(Insert standard disclaimer here: I don't own it, just dabbling for fun. No moneys were made from this.)
Thanks fro choosing my lil one shot, It is unbeta-ed if anyone would like to take a hand in it, I would be honored. :P
The silence on the set was nearly deafening only the occasional sound of a crew in the distance was heard as they broke down set pieces. Since the shooting from the extra that went crazy, the entire set has been on lock down. The detectives recently cleared the scene and allowed the staff back to the studio to break down the set. After the funerals, those who were in the crew were allowed to come back into the studio. One woman was one of the lucky few who escaped with their lives. Her leg had been shot, but it wasn't serious. She was currently kneeling near the camera equipment. Her personal bag and supplies from the last day they filmed was still where she left it, though it had been kicked over in the chaos.
She was carefully stuffing her own laptop and sketchpad back into the bag, ignoring the sounds of the crew disassembling what she had considered home in the last six years. She stuffed in her errant pencils and pens. Then she picked up her large digital camera and inspected the lens and other parts. She chewed idly on a piece of candy as she flipped through some of the photos on the screen of the camera. She swallowed the piece of candy and stuck the camera in her bag, satisfied with the camera's condition. She picked up a pamphlet of her instructions from that day, discussing angles and media and such that was assigned to the camera crew. Her eyes fell on a small collection of tapes that she had from her camcorder.
The boys frequently goofed off to lighten the mood of the scenes. Occasionally, she'd be allowed to record their antics. She picked up a tape and held it in her hand carefully. A soft red glow caught her attention. Her brows knitted in confusion and she stuffed the rest of her stuff into her backpack and slipped it on over her shoulders. Her booted feet made little to no noise as she rounded the corner of the Bobby Singer Home set. Just beyond was one of the hotel sets that they frequently repurposed for the motel scenes. It still looked like the hotel they used for the 'Changing Channels' episode.
At the far side, a glow was shining beneath the curtains of the window. She ran her right hand over the table, her mind swimming with memories. She smiled softly as she moved closer to the window. She pulled back the heavy cloth, her brows knitting in concern. A strange symbol was glowing on the window, She couldn't see any paint or anything at all on the window to cause the glow. Perhaps it was an illusion. She could feel the heat from it by just being in proximity of the glowing shape. Her mind screamed at her to ignore it, but she pushed her thoughts aside and lifted her hand.
The crash echoed through the alleyway as the body flew through the window. She yelped in surprise and pain as the wet pavement met her shoulder, tearing her skin up. She hissed and sit up slowly in disorientation. A figure knelt before her, murmuring to her in a foreign accent. Then again, she was used to accents since she had been living in Canada for the show. But it's wet here, and dark. The man put a hand on her arm and helped her up. She looked up and gasped.
"Mr. Sheppard? What happened? Where am I?" She ran her hand over her face briefly.
The man she called Sheppard, studied her carefully, "Sorry, love. I haven't the foggiest on what you are talking about. But you ruined my chances to escape. It's too late now."
She looked up at him with confusion, "Escape? Are you in trouble, Mark?" He snorted derisively, stroking a hand on his chin.
"Well, for one sweetheart, My name's not Mark, It's Crowley. As for you, you aren't in Kansas anymore, darling." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, gesturing to a large factory across the road behind them. The sign read 'Pittsburgh Lumber.' Her stormy blue eyes widened and she elicited a string of curses.
It seemed to amuse the demon immensely, "You had better tell me what the fuck is going on," she hissed.
"What part of 'you aren't in Kansas, anymore' could you not wrap your pretty little head around?" He crossed his arms, smirking lecherously at her. "Ah, yes, I can see that near dead hamster running that wheel in your head now," he commented as he watched her mind gather the facts in disbelief.
Her eyes shifted from the sign to the dark man beside her, "You said your name is Crowley? As in the 'King of Hell,' Crossroads demon, 'Crowley?'" His gaze darkened when she used the quotey fingers around the phrase 'king of hell.' She was mocking him.
