Ding Dong, Bitches!

Totally tugged her into a hug. “It’s great to see you.” He paused. “You gotta tell me everything.”

Charlie pulled back, grinning, "whoa there, Winchester, you sure you wanna know everything? 'Cause a classy lady like me don't kiss and tell."

  The fact that her surroundings were no longer high-saturation ‘Toejam and Earl’ bright and bouncy told Charlie that she definitely wasn’t in Oz no more, no siree, she was back in America rocking the dark skies and general feeling of impending doom – exactly what she needed. For a few moments she relished the scent of dry mud beneath her feet and the sound of complete silence uninterrupted by squealing munchkins, before the realization dawned that she was so totally lost. Hot damn, the whole idea of getting back to the bunker never actually crossed her mind when the old wizard dude had practically pushed her back through some (insanely cool) magic portal thing, ‘cause transport in Oz essentially involved chatting up the good witch till she pulled some strings and zapped them to where the shit was going down. Yeah, here? Not so much.

  Trudging through whatever forest this was, searching for any sign of life, took way longer than she’d expected; at least the floor was a nice, dirty brown and not a blinding brick-laden yellow path but, then again, at least Oz had a path. “Keep it together, Bradbury,” she muttered to herself, “Blair Witch wasn’t real, Blair Witch wasn’t real,” she pauses and takes a deep breath, checking behind her, “neither is slender, for real, keep it tight bitch.” But then there’s a crunch behind her, and she lets out a long, high-pitched monotone squeal before turning to face, what she’s pretty sure, is probably someone bad.