Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, the characters or anything else. Only the story. Also, I might reference some bands here, and I do not own them nor am I responsible for them. That is all.
Joy and sorrow are each one side of the same coin. The Winchesters' luck has been rather one sided for the majority of their lives; all or mostly pain and sorrow. Perhaps fate will allow something, or someone, joyful to tumble into their lives.
In the bunker, the brothers were researching a local ghost case. The residence in question was only 20 minutes or so away from the bunker, so they decided to remain there as long as possible. Yesterday, a middle-aged woman named Mabel Benson had turned up strangled to death in her apartment, her door locked, no sign of a forced entry and no possessions missing. Two days prior to Mabel's death, one Mr. Arnold Harkowitz, an ex-marine with an incredible temper, was also found dead in his apartment with the same cause of death as Mabel, and the apartment in the same state.
They sat at the rectangular table, four of the six chairs remaining empty. Sam was completely engrossed in his laptop, skimming lists of the residents at the Honey Lake Apartment Complex and searching for connections.
"So get this...turns out Mable was in the same apartment building as Mr. Anger Management. Ghost could be haunting the building. You get anything on a bloody history?" Sam asked, buried in his research. Dean was sitting across from him with his brown leather jacket draped over the back of his chair. He was also immersed in his work, and grunted in response.
"Nada. Zip. Zilch. History's clean." Sam's face fell into a disappointed scowl. Dean attempted to restore hope by suggesting other options.
"Ghost might be with furniture or clothing somebody brought in...Maybe Mabel was just a bystander who got in the way?"
"Maybe. But, there's probably more than 300 chairs, old coat racks and tables in that building... any one of those could house a spirit. There's no way we can pinpoint which just by blind luck, and it'd take forever to get the history on everything too..."
"So what, wait for another victim?" Dean said, becoming exasperated. Sam waited a minute before answering.
"The way I see it, we don't really have a choice here. There's nothing we can do but wait." Dean stood from his seat at the table, stretching his legs.
"Well, I'm not just going to sit around then. I'll talk to Mabel's husband again to-" Just then, Dean was cut off by a loud crash coming from somewhere behind and to the left of Dean, away from the door of the bunker. Immediately, Sam jumped up and Dean grabbed his gun that was lying on the table. Silently, Dean motioned for Sam to stay put while he investigated the commotion. He walked up to the hall, ready to leap around the corner and ambush the enemy. Dean cocked his gun, and leapt out to meet the un-identified foe. He was faced with... a footstool.
Sam, awaiting the sound of a struggle, was confused when he heard a simple 'What the hell?' He walked over to the hallway, clearing the floor space in a few strides. He poked his head around the corner, seeing Dean standing with his back to him. His head was down, staring at something on the ground. This position blocked Sam's view of the item of interest.
"Dean?" He asked nervously.
"Come here Sammy, you'll wanna see this." Dean responded, a hint of disbelief in his tone. Sam, even more confused now, edged into the hall. Dean shifted out of the way, clearing the view for Sam to see the peculiar object. The footstool looked to be around two feet in diameter, with three wooden legs holding it upright. It was made of rich chocolate-brown wood, with a circular cushion on top. The cushion was made of an elegant brown and blue fabric, stuffed with feathers to the point of bursting.
"Uh, Dean?"
"Yea, Sammy?"
"What's with the redecorating?" Dean shot him a look saying dude this is serious, cut the jokes and Sam complied.
"Okay, footstool in our bunker. How do ya think it got here?" Dean shrugged, baffled. Sam reached down to pick it up, and Dean hissed a curt 'careful'. Sam grunted in reply, and hoisted the stool into his arms.
"Uh, the Enterprise beamed it down? I've got no clue." Dean said, bewildered. They both inspected the intruder, and found that it was rather plain; just an ordinary footstool.
"Well, probably best to keep an eye on it until we can make heads or tails of... Whatever's going on." Sam agreed, and carried the figure over to the table, where he placed it in the middle.
"Well, back to ghosts then." Sam said, staring at the stool. Dean shrugged.
