The Universe's Mixer

The yard was teeming with wildlife. It was as if all of the creatures knew that within the residence resided a couple of fairy hybrids, one with authentic royal blood in it's veins. The other much less but still as enticing.

A couple of colored finches had taken over the small birdhouse, claiming it for themselves. The seed-consuming songbirds chirped merrily as they flew across the flowered yard looking for food to bring back to the nest built within the wooden walls of their chosen abode. The chirps were loud, musical and bright as the warm sun itself.

Down below, flitting from flower to flower were a group of shimmering green hummingbirds. Their long beaks drifted quickly from one flower to the other as their tiny wings flapped in a figure-eight style pattern to keep them all hovering. Every ten minutes or so the birds would return, taking turns consuming nectar from the flowers in the yard.

Butterflies soared lazily amongst the tiny, hovering birds to consume their portion, honey bees....it was a wealth of life that appeared in the yard to care for it.

A den of foxes found shelter in the bent tree near the house and nestled their kits in the security of the sturdy shelter and heavy bark of the trunk and roots. The cool Earth welcomed them easily. Nearby, rolling about on the porch were two young rabbits. Both lop-eared bunnies hopped from one end of the porch one after the other as if they were playing tag.

Bran shifted from his perch on the roof. He rustled the feathers of his breast and tucked himself far enough into the shadow from the tree so that he wouldn't be seen from beyond the fence or the street, but close enough to be able to see the entire yard. Every creature, big and small, he saw. He didn't like the burst of life but it didn't feel wrong. It was far too colorful and pleasant. And he didn't like the other competition for birds that he now faced. Not that any of these birds ever could compete with him.

The day brightened and the finches sang softly to the day to welcome it. There couldn't have been a more perfect scene in all of the City.

John felt.... well, hungry, but more than that numb. He'd woken up in his bed, in his room, in his apartment. His apartment. From back home, back on Earth.

He was wearing the same clothes he'd gone to sleep in, but everything else was... home.

Then he'd gotten up, and gone to the window, looking out at the moonlit Cityscape that greeted him. So he wasn't home. Dallas was a new place for him, he hadn't even found a proper house to live in there yet. But this certainly wasn't Dallas.

More magic, then?

He could feel the night was young, he must have just woken. He looked around and felt his pockets, finding his old wallet and keys. He took them out and wondered at it, then let out a sigh and looked around. He'd started to get to magic, and the unusual, but this... he dreaded figuring out what this was all about.

Still, his stomach growled, and he knew he'd have to tend to himself. But first he had to make his home safe.

He went to the linen closet and found some of the thickest blankets he had, surprised and unsurprised that he found them. It seemed like whoever had created this charade had gone to elaborate lengths to make him feel like he was home. If it weren't for the alien city sounds outside his window he would have thought he was home.

He returned to his bedroom, fixing the blankets over the windows, blacking out the room and muffling the outside noise. That done he took a shower and found clean clothes, even his old and favorite jean jacket. Then he pulled on his boots, turned off the lights, and left the apartment behind. Most of him expected to never see it again, though he still locked the door behind him.

It was so strange to walk through the small apartment building. It was exactly as he remembered it, to the last detail, yet even then his vampiric senses saw and noticed things in ways his human self never had.

The City outside was bustling, and full of life. It seemed similar to many cities on Earth, but still he didn't recognize any part of it. And he had gotten around back then.

The breeze ruffled his dirty blonde hair as he stood on the sidewalk. As soon as he'd walked out the loudness of all of the sounds hit and stunned him for a moment. He didn't remember any city being so loud outside of warzones.

His stomach growled and the familiar pulled at him, but even as part of him instinctively told him to turn and leave, to go hunt, he suddenly froze on the spot.

He didn't know how to hunt here. Not in this place. Eric had had volunteers on hand for him to feed from, people who willingly gave doses of blood in exchange for protection and provision. But here... he looked around at all of the people, who looked so normal. What normal person would let a vampire feed from them? If the sirens blaring were any indication, people here wouldn't need protection from monsters and zombies in the ruined wastes.

He looked around lost, eyes wide as alarm dawned on him. He didn't have no choice. He could stave off the hunger for a while, he had fed recently, but soon it would start to drain him. And Eric's initial order, that he couldn't let himself die, was still in place. Soon he'd have to feed, to live. And then.... God, what was he going to do?

Like an early morning fog, a kind of confusion settles over a mind rising from a deep sleep after a particular trial. In the first few moments of consciousness, the peace of sleep lingers - but then the sun of something not right shines over that peace, piercing it through and scattering it to the wind. And so it was for Evey, after waking from nearly a week's worth of enchanted sleep. When she remembered completely the circumstances, her stomach fell.

The collective was safe. Peter was happy. For these things, Evey was truly pleased, truly relieved. But their exodus from the TARDIS left her with nothing to do. Her hands, for the first time since London, were completely idle. There was nothing she could use to distract herself, and there was no one who needed her. Oh, Peter would argue that point. Evey knew better. Peter Petrelli was made to endure. And both of them knew that he would outlive her by centuries at the very least. No, she was indeed unneeded. That was good. That was what she wanted. But the emptiness...

After a utilitarian shower, Evey found the key Maleficent had left her and used it when discovering that it was needed. Pocketing that enchanted article, Evey stepped out into the TARDIS corridor. The lights were dimmed and flickering. Power had always been a struggle for the ship, and now that there were no people inside it to support, it seemed even the TARDIS was leaving in its own way. Evey walked past the storage rooms that had once kept the collective alive, and through the console room of the TARDIS itself. There were many memories in this place. Only a precious few clung to her.

"Can I stay?" Evey asked the console room. In answer, the lights dimmed even further. With a nod, Evey walked out into the bright sunlight and didn't look back when the TARDIS doors closed behind her.

There was a city somewhere out past the forest. She didn't know the direction she should go, but it seemed that she was meant to go all the same. Evey began walking, then, knowing that she needed higher ground to see anything at all. She considered calling Peter, but... there was a buoyant joy radiating from the presence inside her mind, and it was so strong and so bright that Evey winced from it. She didn't want to interrupt. She didn't want anything to do with it. So she walked.