Not Until We Are Lost

Mary had gotten cagey in the time spent at the resort. She knew that it was probably asking for trouble to wish for some action, but she didn't do relaxation well. Certainly not forced relaxation. Once she found her guns, she had a feeling that it wouldn't be much longer before something came along. Or before she found her family and they all decided to take their chances outside the wall. She hadn't expected the wall to come down. In hindsight, she probably should have. She was glad that she'd started carrying her gun and a few strategically hidden knives everywhere. She felt too exposed without a weapon, and she'd rather be armed than go swimming and put her gun down. She was extra glad when the goblins showed up.

A group of about fifteen or so burst into the kitchen when she was preparing a meal. She didn't hesitate to drop her serving utensils, and dive behind one of the counters for cover. Defense strategies first, even if she was the sort to run headlong into danger. There was a reason that she was still alive, after all. She at least tried to be smart about it.

"You little bastards picked the wrong kitchen," she spat out. "I've been just waiting for something to shoot."

She peeked around the counter and fired off a round of shots, feeling a surge of satisfaction as she spotted bullet wounds on at least a few of the goblins before she ducked behind the counter and started moving again. Never stay in one spot too long. Always keep moving and keep shooting as long as you had bullets left to shoot. Her dad had taught her both those things.

Dean tore the note on the nightstand up, put on the hideous clothes he'd been left, which unfortunately included shorts, and left the room as fast as he could. There were no weapons here and he didn't like that, but he was nothing if not inventive.

And he didn't like the tone of that note.

He needed Jo. He needed Sam. He needed Mary, and shit, it'd be nice if the universe would throw him a goddamn bone and maybe toss in Ellen.

He was knocking on every door he passed, irritating a number of guests and staff, and finally a maid directed him outside to the bar and threw a lei around his neck. She told him to try the shrimp cocktail and not go beyond the wall.

This particular bar was actually near to the one little security area there seemed to be on that wall. It was a tiki-shack sort of thing, and all Dean could say for it was he felt marginally less stupid about his appearance as he approached. The guy behind the bar was in a grass fucking skirt.

He was looking everywhere, his head never stopped moving, looking for his family. On the walk here he'd kept bellowing for Sam and Jo. No answer. His heartrate was going up.

He sat at one of the barstools and the grass skirt guy slid him something in a coconut. Dean grimaced and was about to say something about not drinking girl drinks when he noticed the woman next to him drinking something in a coconut, too.

He wanted to find Jo, but Dean wasn't dead, and she was very, very pretty. And familiar.

She must be one of them.

"You get a fun note, too?" he asked her.

Dean woke up lying on his side, and he was very surprised to see Jo sleeping in front of him, on her side, too. Her ribs were rising and falling as she breathed, and it was very peaceful. This would be really nice... if it weren't for the obvious change.

The bed was a real modern bed. Frame was metal. His clothes were back to normal, and Jo had jeans on, too. Dean rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and sat up on one elbow, looking around the room.

There were windows with blinds on them, and everything had a very modern, almost sterile kind of quality to it. There was a coldness. Outside looked anything but, from what he could see through the half-open set of blinds just ahead of Jo. There were big tropical plants, palm trees, looked like a gravel road.

He turned his head, and there was a closet with big gray doors over there. He'd check it, but was happy to see his regular weapons--the knife he kept in his boot, the gun he always had on him--sitting on a metal bedside table that sort of resembled a locker or filing cabinet. More metal.

He put his hand on Jo's waist.

"Jo," he said. He was rocking her gently, trying to wake her. "Jo, honey."

Peter had slept. A lot. A lot a lot. He wasn't entirely sure he hadn't lost a day or two in the darkness, there. He felt a hell of lot more human - heh. Funny. He looked better, too, though his ribs still ached like fuck. He'd scrounged a shirt from the house but it was already kind of stretched out at the neck; obviously whoever the house belonged to hadn't exactly been a big guy. Not that Peter was overly muscled himself, but he had broad shoulders for a teen. Hell of a lot more body hair than your average teen, for that matter.

