Like A Boss

[mugenginga]

Once John had accepted his answer, Patrick continued forward. His footing was sure, but there were a fair few not so living road blocks. The further down they got, the more it thinned out. It made sense given the way they'd been swarming at John. When John asked his question, Patrick replied without turning back towards him, meaning the two were making steady pace and would probably be out of the building by the time John replied.

"Dimensional Island, a nexus for the multiverse. A lot of realities converge onto this point, including ones that would be considered 'alternate'. If your question is how you arrived here, I can't give you a good answer. Either a random portal opened up as is apparently not uncommon or someone or something dropped you here."

[Jilak]

"Multiverse? Ash mentioned something about that back at Harvelle's Roadhouse. String theory and all that. I don't really follow it, but I'm aware of it. So this is it, huh? The center of all reality. I expected it'd be more... well, less of a suburban, mom-and-pop store thing and more... swirling chaos." John replied as the two made it out of the building. Something Patrick said struck him wrong, though... struck him very, very wrong.

"'fore I blacked out I saw a group of people around the boys and I. Pitch black eyes. I've been assuming they dropped us here, but what kind of demon would it take to tear a rift in reality and toss the three of us through it?" John asked, curiously.

[mugenginga]

Barachiel didn't mention that the "swirling chaos" was very much part of this world. The Island really was an anomaly of sorts, likely created due to enough crap getting yanked out of various realities to smash something together. Not entirely unlike the creation of the planet, when one really thought about it.

Then John asked his question as they stepped out into the night air. It was a lot cooler outside than it had been inside, even on the roof. Energy tended to create an air, and it was far fresher here. The odds were somewhat against John being aware of it without being a sensitive, but the energy of the demons was already receding. Then again, given what Barachiel had seen of the man, he likely had at least some sense of the danger being gone.

"A strong one," Patrick replied. He seemed to consider for a moment and chose to continue, "What I am more concerned about is the reasoning for not killing you."

He was quite aware that no demon (or angel, as the previous case was likely of being) was currently in possession of John, so he simply didn't bring it up. A repeat would possibly seem suspicious, after all. If a demon had banished John to this world without killing him, it was probable his children were alive as well. Barachiel just couldn't figure out why. The demons had long since realized the psychic children were not as important as previously suspected, meaning there was some motivation for saving the Winchesters. He would have to research this detail once he got the chance.

[Jilak]

Patrick's final statement sent a shiver up John's spine. He noticeably shivered, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. Patrick has just made a very good point. Even ignoring general demon shenanigans, what Sam and Dean had done hours before yellow eyes had attacked... even John would have just gone ahead and killed him. In essence, Sam and Dean had exorcised his daughter and shot his son with the Colt. He didn't seem too happy about it, either, from what John remembered from the demon being inside him. After trying to kill Dean from John's body and then having them run over with a truck, it had just... let them go. It had never struck him as right, from the start. But then, maybe the bastard just wanted them to suffer. Who knew what went on in the minds of demons?

"It's weird. A few hours before we got here, my boys exorcised his daughter and shot his son with the Colt. He should'a killed us. Hell, I would'a killed us." John responded. He wasn't sure why he was trusting Patrick. Maybe he was just too exhausted to care at this point. It wasn't just from recent events, mind you. No, no, it was a cumulative thing. Honestly, had Patrick made the suggestion that 'an angel did it!', John would've shrugged it off. It wasn't something he believed in any more, angels. His faith in such things had been dried up around the time he found his wife on the ceiling.

That was something she'd always used to tell them. Mary. She'd always tell the boys that angels were watching over them. Sam was probably too young too remember. But then, Sam was fortunate. He didn't have the virtue of growing up with a little brother, or a mother... or a wife. Maybe this wasn't as personal for Sam as it was for John. Maybe not even for Dean, but to John... this meant everything. Finding Mary's killer. He'd devoted most of his life to it, unfaltering. He'd taught himself not to trust anyone, not to trust anything, because he never knew when he'd have to turn a gun on them. Maybe he wasn't the best father in the world, but he did the best he could with what he had.

So no, John didn't believe in angels, and he didn't believe in a heaven. All he had left was the knowledge that the darkness was everywhere, and only he and those like him had any hope of stopping it. And he couldn't slow down, that was no longer a possibility. Because if he slowed down, he'd come face to face with his own neuroses. He'd see the lack of logic in his full-on war on supernatural-kind. And he couldn't do that. Not after he'd come so far. But he'd seen so much. Seen men lay down their lives for everything, for greed, for love... for him. Death followed him wherever he went. It was his curse. It was the curse of all the Winchesters. They could never be truly, finally, happy. In some ways, John didn't feel he deserved it.