"You know. I would have guessed that if you are smart enough to figure out who I am, You would have been smart enough not to mock me." His eyes narrowed as he growled at her. A shiver ran up her spine. He shifted closer to her, the scent of sulfur invading her nostrils. Her breathing increased as her fear rose, but she forced herself to keep a straight face. A hand lifted unconsciously and crossed her chest to hold the strap of her backpack, clutching it tightly in her fist. Crowley didn't hesitate and he wrapped a hand around her long slender throat, pressing her back against the wall and lifting her off the ground slightly.
Her hands snapped up to pull at his wrist and palm. Her dull, short nails did little to help her gain purchase as he squeezed tighter with menace in his eyes. She couldn't cough, pant or otherwise. She couldn't scream for help. Her vision began to darken at the edges as tears escaped her eyes. Looked like she would be joining her co-workers in death after all. After a moment she realized that would be impossible, she was now in an alternate reality. She would be alone. Suddenly, Crowley shook his head, "You aren't worth my time." He hissed. It stung her a little, but she pushed it aside. "I think I will give the boys something to occupy their time to get them off my arse."
Sam sat silently on one of the chairs in Bobby's Library, leafing through a book. The events of the last few hours weighed heavily on all three men in the room, but none were ready to talk about it yet. Bobby sat at his desk sipping on a scotch while Dean angrily and methodically cleaned all the weapons he could get his hands on. The hunter was still in shock over what Castiel had done. He was angry that the man he considered family had betrayed them for a foolish purpose. Deep down he still feared for the angel.
A crashing sound in the kitchen startled the group. Dean snatched up the shotgun beside him and moved to the slider doors. Sam pulled out Ruby's knife and held it aloft with Bobby behind him, holding the colt. Dean shoved the door open and rounded the corner. They stalled at the sight. There on the floor on top of what was formerly a chair was a woman. She groaned, rolling onto her arms and knees. Just behind her was the King of Hell himself. Crowley winked at the men then smirked at the woman on the floor as she coughed, struggling to regain her breath.
"Now, now, princess, Don't do anything you would regret. Besides, you have some new playmates now." Crowley intoned down at the woman as she reached out and caught the thigh of his slacks. The men were just in shock that Crowley would have the balls to show up at Bobby's house. Dean noticed the woman stopped coughing and murmured under her breath. Crowley smirked and leaned forward, cupping an ear mockingly, "What was that darling?"
She looked up, "I said 'suck my dick, you cock-sucking mother fucker,'" she growled and spit in his face. Crowley roared in surprise and reared back, clutching his face as his skin sizzled under his hand. Before Dean could raise his gun, the demon disappeared. The girl coughed more, clutching at her throat lightly. Dean glanced over his shoulder at his brother who was fighting to contain a laugh at what just happened.
Dean moved over to the woman and knelt, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Are you alright?" Her shoulder shook under his hand. He watched her with a puzzled look as she began laughing.
She continued to laugh for nearly five minutes, which resulted in her coughing from her abused throat. When she looked up at him, the laughter and coughs died in her throat. An insurmountable number of emotions crossed her features. Suddenly she launched herself forward and wrapped her arms around his ribcage, hugging him tightly. She trembled, still fighting a cough, but clutching him tightly regardless. He looked over at Sam and Bobby with a helpless expression. Both hunters shrugged. Her body began to shake gently, then her heard a soft sob escape her.
He lifted his arms hesitantly and wrapped them around her slight frame, "Hey, You alright? He didn't hurt you did he?" He felt her shake her head.
Then she nodded, her hands fisting in his shirt, "I-I saw you die... I thought I would never see you again... You and Jared were my best friends..."
"What are you talking about?" he asked, pulling her away from him. Her striking blue eyes were filled with tears. Jared? Jared! From bizzaro world. "You mean Jared Padawhatsi?" It seemed like so long ago now to the hunter, that they were sent to that world.