He hadn't bothered shaving, stubble tipping the line into a full beard as he padded through the house barefoot. The sun was nearly set, light in broad slashes across the floor. Almost made it look like the floorboards were on fire.

He fixed himself a cup of coffee, poking through the cupboards for something to eat while he waited for it to brew. It wasn't really a surprise that he didn't find anything, but he had still kind of hoped there'd be something edible. His stomach growled agreement, loud enough to wake the dead. Well. Some of them. The rest seemed to be pretty sound sleepers.

Jo couldn't say that she loved life in this Wild West carbon copy of a town. The townspeople were getting restless and it was a lot harder to blend in a small town. Particularly when their group represented an influx of newcomers that had made somewhat of a splash. Jo hadn't personally contributed to any of that, but she'd heard stories. There were a whole lot of whispers about a man who could turn into a wolf. About someone who'd been hung and lived to tell the tell. About a man who'd packed a mean punch. Granted, Jo hadn't entirely escaped notice herself, what with drawing attention for digging up a grave to salt and burn some bones.

She'd finally found Mary and had heard the truth behind at least two of those accounts. She had to worry about how much longer they were going to be stuck in this world, because the natives were restless. In fact, she was pretty sure that this and the last world were the most they'd been noticed. And it wasn't a good thing. Then again, a good hunter stayed just on the outer edges of people's notice. They did the job and got out. And yet, this whole experience didn't allow for that.

She never thought that she'd see the day where she was eager for a planet hop, but she was. For now, she took to wandering the edges of town and spending a lot more time in the saloons than was proper for a 'lady' in this setting. She didn't much care for that, so she kept to herself in one corner of the saloon and glared at anyone who gave her a funny look.

Tonight, she had a nice whiskey on the rocks and a good view of the doorway. She always maneuvered for that. First, because it was always better to see trouble as soon as it walked in the door as opposed to being snuck up on. And second-she couldn't help but keep an eye out for the rest of their group. She hadn't yet seen everyone around. They were here, but she hadn't seen them personally. She still thought that getting everyone together was a good plan and it was her goal to talk to as many people as she could about their situation and about pooling their resources.

In this world, Dean came to in a crowd.

All around him, guns were being fired, and some drunk townspeople were cheering. Dean realized that it was dark, which was nice. He also realized that if it wasn't at least late afternoon, or whatever it was, he'd be squinting a lot. And he had a cowboy hat on his head. And some kind of blanket poncho thing.

It took him a minute to realize that he was watching a hanging.

He couldn't see who they were hanging, which was probably better. Dean wasn't really down with the idea of public execution. He pulled himself away from the crowd as best he could an watched everyone disperse, looking for Sam, for Mary, for Jo... for anyone, really.

He remembered helping the Doctor. He remembered spending a lot of time with Annabelle and Phaedra, and a guy who said he was the god of dreams, even if Dean didn't think that was really the case (at least not now.)

It took a while for everyone to leave the square. And not everyone seemed all that normal. Dean saw more than one citizen with a few scales here and there, like reptiles, and more than one with orange eyes, though everything else about them seemed human.

Just as he started to worry about the Impala, Dean realized that he did recognize the figure hanging from the noose.

It was Phaedra.

He cursed under his breath. She was obviously faking, but they were going to, at the very least, cut her down and bury her. It looked like that wasn't happening just yet, like they might leave her there until the sun came up because everyone was too busy being stupid and rowdy.

If that happened, she was toast.

And if he cut her down, or she cut herself down, then the rest of the time they were here, she was gonna have to hide.

"Fuck," he said, with feeling.

Rob sighed as he set the phone down. It was finally time, and he had no idea how this would go down - he didn't see it going all that well. He tapped at the phone's face, avoiding waking it up or making it do anything.