But he knew someone who did.

"Patrick, we're gettin' pretty close to this small shop. There was a guy in there, helped me get armed when the demons struck, I'm worried about him. Seemed pretty normal to me, I... think we should check on him." John said. Another oddity. Death had long since stopped bothering him. By all accounts, he had no reason to go back for this fellow, but at the same time he had a feeling that... no one else did, either. He knew what it was like to be alone. He'd been alone most of his life. Until Mary. And she was gone now. She was gone, and he was alone. There were his boys, yeah, there were his boys. But the closer he was to them, the more danger they were in. Because they reminded him of her, of Mary. They were a connection. And he wouldn't let anything happen to them. That made him reckless, made him care less about his own safety. Not good hunter conduct.

And then there was Patrick. While something about him made John want to trust him, he also got the odd feeling that if an entire nation died, he wouldn't bat an eye. Worse yet, John knew that he himself would not either.

And that terrified him.

[mugenginga]

Barachiel paused at that. Daughter? It was the most confused he'd seemed the whole night, and it lasted only half a second. If he was right about the situation, and the facts seemed to support it despite his refusal to take it as the truth without further evidence, then it seemed quite likely there was some rather heavy manipulation going on. The man was making his way towards the exit of the area of town when John spoke again.

"You're welcome to do what you want," Patrick said, turning around to face John. He shook his head, "While it wasn't quite how I wanted to go about it, I'll freely admit the purge happened far faster due to your arrival than it would have taken otherwise."

"However, if the shop is the one I think it is, I don't think you'll find anything you'll want to remember," Patrick relaxed his shoulders, and there was the faintest trace of... a smile, perhaps? He shook his head, "That fact won't stop you from checking, I suppose?"

[Jilak]

John chuckled, just a bit, at Patrick's last statement. In all honesty, he didn't have high hopes of finding the shop keeper. Even if he was still alive, all those demons... he likely wouldn't be himself. But that was why John had to go. He hadn't been there for the Meg Masters case, he really had no knowledge of the condition of her host afterwards, just what the demon inside him had known. But his brief time under the control of a demon gave him all the knowledge he needed. It was a horrid feeling, not being in control of your own body, being forced to do horrible, horrible things. That man didn't deserve that, no one did. If it came to it... John would have to stop him.

"You know me all too well, Patrick. Last time I didn't check on someone they got burned alive on my ceiling. I'm sure you've got work elsewhere, so I won't ask you to wait on me. But if I don't get out of here, or you hear gunshots... do me a favor, and find my boys. Find Sam and Dean Winchester, and tell them... I don't know. Tell them I'm sorry I guess. Tell hem I love them. Tell 'em not to forget what I taught 'em, and to keep fightin'." John said, before turning and walking towards the shop. He held his rifle at the ready as he approached the front door.

In truth, he had more selfish reasons for this. He wasn't just going for the man. He was more going for himself, honestly. He'd been doing this for years, ever since his wife was murdered. And the truth was, he was tired. He was more broken now than he had been in a while, and sometimes, on some rare occasion, he would look himself in the mirror, and wonder where his life had gone. He'd want to give up, to give in. But he never did. Not ever. Because that wasn't how John Winchester worked. He was going to walk in this store and kick whatever he ran into in its metaphorical teeth because if he didn't... if he, for one moment, broke his badass façade, accepted his life as it was...

He would have nothing left.

[mugenginga]

Patrick didn't give John any sort of confirmation to his request, instead staring the man in the eyes until he turned around. He watched the man take a few steps and a few thoughts ran through his mind as a result. Samuel Winchester was one of the victims of Lucifer and the Demon Lords' misunderstanding in regards to what he and his brethren were doing. Satan could be blamed for that. "Yellow Eyed Demon" indeed. The fact was that this man's sons were central to this mystery, and Barachiel was the sort who obsessed. He could take centuries to find a fact, but once he found something worth investigating, he never gave up.

In the mean time, John had reached the store. It was still late at night (or rather, early morning), so the darkened shop was not the issue. The issue was the shattered glass and the door laying on its side. There was a faint smell of burnt "pork" inside the shop. Closer examination would reveal a charred body within. It had once been an overweight female woman, although that wasn't immediately apparent. Clutched in her hands, which were burnt so well the bone was exposed, was a partially melted shotgun.