"Jared Padalecki, Dean," chimed Sam, who had come over to them and knelt. She looked at Sam and nodded. "What's Your name? How did you know Jensen and Jared? And how did you get here?"
She glanced from one to the other, chewing on the ring in her lower lip idly. She took a deep breath, "My name is Jenna. Jenna Stark. I was on the film crew of Supernatural. I spent nearly every waking moment with both of you, er, Jared and Jensen. We were friends. Went to hockey games and such during the filming of the seasons. Look," She reached into her pocket and pulled out her iPhone. She unlocked the machine and showed them the picture she used as her home screen.
She laughed a little as she looked at it, holding it out for the boys to see. In the photo, Jared had apparently picked her up and was holding her upside down where her mohawk was brushing the floor. The arm extending from the camera was Jensen's as he made a face and pointed over his shoulder at the two, "They were teasing me because I shaved my head for my mohawk. Jared decided to use me for a broom."
Dean smirked, overcoming the surreal feeling of looking at the not-himself smiling at the camera. He looked up and grabbed the hat on her head, pulling it off. Her hair was exactly like it was in the photo, "How long ago was this taken before..."
She looked away, "Two days." Her hair was the same cut, but the mohawk was limp on her scalp, laying forward and off to the side. It actually didn't look too bad. "I first met Jensen on the set of Ten Inch Hero. He was a punk/goth character named Priestly." She giggled at Dean's dismayed expression, "He had to wear fake piercings and his hair was cut in a mohawk. And in every 'day' in the film, he would come to work with the mohawk in a different color and style. So to get a laugh out to him, I would come to the set every day after getting this with my mohawk a different color."
Dean couldn't resist asking, "Your piercings aren't fake, are they?" She smiled and shook her head. His eyes fell on the barbell that was pressed between her eyes at the bridge of her nose. She reached up and pushed one side, causing it to slide out a little on the other. "Oh, weird. Can I touch it?"
"Dean!" Barked Sam. She just nodded. Dean reached up and touched the barbell. It gave slightly under his finger. He shuddered. Then he shifted his touch to the space between the two ends and pressed down some. He could feel the bar beneath her skin. "Dude that is so weird, Dean. Stop it."
Dean just laughed and dropped his arm, letting his finger brush over the end of her nose, "So you didn't say how you ended up here."
She stood up carefully and peeled off her backpack. When she lifted her hand to her throat, it drew their attention to the bruising flesh, "Well I am not really sure. I was picking up my stuff from the studio. They had it closed down after the violence. And I saw a red glow, So I went to check it out. Next thing I knew, I was on the wrong side of Crowley's bed, and then he started choking me because I made fun of him. He said that I 'ruined his chance for escape' and that it was too late to try again or something. Oh and by the way, Mark Sheppard, the guy who played Crowley, Is a lot cooler in my world." Sam stood and reached into the freezer for an ice pack for her throat.
"So I have to ask, what the hell did you do to Crowley that made him run like a hell hound was on his ass?" Dean asked with a laugh.
She grinned then, "Well just before I crossed over, I was sucking on a sea salt caramel. I had to figured that my mouth would be pretty salty from the salt crystals so I spit it in his face." Dean laughed.
"I don't think I have ever seen anyone get the jump on Crowley except for when Bobby found Crowley's original body," Sam said as he pressed the towel wrapped ice pack to her throat. "But from what it sounds like," He started, eying the still bleeding scrapes on her shoulder. He grabbed a clean cloth and got it wet with warm water and began padding it on her left shoulder and elbow. "It sounds like Crowley got his hands on that ritual that Balthazar did to us, and was trying to hide in another realm. It would make sense since it has to be done on a full moon. The time must have passed when you touched the sigil and reversed the spell."
"Well then we will just have to send her back at the next full moon." Chimed Bobby from the doorway. "When you boys went through my window here, you came out it's duplicate in her world. We could do the same thing."
Jenna shook her head, "That wouldn't work. It's too late." The hunters turned a questioning gaze on her. "They were tearing down the set pieces, by the time the next full moon came, the windows won't be there anymore." She sighed and moved past the hunters into the library and took a seat on the day bed.