He'd called Mary and Jo, but both seemed okay with it just being Sam. Rob would have preferred not doing this; he didn't want to be the grown up. He didn't want to say anything, but they were all right - Rob did need to tell the last of the Winchesters the truth. He took a deep breath and glanced at the clock.

Sam had set up the meeting. Sam would be there for all of this. Rob stood up with a soft sigh, and he started toward Sam's room where this would all happen. He had suggested finding somewhere a little more neutral, but he wasn't sure where that might be, not in the new city anyway.

A few minutes later, he knocked on Sam's door, hoping he was there before Dean.

This wasn't York. That was Sam's first thought upon opening his eyes. The hotel room was a whole lot nicer than the motel room he'd had back in York. He didn't know whose motel room it was, but he knew that his bags were in the corner. Further inspection showed that his clothes were in the dresser. A look outside at the skyline and Sam just stopped and stared.

He'd climbed his way out of Hell because things were way off and those gates were starting to open. He'd seen an opening and taken it. Now? Now he had to wonder if all of that had just been some vision created by Lucifer to torment him. If so, then what was all of this supposed to be? That skyline didn't look like anything he'd ever seen in real life. In movies, sure. The buildings were just futuristic looking enough that the whole thing was a little surreal.

He grabbed a few of his guns and hurried out of the suite. He stopped long enough to check the other room, just in case Dean was there. It was empty, though someone's things were on the floor and they sure as hell weren't Dean's.

Maybe it had been awhile since he and Dean had stayed anywhere together, but that didn't mean that he hadn't hoped for it somewhat. Wherever this was, whatever this was, he had to find his brother. And he had to hope that this was somehow real and not some figment of his imagination or some Lucifer-created torment.

He fumbled in his pockets and found a phone that, again, he didn't recognize. It wasn't so sci-fi looking that he couldn't use it. In fact, he scrolled through the contact list and frowned at some of the names he didn't recognize-like Rob Winchester. Then he ignored all of that and dialed Dean's number as he made his way out to the hallway.

Anna worked right up until the morning of her wedding. It had gotten to the point when she and Cas were questioning the same people over and over and not getting anywhere. It was frustrating, but two villagers were dead from what looked like an angel possession that didn’t take. They couldn’t rest, even in the days leading up to the ceremony. At least word seemed to be getting around hopefully everyone knew better than to say ‘yes’ to anyone or anything at this point. She hoped.

Once they’d done one last sweep of asking around and looking for any more clues as to the whereabouts of the rogue angel, they went their separate ways to get ready. It was an old, silly tradition that she was certain no amount of explaining would really get the point across to Castiel. Truthfully, she knew that it was dated and senseless, but there was a part of her that wanted it all the same. The part that had once thought she was human and nothing more and had dreamed of a fairytale wedding where everything was done according to tradition. That part wanted to observe some of the traditions. So she kissed her fiance goodbye and he headed off to get ready at the tavern while she met Jo and Mary at the house they’d been staying in so all the women could get ready together. That goodbye kiss was something she lingered over, and she pointed out that their next kiss would be as a married couple.

She knew, too, that the ceremony was for her more than anything. They were already joined in more ways than she could count-ways that were unbreakable by any method that she could fathom beyond the most final of partings. Yet, there was a part of her that really liked the idea of something official that could be shared with their friends. The part of her that still missed her Earthly parents even felt a little wistful that they couldn’t be here to see it. Even if Castiel might not completely care about the traditions associated with the rite, he was doing it for her happiness and that meant the world to her.

Jo and Mary bustled around her and while there was a little bit of a grim overcast on the day, both seemed happier than Anna had seen in awhile. She thought that this might be good for everyone-taking a day off to really focus on the things that made life worth living. Love, family, friends, celebrating the life that they had in the moment. She was under very few illusions that they’d get an entire day without incident, but damned if she wasn’t going to try.

