Reality

Chapter One: Not a TV Show

Blake swung her hair around as she sang along with Halestorm's Amen as she sped down the country road. She'd just finished her night shift at a twenty-four hour truck stop. She was going home, throwing on some pajamas, putting her hair up, and turning on Netflix. She couldn't think of a better way to fall asleep. "My life, my love, my sex, my drugs, my lust. My god, it ain't no sin, can I get it, can I get an amen." She laughed to herself and glanced out of the window, watching the cornfields pass by. She sighed a little to herself. She was always going to be stuck in this one horse town, working at the same diner, marrying the same idiots she went to high school with, having babies who'd suffer the same fate she did. No one ever left, no one did anything important. It was a sad way to live life.

"Blake."

Blake screamed and slammed on the breaks, nearly spinning out of control. A man wearing a trench coat appeared out of nowhere in the passenger's seat beside her. She was panting with fear and slowly turned her head to look at him. "Where the hell did you come fr…" She squinted, looking hard at him. She was either high, drugged, or dreaming. She could swear the man sitting beside her was Misha Collins dressed up as Castiel from Supernatural.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you, but this is a matter of grave importance."

"The feather pillow is right." Blake screamed again, whipping her head around. Mark Sheppard in Crowley's signature black suit had appeared in her backseat.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. "How the hell did you two get in my car?"

"We appeared." Mark smiled and sat back, looking her over. "I don't know, I don't think she's got what it takes. She's a bit…jumpy."

"What it takes for what?" Blake gently eased her car to the side of the road and cut the engine. "Why are Misha Collins and Mark Sheppard in my car?"

"I am not Misha, and that is not Mark. Our names are Castiel and Crowley."

"Right, and I'm Princess Leia." She rubbed her eyes and looked at them. She was too tired to deal with this. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"He's right. We really are Castiel and Crowley. He's an angle, a terrible one at that, and I'm the King of Hell." Crowley leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "The people you know as us are actors, as are the two playing the Winchester boys."

"That makes no sense. You look exactly like them."

"They're shape shifters," Castiel explained. "Dean and Sam allow them to live because they are keeping a cover. The television show Supernatural acts much like the books the prophet Chuck wrote about the boys. Everything is true." Blake's head was spinning and she could feel the headache coming on. They didn't really expect her to believe this did they? She was being punked, that's the only explanation.

"We don't have time for this." Crowley snapped his fingers.

Blake grabbed her head and cried out when a sharp pain shot through her. Images of two sets of Sam and Dean popped into her head. She saw one set filming Supernatural, the other was in a warehouse, tied up to a couple of chairs. She saw the deal that had been made. They shifters were Jensen and Jared, there were even ones of Misha and Mark. They acted out the show, the Winchesters hunted. The show was exactly like Chuck's books. A filmed biography of the boy's lives. Everything that happened in the show, happened in real life, to the real Sam and Dean Winchester. "What the hell did you do to me?"

"I showed you that we're not lying." Crowley smirked and looked at her. "Now, will you listen to us?"

Castiel gave Crowley a look before turning back to Blake. "We need your help."

"With what?"

"The real Sam and Dean are in trouble. They've been captured by a werewolf pack and we can't get to them. The building has been warded against angels and demons."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"Ah, now, that's where I come in." Crowley snapped his fingers and a tablet appeared in his hand with the home page of her fanfiction account on the screen. Blake's eyes widened. "I've been doing some homework. You're a very talented writer." He smirked and opened to the latest Supernatural fanfiction she'd been working on. "I especially like how you capture me."

"How did you…?"

"King of Hell." He winked and put the tablet away. "The point is, after I found this little ditty and read it, I was intrigued. So, I started my own research. You're quite a good shot if the hunting trophies in your apartment are anything to go by."

Blake stared out of the window trying to absorb what was really happening. "The King of Hell has been spying on me. Supernatural is real…this is just…I've got to be dreaming." She shook her head and looked between Castiel and Crowley. "That doesn't explain what you want me to do."

"We want you to save Sam and Dean Winchester," Castiel said.

Blake shook her head and got out of her car. She paced back and forth on the road, running her hands through her hair. There was no way, no freaking way this was real. "You two are out of your minds. I'm a hunter, a normal hunter. I hunt deer, not werewolves."

"We know where the boys are, all we need you to do is kill the mutts keeping our boys locked up," Crowley said appearing beside of her. It was getting harder not to believe this was happening.