Dean watched her walk away then bent over and picked up her backpack and followed her. He set the bag carefully on the bed behind her and took a seat next to her. He folded his hands between his knees, resting his elbows on his thighs as he thought silently. He looked up when her hand came into his line of sight to toy with the corded bracelet on his right wrist. "You miss them, don't you?" he asked, watching her wipe a tear from her cheek.
With a nod, she smiled gently, "Jen and Jare were my best friends. I was pretty much in their faces all the time with the camera, so we just got comfortable with one another. You, er, Jensen introduced me to Jared and got me the job on the Supernatural set. I was at both their weddings. Jensen went out of his way to involve me in things. He was a really great guy." She sniffed and swiped at her eyes as more tears fell.
The hunter took a deep breath and circled his arm around her as Bobby and Sam came back into the room, "Well, I will be your friend, I am sure Sam would be too."
This granted him the tiniest of smiles. But it fled almost immediately, "You know, when I thought Crowley was going to kill me... I realized that I would be alone here. All my friends and family were from another world. I don't know anyone here."
"Well, I don't know about that. You know me and Sam probably better than we know ourselves since you were the one that filmed our lives. And you know Bobby too. That's gotta count for something," The hunter replied, tightening hie arm around her shoulder.
She laughed a little, "I suppose, but you didn't know me, did you?" For that, Dean had no reply. Bobby returned to his desk and picked up his phone and ordered a pizza for everyone while they resumed research.
The Singer house was dark several hours later. Given the time difference BC and South Dakota, Jenna was still awake. She had her laptop open on the table beside the day bed. While she had waited for it to boot, she tidied Bobby's library some to keep her mind off things. The memories were still so fresh.
Now she sat with her back against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. She rested her head on her knees as she watched the playback of a film on the laptop screen. It was a collection of her and Jensen racing around each other on mini-bikes. Jared was really terrible at holding the camera steady, but she didn't mind. Then the scene changed to Jensen walking down a narrow hallway of a tattoo shop. The camera turned to show his face as he gave the waggily brows before returning it to the hall. He entered a room where she was laying face down on a tattoo chair topless with an artist leaving his mark on her skin in the shape of wings.
She watched herself look up at the camera with teary eyes and give him the bird. Drawing her back to reality, she felt the bed depress beside her. She paused the feed and looked over her shoulder. Dean smiled sheepishly at her, "It looked like you could use some company. Besides, I don't sleep much anymore given the last few years. Would be kind of nice to sit her like a normal person and do something normal like comfort a friend." She smiled sadly at him, her heart swelling with affection.
Jenna nodded faintly and allowed him to pull her closer, dropping her legs some. She leaned against his chest and hit the play button again. The camera shook some, looking like it was dropped, but she knew better. It was set down on the seat in front of her, turned toward her face. You could see the tears in her eyes now. She had been there for a couple of hours now. Jensen's face came into the shot as he rubbed his palm over her upper arm. He tucked her then, long hair behind her ear and leaned forward to press a kiss against her temple.
"That doesn't look like a married man to me." Voiced Dean softly as he ran a hand up her back.
She looked up at him for a moment, "He wasn't married then. He and Danneel weren't even an item then. This is about five years old," she replied.
Dean hummed and nodded, watching the playback, "That's an extensive tattoo. I would like to see it sometime, you know, if that is okay. But, is he comforting you for the pain?"
She shook her head, "No. Jensen was there for me during a time when I really needed someone. My father had just passed away a week prior. I lost my mother when I was a teenager. Their names are on the wings." As if to confirm what she just said, Dean watched at the actor leaned in front of the camera to kiss her.
Dean looked down at her, wondering what his alternate self thought of her lips. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, "Did he ever sleep with you?" He cursed himself when she tensed. "Shit, I'm sorry, that's none of my business. I will let you be before I make an even bigger ass of myself." he stood and walked toward the stairs in his track pants and tee shirt.
