You Must Remember This

Hey there. How's it going? What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night? Are you lost? No? Well, there's lost, and then again, there's LOST. Take that good-looking son of a gun over there talking to the blonde girl in the pink tracksuit. Son of a gun in more ways than one--his name's Dean Winchester. Yeah, like the rifle.

The reason I say Dean is lost is because a year ago tonight, he surrendered his soul and tonight's the night the rest of him is supposed to follow suit. I say supposed to, but the demon who held his contract is an infernally bad poker player, and I won Dean with a pair of treys.

I've had a few run-ins with Dean over the years, and I like the guy. He's got a healthy appetite and he knows how to have a good time. He's just a little messed up when it comes to his family, and I can relate to that, too. However, I'm about to straighten him out on that subject once and for all.

Okay, here's what went down: There are two Winchester brothers, Dean, and his kid brother Sam. (Don't call him Sammy; he gets all bent out of shape about it.) Anyway, Sam got himself killed. Stabbed in the back, long story--anyway, Dean found himself a crossroads remarkably like this one, summoned up a demon and traded his soul for his brother's life, to come due in one year. Which shows some piss-poor negotiating skills on his part, because the standard contract is ten years. Hell, they practically give you a toaster to cinch the deal.

So, if I wasn't such a kickass poker player, Dean would be hearing the baying of the hellhounds right about now. They'd tear him into yummy bite-sized nuggets and he'd make the transition to that great sauna in the hereafter: The Pit, Hell, Gehenna, Fort Lauderdale, call it what you will.

That blonde he's yakking with? Flirting with, is my guess, partly as a stalling tactic, but mostly because that's Dean and he'd flirt with a rock if it had good cleavage--he thinks she's a demon, but she's actually my girlfriend, Bunny. Nope, not a demon--just a run-of-the-mill pooka. My playmate, Bunny, heh heh… whoops, was that my out-loud voice?

Me? Dean calls me Trickster, but that's more like my calling. The name on my driver's license is D.B. Hoakes--that's H-O-A-K-E-S. You can call me D.B., it doesn't matter. You won't remember any of this in the morning, and neither will Dean.

Now, originally I was gonna prank Dean with a shitload of rabbits--it's an inside joke--but Bunny gave me a better idea. She rented some movie, maybe you've seen it? 'Eternal Something or Other of the Spotless Whatever It Was'...? I watched it, and I had an inspiration as to how to save the Winchester boys from themselves, because believe me, this situation is only a little more radical than the usual kind of agita these two go through for each other.

See, the Winchesters are legendary in certain circles. It's a long story-- I know, that's what I said about Sam getting stabbed--it all goes back about 25 years and the Reader's Digest version is, Dean will do anything for his brother, even if the kid is a hot contender in the Antichrist Futurity. Maybe he isn't the Antichrist, but Sam's no angel; I've personally seen him commit human sacrifice to bring Dean back from the dead.

Dean doesn't know I'm involved in this little caper. Right now, he can't see us or hear us. See that envelope Bunny just gave him? He doesn't know it, but by accepting that envelope, he's triggered a time-release glamour. In about twenty minutes, Dean Winchester won't remember himself. He's gonna become someone else, an average Joe who never had a brother named Sam.

Instead of a career of hunting poltergeists and demons and things that go bump in the night, he's gonna think he's been working as a mechanic, doing engine rebuilds and body work. All of which he's done, just not as his primary means of support. I could've set him up as a pool hustler, but there's too much of a chance of him running into someone who'd know him as Dean.

That envelope? Besides being an awesome piece of magic, it really does have a contract in it--for a shiny new job at Four Corners Auto Restoration in Flagstaff, Arizona. Dean's actually a damn good mechanic, but on account of his screwed-up upbringing, he's never been appreciated for the talents he brings to the table. All that's about to change. Dean's gonna have a normal life, courtesy of yours truly.

His brother? How right you are! Can't very well fix one Winchester without fixing the other one, even if Dean's my favorite. Bunny and I are going to pay Sam a little visit, and he's gonna get--drum roll, please--a lifetime supply of books. He used to have an ambition to be a lawyer, but even I'm not that much of a joker. I pulled a few strings, and thanks to a friend of a friend, the geek formerly known as Sam is gonna be working at a rare bookstore. He'll love it, especially without having to worry about his big brother getting electrocuted or captured by the FBI or, ahem! selling his soul. Hey, I told you it was a long story.

I just flat-lined Dean's cell phone so he can't call Sam with the good news about his reprieve. It's all gonna be a moot point in a little while.

There he goes. I'm gonna miss that guy.

Okay, it looks like I've got a few minutes to spare. (Wait for me in the car, Bunny. This won't take long.) So, what brings you to this rinky-dink crossroads at this hour? Love, money, better job, anti-aging crème not working for you? Tell D.B.!

Unless maybe you want to wait 'til tomorrow night for a real demon to play 'Let's Make a Deal' with? No? Changed your mind about the whole thing? Glad to hear it!

As a parting gift, presto! That gas-guzzler of yours was looking kind of beat-up. This sweet little hybrid should get you around in style and economy. Don't worry, it's a freebie. Souls are a pain in the ass to keep track of, and that's really not my gig.

Go, have a nice life. I've gotta go see a guy about some books.