AN: Here's the deal, I was at work the other day and a SuperWhoAvengeLock story idea came to me out of nowhere. What if I did a reading the books thing for a book that like no one does one of those fanfics for, and what if I made the characters of SuperWhoAvengeLock do the reading? Thus, this story was born. It was an interesting idea I just couldn't let go, please tell me I'm not insane for wanting this!

p.s The reading part belongs to Stephen Chbosky not me. But let's keep that on the down low alright :)

Sam and Dean Winchester were driving down Route 66 towards their next case in Texas. Dean was right in the middle of a crude joke, something about things being bigger in Texas than anywhere else.

To be honest Sam wasn't really paying attention, as per usual he was brooding. This time it was about Dean's little massacre at the house where Claire Novak was being held. Sam found a case as soon as he could after that incident, he thought if they could have some alone time, get back to the basics, it would help with his bloodlust.

Sam sighed as he looked at Dean and doubted his plan for the thousandth time. They'd been hunting since Dean got 'better' from being a living demon of all things, and it hadn't helped then. Right now, Sam really wasn't sure what could help them, or how things got so royally fucked up between them in the first place.

Just then a bolt of lightning struck the road right in front of them. This didn't bode well for several reasons. It was the middle of the night, no other cars were around but theirs, and it wasn't even raining. Dean cursed as he saw a lone figure standing where the lighting struck down and he skid to the side of the road.

Everything stood still and silent when the Impala was parked at least twenty feet away from the figure, who seemed to be staring at them. Then Dean growled and maybe it was the darkness of night but Sam could have sworn he saw a flash of black in his eyes.

Rubbing his neck at the whiplash of the crash, Sam got out of the car after his brother. Dean's face was set in a scowl as he inspected the damage to his tires, keeping the mystery man in his sights at all times. Sam went straight for the trunk, rifling through until he found two angel blades and two sawed-offs filled with rock salt. As he went back to Dean and handed him his share of weapons Sam observed that the figure was probably a man, tall and broad-shouldered, but he couldn't get anything more specific at this distance in such low light.

It was unnerving though, the man was standing at attention, seemingly entirely focused on them but not saying anything. With a nod to each other they approached the thing carefully. At this point in their lives Sam and Dean had been through so much together that they didn't need more than a look to know their plan of attack for any given situation. Dean approached head on while Sam flanked the man, coming up on him from behind in order to back Dean up should any problems arise.

When Dean was within spitting distance of the mystery man, who still hadn't moved, he held his gun steady on him as he said with forced frivolity,

"And who might you be big guy?"

The man said nothing. Dean shot a glance at Sam who simply shrugged. Looking back at the man Dean noticed him shift slightly in order to face Dean fully instead of the general direction in which they had both been standing. Eyes hardening Dean said,

"Hey now. What were you thinking? Flashing down like that in the middle of the road. You could've hurt someone. If I wasn't such an awesome driver you would have." Dean smiled at that last bit, pleased with himself, then he took the time to really study the man now that he was closer.

The Impala's headlights reflected eyes that were intense but not crazy like he'd expected. The guy was calm but serious. He had long blonde hair, down to his shoulders and… was that a cape?

Dean readjusted his grip on the gun and said,

"What are you anyway? 'Cuz sorry dude, but no way you're human after that lightning trip you just pulled." The man glanced behind him to where Sam stood stalwart, ready to take him down if the clenched jaw and suspicious gaze were anything to go by. The man- thing- didn't appear to feel threatened. He just refocused on Dean and said in a loud booming voice,

"Dean and Samuel Winchester. You have been called to help the Avengers on a matter of utmost importance. Please come with me." He held out his hand and the brothers looked at each other. Their eyes saying it all.

What the f-

"-udge! Where is it?"

Sherlock was pacing. He was nervous, thus the pacing. And now he was rummaging. How had it come to this?

"Mrs. Hudson! Where is the fudge?! I need fudge, how does anyone expect me to work in this hell-hole without the least bit of fudge to keep me going. Stimulate the brain…." As Sherlock continued to speak to himself as he threw down the useless chips he had found and resumed pacing in front of his wall.

