Reality Crisis

The first thing that came to his attention was that this was Earth, but it was not Earth as he knew it. Timelines were distorted. People, places...it made no sense to him. And though there was snow on the ground, it was difficult even for him to tell when or exactly where he was placed. The city outside was different from any that he'd ever been in previously and it was sectioned off. There were not traces of Croatoan that he could detect, but it was more disconcerting that considering how they'd deterred the Apocalypse indefinitely, there was no need for this. They'd changed the future and yet...this was neither future nor past. Unless his Grace was damaged, he was not where he was supposed to be.

Opening his wings, he teleported himself within the city with ease and looked around. He did not feel weaker. Whatever had been done to improve him was still intact, but while there were signs of life, this was...strange. Different. He could single out any soul he pleased, but there was a distortion around it. Sam was here. And Dean. He could feel it, but to make contact now...Castiel was uncertain of whether or not he was meant to. If this was a distortion within the timeline and Heaven had nothing to do with it, then clearly something else did. And if that was the case, Sam and Dean could wait.

As for the alleyway he was in, it was devoid of life, save for a few rats. He could see no reapers, and though he had yet to decide whether that was preferable or not, he was willing to reserve judgment. And he did sense the person behind him also. Their soul was bright enough. And at that close a range, it was easy to discern.

"I know you're there," he rasped bluntly, turning around. "If I may ask, I would like to know what this place is now."

Back home, weddings might have taken months of planning and putting things together. Sam didn't much care for the idea of waiting. Not in a world that could just as easily rain death on you at a moment's notice. He loved Fred and he wanted to marry her.

She'd asked for a wedding in the fairy forest and while Sam didn't love that idea, she had a point about getting married somewhere that still looked alive and mostly untouched by the devastation that was everywhere you looked in this world.

They weren't too far in the forest. Just far enough in that they couldn't see the ruins, but not so far that they were in the very heart of faerie territory.

Sam had managed to scrounge up clean clothes that were nicer than his every day clothes. He hadn't found a suit, but he did have a nice button-up shirt, a jacket, and some slacks. Some of the locals had been excited to give clothes that had long since been forgotten in closets because they weren't practical. Weddings were a happy occasion and die Festung didn't get to see enough happiness.

Sam thought it was nice that even amidst all of the destruction, life still went on. That was why this day was important. Even if legal marriages weren't a thing anymore. Even if this was a symbolic ceremony, it was still important.

He loved Fred and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Even if the rest of his life was only a few more days or years, and even if it might be decades. He thought that it was important to stop and acknowledge that and celebrate it. Because this was the sort of thing that made it all worth fighting for.

Sam tugged at his collar as he stood in between Dean and Cas and waited for Fred to make her appearance. There was a little case of nerves as he worried that maybe the bride would have second thoughts and wouldn't show. He did his best to dismiss that paranoia and watched the small opening in the trees for any sign of his future bride.

Castiel knelt on the curbside, coat splayed around himself, squinting intently at a bug crawling slowly across the sidewalk. He'd seen bugs before, of course, but this one seemed to be a bit deformed, with a large growth on one side that made it difficult to walk. Castiel had been watching the bug for a few days, now, having found it in the forest on one of his makeshift pilgramages.

The growth had been smaller then, but it still impeded the bug's ability to take care of itself. So Castiel had brought it here, into the city, and laid it out near the grass. Still it had come over this way, away from the environment that should have offered it shelter.

He tilted his head, trying to work out just what would make a sick insect run around in the open daylight.

Castiel wasn't pleased. He wasn't pleased at all. He moved through the cities of New Troy and die Festung, invisble to everybody, evesdropping on conversations with the Chosen he found. More and more he was hearing whispers of others falling unconcious for seemingly no reason and waking up fifteen minutes later. But, unlike his own experience (when he simply fell from the sky and cratered in the ground till he woke up), most others seemed to have had dreams, or visions. Lifelike indications of some distant future. These humans, who had much shoter lifespans, all had futures.

Why didn't he?

He'd continued to wander, trying to ignore the obvious conclusion. Before he came here he would never have suspected his ability to die without angelic blades or a big brother coming to end him, but this world had made him feel incredibly... mortal. At least in comparison to what he was before.

Castiel hated that feeling, and now was working with a small voice in the back of his mind, making him fearful and stressed. He despised that voice, and the fact that he was succumbing to it emotionally on some level.

