The Universe's Mixer

Peter had almost given up. It had been a couple of days already (not that the webslinger was counting the days specifically. Because if he was it was actually more like three or four days, but a couple sounded easier.) and he had heard not a peep from the pixie. Hope was one of the major things Hero's were attributed with, especially the young heros like himself. Hope kept the demons away, it allowed them to see the light at the end of the tunnel when things grew dim and despair tried to force its way in.

But his hope had finally began to wain. He hated himself for it, too.

After waking up on the morning after constructing the web, Peter Parker had found a small press badge laying on his dresser alongside his Nokia. The laminated badge had his smiling photograph on it, as well as the title of Photojournalist and the business of The City Voice. Apparently the City had chosen a place to stick him in which he would make a living. That was alright with him, it's what he did before.

So Peter had dressed, ate his breakfast (a three whopping bowls of Captian Crunch) and set out to face the first day of work. The bullpen had been noisy and he could swear as he sat at his desk that he could hear J. Jonah Jameson shouting something about that menace Spider-Man.

It actually made Peter grin.

The days after that were either filled with working, which took his mind off of the probability that Megan hadn't come here like he did, to waiting on the top of the tallest building in the city where he had strung up part of the massive web. He had even considered taking it down since the gesture was starting to look like a waste.

That particular day, Peter stepped out of the City Voice building, and looked up longingly at the web that hung over the city. He lifted up the camera that hung around his neck, peered through the viewfinder and snapped a couple of pictures of it for memories. Tonight would be the night to take it down. He didn't even want to consider the task because of the level of disappointment. A lift of the camera again, and Peter noticed the web shiver. Shiver?

Shiver. Like something might be caught in it. Which had the webslinger racing down the street as fast as his legs could carry him.

Castiel had spent a while alone after meeting Baba. He had decided he didn't like her, he didn't like how her words stuck in his mind. Creatures who knew how to make words stick tended to like to mess with people, and Castiel was tired of those types of games.

At least she didn't seem to be a rampaging evil, though. She obviously had her own designs, and Castiel was pretty sure he wouldn't like some of them, but without any signs of active evil-doing, Cas preferred to avoid her for now.

Coming back to the habited City the angel walked around for a while, and eventually found himself drawn into a dingy little bar that most might have walked by without even seeing. Perhaps the attraction was that it reminded him of a place where Sam and Dean would end up, and he was still somewhat optomistic he'd find the bothers here somewhere.

He walked in, and almost instantly felt the presense of something else. Something very powerful. His eyes instantly found a being contained in a vessel at the bar, and walked forward almost shakily towards him. Under his shirt the pendant he'd borrowed from Dean, all but forgotten, suddenly started to burn white hot, and a few feet away from the human body Castiel finally tore his eyes off the other being and looked down, swiping over the jewelry with his hand. The burn was mended and the pendant's magic was shielded, and the angel took a deep breath. He was terrified of what he was sensing, and seeing, but he felt like some external force pushed the air out of his vessel's lungs.

"Father." The word was uttered softly, and with no shortage of respect, or humility. And all at once Castiel found himself at a loss as to what to say or do.