It had been six weeks since Moriarty had sent a video claiming to still be alive. Sherlock's crime was forgiven by the British government in exchange for his assistance in finding out what Moriarty was up to this time and stopping him.

Of course all of this required time and effort and planning and…. well, fudge. Obviously. Sighing Sherlock stopped pacing in front of the Clue Wall which showed nothing but dead ends. He sat in his chair and stared at John's empty one. The one he was supposed to be sitting in. John had promised he would make it into their old flat today to help Sherlock focus, or maybe take his mind off it. Who knows? Who cares?

Sherlock heaved another frustrated sigh. He hadn't anticipated Moriarty coming back. He had just spent all that time dismantling Moriarty's criminal network only to realize he'd been alive the whole time and probably building a new one. It was frustrating to the umpteenth degree.

He also hadn't anticipated John not being there for him like he used to be when they lived together. Sherlock was probably going through one of the toughest times of his life and where was his best friend? With his wife. Helping her with through the last stages of her pregnancy. Completely irresponsible!

Sherlock had to smirk at that. Because he really was happy for them and despite Mycroft's opinion to the contrary, he wasn't stupid. He knew this wasn't one of the toughest times in his life. Not even close. But since he had the luxury to complain Sherlock figured it was only fair that he did. After all, it's not like anyone can compare to him. Not in intellect nor in the amount of trouble he's experienced.

John can give him all the platitudes he wants about being a grown up and dealing with life's everyday issues like one. But the fact of the matter is that Sherlock's problems aren't like anyone else's and nobody but he is in any way capable of dealing with them. So guess what everyone who ever called me an ass! I'll deal with them however the hell I want!

Sherlock shakes his head because inner monologues can be useful on occasion but this one is starting to get a bit weird. A knock on the door interrupts his shaking and he looks at it curiously. A part of him hopes its John but he knows that is very unlikely because John would have at least texted before coming over unannounced.

After the fourth time they knocked Sherlock resigned himself to the fact that nobody else was going to get it for him and if he wanted to get back to figuring his life out he had to first answer the door.

Some people say that your life can change in a second, about the time it takes to open a door, but Sherlock had never put much stock in that. No, to him everything was a process. Moves and counter-moves. Choices that lead to an event which leads to people's lives being affected in small or large ways all of which happens over the course of days or weeks or even years. He never understood how people could think any differently. What prevented the 'norms' from seeing the big picture like he did?

Regardless, when he opened that door he could never have predicted that it would change his life like it did. That he would look back and realize just what the 'norms' always said were true. And that it had happened to him.

Opening the door Sherlock was not ashamed to admit that he became immediately flummoxed upon noting who it was on the other side. In fact he could not accurately think of one reason why this person should be in London at all, let alone knocking at his door. Taking a quick look at his watch to see how late it was he was further wondered to note it was nearing three in the morning. This action of course gave the appearance that he had been expecting this person and Sherlock was checking to see how late they were; which of course made the figure's grin widen to maddening proportions.

Sherlock quickly recovered his bearings, relieved that his mask hadn't slipped, as he calmly inquired,

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company…. Mr. Stark?" Tony simply smiled and said,

"Trade secrets Mr. Holmes but if what I've heard about you is correct you already know." Then the billionaire leaned against the door jamb, casually revealing a limo with security and an adorably confused face of one John Watson in the open window. Looking back at the renowned genius with a smile full of mischief Sherlock replied,

"I rather think I do. What's the mission?"

They were all gathered around the table staring indiscriminately at each other. The Avengers scattered themselves amongst the newcomers as they studied the four people who were so infamous within SHIELD that they would be allowed into such an elite group as the Avengers, temporarily, to learn about….whatever it was that got the director riled up enough to call them all together like this. What a bother when they were each doing such important things elsewhere.

Dr. Banner sat back in his chair calmly observing the room and he noticed he was the only one who appeared to be calm. Well except Romanoff and Barton, but they didn't count. He sighed as he thought this because how could he think that with any confidence. It wasn't as though he were really friends with any of them. Tony was the closest and they hadn't talked in almost six months.

It had been nearly two years since the battle of New York and every member of the avengers were doing their own thing living their life and though they all had a strong camaraderie with each other it wasn't exactly like they kept in touch. Especially with Banner.