Anna joined in on the conversation in bits and pieces but couldn’t have repeated a single word of it if quizzed afterward. She kept running her fingers over the satin of her dress and smiling to herself. She’d managed to keep it well hidden from her future husband and she couldn’t wait to see the look on his face. He had seen her in many forms and he seemed to appreciate all of them. And no matter how many times he looked at her in that way that he did-she would never get tired of it.

Finally, they were all ready and it was time. They strapped on a few last minute weapons, just in case, and headed out to the forest. Sure, it might be an untraditional bridal party but it also wouldn’t be a wedding with their group if people weren’t armed. She smiled a little at the, so to speak, ‘ladies in waiting’ accompanying her as they headed out to the place they’d agreed to set up the makeshift altar. There was no music because Anna didn’t like the idea of asking one of the town musicians to risk coming out to the forest, but that didn’t matter. The scenery was beautiful and the person who mattered most would be waiting for her at the end of the walk. That was all that truly counted on this day.

( A true hunter wedding... )

The doors of the palace were thrown open. The grand ballroom was decked out with silver and blue decorations, crystal snowflakes hung from the ceiling and the palace entertainers played merry tunes to greet the guests. The aromas of the feast wafted out the door and down the street. The Queen herself sat at the head table with the princess at her side. The princess didn't look entirely happy at the moment, though there was speculation that she wasn't the sort to settle down and the Queen had been the one to decide that now was the time for the princess to narrow her sights to one single suitor.

Most of the kingdom turned up in their finery. From lords and ladies to peasants, all could be seen dining and drinking and after dinner, dancing.

Those that were the abductees had been invited as well. The Queen had even arranged with the aliens to keep one, should the princess decide that she fancied one of the group that had come to temporary fill the open job positions. Oh, it had taken some diplomatic posturing, but it was her hope that those from other worlds might hold her princess' attention more than those native to this one.

After dinner, the princess stood at the edge of the dance floor as a line of gentlemen were introduced to her. Those who attended had more than the princess to focus on, however. The minstrel strolled through the crowd as he played, and various other entertainers were stationed throughout the ballroom. Wine flowed generously, which resulted in some of the guests sliding towards entertainment themselves.

Jo came to on a wall around what looked like a medieval city. On the outside, there was forest stretching out as far as they eye could see. And inside, there was a castle surrounded by houses of varying sizes. The further out from the castle and closer to the wall, the smaller and more humble the homes got.

It was perhaps a sign that Jo had almost gotten used to the whiplash world changes that she didn't panic right away. She had a gun in hand and chain mail over her clothing. She was actually better armed and protected than the last few worlds. That was a comfort. She looked out over the wall and at the watchman-or rather, watchwoman-that was just barely visible in a spot on top of the wall not too far from her.

So this was new, but she'd figure it out. She also had less worries about the people she loved because they'd been on each world. Of course, the islands had separated them but Dean had still been there and relatively safe. She was confident that she'd find them soon enough. She clearly had a job to do for now. She wasn't sure whose brilliant idea that was, but she put in her time and only left her spot when one of the watchwomen showed up to relieve her.

It was already night by the time she ventured into the village in search of her people and a place to stay. She wouldn't have said no to a tavern at this point either. She was a little impatient with the fact that some planets provided shelter and others just dropped them off with no hints as to where to go or not go to find a safe place to sleep for the night.

She found her way into an inn, hoping that she could at least get a beer-or some ale, whatever-and maybe a room, assuming she had the money for it.

Note: Backdated to just after this


Jo had a lot to think about. The conversation with Rob was something she wasn’t even sure she was ready to process. As a result, she’d spent a lot of time in her room on the spaceship. Or as much as anything that the aliens had created could be considered ‘hers.’ It wasn’t hers, no matter how many of her things were here. She’d discovered that TV was a thing that could be had on the spaceship. So she’d holed up and binge watched a few old sitcoms. Family Ties, Full House, things that she’d probably never admit to watching. She was secretly a little glad to have the room to herself for that. Besides, it was nice to just distract herself with some of the things she’d grown up watching. Of course, there was also the fact that she’d almost assaulted one of the aliens and it was probably safer to keep her temper in check at least until she could find a way to really hit them where it hurt, so to speak.

