Not Until We Are Lost

The first thing Mary noticed when she came to was that she no longer had a dozen layers of skirts. The second was that she was sleeping on a cot with straps. A look around revealed a poorly lit room that looked like it belonged in some sort of loony bin. A draft played over her and she sucked in a breath as she sat up. A few brown stains suggestive of blood decorated the walls and floor, and she thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

"Well, this feels a little more like home," she muttered to herself.

A quick look around turned up her own supply bag. The simple canvas bag contained a few of her favorite guns, knives, two canisters of salt, a can of spray paint, and three bottles of holy water. There was a small comfort in having her things, but that didn't stop the hair on the back of her neck from standing on edge when an inhuman scream sounded from somewhere else in the building.

She got to her feet and headed out into the hall. She supposed she should be thankful that the lock on the door had rusted over and was easy enough to jimmy open. She also gave a moment of thanks that she hadn't woken up in a straight jacket.

( Read more... )

The sound that had awoken him had not been a pleasant one. At first Bruce figured it was just part of a dream considering how uneasily he slept in this strange world, in this strange bed. Not that this was the first time he had been swept up into a world not meant for him, but this one was far worse. At least the dinosaur-ridden atmosphere was predictable. Predictability lowered the chance for risk, which also lowered the chance that the Other Guy would sprout out unnecessarily. It was easier to fight something one was familiar with when the fortune pushed the tide that direction. But in this case it was like fighting in the darkness against something you could never truly see. He had fought aliens before, but still...that was not by choice. He had not gotten there until much later after the fighting had started and Bruce had never been one to intentionally throw himself into the line of fire with the first strike. No, he was willing to let a scene play out as far as it could, usually, before he got involved.

But that sound...

At first it sounded like a low humming, some noise that reminded him of a swarm of wasps defending their nest. A constant buzzing sound. Once he was awake and knew for sure he wasn't dreaming, Bruce pushed himself out of bed slowly with his head cocked toward the sound. What was that? The unknown was nagging at him because it was a familiar sound...something he could place, and as refreshing as that was it was far too close. It was inside the resort. Right outside the door.

Bruce tensed instantly. Slipping very quietly out of his bed, he pulled on what shoes he could find and grabbed hold of the tire iron he kept next to the bed on the night stand. It offered him little comfort but it was a better tool than what lay beneath the surface of his skin. And it was a much safer alternative. Not that it would fair against a swarm of insects but it was better than nothing at all.

The door to his room opened slowly and when he stepped out into the hallway he saw nothing. The noise had gone as quickly as it had come. That was funny. And unsettling. Not bothering to close the door as he was too caught up in the moment, Bruce tightened his grip on the metal bar in his hand and crept slowly down the hallway. A turn into the next corridor and there was the source of the noise. Giant bees. Almost as large as a basketball and they hovered in a swarm mid-way down the hallway. His eyes widened and he stopped dead in his tracks.

Suddenly a tire iron seemed not so bad a weapon of he could avoid a stinger or two. But it was risky changing in the resort. Too risky. There were too many people that could be sleeping and he had the potential to tear down the entire building in a matter of carefree moments. No, he couldn't change here. He had to find a place to lay low.

A careful step backward, Bruce tried not to make a sound. But then his foot stepped on shards of a broken urn that lay on the floor and instantly the swarm was turning and heading straight for him. Bruce winced and lifted the metal bar, batting at one of the giant insects as it flew straight at him stinger first. This was not a good day to be a man or a bee. One went to the floor, twitching lifelessly. But that seemed to irritate the swarm even more.

Dropping his weapon, Bruce turned and fled back the way he had come. He bypassed the open door to his own room and raced around fallen debris and through corridors. His heart raced as he ran, and he could already feel he energy surging through him that couldn't be mistaken for adrenaline. He only wished it was that tame. The buzzing was growing closer, he could tell, but he didn't look back. Nor could he stop despite the burn in his lungs.

Just as he turned the corner he saw it. The big, beautiful blue police call box. The TARDIS. It was hanging out there as if it were waiting for him and without a moment to spare Bruce rushed the doors, kicked them open and slammed them shut behind himself. His brown eyes burned with neon green and he pressed himself hard against the door in efforts to keep the bees out as well as to catch his breath.