"So... I'm gonna talk to Mabel's husband again and see if he has any more information... He seemed a little shifty last time anyways."
"Yeah, okay. I'll stay here and see if I can dig up anything about the building or the people living there." Dean turned to leave and just as he lifted his coat off the chair, another crash resonated around the bunker, coming from the same hallway.
"Again?!" Dean yelled, annoyed.
"Sonofa-" a voice said, echoing down the corridor. The boys exchanged glances, and Dean motioned for his brother to follow. They crept up like before, both hearing shuffling noises from around the corner. The Winchesters cocked their guns, and rushed out to discover the origin of the noise. In the middle of the hallway, stood a dazed and alarmed teenage girl, staring at the wall of the corridor. She wore dark jeans and a grey t-shirt, partially covered by a black leather jacket. Black combat boots cloaked her ankles and a knot of brown hair was tied into a bun behind her head. She had high cheekbones and green-blue eyes which were wide in confusion and surprise. She turned quickly once she saw the boys enter the hall.
"Who are you?" Dean demanded in a harsh tone, gun raised. The girl's face softened into something along the lines of happy disbelief. Dean noticed the change and assumed the intruder, probably a witch or demon, was pleased by her company.
"Wait, you! You're...oh my god. What?!" Her countenance quickly changed to one of glee. It seemed she only then noticed the gun and her expression turned to one of annoyance with a hint of fear.
"Yeah, I'm sure you know all about us." Dean said with a sneer. "Let's see... Demon or witch?" The girl sighed and replied.
"Well, I was going to ask Jensen or Dean, but it appears you've just answered that question." Sam and Dean both looked confused at the name, but they had no time to question her. "Guys, what the hell am I doing in your bunker? Summoning spell gone wrong?"
"I was gonna ask you the same thing." Sam piped up. Dean nodded, realizing that she had no intentions of being here.
"But you still didn't answer my question. Who, or what, are you?" The girl nodded, her face still, remarkably, conveying a feeling of joy.
"First let's put the, uh, artillery away, shall we?" She said, raising her hands to show surrender.
"Not 'til you give us some answers." She nodded.
"Not a demon, witch, shifter, etc. Just a girl." She raised her eyebrows at the guns still aimed at her chest, silently asking for them to lower. They complied, lowering their guns but leaving them cocked. She let her hands fall back to her sides, making the leather jacket squeak.
"Better. My name's Amy. You're Sam and Dean, yea?" She said, appearing to fight an impulse to giggle with glee.
The brothers nodded, even more baffled than when the footstool came from... Wherever it came from.
"You a hunter?" Sam asked. Why else would she know them, unless she somehow kept up with their old criminal records? Amy scratched her head, as if in deep thought. When she finally spoke, her voice was cautious and slow.
"Listen guys, this is gonna sound pretty crazy."
"Oh, well crazy is right up our alley." Dean said stoically. Amy sniggered and replied.
"Touché. Well, here goes. You remember that one time Cas sent you into that parallel world?" Dean became even more puzzled; she knew Cas too?
"Might have to be more specific."
"Life was a TV show?" she motioned to Dean, "You were Jensen Ackles," she motioned to Sam, "you were Jared Padalecki, Cas was Misha Collins, director Robert Singer, executive producer-" Dean cut her off, bewilderment seeping into his usually even tone.
"Yeah, rings a bell. Why? And how'd you know that?" Dean said, still wary of their visitor.
"That's where I'm from. That's my universe." She said, rocking on her toes, nervously awaiting their reaction. The brothers tried to absorb the news.
"Give us a sec, will you?" Sam asked, and Amy nodded. Sam grabbed Dean by the arm and pulled him a small distance back the way they came in an attempt to get out of earshot of Amy. They positioned themselves with their backs to her, providing maximum privacy.
"You believe her? I mean, yeah, I guess Cas could swing something like that, sending people between universes, but that's about it. I don't think there's any other creatures or monsters that can pull a stunt like that. Unless it's something we haven't seen before." Sam said, glancing over his shoulder to size up Amy. She was looking around at her surroundings, particularly interested in the scenery behind the Winchesters, the table where they were sitting moments ago.
