What happened

Dr. Stephen Strange, M.D.
177A Bleecker Street
Greenwich Village, The City

Doctor Strange didn't realize he had a mailbox until the letter came for him. It was postmarked from The City Council building, and looked ominously like something he didn't want to read. He'd seen similar letters to this one from his college years. All official on the outside, informative on the inside, and always leaving the reader with a begrudging sense of dread for what would come in the following weeks. But it was illegal not to read them, correct? And the last thing Strange wanted was to be imprisoned in a bizarre new world for not opening a document from the local government.

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There was nothing to do but worry about John. The only bit of action they'd had since being in The City was there little encounter with Progo, as strange as that was, but since then? Nothing. And so the Winchester boys were left with endless time to worry about their dad. They had yet to find a way out of this place, but were still working on that. Hopefully John was okay. Actually, Dean was sure his dad was okay, it was more him wanting to be with him and working again. It'd been 24 years since he'd had a home, and honestly? He hated it. He was restless, and it was rare that he was in that apartment more than four hours while he was awake.

Like right now. Dean was looking for something, ANYTHING to do. Lately he'd resorted to girl watching across the street from the school, but he realized how creepy that was and looked for something better to do.

Too bad he couldn't think of anything. He lifted his arm too look at his watch, and smirked, reaching into the small bag of popcorn he'd gotten from a corner store on his way. 12:15pm, a half a day of classes for the college level students was over, and the show would be begin.

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