"How? Silver bullets aren't exactly easy to come by." Crowley rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. A rifle appeared draped over her shoulder and a case of silver bullets landed in her hand. "You want me to snipe a pack of werewolves?"

"That's exactly what we want you to do." Crowley smirked and leaned against her car as Castiel climbed out. "So, what do you say? Give up this life of cornfield, cattle, and monotony and take up a life of hunting?"

Blake rubbed her eyes. If she did this she could never go back, never go home, and never have a normal life. She knew what happened to people when they got into this life. She'd have to cut ties with everyone she knew. That's what hunters had to do to keep them alive. "Where are they?"

"Lovely." Crowley snapped his fingers and the world spun around her for a second before they stopped again. They were standing on the roof of a building. "That one." Crowley pointed to the building next door.

Blake took the gun off her shoulders and crouched down, lying flat on her belly. She pulled the gun tight to her shoulder and peered through the scope. Sure enough, Sam and Dean were inside, bound to chairs, surrounded by six werewolves. She took the box of bullets Crowley had given her and opened it, loading six rounds into the gun before coking it, loading the first bullet into the chamber. "Think you can handle this?"

"Shut up." She took a breath and gently eased the safety off the gun and slipped her finger around the trigger. She looked back through the scope again. Keeping her breathing even she moved the gun until the first werewolf crossed her crosshairs. No going back now. Blake squeezed the trigger and watched through the scope as the werewolf dropped to the ground. The others inside the building started looking around. She needed to take them out before Sam and Dean got hurt. She'd been hunting almost her whole life, but this was different. She trained the scope on another werewolf and caught it mid-jump, taking it down, quickly followed by two more.

The last two remaining werewolves took what they thought was shelter behind Sam and Dean. She had a foot, maybe, of space to shoot. She took another deep breath and licked her lips. "Don't miss, love."

"Crowley, shut up." Blake moved the crosshairs up until the head of the werewolf behind Sam was lined up. She took one slower, deep breath before squeezing the trigger. The werewolf fell back, leaving just one. It was looking everywhere, frantic. It didn't know where the bullets were coming from. She could see it screaming, fangs bared. She saw it's clawed hand reach up, reading to slice across Dean's throat. Blake took the shot and watched as it fell. She picked her head up and looked at Castiel and Crowley. "They're all dead."

She got up and Crowley snapped his fingers, transporting them to the door of the building. Blake slung her gun over her shoulder and walked inside, leaving the angle and demon outside. She bit her lip as she approached the Winchester boys. "You're the one who killed the werewolves?" Sam asked.

"Uh, yeah." She walked behind his chair and started untying the ropes.

"There's a knife on the table," Sam supplied.

"Right." She grabbed the knife and cut him free then turned and let Dean go. "Are you guys alright?" she asked. She was surprised she wasn't having a Becky moment. But given the fact that Crowley and Castiel had already pretty much fucked her up mentally, she figured she was over the star struck stage. "I'm Blake."

"Sam and Dean."

"Yeah," she nodded her head, "I know who you are." She licked her lips and looked between them. "I uhm…love the show?"

Dean rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. "You're a fan?"

"It's…complicated."

"How did you know we were here?" Sam asked.

"Okay, look, I thought all of this stuff was fake, I mean I watch you, well not you, but you, on a TV show. I was driving home from work when your angel and the King of Hell appeared in my car and told me that this was all real, you two are real and the actors are just shifters, and that you needed help because you'd been kidnapped by werewolves and dumb and dumber out there couldn't get into the building." She was panting, everything just came flooding out of her.

Dean put a hand on her shoulder. "Okay, okay, calm down." He sighed and looked at Sam. "Why don't you come with us? We can take you back home."

Blake shook her head. "I'm not going home. Not after this." She looked between Sam and Dean. "You guys think this life is so terrible if the show is anything to go by, and I know this isn't a show, I get this is real life. I just put down six werewolves." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair as Sam and Dean crossed their arms. "But you don't know what it's like growing up in a town with seventeen hundred people, knowing everyone and everyone knows everything. Waking up and going to the same shitty truck stop diner every night and going home to an empty apartment every morning." She looked up at Dean. "I want more from my life than cornfields and small town gossip."

Dean ran a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. "Hell, fine, let's just go." He turned and walked towards the door. "I'm gonna kick Cas and Crowley's ass."