"You think an angel sent her? Wait, is she an angel? Maybe she was sent out undercover. Or maybe she's like Anna, she fell from upstairs and doesn't remember anything?" Dean questioned, saying his train of thought out loud, his face becoming more serious with every enigma he faced.
"Well, let's play along for now then we can see what she knows." Sam suggested, and Dean nodded. Synchronically, they turned and sauntered back towards Amy. She folded her arms with a squeak of the jacket, and raised her eyebrows. Her body language allowed her to ask the brothers their thoughts without ever uttering a word. Her stance radiated confidence and dominance, enough to give the brothers a run for their money, but in a lighthearted way. She emitted a peculiar feeling of security, and Dean felt himself relax despite his intents of being stolid and menacing.
Sam was the first to speak, "So, you're from the place where this," he gestured to his surroundings, "is a TV show, right?" Amy nodded.
"Very popular one, in fact. Gained ratings since you two visited. I'm a huge fan, so this is like… whoa. I'm still getting over the whole fact that this is all real, and I'm smack in the middle of all the action." she said. A thought entered her mind, and she shared it with the others.
"You know, this is kind like something Gabriel would do... I mean, he had you two in a bunch of TV shows before the apocalypse, right? So why not me? You think it's him?" Sam and Dean hadn't considered that before.
"Sorry if this is news, but he's dead. Ganked by Lucifer himself." Dean said, thinking he finally found something she didn't know. His sense of accomplishment was quickly quenched when Amy rolled her eyes.
"I know, but it's not exactly the first time he's tricked you into thinking he's dead. You kinda ruined his life, exposing him and all. You ever think he faked it to get back to all his Trickster business and stuff?" Dean faltered, and Sam stepped in.
"Actually, that might be possible. But he sent us a message via porno and everything, so it'd be a really great fake. To me it looked like the real deal." Amy considered that for a moment, deciding to let the discussion cease.
"Well, only way to know is if we see him, so best not dwell on it. And it looks like I'm not exactly going back anytime soon, so..." She tapped the wall.
"That how you got here?" Sam asked, walking over to where she stood.
"I guess. I remember falling out of something and there's no doors around, so must be. Unless there happens to be a handy-dandy little trapdoor here?" She asked, already anticipating the answer.
"Nope. None that we've found." Sam pressed his hand to the wall, looking for any sign of unusual activity or any give in the cement. He found none, just an ordinary, blank wall. Dean walked over, performing his own tests.
"Hang on, what's that?" He said, bending down the peer at a kink in the paint. He traced his hand across the chip, and lowered his face to study it. When he straightened up, he had a somber look on his face.
"Summoning sigil. I'm guessing you," he pointed at Amy, "have one just like it at... Wherever you came from." Sam bent down in the same position Dean was moments ago and gazed at the scratch. He pressed his face closer and realized it wasn't a chip, but a tiny, intricately carved symbol. He recognized it as a summoning sigil.
"Yep," he said, standing, "you're gonna be here awhile. Spell must be reversed by the person who cast it, so unless we find him, you're stuck here."
"Oh. Well," she said, walking out of the hall into the main room with the table, "home sweet home then." She looked up at the high-ceilings, and allowed her eyes to wander around the bunker, exploring various alcoves and hallways with her aqua eyes. She plopped down in one of the chairs, leaving a space between her and Dean who also took a seat. Sam gracefully perched himself on his chair.
"The famous bunker." she said, still discovering each crack and crevice visible from her seat. She lowered her eyes to the table, to find the mysterious footstool.
"Hang on, that's mine! From my living room!" she exclaimed, pointing to the small piece of furniture. Sam nodded, putting the pieces together.
"That makes sense… we found it a minute before you came through. Probably a side effect from the spell, like it just kinda sucks in everything around it, including this and you." Amy and Dean nodded, and she only just noticed the mess of books and papers strewn about under the stool.
"Oh, you guys working a case?" she asked curiously, eagerness in her voice. She folded her arms, which seemed to be a default position for her. Sam nodded.
"Ghost case." He said curtly.