The language was full of quirks - this English. Peter was a good teacher, and she'd learned quite a bit more from the very few books she'd laid hands on. Still, this world was a far cry from the last time she'd woken. Then, it'd been Egypt, Sumer, and Akkad that had been in prominence. And, Leeloo thought to herself, she'd been on Earth. This world - this nameless planet - was not a place she knew. The stars were unfamiliar, and that was saying quite a bit. She still retained her Mondoshawan knowledge of the stars, and these constellations were nothing like what she could recall.

Her ravenous desire for knowledge drove her out of the building designated for the Chosen. The cold of winter was on her quickly, even through the layers she'd tugged on over her head. But stronger still was the need to know what this world was about.

Leeloo spent the day exploring the rag-tag city, talking with whoever would stop, putting her hands into the work of whatever citizen would allow her to touch. She'd built fences, she'd hung laundry, she'd pounded a strange grain in a quern -- and all while voraciously devouring the bits of information the citizens would give her. Apocalyptic change. Fractures in reality. Fiction taking form. The Chosen, the hope of redemption and the fear of destruction combined. Those creatures just past the wall. Belia. 75%.

As the sun slid down past the great wall around the city, Leeloo found herself picking her handholds up, up, until she had climbed the wall itself, until she stood on the parapet, overlooking the forest. She knew a little of the things that were within those woods. She didn't understand, yet, if the creatures were of this world or another, but they were dangerous. A threat to this city. Her mouth thinned, and her eyes darkened. It seemed that something needed to be done. Arms crossed, she stood close to the edge and looked down.

Cas didn't know what to do with Dean. He'd been drunk and angry for some time now, locked away in the apartment, and though the angel had tried to give him space at first he'd eventually felt awkward enough standing in Sam's old room to avoid Dean that he'd gone out to ask what was wrong. Dean hadn't liked that at all, either, and after some rather harsh words the angel had left to find Sam.

He hadn't said much to the younger Winchester. After all, he didn't know much, so after popping up next to the human he'd simply said "Dean is in trouble" and teleported them back to Dean and Cas' living room.

He let go of Sam, then moved back towards a wall, putting his hands in his pockets and watching, waiting to see where and how he could help.

Murphy carried her sword everywhere now, even though the burden of the title that she'd accepted weighed her down in some ways. The sword was necessary and as it was the only one of its kind in this world, she wasn't sure that there was anyone else to wield it. She still wasn't sure that she was the best person for the job and she still felt a little lost as to what her 'calling' was here.

She had a role to play and the sword had a role to play, she knew that much. But that didn't mean that she was certain of what those roles were.

Not that there had been much time to mull things over lately. When it wasn't library demons, it was mutants with far too much power, or spells that caused selective amnesia and brought new meaning to the term 'young at heart.'

It was even less often that they had something to celebrate. Murphy still wasn't sure that the cold front that had settled in over night was something to celebrate, but what did she know? She wandered through the streets, trying to find her bearings amidst the festivities. Whatever her feelings on the snow, it was nice to see children laughing and playing and it was nice to feel a lighter mood throughout the city.

Eric was soaked to the bone from the torrent of rain that had been pelting the Earth almost mercilessly since his re-awakening, but he knew that eventually it would cease, because it couldn't rain all the time, could it? He wondered, breifly, what the world would be like if it rained all the time, if the Earth itself flooded and everything was gone. It was that thought that made him smile a little, despite the circumstances, because that would mean at least that his enemies would be vanquished and that he could finally rest in peace. However, losing them to a flood wouldn't be soothing to him at all, not when they had taken so much of his blood and so much of his heart, he had to be the one to kill them all, only then would he be able to rest. With a shrill caw, Eric was snapped instantly out of his daydream, tilting his head up for a moment, so that he was looking up at the sky, allowing the rain to pour over him. He stood, arms extended outwards, almost as if he were welcoming the rain itself, eyes closed against the droplets that splashed his face, his hair and his clothes.

"I will be home soon.." He breathed, talking to Shelly, whom was long since in Heaven above, finding the idea that he would be joining her there soon to be thrilling. He was ready, and there was only one thing standing in his way. Top Dollar. The last of the pack of thugs that was responsible for this mess they had all gotten themselves into. They deserved what was coming, each one of them, and Eric was going to make sure that even Top Dollar felt the effects of what he had done, the pain he had caused. The Crow had seen Top Dollar and Myan sneak into an old, massive church in the city, and that was where Eric would be headed, for the final confrontation.

