Author's Note…

Don't Own Supernatural

Don't Own That 70's Show

Don't Own Friday the 13th

Don't Own Thirteen Ghosts

Don't Own Thirteen

Don't Own The OC

Don't Own Days of Our Lives

Don't Own Sesame Street

These shows and movies may or may not have been mentioned in the following chapter, be warned, there may be more disclaimers to come…

"Sucked In!"

Chapter One

Nimble fingers wrapped around a key, twisting until the engine of a '67 model Impala died. Two doors were opened and out stepped two boys who any nobody would know as Angus Young or Richard Sambora, otherwise fraudulent "Bikini Inspectors" or men of some form of trade getting into your house or into your formal records. Known by few others, such as themselves, as the infamous Winchester Boys.

Today was pretty much any other day to the brothers, in between jobs. Not your run of the mill jobs, but jobs that saved naïve minds from the horrors that lurked in dark corners, the horrors that went bump in the night, very real threats to humanity itself; horrors that small minded people refuse to believe exist. Little did the boys know that they were walking right into their next job.

"Yo Samantha! Wanna get the gear out of the trunk while I go do a little thing with Miss Hot Stuff behind the counter there and grab us a room?" Dean flipped Sam his trademark smile, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the motel's reception building. Sam sighed and resigned himself to doing just that; he headed to the back of the beautiful car and popped the trunk. Dean smirked, straightened his jacket, slapped on his best pick-up grin and headed into another sure fire success.

He swung open the two double doors to hideous seventies décor. The walls were papered with brown and orange spotted and striped print; the furniture looked worn and faded, while most of everything was a disgusting brown colour. He shuddered a little and almost expected Eric Forman to walk through the door, Fez or Kelso in tow. Wait – why was he thinking of That 70's Show? He shook his head and regained his composure, strutting his stuff up to the reception desk. He rapped the counter with a knuckle or two and looked the girl up and down.

She was fairly young, long wavy black hair that cascaded down her shoulders, framing her nicely rounded face. Smouldering eyes that were fixated on her hands, one of them holding an oversized nail file to her other hand, not paying him one single bit of attention. She continued to file her nails while Dean's gaze shifted down to her legs. Dean was so fixated he didn't notice the death glare being burnt into the top of his skull.

"What – do you think you're doing?" She asked him, jolting him out of his reverie.

"Oh I'm sorry miss… uh…?"

"Jackie, to you though? You can call me Princess." Her voice had a slight nasal twang.

"Well, uh, Princess, you're lookin' pretty good tonight."

"Excuse me? I have a boyfriend you know!"

Right at that very moment, a man who looked about the same age as her walked into the lobby and over to her. He was decked out in gear ready to go to the beach, oversized sunglasses covered his eyes, short shorts that could really only do an Australian football player some good and definitely not this guy and a very tight tee shirt. To finish the look he held a giant inflated beach ball under one arm. He stomped a foot and looked down at her,

"Jackie! We gotta go – I have my photo shoot soon! Who's that guy there?"

"I don't know but his jacket's tacky and that necklace is SO yesterday."

Dean bristled, "Excuse me?"

"You're excused…" The guy excused him.

"Look can I just get a room??" Dean was starting to get a little miffed.

"Take your pick – we gotta get going before Miss here gets his panties in a twist." Jackie raised her eyes to the ceiling, annoyed with the both of them. With that she walked out the front door with the guy bounding behind her, throwing around the ball with a child like grin spreading across his face.

Dean raised his hand behind his head and rubbed his neck, confused was one word to describe him. He shook his head, looked around and went behind the desk and grabbed one of the keys on the wall. Muttering about how weird those two were, he headed back out to the Impala to grab Sam and get into their room before anything else tried to confuse him.

"Got a room?" Sam asked as he got closer to the Impala, Sam seated on the hood holding both their duffel bags.

"Yeah… Weird people."

"Right…"

Dean grabbed his duffel bag from Sam and shook his head to dismiss what happened back in the reception building, put on a smile in case anyone else cared to stop them on their way to their room and led Sam around to one side of the motel. He looked down at the key in his hands and gave a grunt.

"What?" Sam asked, hearing him.

Dean laughed, "Grabbed room thirteen… unlucky for some…"

"You don't believe in that superstitious garbage, do you Dean?" Sam asked a little incredulously.

"No not really, but you know I have seen Friday the Thirteenth."

"Like that's supposed to make you believe in a silly superstition."

"And Thirteen Ghosts…" Dean said offhandedly.

"I repeat – like that's gonna make you believe in superstition."

"And Thirteen…"

"Again – hey wait, that wasn't a horror… you watched… a … chick flick?" Sam was amazed.

"It was not a chick flick! I'll have you know there was some serious stuff that went down in that movie!"

"Yeah – like girls." Sam snickered.

"Shut up dude."

Sam and Dean were interrupted by the loud sound of a door being flung forcefully open. Down the corridor a man wearing a hoodie and jeans barged out of one of the rooms, a sour look on his face. If they weren't in such a quiet town, Sam would have thought he looked a little bit like Russell Crowe… wait – in his defense – he watched the GLADIATOR – not that… never mind. He stormed past Sam and Dean and another person came running out of the room after him. She wore red slip on sneakers, a plaid mini skirt and revealing top, her long golden hair flowing freely over her shoulders. She came up to Sam and took him by the shoulders.

"Look – Ryan just left – did you see him? I think I kinda scared him away with my idea of a foray into Lesbianism."

Sam gaped at her in response.

"Aren't you supposed to be like… dead?" Dean asked her.

