Dizzy Land

"Pyramid, huh?" Dean looked at the ball again, then shrugged and tossed it lightly in Starbuck's direction. "Yeah, sounds fun."

Now that she'd taunted him about it, he had every intention of asking her about her name. Right now, though, he was too fixated on whatever the hell was bothering Sam to plan a strategy of attack.

"Wanna go to that pizza place by your--uh, house?" he asked, glancing at Starbuck. Heating up any of the New Orleans food seemed unpleasantly similar to actually cooking.

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She caught the ball and dribbled it once or twice on the ground before keeping it in her grip. "Read my mind. You'd probably both be good at it. It involves a lot of tackling and shoving and general brawling type behavior." She glanced at Sam's arm curiously. That would delay him a bit, though. "What did you do to it?"

She nodded at Dean's suggestion and started in the direction of Tomorrowland. "House?" she echoed bemusedly. "I warn you, we're going to be joined by a dog soon as we get into Tomorrrowland." Sador left her alone sometimes when she went walking, but not if she was in 'home space'.

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“Mmm, pizza,” was Sam’s agreement to the suggestion. He was starving, come to think of it; he hadn’t eaten since the lunch they’d fed him at the police station, having spent all night chasing Claire and then Dean, and afterwards being too concerned with the car and putting some miles between them and Baltimore before they dared stop et even a rest area.

He was a bit startled when she asked about his arm.

“Broke my wrist,” he mumbled with an amused twist to his lips, rather hoping that she wasn’t going to ask for details. His eyes flicked to Dean, just for a moment.

“You have a dog?” he asked, partially to avoid the wrist conversation, and mostly out of genuine interest.

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Okay, Dean's nearly identical reaction to the first time they'd eaten pizza was proof enough that they were brothers. It was also kind of weird. It's not like pizza had any great nutritional value. Then again, compared to what she had to eat on Galactica, it was high-quality dining.

At Sam's explanation, she looked back at him with an unimpressed eyebrow raised. That wasn't even as good as the stories she used to make up as a child to fool her teachers when her mom went off on her. It was just plain avoidance. "Yeah, I have a dog," she said, appeasing him briefly. "I didn't when I got here, she just sort of showed up." Because the Anitchrist felt like giving me a dog. That was still weird in her head.

Back to the subject at hand. "Did you really break it, or did some creepy demonish thing do it for you?" she asked. After all, she didn't know it was any great family secret. Dean hadn't made it sound that way.

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Whoops. It occurred to Dean (rather too late) that Sam hadn't mentioned anything about demon-hunting when he'd shown up in front of the gates, and that he probably wasn't going to be happy when he realized Dean had. (In his defense, he'd been pretty damned convinced it was a dream--could he really be blamed for not knowing that this place was real?)

He laughed nervously, then grinned at Sam. "Um--she... I kinda might have mentioned something about that earlier." Yeah, he was screwed.

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Honestly, Sam would have said ‘mmm’ to just about anything, including Mini-Mart microwaved hot dogs. Pizza was more than a couple steps up from that, and he remembered the pizza place in Tomorrowland.

He nearly gave himself whiplash turning to look at Dean, who was giving him oops-I-fucked-up-but-how-could-you-be-mad-at-this-face? grin. Sam countered with a dude-what-the-fuck-were-you-thinking?

Granted, he had told that guy John. But Dean didn’t know that yet. Sam turned back to Starbuck with a pinched expression on his face.

“Something ‘creepy demonish thing,’” he affirmed. “Zombie actually. I got to be the bait.”

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Starbuck made a face. It made her suddenly very glad that she hadn't been sent here a year ago when she'd had that bad accident and screwed up her knee. "Ouch." And she did happen to catch more weirdness going on between the two boys in her company. Yeah, definintely brothers.

And the little one wasn't happy. "Did I... say something I shouldn't have?" she asked. Not that she was trying to make things more uncomfortable, but really, he just got here and Sam was already pissed about something?

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“Oh, no,” Sam assured her quickly, embarrassed (again). “I just, um…” Oh yeah, he was certainly making a great first impression. “I was just surprised that you knew about, uh, what my brother and I do.”

This time the look he gave Dean was more of a help-me-out-here-this-is-your-fault-anyway, all wide eyes and insistently raised eyebrows.

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Dean wasn't sure how Sam had managed to end up being the flustered one, but he wasn't complaining--in return, he gave Sam an I'm-not-sure-why-you're-staring-at-me expression and hoped for the best.

"I let you be the bait for a zombie?" he asked suddenly, frowning. "Weird. I'm guessing it worked, though, right?"

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Sam huffed. Big brothers. Flat out good for squat. Especially where embarrassment and girls were concerned.

“It was your idea,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You said I was ‘more her type.’ And it worked fine, except for the part where she broke my wrist.”

Actually, Sam didn’t blame Dean for that at all. In fact, after that incident and the subsequent revelations he’d gone out of his way to not blame Dean for anything (the resolution had lasted almost a week.) But this wasn’t that Dean, not yet, so Sam was maybe letting himself be just a little sarcastic.

“But you had to do the messy part,” he conceded after a moment.

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Something was very off about this conversation.

"Wait, why don't you remember?" she asked Dean. "Did you get hit over the head with a two by four when it happened?"

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"'More her type,' huh?" Dean grinned. "Well, then I was probably right." He paused for a moment, then asked, "Do I want to ask about the messy part?"

At Starbuck's question, he suddenly realized that, hey, this was probably going to sound even weirder than it was, if that was possible. "I'm... Well, Sam--" He sighed. "Apparently, either I'm from the past, or Sam's from the future, because the last thing I remember before getting here happened about six months before the last thing Sam remembers." It wasn't the weirdest thing about this place, not by a long shot, but it was the thing most severely freaking him out right now.

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