Lowering his arms to rest at his sides, Eric tilted his head back to it's original position, opened his eyes and peered at the street, before moving forwards, following the path that the crow had seen and laid out for him. It wouldn't be too long before he would be able to find peace and be reunited with his love. The heels of his boots clicked against the pavement as he ran, almost sprinting in the darkness, though never missing a beat. He approached the church, pausing on a corner of the street diagonal from it, looking at the dark, hulking form of the sanctuary, one that was now so tainted by blood and evil. The Crow cawed loudly, flapping it's wings to urge Eric onwards, and so he stepped out into the street, approaching the door. A wide grin was spread out on his lips, black with grease paint that was being smeared by the rain, stepping up onto the sidewalk that housed the large church, before approaching the doors. The large, black bird swooped downwards, landing easily on one of Eric's shoulders, as Eric's fingers curled around a large brass knob on one of the double doors, pulling it open. Without a second thought, Eric stepped over the threshold, but instead of seeing rotting pews and shards of broken stained glass windows, Eric found himself surrounded by snow. The doors to the church slammed shut behind him, causing the crow to caw in surprise, though Eric wasn't swayed. He looked at the snow, finding it pure and untouched save a few spots that had been disturbed by some unknown creature that had passed by that exact same spot but had veered to the left suddenly.

Had he blacked out and finished his fight? Was this what Heaven looked like?

Eric paused, looking up at the star-filled sky, feeling a little anxious, before throwing his head back and emitting a laugh that sounded half crazed, and perhaps it was. He was, after all, some place that he shouldn't be, and how he got there, he had no idea. All he knew, was that this was keeping him from his goal. When his laughter ceased, he looked around once more, hoping that maybe he might find someone, anyone, out in the wilderness.

"Maybe you should find us a place to go..." Eric said softly, prompting the crow to lift from his shoulder and take to the sky, soaring off to find a place that was habitable, some place safe to sit through the night. Eric didn't sleep, nor did he require food, he was almost perfect, except for the fact that he still had metaphorical blood on his hands that needed cleaning, and that he could no longer fight the last battle he needed.

What a shame.

He stood there for a moment, before turning around slowly, looking at the spot he had come through, lifting a pale hand up, touching at the air. All he could do was hope that the door he had walked through was still there...it had to be, but of course all he felt was nothing...just the air itself, which was discouraging. He frowned, and sighed, looking at his surroundings once more, seeing only a vast sea of white. He turned once more, the way he had been facing before, and waited to see if his friend was able to spot any sort of civilzation. Perhaps they could tell him what exactly was going on here, and most importantly, how to get back home. He had to finish what they had started, and he was determined not to let this world stand in his way.

Castiel wandered through the streets of die Festung, visible to all and taking in the sights from as human a perspective as he could. Since he'd moved in with Dean he'd decided to try to act more like a resident of the City, instead of teleporting from outlook to outlook like he was used to. Belia and her guards could do nothing to him, really, so what was he worried about?

He noticed a few people walking around with what looked like granola bars. He paused, wondering why he hadn't seen them around before, and quickly located a vendor who was distributing them. With Dean's encouragement he'd been trying more different foods, never taking too much (since he didn't technically need it) but enjoying the experimentation.

Without asking he was handed a bar, and he looked at it. The wrapper promised energy, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, was it?

Walking a few steps away to avoid the crowd Castiel opened the bar and tasted the snack. It wasn't bad, and he finished the entire bar quickly, disposing of the wrapper in a nearby trash bin. He made it almost a full ten feet before an odd sensation swept over him.

For a moment he thought it might be the energy the bar promised, but before he could even really debunk that with the argument that as an angel physically he was incapable of being affected by so small an amount... something changed. He barely noticed, and all of a sudden he certainly didn't care.

He looked around, suddenly noticing a group of boys kicking around an old ball in a clearing. He hesitated just a moment, then jogged over, stopping and breathlessly watching them for a moment.

When they noticed him they stopped as well, and one of the older boys (he couldn't be much older than Cas was himself, right?), smirked. "What d'ya want, old man?" he asked. The others laughed. Cas frowned, confused. He wasn't old. Well, ok, maybe he was... but not really. Not just because of his vessel, right?

"Can... can I play?" he asked hesitantly. The initial mocking was hindering his earlier enthusiasm, and he felt nervous. What if they didn't like him? What if they didn't want him to play, thinking he was stupid or incapable or ugly somehow?

"Can you, in all that?" the boy retorted with a laugh, then turned and resumed the game. Cas blinked in confusion at the answer, and his hands went to his chest and he looked down, at the coats, the nice shirt, the tie and the shoes... everything. Why was he wearing so much?

