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[ He wakes up and he's back in Wonderland, and all those foggy memories snap into place. They still stick together like pages of a book that's had soda spilled on it, so it's impossible to separate them chronologically after so long away. But the things he remembers are sharp and clear.

Except he notices that Wonderland is sorta fragmented into pieces. He thinks something catastrophic has happened and, now more than ever, he desperately wishes that his friends are somewhere, happy, that they've escaped what's happened here. They can't still be around after so long. Then again, who knows how long it's been with this place?

The last time he was here, he probably would've sat down and spent an hour freaking out somewhere behind a bush. This time he does the exact same thing, except he doesn't feel ashamed or embarrassed about it. Fuck it he is a global economic power he'll do what he wants.

After a while of rocking and shaking behind a tree, he gets up, dusts himself off, and decides to reintroduce himself.

Somehow he's found his phone again, with everything on it and the chipped in the corner. Just the way he'd left it. Maybe he should take this as a sign that he hasn't been away so long, at least in Wonderland time, but he doesn't. Too busy preparing his reintroduction.

Normal people would probably just turn their device on, say their hellos and see who is around and who is new. If you are expecting normal behavior from America I don't know what to tell you. Except "lower your expectations because this asshole is still a crazy motherfucker."

He'd found himself on a lone piece of forest, which is not the ideal location for his reentry. In the distance looms the lone, floating entrance hall. After a few seconds of debating the value of his life, he realizes he's immortal and abandons the last fuck he could possibly give before making a running start to leap to the next floating island. A manic grin and one thought propel him to his destiny:

Do it for the vine. ]

[ Finally everything is set up just the way he wants it. Camera placed just behind the closed doors of the entrance wall, it's propped up to frame the hall in such a way that it looks like just any normal day in Wonderland. The real trick is turning it on at just the right moment. He decides to turn it on from behind so the video doesn't capture his initial appearance. Slipping away as quietly as possible, the video just captures a few silent seconds of the doors.

Which then BURST OPEN IN AN EXPLOSION OF SHRAPNEL AND FIRE. USA USA USA.

The smoke clears and, surprise surprise, guess who's standing at the center with arms cross and cocky grin in place? No Crowley, that's for fucking sure, like he'd be capable of anything this epic. For those who knew him the changes are small and subtle, probably nothing to catch amidst the chaos. A taller stature, unhindered by painful wounds, a face that's still young but no longer burdened by self-consciousness and undercurrents of fear.

In the split-second he opens his mouth, just before he speaks you might be expecting something like YOUR HERO HAS RETURNED. But no. ]

WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY RAPTORS?

[ Good news: he's even more of a selfish shithead than before. Bad news: that was the good news.

God help you all.

and now a million years later do I add an obligatory nsfw warning?? don't read my threads if you value your time and integrity ]

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They're probably still in your room, you know. You just might need to look under the bed. They might be a bit fluffier than when you left them.

[ Well. He's a little calmer, but more confused. ]

Fluffier? They molt or somethin'?

Different sort of fluff.

They may also purr a bit more these days.

...But they're still alive and well?

[ THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS. ]

Of course they are. I'm not a complete monster.

[ Well that's a relief, if incredibly unexpected. How long to dinosaurs live anyway? Not that really matters in Wonderland. ]

You said they were in my old room? D'ya know where that was-- uh, is.

I didn't exactly memorize your room number. Anyway, you were gone, and we weren't sure if you were coming back or not. And who knows where it could be now? Could be miles away, for all I know. [He nods out at all the floating pieces of Wonderland.]

Uuuuugggggghhhhhh!

[ Time has matured him physically but not emotionally. He slumps forward, groaning the exasperated groan every teenager makes when they realize they are in for a ton of work. The dramatic "my life is awful and I hate everything" groan that usually accompanies White Kid Problems^TM.

At least he has some valid reasons for the whining. ]

I gotta make sure they're okay! And how am I suppose to catch up with people like this?! Thought I'd never see any of y'all again! Been without my friends or fella or raptors or even you for near thirty years and I gotta wait around 'til this is over just to see pals face-to-face! This sucks!

[ After his little fit, he sits on the floor with a huff, drawing his knees up to his chest. ]

I can wait, just seems cruel to be so close but so far.

[He's so used to America's whining that he tunes almost all of it out except for one thing.]

Wait...thirty years?