"Do tell." Amy said, leaning back. Sam seemed reluctant, and decided to spare her the details of the murders. Amy couldn't be more than, what, sixteen? However, just as Sam was about to tell her the results of their research, Dean cut in.
"Amy, what do you know about angels?" Amy shrugged.
"Dicks, for one. Except Cas. He's cool," She decided, "Michael's vessel, Lucifer's vessel," she said pointing at the brothers in turn, "lots of civil war type stuff going on up in Heaven, angels need permission to enter a vessel, they can't cross a line of holy fire, immune to most weapons except angel blades, etc." she concluded. The boys quickly extinguished their idea of Amy being an angel; she either wouldn't know or share all that with them. Dean decided to dig deeper.
"How much do you know about us?" he asked, staring her down with a famous Dean Winchester glare. She sat up, leaning her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her folded hands.
"Well there's the stuff in the show like major events and love interests, and then… other stuff." She said, choosing her words carefully.
"What kind of other stuff?" Sam asked.
"Um, there's stuff the fandom comes up with, you know like headcanons and ships and stuff." She saw the confused looks decorating both the Winchester's faces, and rolled her eyes.
"Fandom: collective of people that like a subject, in this case Supernatural. Headcanon: a storyline somebody beside the writers of the show think of to elaborate on a certain topic in the show or fill a missing span of time. Ship: pairing of two or more characters." Sam nodded his understanding, but Dean looked petrified.
"Wait, pairing as in…" he meshed his fingers together in a highly suggestive manor, "pairing? Like, relationship?" Amy nodded, slightly amused at is reaction.
"Are there any with me in them?" he asked, slightly urgent and very nervous of the answer.
"Oh yeah, loads. Primarily there's Destiel, which is Dean and Cas, my personal favorite. There's also Dean and Benny, Dean and Kevin, Dean and Joe, and Wincest, which is nasty." Dean's face grew more petrified and disgusted with each ship. Sam's, on the other hand, grew more amused.
"Jeez, you people need to get a life… and a boyfriend." He said, attempting to shake off the traumatizing images in his head.
"Oh, says the man who spotted fake Dr. Sexy because of his shoes." Amy fired back, looking content. Sam let out an abrupt laugh, only to be cut short by a murderous glare from Dean.
"Okay, let's hear the, uh, ships for Sammy here." Dean requested, attempting to gather ammo for future need against Sam.
"Well, there's Wincest, like I mentioned earlier. That's Dean and Sam by the way. Again, nasty. But there's Sam and Gabriel, the big dog, Sam and Lucifer, Sam and Cas, Sam and Kevin. Oh, and a threesome between Sam, Cas and Dean." By now Sam looked equally as horrified as Dean, and it was Amy's turn to snigger. Judging by how they took the news, she decided not to tell them about fanart and fanfiction. At least not yet.
"I need a beer." Dean said as he stood, his chair screeching on the floor. Amy leaned back in her chair once more.
"So, ghost case. Gimme the details." She implored. Sam physically shook off the former topic, and gathered a few news clippings and papers from the pile scattered across the table top. He handed them to her, and briefly summarized the events of the past days.
"This guy Arnold Harkowitz," he pointed to a black and white photo in a newspaper, "was murdered in his apartment three days ago. Locked door, no forced entry, nothing missing, etc. Yesterday, this chick Mable Benson," he pointed to a different picture, "was murdered in her apartment, same way, same circumstances; nothing missing, locked door, etc. Lived in the same building."
"History of the apartment?" she asked without lifting her eyes from the pictures. Sam looked surprised and answered.
"Clean. No deaths, murders, suicides, etc." Amy finished examining the pictures and lifted her gaze to meet Sam's.
"How 'bout the victims, they know each other? Is it possible they committed a murder together or something and he wants revenge?" Sam's respect for Amy was growing with every sentence. He shook his head.
"Other than sharing the building, they didn't have any connections; no mutual friends, high school, church groups, nothing." Sam concluded. Dean walked back to join them, an open bottle of beer in his hand. He swung his chair around, sitting with his legs spread and the back pressed against his stomach. Amy placed the papers back on the table and folded her arms once again.