He always knew his condition was isolating, hell he isolated himself for most of the time that he has had this condition, but for moment there it had felt like maybe he could have friends again. It wasn't to be though. They all went their separate ways afterward and Banner had been exactly where he was before, isolating himself and trying to find a cure, when he got the call.

Each of them had gotten the same phone call from Director Fury saying the world was in danger again and they had to come together to put a stop to it. But that's not all, apparently they also had to bring a couple of other people into it as well. The Avengers had all been assured that these people were heroes in their own right, though they weren't given any background on why that might be and looking around at them now, Banner couldn't help but doubt it.

There was Sherlock Holmes sitting with his good friend John Watson. He was staring with judgement clear in his eyes at all of them, especially at the pair that sat nearest the doors. His mind was calculating their relationship and coming to the conclusion that they were either brothers or close cousins but definitely related. What annoyed Sherlock more than anything was that he had a pretty good idea about everyone in this room and their pasts except those two. All he knew was their names and their socio-economic status, obviously trained in military style fighting but not accustomed to working with strangers in a unit. They weren't famous like everyone else in the room, so why were they here? What do they do?

Sam and Dean Winchester were clearly uncomfortable. Whether that was from being in the presence of all these famous people, or because the famous people had powers, or because they were obviously richer than these two. Actually, there were a lot of possible reasons those two might be uncomfortable. But Banner couldn't say for sure which one it was until he knew more about them though he wasn't holding his breath on that. Hearing a frustrated sigh from his left got him smirking.

Tony was frustrated. So was he. This lack of information was infuriating. Normally if the world is in danger there is some sort of build up to the time when they had to get involved. They are usually aware of it before they have to meet up. But this came out of nowhere and they had nowhere to go in regards to how they put a stop to whatever it is.

Just then the uncomfortable silence was broken by the Director himself as he strode into the room with a large black briefcase. He quickly placed himself at the head of the table and stared them all down. A man of little words he didn't waste the groups time and just started right in with the spiel.

"I trust most of you in this room know who I am but for those of you who don't" A pointed look at Sam and Dean. "I am Nick Fury the director of SHIELD. That is a government agency that protects the people of Earth against those who would try to destroy it. Aliens, ancient magical creatures, insane humans what have you. Now I am afraid that one such situation has arisen." Here he ops the briefcase gingerly and Bruce is just confused because he doesn't think he has ever seen Fury look so unsure and… frightened.

He takes out a packet of papers, with varying degrees of age to each one, all stapled together and sets it in front of himself. He stares at it intently for a moment then looks at them just as intensely and it suddenly strikes Bruce that the director hasn't spoken to anyone in this room yet, not even his own team. He can't even imagine what the rest of them are feeling but for some reason despite everything Bruce has seen and done he is nervous. Fury looked over the assembled group and stated matter-of-factly,

"I have gathered you all here because you're important. And yes I know who you two are despite the impressive effort you have taken to stay off the grid." This was directed toward the brothers who shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"I say impressive because even we do not know where you are at any given time which is why Thor had to be the one to bring you in. I know what you've done, you saved the world a few times and have dedicated your lives to saving others. Just as we all have." He concluded peering around the room once more before continuing to address everyone

"But there are some things that cannot be defeated alone. That simple fact is why I created the Avengers and why I must call you into fold as well because if we have any hope of saving the universe from total annihilation it must be together and it must be with this."

He looked down at the packet. and no one was quite sure what to say. So of course Tony had to add his opinion to the pot.

"Well that's not ominous at all. What is that?" He said in thinly veiled frustration. Dean snorted. "And what is this all about? If somethings wrong just tell us what it is so we can kick it's butt, take it's name, and get some shawarma."

"I second that, except for the schwarma thing. Seriously what is that?" Dean said to Sam who hit his arm and pointed to Fury who opened his mouth to respond only to be cut off by a strange creaking and groaning sound emanating from seemingly everywhere. Everyone in the room went on the defensive at once, hands going for their weapons and look for the source. Well, everyone except Sherlock. He just sat there calmly looking annoyed.

