The Universe's Mixer

Logan was now bruised and bloody and the worse for the wear after his encounter with the Hulk. The part of him that used to be a teenaged boy was geeking out over the fact that there was actually a freaking Hulk in the City, just a little bit. But who he was now-the baser side of his nature-just wanted to rip into someone.

Whatever the situation, he needed to feed more than ever now. He was in bad shape and blood would restore him.

He did know that he would have to be more careful with wherever he got his blood from. Perhaps he would just head back to the bar and help himself to some synthetic blood, though that didn't sound anywhere near appetizing at the moment.

If he had to, he would. But for now, his eyes were open for anyone else that might make an easy meal. He would just have to get their name and make sure he wasn't feeding on someone who could really fight back. He might even have to glamour them if need be.

Where there should have been compassion and remorse, there was nothing
but drive for Sam. The time since he'd been returned to life had been
better than any period that remained in his memories. He certainly
retained those memories, minus the emotional connection to them and
the people that frequently featured in them. Instead, there was simply
the hunt. Killing things, doing his job. And of course sex. A human
didn't need a soul to enjoy sex. In fact, Sam found it more enjoyable
without the emotional attachment and that ridiculous feeling of owing
the girl in question something that his former self had always had.

The time since Dean had been brought back into the fold had been a
careful dance at first. Keeping the secret, pretending to care. After
Dean had found out, it had been easier to just be as he was, even if
his older brother suddenly had demands and expectations.

Sam knew that the other shoe would drop eventually, if Dean ever found
a way to try to recover the soul. When that way was discovered, Sam
did what any being would do-he fought to survive. He went after Bobby,
attempting to make his body uninhabitable for the soul.

Instead of succeeding, he found himself in the middle of a strange
city. Sam blinked and frowned as he looked around. He didn't feel any
different, so Dean hadn't succeeded in shoving the hated soul back in,
and he couldn't be dead. Souls went to the afterlife, not... whatever
was left without the soul-not whatever Sam was now.

----

Fred was feeling pretty good about herself. Sure, she hadn’t heard much from Christian, and she still felt too awkward around Jack to just check on him. She wasn’t ready for that. But! But! She had helped Dinah, and maybe made Annie another friend. It was a good thing. It was a very good thing.

The tablet was held close as she read over the latest report, looking at the figures. The business was actually doing rather well, and she’d be proud if it weren’t for the whole people needing to be protected and put down and all that. All happiness came at a cost, didn’t it?

She would have continued on in her own little world, where she normally existed, but she saw someone she knew. Probably.

“Sam! Sam!” It had been a while since she’d seen him.

----

Sam looked up as he heard his name called. A small smile spread across his lips at the woman approaching him. She was hot, in a sort of naughty librarian way. He also didn't recognize her, which might not mean all that much. Since he'd been brought back to life, he'd indulged in the pleasures of the flesh more often than not and he didn't usually pay attention to pesky things like names or personal stories of those who'd ended up in his bed.

He still didn't know where here was or why he would know anyone here, but he'd been in stranger situations... Maybe, possibly. Hadn't he?

He wasn't going to tell her that he didn't know who she was. After all, he didn't have much patience for drama or that sort of thing. So instead, he flashed a charming grin.

"Hey, how's it going?"

As Dinah had expected, her phone reappeared in her pocket on the way home from Enigma's warehouse. As soon as it did, she'd called Dean. If she knew him as well as she thought she did, he would have been worried by now, possibly frantic and almost certainly out looking for her.

She was still twitchy and exhausted and she was really glad to be going home. She just wanted to see Dean and make sure he was still okay-to make sure that none of the nightmares she'd had about him over the last half day had come to pass.

By the time she made it home, she definitely looked the worse for the wear. She did the best she could to smooth her hair down, trying to look as presentable and 'okay' as she could before she let herself in the door.

The petite vampire sat across the road from the hideous monstrosity that had once been her business, or partly hers. Now, she was sharing it with a blond who was tasty and wouldn't mind killing her. Of course, she was sharing it with a blond who wouldn't mind sharing his bed with his wife and her, but that was something and someone else entirely. She hadn't gone in unless she really had to, and even then she spent as little time as possible inside.

Pam sat perfectly straight, her ankles crossed and tucked under the bench. Her gloved hands folded neatly on her lap. She looked like a Stepford wife, a very young Stepford wife. With a hint of Alice of Wonderland fame thrown in. Her hair was pulled into a bun with a bow that matched her pink of ensemble. Her dress' skirt was full, but she managed to sit there without an apparent worry that it would fly up to reveal those things it shouldn't; she'd worn one of these skirts before. He waist was cinched with a cute little black belt that matched her kitten heels. She looked as if she'd stepped right off a 50's Harper's Bazaar. The petite thing could dress rather nicely.

She stared at the door leading into the establishment. She probably been sitting there for quite some time, and it was possible if no one noticed her she would continue to sit there until the sun demanded she go to ground. It wasn't that she was wallowing, but rather she was examining the problem and trying to determine the best solution. Eric wished to co-exist with the hunters, at least for now, but she did not see a profitable end to it. It was an unpleasant bit of surviving as far as she was concerned.