What a hell of a way to wake up.

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.

Sam had spent the first few days on this new planet laying low and seeing what he could learn. He hadn't missed the dinosaurs-who could miss the dinosaurs, after all? He'd made a point to track down as much of his family as he could to make sure that they were safe. It still took some getting used to the idea of having so much extended family around. But truthfully, that just made him happy. He and Dean had never been completely isolated, but this was different. It was a strange sort of family but it was a family all the same. And family was something that Sam had always longed for. Something that he'd gotten from Dean but had never really felt from his dad. Not in the same way.

Today, he decided to venture out a little more. He kept an eye out for Destiny and any of the other new arrivals, but he also just had an eye out for anyone with their group. He was still working on theories about the aliens and how to find their way home and he thought that the more people he heard from on their own experiences, the easier it would be to put the pieces together.

One thing stuck out in particular amidst all the small cabins. Sam couldn't help but notice the blue police box. He tilted his head to study it, wondering at the thing. Oh, he'd heard a little bit about the Doctor from Mary and Jo. Some of it was a little hard to believe, but he trusted them both.

He stood in front of the police box (which wasn't really a police box at all, if Jo and Mary were right) and considered his options. Finally, he lifted a hand to knock on the door.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes.

Mere moments ago, he'd been with Dean and Phaedra and Annabelle, and they'd been on the verge of an important discovery regarding the world they were inhabiting. Now, for the life of him, The Doctor couldn't remember what that was. He knew Dean was still needed, that he'd found something everyone needed and still had it in his possession.

But now, as he looked about the TARDIS, without even opening her doors, he knew they were no longer on that world. You didn't travel through time or space with a Timelord and put one over on him.

No, you did not.

He opened the doors of the TARDIS tentatively, feeling exhausted. Outside, it looked like...

... Tombstone?

Well, maybe not. But something like. He remembered Tombstone, Arizona. Yes, he did. He'd quite liked Wyatt Earp.

His TARDIS was parked next to a general store, and beside her, a horse whined.

"Yes," he said to the horse. "Exactly."

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... )

Something wasn't right in this town. Anna felt the angelic presence and she heard people whispering about feeling something hanging around that shouldn't be there. Something that a person might imagine you could see out of the corner of your eye and yet you would turn and nothing would be there. She paced the small house that she'd received upon her arrival here. The house itself was right near the town wall and it was clear that she was meant to be among the first line of defense if the wall ever were to be breached. She hadn't asked permission in having Cas stay with her. They were a matched set and anyone who wanted her service would have to accept that. Luckily, no one objected to her having a man in her house. And if they had, she was prepared to lie and say that they were already married. They certainly would be soon enough. And even so, they already had a union in all but legality.

She paced the house as she waited for Cas to return. She had various weapons hidden under her clothing and her muscles were tensed for any sign of trouble. She wanted to go out looking for him but resolved to stay put since he was due home any minute now. If he didn't show up within a reasonable amount of time, then she would look.

They also needed to discuss wedding plans. They still needed someone to officiate. Anna didn't much care about this place and it's legal requirements. Instead, she thought that it was important to have someone who knew and understood them personally.

She didn't feel even an ounce of guilt about planning a wedding while there was potentially a rogue angel hanging around. There would always be something and if they waited for a moment when there were no threats, they would be waiting a very long time indeed. And as far as she was concerned, they'd already waited long enough.

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.

It was just so bright.

The Doctor stepped backward, as though to get away from the brightness of the square. It was day time and there were torches at the foot of the platform he stood on, which he quickly realized was a stage. Based on the dress of the people standing there, watching him, waiting for him to do something, the Doctor placed the time period in at least a rough era, and wished he could be more exact with at least a decade, but he could not. Not right this second. Not without using the TARDIS or the Sonic. Not without talking to these people.

"Come on, get on with it!" one of the onlookers shouted. It was a woman with a disapproving face. It seemed, based solely on her expression, that she thought the Doctor stupid.

As he turned to look behind him, the Doctor could not blame her.

A large banner hung behind him, serving as a backdrop for the stage, and it read THE MAGICKAL ACTS OF JOHN SMYTH THE ADEQUATE, with a set of times listed after.

Adequate? That wasn't a ringing endorsement, was it?

