The Universe's Mixer

Okay. Dick sat up, blinking into sunlight he hadn't expected to see. He was behind some kind of industrial warehouse; the place was deserted, except for him.

The good news was that he wasn't dead. In fact, that was more than good news, that was the best freaking news Dick had heard in a long time. When a building comes down on your head in the middle of a chemical warfare attack, standing up in good air is a miracle. So he was alive. "...YES!" Fist-pump into the air. Dick was glad to be alive.

Okay, next. He still had his backpack, which had a number of useful things in it along with his mask and uniform. He was still in jeans and a t-shirt, which were only a little dusty. Some minor cuts and abrasions, but no concussion symptoms. With difficulty, he could stand up with the one crutch that seemed to have survived the trip from Bludhaven to here. (Wherever 'here' was. He would figure that out later.)

Dick hobbled around the edge of the warehouse, looking around for anyone who might be able to tell him where he was. He stopped short and stared at a completely unfamiliar skyline--a skyline where he was somehow able to make out Gotham's Clocktower in the horizon. "What the hell?" Dick said, stunned.

After a moment, he kept hobbling, heading for the Clocktower, still mumbling to himself. "What the hell?"

It had been several months since Dean had driven into this world. In the beginning, Dean had tried calling his brother. Tried calling Bobby. He had run into Jo but she pretty much didn't want anything to do with him. At least that was the feeling he got from her. Didn't even get to tell her he was gonna be dying soon by the claws of hell hounds. Not that it would have probably mattered to her.

During his time, he had tried calling Sam over and over. Nearly once a day. Then it trailed down to once a week. Then every two weeks. As each day passed, Dean grew more and more hopeless. And the fear inside him grew more and more. What was happening to his brother. Without him there were Demons taking advantage of that. Like Ruby. Was she drawing out his darker side.

And then there was he himself. Feeling more and more alone. And it was a fear that sometimes gripped him so tightly late at night.

Dean sat in his dingy motel room. Carton of food sitting around, empty beer bottles, some whiskey or tequila. A map of the city was tapped up around the room. Markings upon it. Where he had been. Some hunts. Areas that had changed. Places one couldn't go to get out.

It had been a while since he tried it but now Dean's phone was staring. The black phone laid still, just telling him the time. No missed calls. No messages. Not even when he flipped it open. but when he pressed contacts, he stared at the name on top. "Little Bro." That was all it said.

Dean's thumb hovered over a button that would highlight that name and call it. He stared for a long moment, missing his brother and feeling some hope leave him. Another moment was gonna be taken where his hopes would be dashed and fear could creep into him more.

Dean pushed the button and brought the phone to his ear and wondered if he would get that damn message. 'I'm sorry but the contact you are trying to reach is not available.'