Reporting live from Seattle! Today, I'm out of my home state visiting relatives. Ironically, I'm posting from the place where this ridiculousness was born. At about this time too...

TODAY'S UPDATE IS DEDICATED TOO: everyone out there that insits on writing stories where they turn into objects. you know who you are.

Please review and tell me if there is a genre that you absolutely must see. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy. I plan to update every Monday. (pft, but i plan a lot of things). The Story is set up in the fourth season, before the huge amounts of spoilerly stuff was dumped on us. So as far continuity goes, they just know there is a war and they have to stop it.

Disclaimer:Use this story as the reason why Erik Kripke won't let me own them. Although, I still don't get...they're in one piece....*pouts*

Chapter Three: Jared Padalacki's Toughest Acting Role

Sam took another puff of the cigarette and said, "I know that adoption certificate is fake."

Dean rolled over. "So? Why didn't you say something before you got me drunk? And when did you start smoking?"

"I don't," Sam said putting the cigarette in the ash tray and he stood up. He looked over at Dean in the neighboring twin bed, and sighed, "Boy am I glad we only kissed."

"Whatever, Sammantha, I have a feeling those fan girls were behind it."

"Yeah, and a wendigo made you wear those horrible pajamas last night."

"Hey," Dean snapped as he headed for the shower, "Speed Racer is cool."

As Sam made the coffee, he idly scratched his left knee. He heard the shower going and wondered more about Dean's fan girl theory. Dean shooting himself in the face had been a neat trick, but any poser in a parka could do that. Suddenly there was a crash and a yelp. "Dean?" Sam called. He ran over to the bathroom door and started beating it with his fists. "Dean!"

With no response, he kicked open the unlocked door, and burst through. In the middle of the tile floor was a small Beagle puppy. It looked up at the gangly Winchester adoringly with large green eyes.

"Dean?" Sam gasped.

It wagged its fluffy tail. Somewhere, a ghost laughed. Sam shuddered. This would be perfect inspiration for a poem, he thought. When he realized his trail of thoughts he gasped. The ghost was after him! What a crazy random happenstance! Surely no devious minded teenage writer could come up with a plan as sinister as this, his mind raced excitedly.

The small dog scratched at his leg, and whined. Sam was unsure of how to handle the situation, he wondered if next Dean was going to turn into a lamp. Quickly deciding the next appropriate thing to do, he picked Dean up. "I will call you Dianna. And you will be mine."

Dianna whined.

"Well, yes, I know silly. Of course we're going to get you a collar. Every good dog gets a collar."

Dianna pawed at his shoulder. "I'm not sure about that," Sam nodded, "but I guess you've had a ruff day."

He set Dianna down. Then he went over to the fridge, grabbed a beer and poured some in a bowl. "Here you go!"

Dianna sighed and lapped some up. As Sam watched him he spoke, not sure Dianna was listening, but still wanting a confidant. "Anyway, don't be too upset, but uh, I totally have a flower shaped rash on my left knee. Like the other victims."

Dianna howled, his need to protect Sam flared, but was instantaneously overridden by the need to chase the squirrel he saw out the window.

Castiel fluttered into the room. "Hey, Sam," he began ignoring the small beagle, "Where's Dean?"

"He's a dog."

"He's already left you that quickly for some…chick?" Castiel gasped.

"No, no, I mean physically. He's a dog. I think it's some ploy by Jensen's ghost to get me to have an angst overload," Sam looked at his feet. "It might work to," he added pessimistically.

"Whatever Demon Whore, I don't need your crap."Castiel walked over to their research papers. He grudgingly added, "Do you still need help?"

Sam rolled his eyes. This was ridiculous. How could he insult Sam and then offer help? He narrowed his eyes, "Don't you need to stop the apocalypse or something?"

"No. I'm being rebel-ish today. Just today, I gotta stop though." Castiel ran a hand through his hair and smiled. He gave a thumbs up to no one in particular, but heard off in the distance the sounds of fangirls swooning. The action had an effect on Sam too, who momentarily forgot his anger. He was dazzled.

"It's okay, rebels are cool," Sam half-smiled.

Dianna quirked one eyebrow, and looked from one to the other. Where they actually on the verge of being NICE to each other? He howled. Attention in the room went back to him instantaneously. That's better, he thought. As loud as he could, he declared, "We really should get back to the case guys. Honestly, Sam, you have what 46 hours left? And we have no idea how to deal with this. For all you know we have to cheer the ghost up and make it repent it's T.A.P. ways."

All Castiel and Sam heard was a small series of yelps and barks. "What an adorable puppy," Castiel cooed, "he probably needs to go outside."

"Let's take him on a walk. While we're outside I can tell you about some poetry ideas I had…"

"Sounds good," Castiel smiled, conjuring up a purple leash and collar set. "Maybe we can brainstorm on how kill the ghost to. You have what, 46 hours left?"

"That's true," Sam agreed amiably, "I think the ghost just needs to cheer up."

Dianna howled. "Poor little guy," Castiel murmured, "where'd you get him again?"

From the corner of the room, Jensen shimmered. Was it possible for two people to find friendship in this grim world? For the first time in years, Jensen felt hope. He quickly shrugged it off though, in favor of haunting people and writing poetry.

To Be Continued...

I'm changing my profile picture so you can see what happened to Dean. But just till Wednesday. Also, there's an invisible fan in this chapter. Like, a fan, that blows air. It's there. Trust me.

Also- thanks again for all the amazing reviews!