The Universe's Mixer

Goals.

Jesse had some goals.

Find Buffy.
Find Zoe.
Find the kids who had been in the church.
Find the person who had bitten him.
Find out how all of this had happened.

Maybe not in that order. And once he got outside, it became clear to him just how difficult these plans were going to be. There wasn't the chaos of the undead out in the world outside his apartment, but the chaos of trying to recover. People were cleaning up the mess and trying to get back to life as usual.

It still amazed him quite a bit that the home-spun citizens of this place didn't think anything was weird. They took everything in stride. Went along with it. Went about their business. Accepted everything that the City did as the norm. They looked at you funny when you asked why the streets moved. And the oddest part about that? They didn't seem to be mindless drones. They were just like every day average people. They just happened to live in the most fucked up place ever.

He was headed back toward the church first. It seemed to be the right place to go.

Hannibal headed up the hill to the place he'd called home since he got here. Bates Motel. It still didn't feel right to stay at Lady Murasaki's flat, though it was there, and it remained his. It hadn't ever been occupied by anybody else. The key still fit the door. The motel managed to feel better. Fit his style more. Somehow, it made him feel at home.

The crossing over the line, taking him into the black and white realm of Norman and Mother. It was something that managed to sooth him. Put him at ease. And what he needed right now was ease. He'd been a zombie. He'd lost River, yet again. He'd had to talk to that insufferable Wilson, who was now his boss. What else could possibly go wrong?

He did manage to notice something different on his way up.

The office lights were on. They hadn't been on in a very long time. Norman had been taken out of the City, and Hannibal had been left without his companion. It had been a rather sad time, but he'd managed to get past it. Now that the light was back on, he couldn't help but change his direction and have a look.

One could only hope that it was Norman and not somebody else that had taken over the place. And one could only hope that this Norman was the same Norman and would remember him. Hannibal wasn't quite in the mood to start from the beginning.

He approached the desk and tapped the bell lightly.

Karen sat at the secretary's desk at the place where she supposedly worked, Ghostbusters somethingorother. There weren't a lot of phone calls coming in, and those that did went straight to voicemail. Or at least, they went there when Karen pushed the ignore button on the phone. That button was the best thing that had ever been invented, in her opinion.

She was doing her nails. Might as well get something done while at work. The paper filing was being ignored. She was pretty sure she'd said something about not doing that sort of thing. Also not doing windows. She might have also told him that she didn't answer the phone, but he would figure that one out in time.

There was a coffee mug on the desk near her. Previously it would have held vodka. Now it held nothing. The scent of the alcohol was still strong enough to bring back wistful memories. But there was no reason for having it anymore. She couldn't drink it. Looking at it wouldn't get her anything.

Karen sighed.

God, work was so boring.

After all that had happened in The City in the past month or so, it was any wonder that her mind lingered on the visit that she was about to make. The scar on her face had healed, leaving an angry red scar. He still didn't know what had happened as far as she knew, although there were probably pictures involved. She needed to talk to Bruce. More than anything, she needed a friend.

She arrived at the manor and walked up to the door. Ringing the doorbell she could only hope that he was at home.

Alfred opened the door, and as always, showed no surprise that she was there. Alfred let her know that Bruce was in and showed her to the library. And there she sat, waiting for Mr. Wayne to arrive.

Dean looked about. His jacket pulled tight to him as the snow kept falling. It was getting deep in some areas and well, he was personally scared for his car. Not because he couldn't drive in the snow, it was the others. Leaving her parked in an alley was the best bet these days. No on skidding into her.

He passed by some kids, playing in the snow. They were screaming and one threaten to hit him with a snowball. "Oh, no, hold on kid. You really don't want to do that." He informed them. He started walking on when he was hit by the snowball anyway.

Dean felt ice and flakes going down his back and he jerked to shake it off then whipped around. The kids started running. Dean bent and gathered snow up, packing it good and tossing it. Except his aim was not quite right.

The ball of snow was a little high, sailing over the kid's head as he dashed across the street but the ball didn't make it that far as someone rounded the corner and connected with Dean's ball of frozen water.