Forward:

I got this idea while watching one of my favorite movies and years of happily watching Scooby-Doo.

I apologize for any typos.

Disclaimer: Not any language you wouldn't see on the show. Oh, yeah and I do not own Sam or Dean, who are owned by the CW. There shouldn't be any spoilers in here, if there were, they would be from "Tall Tales".

Oh, and I realize you would probably sustain serious injury from a window, but we all know Sam can take a lickin' and keep on tickin'.

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"Damn. Are you okay, Sammy?" Dean asked, picking himself up and running over to his brother, who was lying amongst a large pile of wreckage that used to be a plate glass window.

"Yeah," Sam grunted sitting up and brushing shards of glass off of his shoulders. "Let's just get this done and get the hell out of here."

Dean helped his brother to his feet then took his stake out his jacket and held it at the ready. They had followed a string of strange happenings that had gone on in a Tennessee High School: a known bully's clothes disappearing right off his back in the middle of a hallway full of students, the principal's golf clubs springing to life in his hands and attacking him, and the entire boys basketball team' shorts falling down at the same time in the last seconds of a tied championship game.

"Trickster" Sam and Dean had said simultaneously when, under the guise of reporters, they had interviewed the last of the scorned basketball players.

It was a simple matter to follow the trail of candy bar wrappers to the fair grounds they were now at, closed until spring.

"Are you guys coming or not?" The Trickster called from outside the Ice Cream shop that Sam and Dean had taken refuge in after a giant clown apparition had thrown Sam through the window, Dean through the swinging double doors.

Dean glared at the Trickster, a slight girl with pale skin emphasized by the dark clothes she wore, black hair, nails, and make-up. She looked completely gothic except for the fact that she was smiling mockingly at their direction with very white, very straight teeth before running off in the opposite direction.

Sam and Dean followed her stealthily. They soon discovered the Trickster's destination was the Arcade. Entering the building to the sound of the Trickster giggling softly, Dean motioned silently for Sam to cover the left side while he investigated the right.

Somewhere in the middle of their investigation, the giggling stopped completely, remaining vigilant, the two brothers met behind a Mortal Combat machine.

"Where is it?" Sam whispered urgently.

"Hell if I know." Dean answered, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck and into the collar of his T-Shirt. "This is different the last one. This thing should just be sending crap after us. Why's it running?"

"Who said I was running?" The girl asked, suddenly appearing with her clown friend, who promptly rammed Sam and Dean's skulls together with a sickening thud.

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Sam unwillingly returned to consciousness, not daring to open his eyes. His head already felt as if it were going to explode. He lifted his hand up to probe the lump that was forming on the side of his skull and started contemplating what kind of hell awaited his when he did decide to open his eyes when he heard a soft moan.

Sam cracked open his eyelids to find himself and Dean lying in the purest white room that he had ever seen. The brightness of the room made Sam blink several times, trying to see without pain. He raised himself on his elbows.

"Sammy?" Dean rubbed his own eyes in defense of the offensive brightness. "Sam, are you okay?" he asked for the second time that evening, squinting at him.

"Yeah," Sam answered again. "Dean, where the hell are we?" Sam looked at their surroundings taking in three things: There was no light source, there were no other people, and there was no door. The room was virtually nothing, their shoes didn't even leave marks on the pure white floor, despite the fact that they had been running on dusty fairgrounds half the night.

"The Game." The Trickster materialized in front of them, smiling.

Dean initiatively reached for the stake that wasn't there. The Trickster tut-tutted him.

"My Game, my rules." She said, waving s finger in his direction.

"Game? What game? Where are we?" Sam asked.

"You weren't running." Dean came to a sudden realization. "You were leading us here. The arcade was a trap."

The Trickster smiled. "You and your brother have caused me a lot of troubles. I would kill most people for that. But I like you. You two are good people, not my usual victims. So I'm going to give you a sporting chance. This game will have five levels. Achieve the goal for that level and you are transported to the next. For each level you will receive skills you will need to complete your goal. This may be virtual reality, gentlemen, but not beating this game can have very grave consequences."

"Whoa, wait-" Dean said, getting up off the floor, but it was too late the girl pixilated into nothing.

"What was that all abo-" Dean was interrupted when Sam sneezed at blinked out of sight.

"SAM!" Dean said, searching the bare room for his brother, his stomach turning over. Then he had the sudden surge to sneeze.

A-choo!

When Dean opened his eyes to find himself behind the wheel of a car that was rocketing along a circular track. The noise was tremendous. He wore a helmet, thick gloves and a maroon jumpsuit with logos all over it. He looked over and discovered the car had no passenger seat and the windows were what looked like a web of seat belts.

"NASCAR!?!" Dean realized. "I'm driving in NASCAR!?!"

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A little experimentation. It's just the beginning, but more chapter should be up in a while. Tell me what you think so far.