"Dean."
He stopped and turned. She stood up off the bed, ignoring the playback on the screen. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry." He tried to excuse himself. She put a hand on his arm, stalling him.
Jenna turned and presented her back to him, "You said you wanted to see my tattoo?" He nodded dumbly, knowing she didn't see it, but she seemed to get the message. Before he could stop her, she lifted her hunter green tank top and peeled it off. It hung limply in her hand as she looked at him from over her shoulder. His eyes fell on the expanse of her back.
The wings were a lot larger that he imagined. They stretched from the top edges of her shoulders and trailed down below the waist of her pajama shorts, which were actually a pair of his boxers he loaned her. He found the names of her parents at the very tops of the wings, over the bones. But then there were dozens of names. Nearly every feather had a name. Right next to her parent's names, he found Jared's name, and Misha's name. He couldn't find Jensen's name however.
"Are these names of every one from the show that was killed?" She nodded gently.
"There's a few there that were injured as well. For six years, the cast and crew of Supernatural were my family. This is how I honor them." She must have read the expression on his face, "You are wondering where Jensen's name is." She turned then to face the hunter. Having shed the bra earlier in favor of being comfortable, she stood before him completely bare chested. His eyes dropped immediately. But he wasn't looking at her breasts, though she wouldn't mind, he was looking at the tattoo resting over her heart. It was a single feather, just like those on her back, with the name Jensen Ackles in scroll work, "forever missed" was written just beneath the name.
Dean understood now. While Jensen may have gotten married, Jenna decided to remain his friend, even though she still loved him. Dean's hand lifted and gently traced the raised flesh of the still healing tattoo. He could feel her heart pounding beneath his fingertips. Dean shifted closer to her. Her breath hitched as the hunter lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to her's. She parted her lips on reflex and allowed his tongue to explore her mouth. She whimpered around his tongue as they shifted toward the day bed. Dean couldn't help but suckle her lower lip into his mouth and tug on the ring there with his teeth.
They were both panting as Dean lay her back on the bed. He left a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses from her lips, under her jaw and down the slender column of her throat. Her back arches into him as his hands explore the soft curves of her body. His fingertips brush gently over the tattoo again then continue down over her left breast and over the tightening nipple. Her right hands lifts and cards into the messy locks of his hair. Dean nibbles gently at her collar bone and kisses downward over her breast bone and up over her right breast to suckle and bite at her nipple. His searching hands slide down her sides gently. They pause at the waistband of his boxers on her hips as he continues his trek downward.
Jenna pulls at his tee, which he allows, peeling it off over his head to drop on the floor. He watches her belly raise and fall in her hurried breaths as she looks over his torso. Her eyes seem to map him. He smiled down at her, dropping to resume his trail of kisses down her chest. Her hand found it's way to his hair again, her voice softly whimpering out little moans of pleasure. He dipped his tongue into her navel as he peeled down the boxers, groaning with pleasure when he found she wore his boxers with no underwear on beneath them.
The hunter's hands slipped the cotton down over her hips and smooth thighs, pausing when his right hand hit something on her left thigh. Dean pulled the boxers off completely, lifting her leg a little to inspect the smattering of scars on her thigh. He recognized the pattern. She was one of the gunshot victims. Remorse swelled through him as he gently kissed the still healing buckshot wounds. Dean looked up at her from her wound when her other leg lifted and curled around him. Her lip was in her mouth as she urged him forward gently.
The hunter dropped her leg back on the bed and climbed up her lithe frame to slant his mouth over her's again. Their tongues slid into each others mouths intimately searching for closeness as his muscled frame lowered onto her, pressing his rigid flesh into the apex of her thighs. He moaned in her mouth when she rocked her hips forward, searching for more contact as he hands slid around his shoulders and scratched gently at his back, "Dean, please..." She murmured when they parted to catch their breath, he silenced her by delving into her hot mouth again.
