A/N: This is another co-write with the awesomeness that is Ohmygodnotthecar. An evening of madness created this collection of possible missing scenes from Changing Channels. Please read and review, and let us know if you need help identifying the shows Sam and Dean have been thrown into! (hint: the last one isn't a real show so much as a genre parody.. we hope) Some are dialogue-only, some are not.
Disclaimer: We do not own Supernatural. Or Sam or Dean. Or any other televised creative work or celebrities mentioned in this fanfiction. As of this date.
***
"Dean, don't turn around."
"What? Why?"
"No, I'm serious, you don't want to..."
"Sam, who should I shoot for this?"
"Yo, dudes, I'm X-ibit, and we just PIMPED YOUR RIDE!!!!!"
"Dean, put the gun down. We have to play along, remember?"
"Yo, dudes, let me show you what we did to your car."
"What the hell did you do to her?"
"Yo, dude, I heard you like to listen to music and kill stuff, so we put in an iPod jack and a roof-mounted RPG launcher so you can shoot stuff while you drive!"
"Get out."
"No, dude, I'm serious! Sweet, huh?"
"So sweet I could just rip your face off and eat it. Don't touch her again."
"He means thanks, it's, uh... perfect just like this."
"Yo dudes, lemme show you the rest!"
"Sam, this is honestly killing me. Can you take point on this one?"
"Yeah, man, of course. I think there's a place you can hide out behind that tire stack. I got this."
***
"Yo, heads up! The wolf's here." Dean had a moment to take in the desk he was sitting behind in a busy metropolitan police office before almost being knocked off his chair by a large white lump of fur. With fangs. "What. The. A wolf? Seriously? SAM?"
"Erm... over here. Could we maybe try doing this one without you seeing me, though? Please?" Sam's hesitant reply came from just behind the door that the wolf that was slobbering all over Dean's suit had emerged from.
"Well, seeing as I'm being attacked by a freakin' WOLF in a police station, I'm thinking NO! Get your ass over here and get this mutt off of me."
A man who appeared to be the precinct chief threw a disapproving glance Dean's way before yelling at him across the room. "Fraser! Vecchio! Get your asses in gear, this case ain't solving itself."
Catching sight of the nameplate on his desk, Dean jumped to the logical conclusion. "Sa... Fraser, as much as I respect your sudden and inexplicable desire for privacy, I have a wolf on me! Get the hell in here."
A put-upon sigh slouched round the doorframe, shortly followed by a hangdog vision in red. Sam wore the uniform of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police with a straight back and extremely bad grace.
"Before you say anything." Sam glared at Dean, who was trying to wear his 'who, me?' face and failing miserably. "May I remind you that we got through I Dream Of Jeannie and I never said a word about the pink harem pants. That could change."
Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again.
***
"We've been here an hour, and not much seems to be happening. Do we have any idea where we are yet?"
**Flashback**
"Sit rep?"
"Tropical forest. I... have not seen this show."
"Well, I don't see Jordan eating a sheep's testicle, so I'm lost."
"Ugh. Thanks for the visual, dude. "
**Present**
"No. Can you hear growling?"
"What the... Sam, over there. That's a polar bear, dude. This is still a tropical rainforest, right?"
"Last time I checked, yeah. This is raising more questions than it answers."
***
"Dean, I've been looking for you everywhere. What is this place? It looks like a spa, but I'm pretty sure all the suits are packing heat. And I think we might be underground."
"I have art time now."
"Dean?" Sam took in the vacancy behind Dean's eyes for the first time.
"My name is Delta. May I go now?"
"Dean, you're freaking me out here."
"I don't understand," Dean answered in polite non-comprehension. "Are you ill? Dr. Saunders' office is over there. She's nice. She has lollipops."
"No, I – you have to be okay, you need to snap out of it. It's me, Sam."
"I'm sorry, I don't know who that is. I have art time now."
"No, you don't. You don't belong here." Dean's blank gaze gave no indication that he was hearing anything Sam said. Oh God, this is bad. "We're getting you out of here." Taking Dean by the wrist, Sam started leading his unresisting brother towards what he hoped was an exit.
Dean followed obediently, but his gaze remained focused in another direction as his protests became increasingly plaintive. "I can't miss art time. Art time is what comes next."
On constant alert for any of the armed security force he'd noticed earlier, Sam heard footsteps emerging onto the balcony which ran above their heads. He backed into the shadows under the nearby staircase, pressing Dean against the wall alongside him with an arm across his chest.
"You're hurting my chest," Dean said bemusedly.
"Shut up" Sam hissed, glancing upwards. The footsteps paused for an agonising moment, then retreated. Sam exhaled in relief, turning only to see Dean's anguished eyes.
"I'm sorry. Was I not my best? I want to be my best."
***
Saphirra batted her luxurious eyelashes, delicately bejewelled with tears of sadness.
"But...Dean! I thought... you loved only me!"
"Saphirra," Sam's chest heaved with emotion or possibly poorly-concealed hysteria. "I can't stay with you. Not when I know... that only one of your twins is mine!"
"Not so fast." Thunder rolled as rain battered against the mansion's French windows. A flash of lightning outlined the shirtless figure of Dean, standing in the doorway, droplets of rainwater slowly trickling down his well-muscled chest before dropping sensuously to the floor.
"Armondo!"
"No, Saphirra... I am the real Dean!"
"But... how?"
"My long-lost brother stole my identity after I got amnesia. Isn't that right... Sam?"
Sam paused, staring incredulously at Dean as his mind struggled to keep up with the ridiculous tapestry of soap-opera nonsense they were weaving. A triumphant smirk crossed his face as the perfect retort came to him. "You should have died in that boat crash! It was the perfect plan! And your face – you were scarred beyond recognition when I left you clinging to the wreckage..."
To Sam's chagrin, Dean didn't miss a beat as he continued the farce. "The plastic surgeon who fell in love with me gave a better face. I'd like you to meet my wife... Dr. Diamanda Winchester." They both jumped as the percussion-heavy score swelled to a deafening crescendo.
"Mother?"
"My child! My only daughter!"
As the female leads embraced, Sam sidled over to Dean.
"Dude, you got the MILF?"
"Ah, not quite. This is all a pretty ridiculous ploy to have the babies handed over into my custody. Who did you think fathered the other twin, dude?"
***
And... done. Like we said, madness :) Hope you enjoyed reading as much as we enjoyed writing.