Chapter 10

Then:

There's an awkward pause before Bobby finally asks, "We, uh...we good?" I nod, unsure of what to say, and he grasps my hand briefly, squeezing my fingers with a slight smile before nodding to the bag. "Better grab your burger before Dean decides to eat that one, too."

With a grin, I go to save my dinner from Dean's hungry clutches.

"Dude, you're gonna have to get a booster shot," Dean suddenly tells Sam, who stiffens and glares at his brother.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

I'm too busy laughing to add my own two cents.

Now:

"You're sure this might be a case?" I peer over Sam's shoulder at the laptop monitor. A man has been recently torn to shreds by what officials say was a bear. It's common in these rural areas for bears to wander, but I've never heard of unprecedented bear attacks in someone's house.

"Positive."

It's been a week since my first hunt, and we'd dropped Bobby back at his place in Sioux Falls. Bobby had suggested that maybe it was best that I stuck with Sam and Dean for a while, get some experience in the field for my training, so I had packed my backpack and set off on the road with the Winchesters.

"It sounds weird, anyway," Sam adds, looking back at me. "Could be worth checking out."

"Okay. Hey, Dean! We've got a case!" When Dean doesn't respond from his perch on the bed, I pick up a pair of balled-up socks from the open duffel bag on Sam's bed and throw them at his head. He yelps in surprise, now sufficiently distracted from the hospital drama on the television. "What is that show?" I demand and the title flashes across the screen.

Dr. Sexy, M.D.

"...seriously?" I raise my eyebrows as the main doctor - clearly Dr. Sexy - and one of the nurses start making out onscreen. "Grey's Anatomy was better than this crap."

"It's called channel surfing," Dean grumbles as he picks up his tie and starts putting it on.

"When'd you hit menopause?" Sam teases as he closes his laptop and gets to his feet. Dean doesn't answer, scowling as he flicks off the television. "You ready?"

"Are you?" Dean grabs his keys and leaves.

Sam rolls his eyes as he pulls on his suit jacket. "C'mon, Air." Luckily, I don't have to worry about formal clothes; I'm staying in the car while Sam and Dean pose as FBI agents. I'm too young to pass off as an agent, so I won't be going in with them.

"The Incredible Hulk," I repeat dumbly when the Winchesters climb back into the car.

"Yep."

"Ed Norton or Mark Ruffalo?" Those are the only versions of the Hulk I know, after all.

"There's a version with Mark Ruffalo?" Dean blinks at me and I remember that we're not in 2013.

"Uhh, never mind."

"Lou Ferrigno," Sam informs me, "The T.V. version. We're gonna head back and change before I go check out the crime scene. You coming with me?"

I nod. "Okay."

Sure enough, we're at the crime scene less than an hour later after we drop Dean back at the motel so that he can do some background reading on the case.

"Well, if you ever doubted the Hulk was here before..." I point at the huge hole where the front door should be.

Sam snorts. "Yeah, no, I'm starting to believe it." He flashes his FBI badge at the policeman standing guard and the man allows us to duck under the yellow tape roping off the house.

"Yikes," I say when we're inside the house. The steps look crushed, as if extremely heavy feet had climbed them, and the entire upstairs of the house looks trashed.

"I don't think we can get up there," Sam notes, grimacing at the ruined stairs, before frowning at the floor. "Hey." He kneels down, sifting through the debris on the floor.

"What is it?" I kneel down next to him and he holds something small up.

"Got it." It's a Jolly Rancher wrapper. I look back at the floor, noticing that there's more wrappers from different kinds of candy - Skittles, M&Ms, lollipops - and raising an eyebrow.

"Hulk had a sweet tooth?"

"Not exactly." Sam scoops up the wrappers, stuffing them into his pocket before heading for the hole-that-used-to-be-a-door. I follow him.

"Wait, so what's going on?" Sam climbs into the Impala and I get into the passenger seat.

"My guess? It's the Trickster. Seems like his kind of prank."

"But doesn't he give out 'just desserts?'" I remind Sam as he starts the car. "Why would he just randomly sic the Hulk on this guy?"

"Well, maybe Dean's got the answer to that." Sam pulls onto the main road. "It's good, though, isn't it? We could get a hold of the Trickster and talk to him."

"What if he doesn't want to talk?" I point out.

Sam hesitates. "No harm in asking."

"Sure, if you don't mind getting torn to shreds by Lou Ferrigno," I snark and he bitchfaces at me.

"You've been hanging around Dean too much." I stick my tongue out at him in return.

"Find anything?" Dean calls as we enter.

"Well, uh, we saw the house," Sam begins.

"And there's a giant hole where the front door used to be," I add.

"A Hulk-sized hole?" Dean raises an eyebrow and I nod.

"What do you got?" Sam asks as he sits down across from Dean.

"Well, it turns out that Bill Randolph had quite the temper." Dean pulls up the deceased man's file. "He's got two counts of spousal battery, bar brawls, and court-ordered anger management sessions. You might say you wouldn't like him when he's angry."

