And here we have chapter four, guys! Thank you so much to all who reviewed, followed, favourited, etc, here is your reward, you guys are amazing! Unfortunately, this one is mostly following dialogue from the show (sorry!) but we get more original stuff next chapter, I promise. Also, I figured out when it's set, and this chapter marks the beginning of season 4, episode 18, 'The Monster at the End of This Book'. It will deviate a little from the canon plot later on, I warn you, but for now we're sticking to the book (Well, show). Sorry for the long A/N, please review, and enjoy!
Several weeks later I found the book.
The book oh-so-creatively titled, 'Supernatural'.
Like, wow. I can see how much thought went into that name.
I was inside a little store, in a little town, innocently wandering (by which I mean setting the occasional car on fire, pushing a pram just that little bit more away from a distracted mother, etcetera, etcetera) when I saw it. The Winchester brother's lives, pulped and printed and bound.
It was hilarious.
The name on the cover was Carver Edlund, but with a little questioning (ahem, threatening, ahem) I found out it was a pseudonym for the name Chuck Shurley.
Yeah, the guy was right not to use that.
Anyway, it didn't take a genius to figure out that this guy was either a), a friend of the Winchester's and going behind their backs to write these books, b), a witch like Max that I had somehow not found or c), a prophet.
I dismissed 'a' almost immediately. The Winchester's didn't strike me as ones to tell their entire life story to some guy.
'B' was a possibility. However, it seemed unlikely that I wouldn't have found them before now.
So 'c', then. A prophet. And unfortunately, when you get a prophet, it's sort of a package deal to get the archangel too.
That would be a problem.
Still, after I had the name, the address wasn't a problem, and so it was bare minutes later that I zapped into existence a block away from the prophet's house. I would walk the rest of the way.
'See, archangel? I'm not trying to hurt your precious prophet. Aren't I nice, not just popping into his house? I am, right? Please don't kill me.'
Chuck Shurley's house was... Well, 'shabby' would be an understatement. After a quick knock on the door, I realised the prophet himself wasn't much better.
He wore a tatty striped dressing gown with what I guess was his pyjamas underneath, his chin was unshaven, and he looked like he hadn't been out of the house in several years.
'Max might have liked this guy.'
As soon as Chuck caught sight of me however, his face whitened and he leant back from the door.
"Uh, um, how did you get this address?" He stuttered. I fought the urge to roll my eyes and smiled pleasantly at him instead.
"Hey Chuck. I just want to talk with you, if that's alright."
The writer was about to reply when a familiar engine noise caught my attention. I sighed, and as the black impala pulled up behind me I heard Chuck whisper a quick, "Oh God, no."
'You and me both, kid.'
I swivelled on my heel to see Dean and Sam get out of the car quickly, confusion on their faces as they saw me. Sam looked about to speak to me, but Dean just shouldered on past and turned to speak to the prophet.
"You Chuck Shurley?" He asked bluntly.
"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?" Sam elaborated.
I rolled my eyes. Way to make the one protected by an archangel like you.
"Maybe. Why?" The prophet looked nervous. To be honest, I didn't blame him. The guy had probably seen this happening and now he had to live it. Damn.
"I'm Dean. This is Sam. The Dean and Sam you've been writing about."
Chuck closed the door quickly, and I sighed, before reaching forward and simply pushing it open. I gestured for the Winchester's to go first with a wave of my hand, getting only glares in return – though they both stepped inside. I waited just outside the doorway, leaning against the wall and using my inhuman hearing to find out what was happening.
"Look, uh..." Chuck stuttered. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. I really do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life."
"See, here's the thing." I heard Dean continue conversationally. "We have a life. You've been using it to write your books."
I furrowed my brow in confusion. Seriously? Did they even realise they were talking to a prophet?
I heard Chuck back up further into the house and Dean followed.
"Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny."
"Damn straight it's not funny." Dean nearly snarled.
"Look, we just want to know how you're doing it." Sam said calmly.
"I'm not doing anything!" Chuck protested.
"Are you a hunter?" The elder Winchester asked.
"What?" Chuck sounded confused. "No, I'm a writer."
I snorted. The drivel that was the Supernatural books could hardly be written by a proper writer.
"Then how do you know so much about demons?" I heard Chuck fall onto something – a couch? – And assumed Dean had pushed him there. "And Tulpa's, and changelings?"
"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing?" Chuck asked, seeming almost desperate now. "Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"
'What the Hell is a 'Misery' thing?'
"No, it's not a 'Misery' thing. Trust me, we are not fans!" I could practically feel Dean's angriness, even from outside the house.
"Well then, what do you want?" Panic coloured the prophet's voice.
'Back off boys, we don't want Heaven's wrath now do we?'
"I'm Sam. That's Dean."
'Well at least Sam knows how to use an inside voice.'
"Sam and Dean are fictional characters! I made them up, they're not real!" Chuck protested.
"What about me?" I called. Silence. "Have you seen me? Alianne, by the way. These guys didn't really give me a chance to introduce myself."
"Alianne..." I heard Chuck whisper. "But, I haven't written her yet!"
I sighed. "Give it up, Chuck, I know what you are."
"What?" His voice wavered. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Do you really not know?" My brow furrowed. Surely he knew?
"What are you talking about?" Dean interrupted. I rolled my eyes.
"Interrupting people is rude, Dean."
"When I want to interrupt an actual person, I'll remember that."
"Again with the insults?" I sighed, exasperated.
I could practically hear Dean rolling his eyes.
"Fine." I relented. "You two can deal with this guy. Have fun working out what he is without me." And with that, I was gone.