Her face was in remarkably good condition. THe only reason John would have not seen it first was because something had thrown her into the counter with enough force that her head was behind it, a smashed section going clear through the counter. Her expression was worth note. It wasn't the terror of one who had seen a demon so much as it was the terror of a person who had seen their entire life crash down around them. Clearly she had not been able to react well enough to what had caused the expression. If John chose to check the hardened but somewhat melted rifle, he'd see all six bullets remained inside... she hadn't fired a single shot.

[Jilak]

A less experienced hunter would have vomited at the sight. Hell, it took real willpower from John not to lose it right then and there. This was some of the worst he'd seen in a while. That poor woman... she didn't seem to know what had hit her. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The terror on her face made it very clear that she had some idea of what had hit her. But... it wasn't the type of terror one expected from someone that had just seen a demon. It was... different. John couldn't put his finger on it. Further inspecting her shotgun, he noticed another oddity. She had not managed to fire a single shot. She was roasted, and so was her shotgun. This was on another level. This demon... this was something John had never seen before. No, that wasn't true. He'd seen something similar. Twenty two years ago he'd seen something very similar.

He got back to his feet, cocking his shotgun. He looked around. The air in this place was... wrong. Thick. It made him want to gag. He had a feeling that whatever had been here was still here. Or maybe it was just that strong. Missouri had once told John that a strong enough demon left its fingerprints everywhere it went. Someone with little to no psychic abilities, much like John, could easily mistake it as still being present. But he felt in his gut that it was, and it hadn't been wrong yet. And so he turned, keeping his rocksalt shotgun at the ready. Ready for everything. Always. There was a bit of iron shrapnel strapped to his side that he had used earlier, if the need came up.

"Is this how you get your kicks, you son of a bitch? Killing innocent women?" John turned, looking behind various displays.

"That's it, isn't it? You just keep movin' and killin', and no one stops you. Because that's what you are. That's what all you demons are. You reap and pillage as far as the eye can see, but sometimes, on the rare occasions, you leave behind a loose end. Every now and then, you get someone like me. I took care of your brothers, the others from this nest. I had a bit of help, and they were taken care of. I liked this shop keeper, you know? He was a nice man. Shouldn't have done that to his wife. But my question is," John twirled now, having thought he'd heard something, "if this is what you did to his wife, what did you do to him? Where is he?"

[mugenginga]

Barachiel had chosen to follow John. When his head cleared from the situation later, he would realize how poorly he'd gone about attempting to address the man again. Perhaps he'd overestimated his talents, forgotten he was merely human for a few moments there. Of course, he could not fairly put all the blame onto the man's shoulders. He had come unannounced, after all. It wouldn't make the pain go away, nor the fact that he would have to let it heal at a normal human rate to avoid suspicion... but it wasn't anything he could blame soley on John.

Patrick stepped on a piece of glass as he came into the doorway of the shop. His features were not visible due to the framework of light and shadow. He made a noise. John spun around and had his finger pulled on the trigger from pure reflex. He was used to working alone and it wasn't as if his weapon would kill a human. Still hurt like a bitch, though... when the bullet as it were hit a very startled Patrick square in the upper chest.

The man took a sharp intake of breath with surprise and hit the ground as he grabbed his chest. His shirt now had a large hole in it and bits of rock salt were imbedded in his skin. The wound wasn't severe, but it was quite visible as a fair amount of blood streamed down the front of his chest. He was hissing rather severely and was in quite obvious pain.

"Shit!" he managed to say in the hissing. Damn that hurt like hell.

[Jilak]

John would look back on this moment in the distant future. In truth, he probably shouldn't have had such an itchy trigger finger. While Patrick had indeed surprised him, John blamed himself. He'd not been this jumpy in a while. Had he kept a cooler head, he could have avoided shooting Patrick. But nope, he had to jump at every little sound. In truth, it was mostly because the situation at hand was so... odd. John had seen everything, from Black Dogs to a shtriga. and yet... this was new. He'd been doing this for twenty two years now, and as such almost nothing surprised him any more. So on the rare occasions when he was caught by surprise, he was caught atrociously off guard. He was usually able to quickly recover, but this was... different. It was a small shop, so judging by the fact that the only thing he'd managed to shoot so far was Patrick, he assumed it was gone. Not dropping his guard, though, he turned and walked to Patrick, keeping his gun pointed behind him.

"Shit, my bad, man. You surprised me, I'm a bit... jumpy. It's rock salt so it probably won't kill ya, but you should still probably get medical care. There are probably some bandages somewhere in here, I think." John stated, lowering his gun. All seemed okay... well, except Patrick.