The angel shrugged off his trench coat, then the suit jacket, pulling off his tie and then the white button up and carelessly dumping them on the ground in a pile. Now only dressed in a short sleeved undershirt, his pants, and dress shoes, the angelic youth jogged into the game, soon laughing aloud with the rest as he played keep away with the other boys.

Castiel's eyes narrowed as he examined the large rodent creature that others here seemed to call rouses, for some unknown reason.

The angel's head tilted as he watched it walk through the woods. If the one of the guards came along they would have scared it away or shot it by now, but Castiel wasn't one of die Festung's guards and could kill it as easily as leave it alone. And he was curious, so he let it live for the moment.

He wondered where it had come from, if it had been created by the God that had abandoned this planet or if it was purely a product of something akin to the "evolution" humans back home touted.

He wondered if all rouses were vicious and rabid, or if perhaps there was a colony of them somewhere that were more indifferent to people.

Hands in his pockets Castiel stood, completely motionless, thinking these thoughts to himself. It wasn't like most people around here responded well to those types of questions or ideas anyway. Usually he just got odd looks and grunts before they walked away. Most of the time if he noticed guards coming around on their patrols he didn't even bother allowing them to see him. He just went invisible and quietly let them walk by while he focused on whatever had his attention.

He paused, feeling a change internally. He knew innately that it was Dean. Something was wrong... very wrong.

The angel's expression hardened and he teleported back to Dean's place. He had been giving the man a lot of room recently, mainly because Dean seemed to want it. But Castiel could sense that the other was in a lot of pain, and so he went to him.

He frowned when he saw the condition Dean was in, wondering why he hadn't detected something going on earlier. Then again, most of what he picked up he felt when Dean experienced it. And Dean didn't commonly pay attention to injuries as they were inflicted, or while he was still in trouble. Castiel felt a rush of irritation as he looked at the state of the Winchester, then concern for Sam, who'd almost definitely be just as rough. But there wasn't much to be done now, so instead he walked over.

"What happened?" he asked. The first words he'd spoken to anybody in days. He hadn't been overty social recently.

Dean stretched out in the backseat of his baby. He petted the top of the front seat; it wasn't a motion of lust or anything remotely "deviant." The touch was familiar. There was something soothing about the Impala; it was home. The fact that when he raced in to the garage to housing it he saw two good sized tanks with a nozzle usually found on at a gas pump and bottles of oil and cleaner helped him. He hadn't expected to be able to ever drive his baby again without a good eal of retrofitting. He wasn't ready for that.

So, there he was, petting the seat, humming some hairband tune. He was comfortable. He wondered about Sam, but he was okay for now. The big freak was hanging with his little freakette. That was why he'd taken the time to become reacquainted with the car of his dreams.

"Cas." That was all he'd send out to the world. He didn't know if the angel was there, if he'd even noticed that Dean was gone, but the hunter would check on the feather brained wonder anyway. Partly because he needed to know that Cas was still around.

Jonathan kicked out at his opponent, yelping slightly as his ankle was grabbed, growing his body backwards with the thrust from his opponent, forcing his body to flip, wincing as his wrist twisted, taking his weight painfully before he landed on his feet.

He crouched down, sweeping his leg to knock the man off of his feet, throwing himself out of the way as the man countered by trying to stomp on his leg and break it. He rolled to his feet, punching out with his left hand while blocking the sickle that was aiming for his neck with his right hand, hissing in pain as the blade bit into his skin, leaving a long cut. “Cheater, you said no weapons,”

“I said no weapons for you, not for me,” Thomas said, smirking at his boss.

( Read more... )

Castiel hadn't participated in the cleaning of the dead reptiles, nor had he done much more than look around since the rain stopped. He was still trying to understand what had happened, but all he was picking up from his movements were all of the rumors circling around. Most of it was nonsense and useless, though a few hit on plausible explanations, but whenever Castiel listened further he realized they were just speculating like the others.

It was frustrating, and quickly grew tiresome, and before long Castiel's mood had plummeted again to where it had been before he'd spoken to Piotr and renewed his sense of purpose.

Castiel didn't feel like seeking out the large human again, though. Piotr wasn't a bad man, but there was no pull towards him either. He wasn't somebody Castiel knew or had a history with. Dean wasn't really an option for a mood boost either, since he was still aggravated over the scaley rain. The angel didn't assume Sam was any better, and Fred was probably with him.