[Holy shit he had no idea that could even happen. He'd heard people could go home for a few weeks or months or even a year. But thirty whole years?]

So...wait, that would put you...

[Past the Civil War, certainly. Holy Manchester, he might actually have made it to the twentieth century by now.]

You, er. Do realize it hasn't been thirty years for us, right? It's been, oh...a week. Maybe less.

[ He props his chin up with a melodramatic sigh. ]

It's 1891.

[ His eyes flicker to Crowley, squinting as though trying to decide if he's lying, but it looks like he's telling the truth. It's a relief actually. Thinking that people like Luke or Martha might've been stuck here all this time... it was one of the things he'd hoped would never happen. Looks like he got his wish after all, in a way. The tenseness in his shoulders ebb a bit. ]

Good. [ And he means it. ] But it's been a long while for me. Not so long in my lifespan, but compared to a week it's been eons. I just... wanna see people before I disappear again. I never got to say proper goodbyes, even when I thought I was gonna die.

[He watches America for awhile, listening to him with his head slightly tilted. He's remembering again how America actually has some moments where he's not just tolerable, he's actually...likable. And Crowley actually understands that fear, because it's one of his biggest fears here--that he'll disappear back home without even getting to say goodbye.]

...Where are you right now? You seem like you could use a drink.

[ Those moments are rare gems in a sea of arrogance. America frowns like wants to refuse the offer because what he really wants is to make sure his raptors hadn't fallen to their deaths, or to wrap his arms around a long-lost boyfriend or hug the shit out of the copious people in Wonderland who probably don't want his hugs.

But he is also reluctant to turn down free booze, so. ]

I managed to get from the foyer to the chunk of a hallway, but I haven't seen anyone come outta the rooms or nothin' so I have no idea where it's supposed to be. Numbers are all hundreds, so maybe the first?

[Crowley sadly can't provide the boyfriend or the ~~kittens~~ raptors, but he can provide a welcome back bottle of wine.]

Not sure where that is, but you fly high enough and you can see most everything. I'll be there soon.

[ Little does Crowley realize that America is going to harass him to fly him places like a personal chauffeur. And if he doesn't do it willingly, America will latch on and try to fly him like the giant eagle in The Rescuers Down Under.

But right now he will be sitting on his slab of rock. Waiting. Sulking. ]

[Crowley will drop your ass so hard if you try to Marahute him, America.]

[Anyway, Crowley arrives forthwith, flying in like the badass angel he isn't, and since he figures America isn't much of a wine guy (yet), he conjures up a bottle of Jack Daniels. He grins and waves the bottle at America, folding his wings neatly.]

Have you invented this, yet? I'm not usually one for your liquors, but this one does rather nicely.

[ Bring it.

Wine is reserved for meals with the Italy brothers or France. It doesn't really count as a drink drink to America, but good wine is nice to have with pasta.

Whiskey is definitely more in his tastes. He visibly perks up at the sight of the bottle. Hello old friend. ]

You got the real stuff! Man, that's one of the big things I missed about this place: everything's readily accessible. And free! Don't gotta settle for Red Eyes or Coffin Varnish.

[He chuckles rather grimly.] Wait twenty more years and you might regret having said that. [He conjures up two glasses out of thin air and pours out for both of them.]

So did you remember any of it while you were back there?

[ He makes a face because wow that was ominous. And highly confusing. What could be so bad about free and readily accessible? Why the shit would he miss terrible drinks in twenty years? No, you know what, he doesn't care enough to ask. If things get bad he'll just figure it out. There's no way it'll be any worse than what he's already been through.

(Part of it is confidence that he's on the mend, onward and upward to his destiny atop the world. Part of it is the somber confidence that he wouldn't survive those decades again.)

America squints at the sudden appearance of glasses. What he wouldn't give to be able to do that. ]

Yeah, 'course I did. Freaked out when I woke up alone in a ditch with a bullet in my side instead of here. I mean, I knew what had happened, but I didn't wanna go back to that.

[ He stares into the drink before swallowing half of it in a shot. ]

All for the best anyway. Actually, I had this little chest. Wrote some stuff and put it in there, and-- I got this thing, y'see, since I live so long I can't really dwell on the past. So I gotta take the memories with me! It's like moving on but not leaving the happy bits behind. Sometimes I'd see stuff that'd remind me of Luke or Daryl or Martha or even you, and I'd just kinda... collect it. Nice little momentos.

