Meet me at the crossroads. [PRP GILES.]

[Billie.]

reprise. 
--

The backway to Blackwater was long and winding, and while Billie usually had the company of her daughter squabbling and singling along, she found herself almost nodding off at the wheel when Rosie wasn't around. The tired werewolf just as worn out by the days events as any human might have been. She'd spent a majority of the time filling out paperwork in the cities and dealing with booming bunches of people and narrow cross-paths that were not ideal for a one red light town woman. Though she'd been in a rush all day, she takes her time ambling the deserted road. Staring off at nothing but miles and miles of heated terrain as dusk slips over easy like rain; Appreciating the familiarity of the scenery. Which actually there wasnt much of.

With eyes slipping low she tries to turn up the volume to give back some sense of  consciousness, but Billie has reached the stretch that is virtually a dead zone for anything but garbage and static. She cant  get a cell signal, and she certainly didn't get a decent radio feed. Not in her old crappy car she'd gotten off of craigslist for a thousand bucks. Disappointing. 

But eh, better to check and see what time it was. Vianne was expecting her in a little bit, and likely was also worn out by the pup's wild antics. Billie laughs to herself and strays sage eyes from the road. And it's in that split second that when she glances back up again there's a body slumped over the side.. only a good ten miles out of her territory's innards... 

of course.

Any other woman might have done the sensible thing and sped by, but Lupa merely slows down her rumbling hot engine and creeps, checking her rear view mirrors and around before pulling to a stop a good few hundred feet away. Was it a body? Or could she just be sleep high and hallucinating some sort of truckers tire. Route 66 was around here and often people got lost on there way. But as she throws her car in park Billie isnt totally sold it's a tire - and still reaches smartly for her knife in the glove compartment. Rarely did werewolves believe in guns (especially the really proud ones like her.) Then with the door squeaking open slowly she makes her way, all 5'5 of her in boots, towards the mass at the side. Headlights shining bright to illuminate as the sun disappeared over the jaded horizon. 

At first she's a little curious, but as her mind wakes up and starts to operate, the Alpha slackens the hold on her weapon and looks mildly irritated while thinking, this better not be one of my fucking wolves.

And it's not.

"Definitely a body Billie." She says to herself when close enough. A toe reaching out to nudge bravely. She almost cant help but wish Nate was here. If not at-least to scream at if this all went sour... "Ey' you good man?" She ask for lack of better terms. Waiting for a reaction from the hardened blonde man washed away in the Arizona dirt. "What the fuck."

Not anybody she knew, and he smelled drunk as a skunk.

[Kaili]

Alcohol is the devil’s blood.

Maybe that is why it goes hand in hand with the drunk. Alcohol is what keeps the blood of some flowing and he is no exception. The pursuit for the fountain of youth is a useless ordeal when the fluid of the future is already in the hand of mankind. It has the power that some wish they had. It makes men forget, makes them remember, and changes them. It is the liquid of the future, the gold of the centuries. It pays for fun, creates fun, and is a tool of a person knows how to use it. Maybe that is why he gets along so well with it and maybe that is why he has not succumbed to alcohol blood poisoning yet. Partily it's luck but he knows better--

It’s providence.

The night before, no, the week before are nothing but a blur of memories. He cannot remember the last time he was sober and he knows the hangover afterward is always worth it because what he needs is more alcohol. It is to be noted, too, that he is not a little bitch and always holds down his alcohol so it can rot his liver and his already frayed mind. Religious freaks come in all shapes and sizes but it is not expected from the giant on the side of the road, face down in the beating Arizona heat, on the brink of both death and resurrection for all creatures of God must die before they become holy.

He does not hear the car. He is sleeping on the ground like only drunks and tweakers can do. The burning of the sun does not touch his already reddened skin in this state. He has no idea where he is, no idea how he got here except that sleep is needed. Where he goes he is wanted for it is a holy creature that guides his path and he trusts his life in that thing more than he probably should. He doesn't hear the car but the thing does and there is a gentle tapping in the back of his head like a lover slowly and gently trying to wake the man that fucked her raw ,scared that he might snap at her with his alcoholic brew.

Everything seems so far away yet close. He hears but doesn’t hear the car door slam. His sight is still black and he is three quarters asleep, vaguely waking up from the gentle tapping from a less than gentle creature. A voice mumbles something but he doesn’t catch it, can’t even find the strength to give out a moan to prove that he is in fact living. Then, he feels something. A toe comes out to nudge his side as a voice asks, "Ey' you good man?" A deep groans comes from and he rolls over, away from the touch and he blinks his eyes in the sun, trying to keep them closed from the sunlight threatening to spill and wake him up. "What the fuck."

Then, he snaps. His fist comes at her, drunkenly going for a strong hit that misses blatantly.

”Mother fucker!” he hoarsely calls out, scooting back. Blue eyes pry themselves open. He pushes himself up, stumbling to his feet and standing to his full height. He waivers a bit as if he is going to fall. ”how fuckin’ dare- ya you-you you wench,” he croaks out once, swinging again but with half the effort. ”I am mother-fuckin’ Giles and you better remember that. I am the fuckin livin’ skin of Malphas the great and I will reign terror on you and you’refamily…” Then, less than gracefully, he belches and reaches, looking in his pocket for an item. ”You fuckin’ touch me again and I willbeatyour ass.” He finds his flask, pulling it out and open. He gets it open, dropping the cap without care before he brings it to his lips, tilting his head back and…

Empty. It’s fucking empty.

It shows on his face as he eyebrows furrow and eyes open. The lack of alcohol is enough to wake him up and in a burst of anger he throws the flask to the ground. ”Fuckin’ A!” He yells out once before he stills. He waivers as if drunk but seems almost completely different. His eyes narrow on the woman. ”Who fuckin’ are you?” He questions, taking a step toward her. ”Who the fuck are you? Fuck do you want?” Wait a minute. His eyes scan around him and perplexed expression slowly pulls itself onto his face. He looks around him for a moment. What the fuck is this? What the fuck is this landscape? Is this… Is this a desert? Last place he remembers was Tenessee.

”Where the fuck am I?”