Currently, Jo was in full-on veg mode, complete with sweats and a tank top, when there was a knock at the door. She searched for something else to throw on quickly and then realized that she just didn’t have much time to do so. Whoever it was was just going to have to deal with the comfort clothing. Besides, it wasn’t like she was that much of a glamour queen even in her everyday clothes.

She opened the door, fully expecting Mary or Johnny who were, as far as she knew, the only people who knew where her room was. Her jaw dropped open ever so slightly as she saw Dean instead. It wasn’t that she’d been avoiding him. Not exactly. She just hadn’t felt much like looking for him and getting frustrated with not finding him. Not after that first day.

“Dean. Come in,” she said.

There were probably things that needed to be talked about. Things were certainly not easy lately. Then again, when were they?

( Though the truth may vary, this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore )

Sleeping wasn't pleasant for Mary these days. It seemed like every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that speakeasy, tied to that chair with the psycho carving away at her skin. She always woke with her wounds hurting, even though she knew damn well that the sensation was merely psychological. That pissed her off, truthfully. She was a hunter. Hell, she was a Winchester. She was supposed to be better than this-stronger, braver, and anything but waking in the night after nightmares.

She didn't know what time it was and didn't much care. Instead, she wandered down to the common area in search of some food and hopefully something to keep her mind off things. She was paler than usual and more than a little shaken up, but she was already trying to hide that just in case anyone else was here.

She still had to find her dad. In fact, she wanted to see him more than ever just about now. How many times had he been there to help her get back to sleep after a nightmare? Heck, even as a little girl she'd slept easier knowing that he was around to kill any monsters that might be out there. And that feeling hadn't quite gone away. Hadn't he killed this particular monster? Even if she possibly wasn't technically a monster and even if the damage had been done, he'd still been there to put an end to the woman that had kidnapped and tortured her. Maybe Mary should feel more conflicted about it, but mostly she was just glad that her dad had been there for her. Glad that he'd proven that he would always be around to slay the monsters and keep her safe.

She ordered a cheeseburger and french fries and settled into the seating area with her food. Eating would help. It had to, right?

Cas supposed the general layout of the spaceship was ironic. For centuries, he and his siblings had observed humanity in much the same fashion. The difference had easily been that humanity had not been trapped against its will for such observation, but the general idea remained the same. Their hosts toyed with them for inexplicable reasons. Kept them confined to their rooms. And seeing as he highly doubted discharging his weapons in the corridors would be of any use, he'd resigned himself to exploring the social area.

However, he did still smoke in it. Mainly, he was waiting for someone to stop him. His dependency on cigarettes was somewhat alarming, if only because it'd happened gradually. Almost without his being aware, but it was far more subtle than any of the pills had been. And though he'd long since abandoned that habit, there was still a part of him that felt as though just one pill would be a preferable means of accepting the fact that they were trapped and being forced to do whatever their hosts intended for them. For all he knew, they'd likely just watched him and Anna mate, but he doubted any of the information they gathered would be of use. The chances of their sterility were high, being what they were.

Finding a spot by the window, he leaned against it, forehead coming to rest against his forearm. Many complained that looking directly at the stars made one dizzy. For Cas, it was quite the opposite. For everything that their hosts had taken from them - clothing and viable supplies included, this view was undeniably a gift. In a way, it was almost akin to being made of light again. It wasn't perceived in exactly the same way as it would have been through his three pairs of eyes, but...it was still beautiful. Something worthy of appreciation.

And speaking of things worthy of appreciation despite their insistence of the opposite, he could still faintly feel the familiar soul as it approached. Even as a human, he didn't need to turn around. Instead, he simply took a drag off his cigarette and flicked ashes onto the floor before him. Likely as an act of rebellion. "It's good to see you, Dean."

