Author's Note: I was out of the loop for a while. Sorry, readers.

Went back over the original story and was severely dissatisfied, so I started over.

Using the 'Supernatural' way of naming episodes, I use song or movie titles for the chapter headings, except for the Prologue. That one's my own thing.

The t.v. characters and the universes aren't mine; they belong to Eric Kripke, and whoever owns the rights to The Little House on the Prairie.

I'm not making any money off this and all that other legal mumbo-jumbo.

Prologue: The Strangest Cases of Mind Fog

The Aether, Nowhere/Everywhere

A deck of cards sat in the middle of the table.

"Okay, here's how it works; highest draw gets to decide the main characters and the main bad guys out of the names we've drawn from the hat. Second highest picks the universe we dump them into, third one picks the situation that brings the good guys' team together, fourth draw picks the location, and the loser picks between first and second person storytelling and which character it's told from."

Madison, Wisconsin, USA

The first-story window was open; a blanket serving as a makeshift curtain fluttered slightly as wisps of fog scudded through the screen, floating toward the oddly shaped lump on the bed.

A smallish figure was sprawled on the mattress face down, drooling onto the pillow and snoring loudly on the exhale, feet hanging off the edge.

The fog became thick in the bedroom, now moving independently of the draft as it slowly cocooned its target.

The sunlight dispersed the lingering mist in the morning. On the bed was a tangle of damp sheets and a note that read:

We do not own rights to this character.

We promise to put it back as soon as we've finished playing.

Kisses,

The Fan Fiction Multiverse.

A Dank Alley, Some Random City in the U.S.

"Fuck no, I don't do that shit for free!" The woman raked her fingers across the john's face. "Get lost!"

There was a flash of light, and the pop-whoosh of air rushing to fill a sudden void.

Grabbing her blouse over her exposed chest, the woman staggered out of the alley, one shoe dragging over the pavement as it trailed after her by the ankle strap. "Oh, my God! Oh my GAAWD!" Unaware of the scene she was making for the late-night pedestrians, she tottered drunkenly toward the nearest church. "That's fucking IT. I'm becoming a God-damned NUN right the fuck now!"

He wasn't sure what to say to the disheveled, scantily dressed young woman standing in front of him. "I'm, um, glad that you feel drawn to devoting your life to the Lord, miss, but…. uh…Methodists don't have nuns."

Somewhere in a desert valley

The fourteen men leapt from their horses and ran toward the tunnel passage, whooping. The bank robberies had been a wild success, and pretty soon they'd be counting out their haul.

Outside of a rest stop on U.S. Highway 94 West, United States

Dean stared up at the stars. Sometimes it felt like he could stand up and jump straight into that vastness. Too bad gravity kept him stuck to the world.

Watch out for Sammy. Save him. You have to watch out for Sammy. Save him. Save him, Dean, or you're going to have to kill him.

"You okay?" Sam asked, coming out of the rest stop.

"Huh?"

"Need me to drive?"

Dean shrugged. "Sure."

"You've been quiet."

He got into the passenger's side and shut the door. "Just got out of the hospital and Dad's dead. Fuck else you want me to say?"

"Right." Sam climbed into the truck and pulled his own door closed. "What was I thinking."

Dean didn't bother responding to the dig. It was hard enough to wrap his head around the fact that he was even vertical after…. The Doctors had wanted to do scans on him; the brain damage and internal injuries had disappeared way too fast for explanation. They'd even shown him the tests they'd done right after he'd been admitted. A huge blank space; the cold, gray unlit parts, except for the pale orange flickers around the base of his skull. I was brain dead. He shuddered slightly. His ribs were still bruised to hell, and there were all kinds of cuts and abrasions all over. It hurt to breathe sometimes.

"Bobby said we could stay with him until you're back on your feet. He's got the Impala on the yard, so you can fix her."

"I remember, Sam."

"I know. I just…," Sam kept his eyes on the road. "You want to listen to some music?"

"Have a headache." Something shimmered on the side of the road, catching his attention. "Did you see-?"

"What?"

Dean rubbed his eyes. "Probably just tired." There was another flicker. "Or not."

The road suddenly seemed to warp ahead of them.

"SHIT," Sam's voice sounded like it was coming from behind a wall. "What the fu-."

The Aether, Nowhere/Everywhere

Looking at the pieces of paper on the table, and having drawn a two of clubs, the loser of the draw rolled her eyes at the idiotic choices of how the protagonists met up and the central location. Scowling, she pulled one of the names toward her. "First Person from this guy's perspective."

A collective groan of dismay went around the table.