Everyone turned toward Fury as they saw what appeared to be a blue police box phase into existence behind him. Meanwhile Fury did not look at all perturbed. When the sound started he merely looked at his watch then turned to the box. Just then a man opened the door and walked out energetically, smiling like a little boy in a candy shop, and looking like one too with that bow tie. And all Fury had to say was,

"You're late." The strange man smiled even wider but his eyes grew sadder as he said,

"No I'm not I arrived exactly when I was supposed to. Or are you just trying to be dramatic for these lovely folks." He waved at them beaming. Everyone was putting away their weapons reluctantly and this man just kept on smiling and staring at them all. It was strange stare too. As if he knew everything about them and more. The Director just huffed and said gruffly,

"Well Now that we're all here, let's ge-"

"Wait a second who is this man you never said?" The tall man in plaid said abruptly. Sam Winchester Bruce reminded himself. The taller one who seemed more friendly than his glaring nodded earnestly as if he was about to ask the same thing.

"Alien."

"What." Sam said turning to Sherlock. Sherlock just raised an eyebrow at Sam and said,

"He's an alien not a man. Obviously." He turned to look interestedly at the man whose eyes shined in amusement while he said,

"And his name is The Doctor, but you can call me Doctor. Now, what is it we are supposed to be doing?" He had clapped his hands excitedly and was looking around at them for an explanation.

"You mean you don't know?" Bruce said feeling quite lost himself.

"All I know is that I was looking for a new adventure only to discover a note telling me the universe is in trouble, again, and I had to show up to this place and time in order to prevent it. So I came. Plus it sounded like fun, a mysterious note, a secret meeting of heroes, a packet of papers. What's not to enjoy?" He smiled at them all and everyone else had finally settled on an expression of bewilderment as they looked back at him. Fury reigned them all in with a cough and said,

"As I was saying. Now that everyone is here you may all take your seats and I will begin." With everyone seated he picked up the papers and said,

"I have been told by the most trusted source that contained in these letters, and yes they are a collection of letters that have fallen into my possession, is the answer to this problem we face."

"But we don't even know what the problem is?" It was Clint this time but that was hardly surprising.

"We do not need to. All you need to know is that reading these letters will solve it and maybe, so I'm told, even help all of you figure out the problems that have been plaguing you in your own lives." He smirked at them all as they turned thoughtful.

The Winchester brothers figured these letters were some kind of magical book but were curious enough to see where it led them. They knew enough of these faces from the News to know that the Avengers were good people, if a bit wacky, and the Winchesters certainly didn't mind letting someone else take the charge for a bit. This supposed impending doom aside, they had enough trouble on their hands.

Sherlock was more than curious about all this while John was just worried this was too dangerous for his friend. With everything else they had going on John didn't want Sherlock to get obsessed with yet another no win situation like he did with Moriarty and that German douche whose name John did not even like to think about.

The Doctor was curious too but he couldn't help but feel saddened by this turn of events. He had hoped this would be another fast paced adventure with lots of running and speeches and basically anything to take his mind off his best friends. But a story? Amy loved stories, ever since she was a child. And Rory would have been so confused and just sat next to Amy with that stupid face and cheered him up by telling him that reading something was just as much fun as running from dangerous creatures. It totally wasn't but it would've been sweet, like Rory.

The Doctor could see no way that these letters could help him with his grief and longing but the Tardis had practically begged to take him here by turning the dials to this place and time no matter where he set them to go. River seemed to think it was for the best too and he trusted her. But really, what could possibly be so important about these random letters?

The Avengers on the other hand were strangely calm. They had issues and problems like everyone else did, but they trusted the director's wisdom while these new people had no reason to. Now that they finally knew what had to be done they just wanted to do it. Steve did want to know though,

"What's it about?" Fury smirked and replied,

"Funnily enough I don't know. This will be my first time reading it. They were given to me just like this, no editing was done, and all I know from the source is that they were written by a boy named Charlie Kelmeckis. I don't know why this boy is important but we will find out." He opened the first page and his smirk deepened,

"It should be worth noting though, that my source found it necessary to include a title page. This story shall be called… The Perks of Being a Wallflower.