Still, the Doctor smiled broadly and decided to enjoy this. "Right then! Pressing on!"

He rubbed his hands together with something like glee. He reached into his coat pocket, noticing that it was an ornate coat, not his leather jacket, and well patched on the inside, as though he'd had it quite some time, and removed the Sonic Screwdriver.

"For my next trick," he said, smirking, "with this wand, I will make that banner back there accurate!"

The Doctor had been nothing short of frustrated the entire time he was on that island. He was glad Rose was alright, but she was far away, and after everything... he had to protect her.

And the others.

That was his job, wasn't it? Why he'd survived the Time War? Why he'd made such great, great sacrifices?

He woke up this time in a fairly posh room, one that looked a lot like...

The Doctor sat up. The TARDIS was in the corner, he was not inside it, yet the room looked like his room inside the TARDIS. On the bedside table, there was his psychic paper and Sonic Screwdriver, and he could see his leather jacked hanging on a hanger off a dresser knob.

Well, at least there was that.

He dressed and grabbed all of his gadgets, patted the TARDIS happily, resolving to thoroughly inspect her shortly, and left the room.

He knew he was on a space ship. Oh, he knew.

Rose was priority one right now. And he head off to find her.

The sun was setting by the time Rose made it back to shore. Carnivorous, territorial fish! Rose had heard of them, but she'd never thought that they'd be in the span of ocean between this island and its twin. Fortunately, they hadn't cared enough to follow her when she got closer to the island where she'd woken. Now the day was nearly done. The sun was slipping toward the horizon, and her skin stung from the saltwater and the wounds. And she still was no closer to finding the Doctor.

There were supplies deeper in the heart of the island; she'd seen them when she went exploring earlier in the day. She was going to get up soon and go back to the cave where she'd seen the first aid kit -- soon. But first, she was going to catch her breath. She was tired, she was frustrated, she was bleeding, and she was absolutely furious. At last, she pulled herself up from where she'd sprawled, wet and hurting, on the beach, and sat up enough to look at the bitemarks on her arms, her ankles and her belly. None of them were going to cause her any problems.

Carnivorous, territorial fish! Daleks, Cybermen, Slitheen, Davros -- those, she could understand. But fish?! Worse, Rose had crossed the barriers between alternate universes before, and she had utterly failed to manage what looked like less than a mile's swim. She didn't used to get so angry, so quickly. It was easier, these days.

A day or two after Annabelle Curry left the TARDIS, the Doctor relocated his ship. It wasn't that the spot he had it was a bad hiding place. It was more that he didn't relish the idea of continually having to explain to those in his group that he was down this alley, past that broken window, and mind you don't get your pocket picked coming in. There were easier places to place the TARDIS.

Now she sat inside the natural history museum where Cavan and Annabelle first found him. Happily, there was a section here about the Allied Forces. Though the TARDIS was still slightly anachronistic, it wasn't by much since the police boxes she was fashioned after had existed since 1877, so he parked her in the England portion of the exhibit. He even made her a plaque in the style of those the museum had. It read as follows:

POLICE CALL BOX OF THE KIND TYPICALLY FOUND IN LONDON. THE CITY CURRENTLY HAS 613. THIS MODEL IS BASED ON THE 1929 MACKENZIE TRENCH DESIGN. A PHONE INSIDE RINGS LOCAL POLICE, AND A FIRE EXTINGUISHER CAN USUALLY BE FOUND INSIDE AS WELL.

With that done, the Doctor started to do some research. He was still looking into things for Annabelle. The girl was going to have a very rough time of it, even with the help of this Simon fellow. She was bright, yes, but the Doctor wanted to speed along her learning. He'd re-visited the holograms in his library and right now was looking at some Shakespearean references to witches. There was something here, he was sure of it, but he couldn't quite pinpoint it.

Outside the TARDIS, the museum was beginning to close for the evening. No matter; the Doctor had rigged a window near his beloved Queen Elizabeth that enabled him to come and go as he pleased. Tonight he might pop in on Phaedra, see how she was doing.

He set down the book he'd been reading and left the library, making his way back to the control room.

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.

There was a cup of coffee on the counter by The Doctor's hands.

