thecapitol | Thicker Than Blood Start

For Tributes with keen eyes, they'll notice that Peacekeeper presence seems increased and yet infinitely more ineffective in the last few weeks. Peacekeepers seem harried, as do the Stylists, and most of the Escorts titter and plot without alerting the Tributes as to what, exactly, is so exciting. They simply say that this weekend they'll know.

And so it happens that on the weekend in question, the Tributes are woken by their Escorts early and brought to a restaurant for a hearty breakfast. The restaurant is nothing spectacular, although they seem to be trying to make an impression on the television cameras that float around. The sleepy, cranky meal goes by and then the Tributes are led back to their Suites for a mandatory meeting.

Sitting on couches and the floor, in chairs and on windowsills, standing off to the side - people from the Tributes' homes are waiting to greet them in each District Suite. Some are confused, some accepting, some frightened and some elated to see their beloved. Either way, it should be an eventful reunion.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They said it was a dream. Of course, John's lack of ability to trust other people meant that he didn't believe it. Of course, he had been dead - for some time, actually. If anything, this place was nothing short of a break from hell. If it was a dream, he didn't want to leave.

Anything was better than that.

He was relaxed, surprisingly, considering the unexpected change. He is leaning against a wall, taking a look out a window. His arms were folded over his chest.

He didn't know why he was here, but he assumed it was because of his children.

It always came back to them.

It did indeed. Though perhaps not exactly in the way John was expecting.

De entered the room, already on edge, but when she saw John's face, the expression totally change. For the briefest moment, she was a kid excited dad was finally home, beaming at him. It was gone quickly, masked away, but even then there was a look of relief, and excitement as she ran toward him.

"Dad!"

((I am gonna check with the Sammy, since she is *also* moving with me, she might thread hop later. Her computer is currently under 8 boxes somewhere thought. So we can just keeping going until she joins, if she still can.))

Of course, t his wasn't what he expected at all. The girl who approached him... was not his son. In fact, he didn't know who she was. But she was claiming that he was her father.

He stepped back.

He didn't have any daughters.

"And you are?"

Okay, so he didn't really practice tact, but he felt like being straight forward would be good.

[ all good! :) ]

Well, that gave her pauses, and dispelled any remainder of that childish look of joy that still clung.

Even at home this would send off warning bells. Here it was like a warning air siren.

"...aren't you John Winchester?"

"I am John Winchester," he answered. He had, really, considered lying. Using one of his many fake names. But she knew it, and called him dad.

This wasn't right. There was something very off about this. He didn't have any silver on himself to prove it, but right now, he wasn't really out to prove anything.

"Which doesn't answer my question."

Should she lie? Turning that idea over in her mind, she finally dismissed it. Whatever game they were playing right now, she wasn't going to play along with it.

"Deanna Winchester." She finally said flatly. Had they wiped his brain of her some how? Was he playing dumb? That one made no sense.

Then again neither did her father having no idea who she was.

"I don't have any daughters. Especially not one by that name." She had his last name, though. Or at least she claimed to. This could easily have been...anything else.

This was going to be an uphill fight for her.

"Then we might have to figure out how you're going to prove to me you are who you say you are."

"Well I'm sure I can get some silver, though I highly doubt you're worried about me being a shape changer, since apparently I'm not doing too well at it."

She wasn't close to toeing the line of rebellious, not yet, but she was on edge only the way her father seemed to be able to make her, feeling some how both helpless and angry all at once.

"Tell me, where would I have been before I got here," he asked. Many would have known, but Dean would have, especially. "And how did I get there?" It was the best question he could think of to answer. He watched her with every moment. It wasn't like he carried silver on himself fresh out of hell.

"You were heading to Jericho to deal with a Woman in White. In California."

She was sure there was more than one Jericho around, and since this seemed to be a pretty important pop quiz going on, she didn't wanna fuck it up. Her back was stiff, her green eyes meeting his firmly, body nearly at attention.

"No, that's nowhere near where I was." He was looking for something so specific, yet so simple. "That was so long ago."

She was beginning to get annoyed, rebellious, and it was showing. He set of her jaw, the clench of her fist. Something about her father not even recognizing her existence was getting under her skin more than she could really rationalize.

"Not for me it wasn't. Time and space aren't exactly playing fair, here. That last thing I remember before waking up here was driving towards Deluth, on November 11th, 2005. Last I had heard from you, you were in Jericho."

"Jericho has come and gone," John answered. It has felt like one-hundred years for him. In part, he knew he had to believe her. Jericho was a part of the timeline, at least. "I was in Hell."

The color drained from her face, and she stepped back, as if she'd just gotten a sock to the stomach. She felt like she had.

Hell?

"How?!" She asked, feeling too many things at once, but managing to get that out, at least.

"So my son," there was careful emphasis on the word, "would live."

So this man died for his son down the road. And she was from the past, for him.

"You have two sons, yeah?" She said softly, slowly. "At home you have two daughter. Deanna and Samantha. Me and Sammy."

She thoughts more about what Victory had said. Said about Sam. For not the first time she wished she could talk to him, specifically. Iron some of this out.

"I have two sons. Sam and Dean." This was ridiculous...strange, unexpected. John wasn't sure what to make of it, really. Before him was someone claiming to be his...daughter. But he had no daughters.

"Then what is it that we do? Why did we do it?"

"Hunt things." The emphasis left no debate as to what kind of things. The second part came quieter. "Because of mom."

"So I must be Dean, there."

A strange thought. Very strange.

Thicker Than Blood Start

John | For De

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AHHH...I lost this!

<3