The angel's thoughts then turned to one of the few others in this world who he knew and had something more than a chance encounter with. He hadn't seen Jack in a while, not since they'd parted ways. He couldn't remember very clearly how they'd left, he'd been too distracted by the return of his voice and the implications of his time as human to pay attention to his verbal communication with the man. Still, he thought they'd been aimiable, and with nobody else to talk to Castiel's mind was quickly made up.

He teleported to Jack's room in die Festung, keeping himself invisible at first. He found the man sleeping; looking and, after a quick lean in and sniff, smelling like he'd committed to a rather long night of drinking. Castiel made himself visible, standing patiently as he waited for Jack to wake up, though after a moment he remembered doing something similar to Dean and nearly being shot for his trouble. The bullet hadn't worried him, but Dean had given him a rather sound verbal lashing afterwards that made him think Jack wouldn't appreciate a similar sight on waking up.

The angel thought for a moment, then reasoned that their interactions warranted a more familiar presence and sat down on the bed near Jack's chest, hands folded neatly in his lap. He remembered that beds were places of less clothes, but since he wasn't and had no reason to be in the blankets he didn't bother removing any of his.

As he sat his mind wandered he stared into the wall (instead of at Jack, something else Dean had instructed him on indirectly), and he unhappily found himself stuck once more on the problem of his father being gone.

Oliver had always been a light sleeper. He'd had to be, considering the life of his alter-ego. He had to be ready to wake up and fight if someone discovered his identity, or was just stupid enough to break into his apartment. But this morning, he'd awakened suddenly at the sound of a dull thud. And then another. And another after that.

Feeling confused, he sat up on the sofa, wondering why he'd fallen asleep there instead of in his bed, but quickly forgetting his train of thought when he heard another dull thud from above. He frowned, looking upward and then pausing when he caught a glimpse outside his window. He was pretty sure he'd just seen a couple of snakes and a toad fall past. And then another couple.

Blinking, he made his way to the window, looking down at the ground. Sure enough, hundreds of reptiles and amphibians were crawling all over the ground; others had simply splattered. He rubbed a hand over his face, wondering if he was still asleep and having some kind of bizarre dream.

But no. He was pretty sure he was awake.

He strode quickly toward the door to his apartment and made his way down the steps and into the lobby of the complex, staring out. They were everywhere.

"Well, this can't be good," he muttered.

After the discussion with Owen about beaches and what water might be out there, Piotr had become determined to find some. He refused to believe that the entire world that they were on was devoid of water. He knew that venturing out by himself might be dangerous with the zombies he'd been told about, but he was still confident that any biting would be tempered by his steel.

He'd yet to be told otherwise.

Piotr set out early one morning, setting aside the entire day for his search. He wasn't foolish about it though, he transformed before leaving. Not only would it give him protection, but when covered in his steel, he didn't need to eat or drink, or breathe, or rest. It was perfect all around for the environment he was going to be in.

His walk took him much further from the fairy forest than he had thought it would, but he was eventually rewarded with a lake. In the middle of all the devastation, it was a beautiful sight. Peaceful waters stretching out over the land. He couldn't tell if it was contaminated or not, and wasn't really willing to risk testing it himself. But he bottled some in an empty metal tube he'd constructed before he left, and squeezed the top of it firmly shut. Maybe Ragged Lady could tell, or her partner.

Looking around, and feeling pretty sure that he was safe, Piotr transformed back and had a seat on a rock. He wanted to spend some time here, just looking. He'd learned many things, some of which were very troubling, and he needed time to think.

After his rather... unsettling encounter with Fred, Castiel had gone off once again. He was determined to find Heaven, or some sign of his brothers, but so far he couldn't find even a hint of them.

Finally returning to the city walls he looked around. He hadn't spent the night with anybody since he'd regained his powers, in truth he hadn't kept much track of the time either. He was aware, however, that he hadn't spoken with Sam since whatever had happened in the tent. And he was feeling almost guilty about upsetting Fred again, though that seemed to be the only way he left her lately. Perhaps speaking to Sam would give him insight on the matter, seeing as he and the young woman were somehow closer.

He took himself to Sam and Dean's living room, looking around the small apartment and listening to see if Sam was there or not.

Castiel looked at Fred, watching her in the camp, still invisible for the moment. He’d been to see her after he spoke with Dean, but she and Sam had been speaking and seemed like they needed privacy, so the angel had instead left to look over the world. He’d been to the other main City, watching the people there, then attempted to locate any of the Heavens, his brothers, or any sign of God here. He’d come up with nothing in his initial search, but he hadn’t quite given up yet. There had to be something, after all.