He arched an eyebrow; last he knew, last he remembered, he'd been speaking to an alien being in the middle of a room full of other people. He'd been asking it questions, and then...

... And then coffee.

He narrowed his eyes at his hands, too. The wrists didn't have a leather jacket on them anymore. There was instead a deep brown suit, and a crisp white shirt. There were silver cufflinks poking out, and they were shaped--hilariously--like tiny TARDISes. The Doctor felt for his neck, and found the knot of silk there that indicated a tie. There was a vest under the suit jacket, too. And a fedora hat on the counter next to him.

He thought quickly and reached inside his suit jacket, happy to find the psychic paper, TARDIS key, and sonic screwdriver inside. He sighed in relief, and looked around.

The music playing in here indicated a real record player, and everyone--EVERYONE--was dressed like he'd just travelled back in time.

To the 1940s.

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.

Despite his overwhelming joy at having Anna returned to him, Cas had not forgotten that there was a mission at hand. He'd promised Mary he would assist her in finding her father and though his investigations had yielded nothing in regard to Dean, he'd taken to observing the people of the area they were in as carefully as possible. From what he could tell, they behaved as similarly to humans as might any other humanoid species, yet their complacency was somewhat troubling.

For one, they saw nothing out of the ordinary regarding the various happenings at night, nor did they seem inclined to do anything about it. To them, the pagan celebrations their entire culture seemed centered around were nothing short of commonplace. He did not understand the planet and the more he attempted to investigate, the less he found in the relevant sense. If anything, he'd gotten better at spotting others who were displaced like him, but in regard to finding Dean, that would not be helpful. As it was, he'd already covered the block twice and had asked as many people as possible if they'd seen a man by the name of Dean Winchester.

Talking to people however...that had never been one of his personal strengths. Were there not some necessity to speak with others in order to find his missing friend, he likely would have avoided it entirely, but he saw little choice. The man in question he at least recognized - Cas had seen him once before on the cruise liner and had even spoken with him regarding the hellhounds. He remembered him being addressed as 'The Doctor,' yet with no other title. Cas didn't claim to understand it, but the name itself was of little import. He only needed to remind himself that it would likely be best to approach this man as if they had not met before. After all, he doubted this was the same Doctor as the one he'd encountered.

Walking up to the other man, Cas stared at him blankly, meeting his eyes. It never occurred to him that such an act could be considered unsettling. "Excuse me," he said. "You...were brought here, yes? Displaced from your point in time just as many of us were? If you don't mind, there is something I need to ask you."

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."

The days were starting to blend into each other. Save for that one hunt with Johnny which had been more than a little bizarre and awkward. Mary wasn't avoiding him exactly, but she was giving the situation space. She hadn't stopped by with lunch for the past few days. Instead, she spent her days searching the town for any leads, sometimes visiting the shooting range. Some days she just sat in the bar all day. It was a hell of an existence and she was getting very very twitchy. She wasn't used to staying in the same place for this long and she didn't like it.

Today was a bar day. She'd slept in, gotten lunch, and then headed over to the bar in the late afternoon. She planned to keep her ear to the ground for any hint of something that might be a lead, and she also planned to get drunk enough that she didn't remember that she was in the wrong decade with younger versions of her parents, and a version of her boyfriend (or whatever she could call him) that was exactly the same damn age as he would be over 30 years into the future, and most of all-that she'd forget that she couldn't just pick up the phone and call her sister. She couldn't go home and find Ellen there. Ellen was still missing, after weeks of searching.

Mary flipped through the selection in the jukebox. She wasn't all that put off by the fact that there was nothing in there from her time, that it was all oldies. Mary had been raised to appreciate the classics after all.

She cued up a few songs that might have made her dad proud and then settled into a back booth with a newspaper and a drink. It was still weird reading a physical newspaper instead of getting her news on her smartphone or at an internet kiosk, but she didn't have that phone here. The best she had was a crappy burner cell.

About halfway through the paper, Mary found an article that caught her attention. It was a short blurb, something about people turning up in some place called Electric City. The thing of it was, people were turning up with some sort of amnesia and no identification. That caught her attention. Maybe it was nothing, but maybe-just maybe-it was something. She finished the blurb and then flipped through the pages, swearing out loud when she realized that that was all there was to the article.

"Well that's not very helpful at all."