"What're you guys going with? What's the spirit drawn to?" Sam exchanged a quick glance with Dean and they mutually agreed that Amy wasn't half bad.
"Now we're thinking it might be attached to an item in the building, like an heirloom or an old chair or something." Amy nodded, furrowing her brow.
"Who've you talked to? Anybody got a spouse or neighbors?" Dean looked impressed at the extent of Amy's knowledge on standard procedure.
"Well, Mable's got a husband who I've talked to before, but he seemed kinda suspicious. Actually I was just gonna go try to get more info from him, but then you dropped by." Dean said. Amy nodded.
"Hey, where's your bathroom?" She asked, standing. Sam pointed and gave directions. She nodded her thanks and departed. As soon as she was out of earshot, Dean turned to Sam.
"What do you think?" He asked, leaning closer. Sam furrowed his brow in confusion and Dean rolled his eyes and clarified.
"About Amy? Think we should trust her?"
"Well she certainly knows a lot about us, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I mean, shouldn't she if she's a fan of the show?" Dean nodded reluctantly, secretly hoping the whole shipping thing was a ruse to get on his nerves.
"Actually, I think she's pretty cool. You know Dean, she might be able to help us with the case. She's practically got our methods memorized, so she can be useful." Dean, again, nodded reluctantly. Working with a kid? Kevin is one thing but… with that thought came a pang of guilt and sadness. He was just a kid too. He shook the thought away, and decided he didn't want to condemn Amy to death by letting her tag along.
"No. She's too young, I don't want any more blood on my hands. Especially not hers." Dean said, his deep voice grave and sincere.
"Yeah she's young, but remember she watched the show. She's got common sense Dean, and she probably picked some 'what-not-to-do' tips. Anyways, she's gotta stay here until we find who sent her. They must want her here for some reason, and I doubt it's to swap muffin recipes. This is the safest place for her to be." Dean agreed. Amy reappeared and took her seat.
"So," Dean said, clasping his hands together, "I'm gonna talk to Mr. Benson again. Sam, watch the kid." This remark was met with a double-bitchface from both Amy and Sam. Dean stared at the synchronized facial expressions for a second, slightly out of awe and slightly out of annoyance. Then he stood, grabbed his coat and headed up the stairs to the door. Amy watched him go, and Sam returned to his research. Amy was silent and still for a moment, and glanced at a watch that was hidden beneath her jacket. The time read 12:36. Half-past noon.
"Are you hungry?" she asked suddenly, and Sam looked up.
"Uh, yeah I guess…?" He said, confused.
"Where's your kitchen?" She asked. Sam, still befuddled, pointed down a long, brightly lit corridor and told her to take the first left. She nodded and thanked him. Sam quickly disregarded the request, focusing once again on the case. Within minutes, the bunker filled with pleasant and luscious aromas. After about fifteen minutes, Amy returned holding a plate and utensils. Sam looked up, and was slightly taken aback. She placed a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, ham, and toast. Sam stared at the plate for a moment, unsure of what to say.
"Bon appetit," she said, smiling and sitting down.
"Wow. You didn't have to-" Sam started. Amy shook her head.
"Nah. Cooking is kind of my... hobby, escape, passion, call it what you will. It's just what I do." She put simply. Sam nodded, still faintly stunned. He dragged the plate towards him, and picked up the fork. He scooped up a decent amount of eggs, and plopped it in his mouth, aware that his every move was being watched by Amy. He was met with a harmonious combination of hearty flavors, perfect seasoning, and light yet buttery eggs. He chewed and swallowed, savoring every second.
"This is delicious," he stated enthusiastically, in awe. Amy glowed with pride.
"Glad you like them," she said, smiling.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Sam found no new leads, and Dean's interrogation yielded no new information. Amy was given a spare bedroom down the hall from the boys' and they all shared a dinner scraped together from the meagerly stocked kitchen the Winchesters kept. That night, everybody in the bunker felt an odd sense of comfort and happiness despite the frustrating ghost case and the mystery behind Amy's appearance.