He braced himself on his elbow and reached down with one hand and pushed at the waistband of his track pants and boxers. Her back arched into him again when his wrist brushed against her sex, pressing her upper body into his. He shivered at the feel of her smooth skin against his. He rocked his hips down into her, his hand leaving his pants around his thighs, choosing to pluck at a pert nipple instead.
He groaned into her mouth when she used her feet to help him shed his pants and boxers, allowing him to touch her bare skin entirely. Her legs lifted and wrapped around his waist as he rubbed his now, fully engorged erection against her damp sex. She moans out his name as his rocking increases instinctively to gain more friction. Their bodies buck into one another, both needing more, she whimpers in the curve of his neck through their pants, "Please De, I need you now..."
Not wanting to disappoint the lady, he shifts his body, and reaches down. He slides his fingers over her mound and dips between the fleshy lips to slide into her. Her hips buck as she tries to take more. He smirks at her, withdrawing to tease the tender nub of flesh. She trembles and moans his name. Not wanting to tease any further, he pivots his hips and presses the blunt head of his cock into her slick folds, sliding easily into her tight channel. She hisses while he moans, both of them shivering. Her inner walls spasm around his girth, adjusting to his size.
Dean only moves when she shifts her hips to meet his. He withdraws slowly, before sliding back home, starting with long, paced strokes. She arches into him, her fingers clutching at his shoulders. Her eyes meet his as he rocks into her. His pace falters slightly when she bites her lip and pulls him down for another deeply searching kiss. He trembles under her touch, her fingers gliding over his back and down his spine. One of his hands fist in her hair as his mouth leaves hers to kiss and bite at her neck, his strokes growing wild with reckless abandon.
Her moans only stir the fire in the pit of his stomach as he feels his orgasm build. His other hand strokes gently gown her side to where their bodies are joined to massage the bundle of nerves again. Jenna's reaction is immediate as she twists underneath him, her inner walls clamping down on his erection. She hisses as he leaves a marking bite before he raises himself up to his knees, manhandling her lower body so he can pound into her. Her lips are red and puffy from their kissing and her biting to keep herself from getting loud.
His hips work the long strokes, slamming back in repeatedly, sinking deeper than before. She whimpers as her walls reflex around him, her body teetering over the edge. She braces her feet on the bed on either side of his hips, twisting the angle of her pelvis to get more friction. His heart hammers in his chest as their bodies glisten in the low light of the moon from the window. He smirks up at her, biting his lip.
He presses his palm on her lower belly, depressing her skin, increasing the pressure around his cock. He moans, his thrusts growing careless and uninhibited. He can feel his dick as it slides into her with every thrust, and he must have hit the right spot because suddenly her sex is clamped around his cock like a vice, her full lips parted in a silent scream with her back arching off the bed. She trembles at the force of her orgasm, her walls spasming and milking his cock, pulling out his own release. He groans low, pushing in a few more thrusts as she empties into her.
Panting raggedly, Dean slips from her and lays beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms. She turns and molds her body into his, tilting her head to look up at him from their shared pillow. He smiles at her, reaching up to tuck some of her hair to the side out of her eyes, "You still loved him, didn't you?"
Jenna smiles wistfully, "I did, but I wasn't going to lose him entirely over that. I kept it to myself. He was happy with Danneel. And I was happy for him. And to answer your question from earlier, no. We never slept together. It got too awkward." She looked down, her hand moving to trace the protection tattoo on his chest. Dean tightened his arms around her, placing a kiss on her forehead.
When she looked back up at the hunter, he couldn't help but stare into her eyes. The moon was shining through the window, making them glow. "As awkward as this sounds, I guess it was his loss, my gain. Because I certainly couldn't miss the signals from you." He sat up a little and pulled the blanket over their bodies. He turned and laid on his back, tucking his left arm under his head while his right pulled her closer. Jenna lay her head on his shoulder and rest her palm over his heart. He dropped another kiss on the top of her head and closed his eyes.
As the two drifted into sleep, her voice roused him only once in the silence, "Thank you, Dean."
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