[ Aaaand downing the rest with a small smile. ]

I do that with all my friends. It's not hard since I've never had many close ones. Flowers for Davie, a necklace for Matoaka, a fiddle for Anne Marie even though I dunno how to play...

[ After staring off into space for a moment, he suddenly clinks his glass to the bottle in a demand for more. ]

I know it sounds somber, but after a while it's a good sort of ache when I get remembering! Took a little over a decade to get to that point, but then it was actually kinda fun lookin' in that chest, readin' all the stories I'd written down 'bout the people here. There was always some doubt if it really happened or if I just made it all up, but then I decided I didn't care! It was in my head so it was real to me and I liked havin' it!

[It's more that Crowley is not even remotely looking forward to when America goes home again and then comes back mid-Prohibition. He's already barely tolerable when he's sober.]

[Crowley takes a seat on the nearest thing he can sit on idek and listens as America talks, pouring him out another drink when he finishes the first one. It's incredibly heartening to think that they take some of the memories with them. Hints of them. That would be just enough. That means...well, it means there might be hope for him and Aziraphale. If they ever do go home, if they could just retain a piece of this place...]

[That's all they need.]

[He grins when America stops talking.] Fiddle, eh? I could teach you, assuming you can be taught anything. Though you'd owe me for a long while. And hey, look at that, you survived the Civil War. Told you so.

[Because he's Crowley and he has to.]

[ Let's be real America would probably be one of those guys who pretends to be a goody two-shoes by day and then does illegal bootlegging with Romano and Italy by night.

Though for his love of booze and Western swagger, he actually takes his time with the second glass. He's not looking to get too buzzed right now. ]

I don't wanna owe ya nothin', demon. Probably got my soul already! You don't get anything else.

[ He snorts at the jab, but it earns a cocky grin instead of annoyance. In this case, he's glad that Crowley was right. ]

You could get me up to the third floor though. Wherever that is.

[Crowley has some hilarious memories of Prohibition-era America and rescuing priceless, innocent bottles from the cops and their axes. And also climbing out of basement windows to escape the aforementioned cops. It was one of the few times in history that he managed to get Aziraphale to break the law.]

Please, I don't want your soul. That's someone else's job, anyway. And much too political for my tastes.

[He smirks.] Third floor? It's probably in pieces at this point. I can't exactly teleport you, you know. And I'm not carrying you.

[ excuse u Crowley he has a quality soul that tastes like an M&M McFlurry.

America snorts again, making a face like he's about to sulk again. Suddenly he fucking launches himself at the demon, gripping the junction of his shoulders and wings in a steel grip that not even teleportation can pry him off. ]

Yes you are I'm gonna see a fella that I never thought I'd see again and you're gonna take me there. DO IT FOR LOVE, CROWLEY. DO IT FOR A LOVE THAT WONDERLAND THOUGHT IT COULD BREAK!

[His initial instinct is to break America's fucking neck or turn him inside out because that's what you do to people who grab your wings without your permission. Wings are sensitive, and they're also a gigantic weak point, the kind that might as well have a neon sign with the words AIM HERE FOR MAXIMUM DAMAGE.]

[Instead Crowley just sort of freezes because considering it's America, he doubts the guy knows what he did. And he doesn't want to lose feathers because shit that grip is strong.]

[He also starts yelling because yelling is the only way to communicate with America.]

WELL LET ME GO AND I'LL CONSSSSIDER IT INSSSSTEAD OF SSSSETTING YOU ON FIRE AND THROWING YOU OFF THE EDGE!

NO WAY YOU'LL JUST FLY OFF AND LEAVE ME STRANDED HERE NOW TAKE ME TO LUKE AND I'LL LET YA GO!

[ Not even setting him on fire or turning him inside out or snapping his neck will release this grip. Then Crowley would just have a crispy, meaty, bleeding mass plastered between his wings. America is resolute.

This probably wasn't the best reunion, especially after they were having such a nice talk, but TOO LATE TO GO BACK GO BIG OR GO HOMEEEE. ]

[America is one of like two people in the entire multiverse that Crowley will forgive for this transgression because it's America and it's no fun being actually mad at him.]

WHY ARE YOU DATING LUKE HE'SSSSSS LIKE TWELVE I CAN'T FLY IF YOU'RE CLINGING TO MY WINGSSSS LIKE SOME KIND OF PARASSSSSITE YOU SSSSODDING GREAT BASSSTARD!

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