I was the average girl living the average life; I was getting ready to move out of my parent's houses (divorced) in a month, I had a full time desk job that allowed me enough money and time to go out at the weekends but golly, nobody ever invited me out or even responded to any invites I extended. So yes, average life: shit friends, fighting parents, and a dead end job. I sound bitter now, but I get like that from time to time. Mostly I was happy with my little life; I was in a band and a drama group which allowed me plenty opportunity to do what I loved most and perform on stage.

So waking up to Jensen Ackles wasn't something I saw coming. His eyes opened a little as I took a sharp intake of breath. He smiled at me as though I was someone familiar, and I tried to work out how the fuck I got where I was. Dreaming was the first theory but then I'd never been a vivid dreamer.

"What's the matter?" he asked. I had no words. What was the story here? "Ronnie, what's wrong?"

His brow furrowed and he turned onto his side. The covers drifted away from him and I reckon if I wasn't shell shocked I'd have swooned. I put my hand against my head and kept it there. I leaned back and tried to look around the room. Something had to make sense from there; purple, silver and mahogany everywhere. I knew it was all mine, but I didn't remember where I got it from, or putting it there.

I turned to him at last, "What the fuck is going on?"

His brows furrowed out of concern and into wondering. "What's your name?"

"Veronica Clarkson."

"Winchester. You're Veronica Winchester." He stated.

"When did that happen?" I asked. We were both pleasantly calm about this. I was surprised.

"Six years ago. What do you remember?"

"How old am I?"

"Thirty-one."

I gasped. Seven years of my life were missing. Tears sprang to my eyes, my hand hovered over my mouth.

"Ronnie, I'll fix this." He promised. He was Dean Winchester; the fictional character I had adored since the TV Programme Supernatural started (except when Sam lost his soul, I wavered throughout that). I didn't know what was happening, but it was happening; nothing I could do about that.

"My parents – my brother – who are they?"

"Bill and Andrea Clarkson and your brother Paul Clarkson."

"Okay." I felt relieved, like I could stop crying and I calmed down. My life had collided with fiction. I started to laugh.

"Maybe we should go out, get something to eat. Talk."

I nodded. He pulled some things off a chair and walked out,

"I'll let you get changed." He smiled, sadness touching his eyes. I sat for a while, digesting the information. Based on the things I knew about supernatural I had two fundamental questions

1) Where had we settled? The town name, the city, the fucking country.

2) What supernatural entity had screwed with my reality?

Eventually I went to a drawer I could assume had my clothes in it; that where I would put clothes right? So I found jeans, and a block black t-shirt. Usually I'd need a belt but I almost struggled with the button on those jeans. That was unsettling.

I moved to the door and I realised, Dean was talking to Sam on the phone.

"Sam, she had no idea what's been happening the last seven years. I'll handle it, just come over and take care of Robbie. Thank you."

Who the Hell was Robbie? I walked down the stairs and there he was; in the flesh; my freaking idol.

"Ready to go?" he asked, passing me a red leather Jacket. It was a lot more worn out now but I still loved it. You have no idea how good it felt to see something I recognised. That, I bought with my first bonus from my work. Did I still work there?