"What're you talking about??" She shook her head, confused, "Did you see which way Ryan went? I don't want him doing anything stupid."

Sam pointed over his shoulder and she let go of him, forgetting about them and running off after, "Ryan". Sam and Dean looked at each other, a liiiittle confused. Dean broke the silence, "How about we get to our room before more weird shit goes down huh?"

"Best idea you've had so far tonight." Sam agreed.

They got to their door with no other hassle, Dean slipped the key into the lock and as soon as Sam got his ass over the threshold, Dean slammed the door shut and threaded the chain through the lock. Sam dumped his bag onto the couch and sat down beside it. Dean threw his bag onto one of the beds in a room leading from the main room. Dean flopped down onto the other side of the couch and each brother took a moment to go over what had just happened.

What had just happened?

First it was that chick and that weird guy dressed ready for the beach – they looked awfully familiar – the dude had looked like that guy who punks people and that guy who lost his car!

Then it was that hoodie wearing dude that could have passed as Russell Crowe! And that chick… wait… did she say… she was considering… Lesbianism??? Hot… (Dean's thought – not Sam's…) Dean could have sworn she was dead… something about a car accident…

"We don't watch THAT much TV, do we?" Sam asked a little scared.

"I could've sworn that chick looks like that one hot chick on that show… what was it called?"

"The OC?" Sam asked, he had to stop himself – wait did he really know that program?

"Yeah that's it – Sammy, I'm surprised at you – what's that? You're favourite chick flick program?"

"No – I've just seen ads and stuff…"

"Sure, sure, I believe ya Samantha…" Dean didn't believe him for one second.

Sam shook his head, Dean was unbelievable. He grabbed the remote sitting on the arm of the couch and switched the television on to drown out his brothers jibes. Dean settled himself into his side of the couch, a smug grin on his lips. Sam flicked through the channels until he found something he was SURE would make Dean's toes curl.

The theme music for Days of Our Lives begins to blare out of the television's speakers…

"Oh god, I swear – there's gotta be some poor vulnerable gay man trapped inside your gigantor body there Sammy."

Sam ignored the comment and turned the volume up instead, grinning.

"Oh Taylor… I love you so much, let's elope to some place exotic, some place away from here, away from the melodrama that is our lives and leave all this petty crap behind…"

"What the hell?? Daytime television… bloody cults." Dean commented randomly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well – Days of Our Lives? Are you kidding me? Are they trying to influence people to have affairs, wide families, messy divorces, get pregnant and claim the father's brother is the real father of their baby? Dude! That's brainwashing material if ever I saw it."

Sam gave Dean a dubious look, "Are you kidding me? Looks to me as if you're the one who's brainwashed if you know all that crap."

Dean huffed, shot a glare in Sam's general direction and told him to flick the channel again. Sam flicked the channel over and bright cheery music came through the speakers,

"One two three four five six seven eight nine ten, eleven – twelve – Do do do dodododo."

Oh god. What in god's name were they watching? A giant pin ball machine was on screen going through the numbers to a silly… yet oddly… catchy tune. The pin ball machine cut out and faded into a bright furry red face. The face giggled,

"That fuzzy red bastard! Whatsisname?! Sammy, we gotta do a job and wipe those demonic little bastards out there."

"On Sesame Street? Are you kidding me?"

"No! They pose a real threat to humanity! SPECIALLY that little bastard!"

"Who, Elmo?"

"Yes!"

"Kids everywhere would riot."

"I don't care, they're all evil…"

Sam sighed and flicked the channel again, to static. Sam tried pressing the next button on the remote, but to no change. He stabbed a finger at the remote, trying to get a different channel with something half decent on to watch, only to discover more frustrating static.

"Yo, Sammy. What's up? Change the channel already."

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder."

Sam furiously jabbed at the remote's keys, to no avail. He got up off the couch and went over to the television, grabbing the set and shaking it furiously.

"Dude – settle down, it's just a TV."

Sam knelt down on the floor in front of the television, mesmerized by something on the screen. There was something there, behind the static, which Sam could barely make out. Something was there – he just couldn't SEE it properly. He leant in closer to the television, until the tip of his nose touched the crackling screen, making the hairs on his head stick up.

"Dude, you'll make yourself need glasses, and I think you're enough of a nerd already."

Sam didn't answer, merely concentrated harder on the screen. The figure was just out of sight, but Sam wanted to know who or what it was, he wanted to know badly. Dean got up off the couch, intending to drag Sam away from the television and turn it off himself before there was a loud sound of crackling static. A jolt of static electricity ran through Sam's body, momentarily lighting his insides. Dean halted. Something didn't feel right.

Dean made to dive for Sam and wrench him away from the screen but before he could do any such thing, Sam was literally sucked into the television by a vortex made entirely from screen static, crackling furiously.

"SAM!"

Dean dove for the television, grabbing it with both hands, pitching himself through the vortex head first. The crackling sound of static filled his senses, making him want to curl in on himself to block it out. A jolt of electricity shuddered through him before he landed on his feet. He was too afraid to open his eyes, what the hell was he going to find??

"Dean?" Came a familiar voice from beside him.

He opened one eye, hesitantly, to find Sam staring at him, the look of bewilderment strong in his features. Wait a second – Dean looked around, to find himself somewhere completely different to where they had been minutes ago. The décor changed significantly and wasn't the couch positioned against a wall somewhere instead of the middle of the room?

"Where the hell are we?!"

TBC…

A/N: Reviews are appreciated, also requests are appreciated as well – hope you enjoyed!