[mugenginga]

Patrick's teeth were clinched, but the hissing seemed to be dying down. After a few moments of John hanging over him trying to express his apology over shooting the guy in the chest, he lifted up a finger. Really, Patrick seemed pretty relaxed given that they'd just cleared out a demon's nest. About the only bother was, y'know, the wound. He finally managed to pull himself up, wincing from the continued pain. He nodded towards John.

"It was my fault for not announcing myself in this kind of situation," Patrick said. He took in a deep breath and indicated a few shelves in a corner. He was leaning against the side of the doorway with one arm and gestured with the other, "Alcohol, ace wraps, cotton swabs, and tweezers. I'd prefer this didn't get infected."

[Jilak]

Under normal circumstances, John would have taken a moment's pause. He'd just shot Patrick and the other man was, essentially, apologizing. But it was only one of many oddities of this place. Besides, he'd shot the guy, the least he could do was avoid questioning his mannerisms. In any case, John walked to the indicated shelves, grabbing the needed items. He'd been thinking about his current situation the entire time, and another idea hit him. It was something he hadn't considered, having just been operating under the assumption that demons could be blamed for all of this. A bit narrow-minded of him, he realized. World was full of all sorts of unnatural sons of bitches, anyone of them could have been to blame, along with the demons. Which led him to his next thought. After he handed Patrick his supplies, he elaborated.

"Y'know, I've been thinking. I've been just going along with the idea that demons put us here, but there are a few non-demonic creatures that would pack enough power. I'm thinkin' that maybe, just maybe, there was a Djinn involved. Seems like the wish-grantin' genies would be able to do a bit of reality manipulation." John stated.

[mugenginga]

Patrick had slid down the side of the doorway and took the supplies. He unscrewed the lid to the alcohol and popped in the safey seal with his thumb before tipping it to wet a cotton swab. He had ripped open the tweezer package and was pulling out a piece of rock salt when John began to talk. There was a calmness as he went about removing the shrapnel, only clenched teeth and the occasional slight hiss to break up John's response.

There was a very slight and hard to notice pause when John mentioned other creatures. He turned his head away from his chest and towards the man. John then continued by mentioning the Djinn and Patrick's expression returned to neutral. He went back to taking care of his injury. He did so even as he replied.

"There are things that could send you to another world, that much is certain," Patrick said. He lowered the tweezers and looked at his chest before nodding and preparing a few cotton swabs. He finished speaking before he began the painful looking process of swabbing his chest, "But it all comes down to the same point. Why would one want to when the opportunity to kill you was more present."

[Jilak]

Patrick maintained a good point. No matter how many brilliant theories John could come up with, it didn't change the fact that whatever had put them here had put them here. They were all out, all of them, they could have been killed in moments. But yet, they hadn't. It made him wonder, though, if the demons didn't kill them, what sort of hell was in store further down the line? Manipulative bastards, those demons were... he'd need to, eventually, find Sam and Dean, find the Colt, and get everything under control. But it wouldn't be easy. Already he'd managed to accidentally shoot the only other normal individual present. 'normal' in this sense being non-supernatural, of course. Oh, John.

He could remember no important fact that would aid him in his thinking. A lot of the pieces were still missing. Burned woman, demon's nest, missing colt, missing vehicles, missing sons, missing facts. He trusted his boys were able to take care of themselves, so that wasn't the most pressing concern. But the Colt... the Colt was important. Without the Colt, he had no hope of stopping the demon that had made the last 22 years of his life hell. Slow it down, maybe. But not stop it. Not kill it.

"Looked around the store, just found the guy's wife. What I did find, though, was sulfur. If I had to guess I'd say he was possessed, and until we find a body that's the guess I'm going to have to go on."

[mugenginga]

It was clear Patrick was listening as John replied, but it wasn't due to eye contact. A focus of sorts as he put down the various bloody and alcohol drenched swabs and ripped open the package with the bandaids. There was still some blood on his chest as he pulled off the remains of his shirt and began with the bandage.

"That conclusion seems founded to me. There isn't a second body of any sort here than I can tell," Patrick said, "I have to say your predicament has enough loose ends to catch my interest. Between the Colt and the various details involving whatever pulled you from your world, I'd be willing to help you try and figure it out."

The various details really could be limited to one motivation. Barachiel couldn't figure out the importance that had been placed on the Winchesters. The Demon Lords had shown that they realized the error in their assumption about Heaven's plans. Something was being planned here, and Barachiel wouldn't have the Host being pawns.