Of all the things that existed in the world, Sympathy understood the sea the most. The way that it moved, its moods. What lived inside of it. The island that they were placed on was not a bad thing in her mind. She could see easily that there was plenty of food to sustain them all. Plenty of shelter, too.

After the world with all the black and white, she was happy to be in a place that she was familiar with. It eased her mind and relaxed her muscles. She felt like a pirate again. Even the ridiculous clothing that she found herself in couldn't spoil it for her. Instead, she set to work on shortening the pants so that her legs could be free for movement, leaving only enough cloth behind to cover those parts that it would be indecent to show. She did much the same with the shirt, ripping off the sleeves and tying the rest high to let the sun touch her belly and warm it.

With the scraps, she made bags. Ways to carry the food back and forth with her, to hold the live animals she caught. Sympathy turned one bunny inside out and constructed a few water bags out of its bladder and intestines, which she then filled at the freshwater stream.

She was happy. It was hard not to be.

The pirate lay out in the sun, her storage containers carefully hidden under a fern nearby. She soaked in the rays, smiling. She didn't care about getting to the other island, or doing anything but living. There was no strange technology here, no cars. Nothing she didn't understand. Only her, the wind, the ocean, the sun, and the sand. And survival.

Arlene didn’t think of the women she took as people. She didn’t care to know their name or what they did for a living. Didn’t care for much beyond what she’d learned while staking out her prize, while following them and watching and waiting for the best opportunity to take them. She didn’t look at them as victims either. They were all a part of her grand plan. She’d left the bodies all over the city, adorned with her artwork and faces covered in mud. They could be anyone. They were anyone.

The blonde one that she’d taken wasn’t much of a screamer. That was... disappointing. Usually the good girls broke first. The other women, the broken, tarnished ones. They’d seen more, so it took longer. But this one? This one was surprising. The whore had broken before the good girl in this case. Instead of screaming, the blonde had doled out several threats that first day. There were less threats by the second day. Soon, she would scream just as much as the woman in the room down the hall.

Arlene wasn’t too worried about the friends and family that would supposedly find her and make her pay. No one was looking for a woman. And certainly, no one was looking for her. She lived a quiet life outside of this place. She visited the tea room regularly-there were so many lovely girls there. She walked her dog, ate in diners, made small talk with the neighbors. She was careful not to linger for too long with any of the ladies that she took. The neighbors might start to question things if she wasn’t home by sunset every night like clockwork. She certainly did make it home at that time, only to sneak out yet again so she could keep a watchful eye on her prizes through the night. And then she slipped home just before dawn so everyone could see her leaving in the mornings.

She would break this one too. In the end, they all welcomed oblivion. When she sensed that they were ready to welcome that final departure, she was happy to grant it like the merciful artist that she was.

----

Mary wasn’t sure if she’d been in the dingy room for hours or days. She thought it might have been at least a day or two because her kidnapper had had time to carve up both her arms and had fed her at least a few meals. The Slayer didn’t talk much but seemed to want to take her time with the torture. There was just as much time spent cleaning Mary’s wounds, feeding her, caring for her. And yes, her. It had been a surprise when Mary had gotten the first glimpse of her captor, who was a woman not much older than her. A woman who probably wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of those high society clubs. She was a classic beauty, and her expression was permanently fixed with a cold and remote stare. She never made eye contact with Mary, never made conversation. She only came in the room to carve more intricate designs in Mary’s flesh or to offer meals or medical aid.

