything that he was hearing during the meeting. He kept thinking to himself that he could have been back home, in Portland, doing the thing that he loved best. But no, nope. He'd gotten it into his head that he needed to see mysterious happenings. He just had to fucking know what was going on.

Goddamned York.

If he hadn't gone to York, he wouldn't have gone to Electric City. He wouldn't have been abducted by aliens. He wouldn't have had to ride in the TARDIS, and he wouldn't have gotten yelled at by some projection of a girl for going into a library.

It was an irrational train of thought, especially if he took a moment to think about it. All of the stuff he'd seen and done, it was all pretty excellent. He'd had fun with the vampire. He couldn't even lie to himself about that. But right now, in this instant, waking up in some strange diner that he was sure wasn't on the same planet that they'd been on with the freaky Easter Halloween motif, right now, Cavan was cursing the world.

He squirmed a little in the booth, and realized he wasn't wearing jeans and a tshirt. Quick inspection informed him he was in a three piece number. Who had changed his clothes worried him a bit. The Doctor might not be the probing kind of alien, but nobody had promised him the others weren't. If they'd taken his clothes off, what else had they done?

Worse than that, he seemed to also now be color blind.

"Fucking. God. Fucking. Shit." His focus came to his boothmate. At least he had a familiar face with him. Though a glance around told him that everyone from the meeting had been dumped in this spot. "Hey, Dean."

Eventually, Piotr decided that enough socializing had gone on. People knew that their friends and loved ones were here with them, and that was a good thing. They could catch up further later, however. If he didn't interrupt, the meeting would go on far longer than anybody wanted it to. He'd provided some snacks, but no actual food. There would be a need for actual food at some point.

He cleared his throat to get the attention of everybody present.

"We are all here right now for the same purpose." Piotr's voice wasn't loud, but it was demanding. His accent cut through everything else easily. The edges of it were sharp, the middles heavy. He wouldn't, couldn't be ignored. "All of us were brought to this place, world or dimension, and we have all been seeking answers since we woke up. It is time to share what we have found."

He smiled a little at Mary, at Cas, then at Rob, still not giving up his position.

"I will do this in the most orderly manner that I can, so we can get the information and compare notes as needed."

Piotr turned to Castiel, who had spoken up first.

Piotr was anxious to get everything rolling. While putting the meeting off had given extra time to round up others who might need to be in on it, it meant a delay of information that he wasn't truly comfortable with. He'd managed to play it off with everybody that he'd encountered, making as if this wasn't as big a deal as it really was to him. Inside, Piotr had been twitchy. Anything could happen at any time. They were all dealing with the unknown. There were too many variables, the risk was far too high. Lingering only swayed things away from their favor.

It was very domestic, the way he readied for the guests. He didn't let Max lift a finger. It was the only way he could keep himself from stewing, really. To move, work. Put plates together. Ready beverages. Create a spread that Martha Stewart would have been proud of.

He even dressed up.

Black suit, crisp white shirt, black tie, shiny black shoes, hair combed impeccably, guns tucked away in their holsters under his arms and hidden carefully by the jacket of his expensive outfit. Not a lick of metal showing anywhere to give him away, and that was more a throwback to the long nights of watching a mark than anything else. Piotr didn't have any good reason for it now, but it felt right.

When there was nothing left to do, he leaned against the arm of the couch and worried his lip between his teeth. There wasn't a watch to check on his wrist, so he glanced every few minutes at the clock on the wall, ticking away in its hideous orange and purple motif, strange detached bunny ears the hands, a mangled face grinning behind them. It was disturbing at best, though Piotr didn't really see the image, just the minutes.

The doorbell rang and he opened it, taking up the entire doorway. He smiled at the first guests and stood aside to allow them in. He made motions toward the table of snacks and directed them toward the kitchen for drinks. Every single newcomer got the same treatment. Max still not allowed to do anything that might have taken even an iota of the control out of the Russian's hands. They weren't military people, those who were showing up, they weren't highly trained like he was, but he would be damned if he wasn't in command of everything.

There were so many faces that he didn't recognize, and still no sign of the one that he was still seeking. Rayne was not with any of the others that showed up. Piotr couldn't help the worry he felt for his charge. The strange woman who he'd met in Malden, what felt like a hundred years ago now. He didn't ask after her, knowing that if any of these people knew her, she would have been here. He'd been careful to set the time of the meeting right after sunset to accommodate her and any others that might be like her. If she was here, by some strange chance, and had not been informed of the meeting, and hadn't come looking for him, if she had, in fact, decided to keep herself secret, then she had a reason for it, and it wasn't Piotr's place to draw attention to her. The hope of that was beyond slim, however, and he knew it. She wasn't here, he just had to admit it.

