The Universe's Mixer

Convenience store, three blocks down. Sam had seen it when he and Dean had driven up, and he figured if he couldn't sleep he wasn't just going to lie there. There was light outside, anyway; close enough to morning. He laced up his shoes, put on his jacket, and slid out of the room quietly to keep from waking his brother. Three minutes later he was walking down the sidewalk, hands deep in his pockets, trying to figure out what was going on so he could then figure out some kind of plan. Sam liked to have a plan. He liked things to make sense.

He wasn't really paying attention to where he was going, which is probably why he almost ran into the Magic Shop's wall when the whole building came out of absolutely nowhere. Sam pulled up short, reaching for a gun he didn't have (oh, brilliant, Sam) and then stopped. Blinked. Stared. He looked left: totally different street. He looked right: was that a park? He looked behind him. Parking lot.

"What the hell?!"

They were posted everywhere, fliers. The newspaper classifieds had a huge ad saying the same thing. There were even little mailings in everyone's mailbox. What were they? What did they say? Who would be so uncaring to kill so many trees? The City, of course, had an idea, just a little test.

The City Community Center is now open!

You can play b-ball with your homies.
You can gab with the gals in the spa.
You can learn to knit, collect stamps, keep yourself busy and not think about killing your cherished loved one.

The City Community Center will be offering the following support groups, more may be added later.

Warriors! Are you worried about your new life in the City? Still feel the blood lust boiling in your veins? Or are all the deaths taking their toll? Come, speak with other people just like you. Don't be ashamed to cry, to share your feelings. Hell, just come to share good war stories; nowhere else in the City will you find people who understand you more than at the Warriors' Support. Who knows, you might even find a job. BYOB.

City Inventors and Brains. The City needs you! That's right. The City needs you. The brilliant minds that are gathered in the City may be able to forge a bright tomorrow for all citizens. Together you will help the world and show exactly how brilliant you really are. Food will be provided.

Ghosts got you glum? Demons dropped you in the dumps? Vampires vivisected your vigor? The Supernatural Survivors' Association is here for you. Even if you haven't experienced something of the supernatural come and meet those who have. Things lurk in the shadows; these people know all about it. Share your experiences and knowledge. What goes bump in the night doesn't have to be such a mystery anymore. Munchies served, but feel free to bring food to share. *Vampires, ghosts, demons, and other supernatural creatures should go to the Spookies R' Us meeting on the fourth floor.*

AA, SA, GA, and other A's have been postponed until further notice.

Hannibal sat in the park with a sketchbook on his lap, a pencil in his hand, and the newspaper at his side. He was simultaneously reading the words and sketching the face that wouldn't leave his mind. The man who had killed him and dozens of other people. Part of him wondered if the man was still out there. Possibly being hunted down by others. He wondered if he should be hunting himself, or letting the man be. There had been no further deaths which wasn't very explainable. A sudden rash of murders followed by nothing.

It smacked of the City's influence.

Another part of him was deciding if he should be concerned about this at all. After all, there were no more deaths, everybody was alive again. He wondered because his mind worked for rationalities first. Even now, after so many months here.

The drawing of the face was really a compromise between the two paths.

Reading the newspaper, Hannibal noted that there seemed to be some help groups popping up for various things. Amusing. He wondered if any of them would like some professional guidance.