Sam looked at Blake as they followed Dean out. "Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" he asked. "You didn't miss a shot."

She smiled a little. "I'm a hunter, a normal hunter…I hunt deer." She looked up at him. "That's why Crowley picked me."

"Because you hunt deer?"

"Among other reasons." She looked over at Dean who was talking to Castiel and Crowley when they walked out of the building.

"What did you want us to do, Dean?" Cas asked. "There was no way for us to get to you, we did what we had to do."

"Yeah, you two idiots picked an innocent girl off the street and dumped her into this mess and guess what? Now she wants to stay."

"I don't see what the problem is." Crowley slipped his hands in his pockets and looked at Dean. "That girl?" he said nodding at Blake. "Just saved your life, I'd show a little gratitude."

"Gratitude isn't my problem. It's the fact that she wants to be a hunter now."

"Isn't taking her with you the better alternative?" Castiel asked.

"Angel boy has a point. Either she's going to go off hunting alone, and you know how well that works out for a novice, or," Crowley continued, "she's going to go back to her normal, boring life that doesn't matter to her or anyone else, and one day a demon or a vampire, or some other monster she can't defend herself against is going to come looking for some payback." Blake smiled a little. It was kind of nice having the King of Hell stick up for you. "Besides, she's already got the basics down, the instinct. She just needs a little…fine tuning."

"Son of a bitch." Dean pulled his keys out of his pocket. "Fine, whatever." He walked off. Blake followed him with her eyes and watched as he opened the driver's door to a black 1967 Chevy Impala.

"Yeah, should have seen that one coming." She followed Sam over to the car and climbed into the back seat. She wasn't expecting Castiel and Crowley to climb in but when they did she found herself wedged between the two; Castiel, the angle, on her right, and Crowley, the King of Hell on her left. She glanced between them and shook her head. "This has all of the makings of a bad joke."

"I don't understand," Cas said looking at Dean for context.

"Don't worry about it Cas." Dean started the car and drove off. "So, where are you from?" he asked.

"Berrien Springs, a little village in Michigan." She looked out of the front window as Dean drove. "Where are we now?" she asked.

"Spearfish, South Dakota." Sam turned in the front seat and looked at her. "You've got to have better questions than that."

"Well…yeah, but I don't want to piss Blue Steel off with anything stupid." She crossed her arms and pinned Dean with a look.

"Yeah, you're hilarious. Just ask."

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, pulling at the base of her neck. "Well…okay, so I get the show acts like Chuck's books. What really happens in the show, really happens to you guys. But…how does it work? When the show ended last, Dean had just killed Death and the darkness was released."

"They have a prophet working for the writers," Sam explained. "So he knows everything that happens to us. From time to time he'll call and ask some questions, hoping to get the dialogue or a specific detail right. Anyways, the show is about four years behind where we really are and our years are their seasons."

Blake nodded her head, slowly understanding. "So, four years ago, you killed Death?"

"Pretty much." Dean pulled onto the interstate and looked at her through the rearview mirror. "What else you got?"

"Okay, well, if you guys really stopped the apocalypse, how come no one remembers all of the earthquakes and the storms, or the meteor shower when the angels fell? I mean, you would think someone, somewhere would have figure this out by now."

"That's the angle's doing," Castiel answered. "We're able to change the thoughts, the names, everything so that Dean and Sam remain just a television show."

Blake nodded her head and rubbed her temples. "I'm sorry, does someone have some alcohol?"

Crowley chuckled and pulled a flash out his jacket and handed it to her. "Here, love, the good stuff."

"Thanks." She took it from him and unscrewed the cap, quickly drinking down the contents. She sighed and handed it back.

Dean glanced back at her. "I've got to ask. Why hunting? There's got to be something better you could do with your life."

She sighed and looked at him. "It's…hard to explain. Let's just say that dying protecting people from monsters sounds like a better life than what I had."

"You won't be able to see your family again. No friends, no nothing."

"I know, Dean. I knew what this would mean giving up." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him through the mirror. His intense green eyes were watching her closely. "I don't have a family, not anymore, and as for friends…well, don't have many of those either."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

"You'll never have a husband or a boyfriend, you'll never have kids."

"I can't have kids. I'm defective." The car grew silent, only the Impala's engine filling the space. "Look, it doesn't matter. I want this."

Dean sighed and nodded. "Alright, Sammy and I will teach you everything we know."