Currently, Mary hadn’t seen the woman in awhile. She’d heard screams from somewhere else in the building and she couldn’t help but feel like she should be helping, not tied to a godforsaken chair. She was half-conscious and trying to call up the determination she’d had when she’d first come in, that knowledge that no matter what else happened, the people that mattered the most would hunt this woman down and make sure she didn’t hurt anyone else again. There had been a good amount of hope that they’d find her in time, but Mary was starting to lose hope. She was starting to let her mind wander down the darker path of what might happen to the people she loved if this didn’t have a happy ending. This was going to kill her parents, she knew that. And Johnny. What were the odds of something like this happening a second time to someone he cared for? And Rob. And Cas. There were a lot of people who were very good at blaming themselves and Mary couldn’t help but think that she was letting them all down.

Her head lolled to the side just a bit as she drifted in that half-conscious state, trying to get at least a little sleep before the torture started anew.

It'd not been his intention to find the car. At least not entirely. What information Anna had given Cas regarding this Slayer was useful in aiding their investigation, but he felt a desire to seek Dean out nevertheless. He half-expected their meeting to come to blows, if Dean didn't flat out try to hit him in the first place, but he was fast. And if he wasn't fast enough, one punch would be easy to forgive. He didn't wish to justify anything the other Castiel had done. In fact, none of it could be justified. All he knew was that Dean was his friend and as it was, his friend's future daughter was missing. Cas knew where he needed to be, whether or not his presence was actually wanted.

Yet despite everything, Dean was about as easy to find as Piotr had been. There was going to be only one 1967 Chevy Impala in their current time period. Most people seemed to believe that the car was either from outer space or some kind of 'crackpot conspiracy' item, but the boy who had been taking care of it was amicable enough. He'd been told to wait, so he waited. If Dean came by at the time anticipated, then Cas was content to, though...he still felt that every second mattered. The fact that what he and Anna had investigated thus far had yielded nothing was of little comfort and sleeping was not something he'd partaken in. Which he suspected upset his wife-to-be on some level, but Mary was a Winchester. He may not have been an angel anymore, but he still felt responsible for anyone of that name. Protecting them was still very much a part of his mission.

So he leaned against the side of the car and waited. He stared ahead, unmindful of the fact that it was probably unnerving for the passersby. Time was also of little importance and even days still felt insignificant, despite the fact that his vessel was insistent upon informing him how close to forty years of age it was getting. Not that his career of choice had done anything to spare it from the pains of aging - he suspected his vessel contained more artificial pins than most hunters with the exception of maybe Dean himself. Accidents happened. Increasingly often when a hunter was on pills, but he wasn't going to mention that. Not to this Dean, who as far as he was aware, had every reason to be disdainful.

When he heard the footsteps on the pavement, he looked up and sighed. Prepared for the punch, whether it came or not. "Hello, Dean."

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... )

A day or two after arriving in the world of black and white, Dean still hadn't found Jo. Or Mary.

Or Ellen.

It wasn't that he hadn't tried.

It was that almost everywhere he went, he would run into people that wanted to thank him for serving his country. Or, if he had the Impala with him, people wanted to know all about her. Between that and mentally angsting over Annabelle's powers and wondering exactly when she was going to Chernobyl on everybody, Dean hadn't had a spec of luck finding people he cared about.

After the third hand-shake of thanks and round of questions about his medals and if he'd killed any Japs and Nazis, Dean saw a bar.

It renewed his faith in God, just for a splitsecond.

The sign on the place said THE DUCHESS. Dean didn't care what the hell it said as long as it had some whiskey in it.

"Yep," he said, walking through the door. He was silently telling himself that it was okay to have a drink before continuing the search for Jo and Mary. Shit, he didn't think that Jo would blame him this time. At all. He'd hardly had a moment's peace.

He hadn't slept for more than a few hours. He wanted to hear from Annabelle that she'd learned something, something to keep herself in check. That the Doctor had some kind of answer.

That she'd turned Cavan into a llama.

Something. And he hadn't.

He'd found that his usual clothing bag in the car was full of more military crap, too, so that didn't help anything. Everything had a nametag or a medal on it. He couldn't fucking win.

He sat down at the bar, arched an eyebrow, and without looking at the bartender, asked for a double of the strongest whiskey they had.

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."