Still, he had more human things to tend to first, Fred and Sam being high on that list. He stepped forward, letting his physical self become visible, only realizing at the last moment that he wasn’t sure what to say to Fred. He wanted to thank her, but when they’d last seen each other things had seemed tense. He wasn’t sure why, and therefore didn’t know to to apologize. Or if the apology should come before the thank you. Or if he should thank her at all and just focus on figuring out what he’d done wrong and then make up for it.

Human interactions were too complicated, and it seemed like the more he got involved with them the more confused he was getting.

( ---- )

After finding all of his clothing and putting it on Castiel immediately returned to the campsite, appearing stealthily and moving through the tents until he found Dean. He was patrolling the perimeter of the camp, much as he had done before.

He appeared to Dean at his side, looking the man up and down briefly.

"Dean," he spoke the name to announce his presence, and the return of his ability. Perhaps take one more thing off the hunter's mind, even though he knew the man would probably only want him to go to Sam and heal him, or do something else that Castiel no longer had the ability for. Still, there was always a chance that something else had come up in the mean time. Something Castiel could help with.

The morning after his confusing encounter with Fred had started off well. First he'd been approached and presented with his own clothes, washed now, and he'd changed back into them to return the uncomfortable pants and shirt to their original owner. Then, with the little old woman and him both working fervently, Castiel's work mending the camp's fabric goods had actually ended for the day fairly in the mid morning. But afterwards he hadn't been sure what to do and had been standing, looking around in confusion when a group of the camp members recruited him to help carry some goods into the city.

He'd been resistent at first, not wanting to leave without letting Fred know and not really having seen her since they both seemed uneasy around each other, but the old woman had promised to let her know where he'd gone and he'd finally relented, returning to the city he'd glimpsed when he'd arrived. He carried quite a bit, maybe a little more than he should have, but he didn't complain and when they'd gotten past the armed guards the traders had told him to leave them be until they were ready to head back before nightfall. They didn't seem to like him much and he didn't want to be in the way, so he'd gone, walking through the city aimlessly.

He wasn't in the mood to be curious. He was unhappy that things with Fred seemed to have gone bad, he'd upset her somehow. And Sam was still invisible to him, in that tent with the magic folk, and he'd barely glimsped Dean since they'd gotten to the camp. It was very frustrating and hard for the angel, who only wanted to know what was going on, but now he wasn't even able to teleport himself someplace else to think on things without upsetting anybody, waiting to be called in to help. Or working out how to get his voice back.

No, he was here, in this dreary looking town. All of the buildings looked similar, except one, and he meandered towards it out of required curiosity. Getting closer revealed the place to be a bar, and as he stood in front of it he contemplated whether or not he should enter. Then again, he had nothing better to do, and a drink might get his mind off things. After all, Dean seemed more or less able to cope with things he probably shouldn't, usually by downing copius amounts of alcohol.

Castiel entered the small place, ignoring the few patrons and going to the bar, sitting and looking at the bottles of liquid behind the bar as the bartender approached and asked him what he wanted. Castiel looked towards a man drinking something dark next to him and pointed to it, and the bartender seemed to understand.

It wasn't much longer after that that Castiel was two glasses in, staring blearily at the half of the third in front of him. He was definitely feeling the effects of the booze, but he wasn't sure if it was making him feel better about things or worse. He just felt... light.

Fred hadn’t wanted to bother the sleeping man, and had she known he was out not long after he had gone down, she probably wouldn’t have stayed out of the tent so long. It was near midnight, or so she guessed, when she finally decided to go inside. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but then she didn’t think Sam or Dean would bother with someone who wasn’t a good guy. No, they wouldn’t do that; they dealt in only good guys when they weren’t trying to put down the bad ones. Or sort of bad ones. She didn’t know if they were the type of do gooders who believed in only good and evil.

She sighed softly, the second bedroll tucked under her arm. The boots were set just inside the tent. She got a little too familiar perhaps with the silent sleeping man’s feet; he shoudn’t sleep with those shoes on, not in the tent. Fred would explain in the morning. She blinked at the way the sleeping bag had been unzipped, nudging it a little to open it back up. Then she unrolled the bedroll, nudging off her shoes before she pulled her feet in to the tent.

With a glance at the sleeping man, he was almost an angel in his sleep, she nodded to herself and pulled the covers over both of them. She didn’t snuggle in to him, just curled up somewhat close and breathed slowly to get her mind to rest and relax. Now she just had to hope that she’d wake up alive, not dead. ( Before vampires, she had actually thought that waking up dead was impossible. )