He let everybody mingle for almost an hour, to make sure that all the people that had been told had a change to show up. That and it was obvious that some of them had been looking for each other for a while, and they were just now discovering one another. He couldn't bring himself to break that up. He knew how he would have felt if he'd found his friend. He wouldn't have been able to focus on anything else but making sure that she was alright.

Finally, he stood in the center of the living room, his eyes skating over the seating, knowing that there wasn't enough for everybody and regretting it, and cleared his throat to get the attention of the assembled.

"We are all here right now for the same purpose." Piotr's voice wasn't loud, but it was demanding. His accent cut through everything else easily. The edges of it were sharp, the middles heavy. He wouldn't, couldn't be ignored. "All of us were brought to this place, world or dimension, and we have all been seeking answers since we woke up. It is time to share what we have found."

He smiled a little at Mary, at Cas, then at Rob, still not giving up his position.

Dean drove out of the development where the house was and out onto the main stretch of... wherever this town was. He was looking for major landmarks, and anything familiar at all--including people he knew, just walking around.

Still, they didn't get far into the drive before Dean's stomach was gurgling. He didn't really want to put off the search, but food? With him? It couldn't wait.

Dean pulled into the lot of the Friendly's as it came up on his right. At least that was something sort of familiar. He parked the car, and with a sigh, turned to explain all of what was going to happen in there to Sympathy.

"Alright. I'm really hungry, and that's... gonna get in the way of trying to do what we wanna do. So we're gonna go in there and get some food and then go back to looking around."

He looked at her, eyes searching hers. This was going to be a lot for her. "It might be loud in there, but it's just a place that serves food, and we'll go as quick as we can."

Dean gave her a quick nod, got out of the car, closed the driver's side door, and waited for her right at the door of the restaurant. Part of him wanted to walk around the back and see if there was a big blue box there.

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."

Isaac walked down the street of an unknown city, frowning deeply. No phone siganl, nothing for his built-in tech to pick up on. Even his bluetooth was having trouble finding any signal, which was weird. Usually there was no end of keyboards, phones, and laptops for it to pick up on. But everything here was set on a slightly different frequency, just enough so that all he picked up on was a confusing and incoherant chatter.

Frankly, it was driving him a bit crazy. He needed to find something to hotwire into a software programmer quickly, so he could at least control the chatter being pumped into his head through the bluetooth. Why did he never install a damn off switch for the whole piece of tech, instead of just to specific signals he picked up? He was having to deactivate everything as it came within range, giving him a period where he was listening to tech babble while he overrode it. Usually he used the time to figure out what he was listening to, or enjoying himself snooping. That didn't work so well when it was just static.

Isaac had woken on a park bench, feeling very well hung over from a night of booze and pot. In his cross faded state he could have wound up anywhere, but instead he found himself in some strange land, pick pocketed (or maybe he'd forgotten his wallet in a club?) and alone.

Eleni wasn't around, and unreachable, so the young Stark set about find out exactly where he was, roaming the streets of an old-fashioned looking district in his night club clothes, with a faulty phone and no exact idea of what had happened the night before.

Today sucked. And he didn't even have any pot on him to ease the experience or hangover.

Dean had taken to breakfast at Friendly's. The one he'd taken Ellen to, that time. The one he'd been to many times since. It wasn't like York had a lot going for it, but even a chain greasy spoon was better than most of the roadside crap.

Today he had his coffee at the counter, where they served the ice cream sundaes. He was waiting on eggs that would probably, given a little time, stop his heart. There'd been some weird whirring noise earlier that he wanted to check out, but for now, that'd have to wait. He thought it was some kind of car issue anyway. He could give the jerk who was grinding those gears a jump after he addressed his growling stomach.

The teenage-ish waitress behind the counter poured a coffee for the only other person in here just now, who looked maybe a little over her age, maybe one of the college kids. Dean gave the guy a nod.

He had a newspaper in front of him, and he was still following leads for the disappearances.

Jo. Ellen. Harry....

.... Sam.

A Winchester did not just take losing family well. Ever. He'd been on the phone to Bobby more than the old man liked, and now and then he screamed for Cas.

Still.