"So a hothead getting killed by T.V.'s greatest hothead. Kinda sounds like just desserts, doesn't it?" Sam meets my eyes over Dean's head. "It's all starting to make sense."

"What is?" Dean frowns.

"We found candy wrappers at the house," I explain as Sam pulls the plastic wrappers out and scatters them onto the table.

"Just desserts, sweet tooth, screwing with people before you kill 'em-" Dean groans. "We're dealing with the Trickster, aren't we?"

"Looks that way," Sam agrees.

"Good. I've wanted to gank that mother since Mystery Spot."

"Dean, we've talked about this," Sam argues.

"No, Sam, we are not getting help from the son of a bitch who made me kick the bucket a hundred times in a row." Dean scowls. "I can't believe you're still on that 'use him to stop the Apocalypse' plan. We find the Colt, we use it on Lucifer, end of story."

Sam pauses before launching his proposal, "Look, the Trickster's like a Hugh Hefner type, right? Wine, women, song - maybe he doesn't want the party to end. Maybe he hates this angels and demons stuff as much as we do. Maybe he'll help us."

Dean stares at Sam. "You're serious."

"Yeah."

"Ally with the Trickster." Dean snorts humorlessly. "A bloody, violent monster, and you wanna be Facebook friends with him? Nice, Sammy."

"I'm with Sam," I say and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Big surprise."

I ignore that and add, "It's the end of the world, Dean. We really can't afford to be picky about our allies."

"I'm just saying it's worth a shot," Sam explains, "That's all. If it doesn't work, we'll kill him."

Dean sighs. "How are we gonna find the guy, anyway?"

"Well, he never takes just one victim, right? He'll show. All we have to do is wait."

And wait we do. Sam and Dean set up a police scanner and tune it to the local frequency before Dean gets to work sharpening two stakes he finds in the trunk of the Impala. I keep as far away from him as possible; he sharpens the stakes a little more violently than necessary and I don't want an accidental cut from his switchblade. As good as I am with knives, I'd much rather not get gutted by one.

Seeing that I have nothing to do, Sam turns his laptop towards me and I gratefully take it, opening a virtual online piano and plunking away at familiar melodies.

"I didn't know you played," Sam notes.

"Yeah, well, I took lessons for ten years. 'Course, I sucked, so I quit in senior year, but I learned most of the basics." I get through five renditions of "It's a Small World" before Dean snaps.

"Quit playing that!" I grin and obey. "Great, now it's stuck in my head," Dean grumbles.

"Mission accomplished," I say solemnly and Sam high-fives me, chuckling.

The police scanner crackles to life then, a nervous voice patching through the radio.

"Um, Dispatch? I-I got a possible 187 out here at the old paper mill on Route 6?"

"Hey." Sam perks up and Dean looks up from sharpening the stakes.

"Roger that. What are you looking at there, son?" the dispatch replies.

"Honestly, Walt, I-I wouldn't even know how to describe what I'm seeing. Just...send everybody."

"All right, stay calm, stay by your car. Help's on the way." Sam turns off the scanner and we all glance at each other.

"That sounds weird," I state the obvious.

"Weird enough to be our guy," Sam adds. Within the minute, we're in the Impala and on the way to the paper mill in question.

When we arrive, there's no police cars in sight.

"There was a murder here, and there's no police cars. There's nobody. How's that look to you?" Dean looks at me and Sam, raising an eyebrow.

"Suspicious?" I volunteer and Dean rolls his eyes at me.

"You're a natural." As if he's any better; I've seen those "Winchester Logic" gifsets on Tumblr. Dean hands me a flashlight and he and Sam take a stake each. I'm relieved that I don't have to handle the stake, but this leaves me to open the door to the warehouse. Carefully approaching, I swing the door open and we step through.

Instead of a musty damp warehouse stench, the first thing I register is the sterile smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol. I've volunteered in enough hospitals to recognize the scent without even looking around. There's some kind of mellow music playing in the background.

"The hell?" I hear Dean demand from behind me. I turn around to see him opening the door we've just emerged through only to find that our exit has been changed into a janitor's closet, where a man and woman - both in scrubs - are making out furiously.

"Too awkward!" I slam the door shut again before I catch sight of my clothes. I'm now wearing scrubs, too, dark blue ones with a neon pink floral pattern that makes me almost nauseous with how bright it is. "Well, there goes my attempt to not be girly," I sigh and realize that Dean and Sam are wearing white lab coats, medical badges pinned to their fronts. Two female doctors in scrubs pass us.

"Doctor," one greets the other.

"Doctor," the other replies in the same tone.

"Doctor?" Sam echoes.

"Doctor who?" I add, unable to resist, and Sam throws me a bitchface when he registers the reference. I grin shamelessly.

Suddenly, a brunette woman approaches Sam. "Doctor." Before Sam can reply, she slaps him hard across the face. I don't bother hiding my laughter. "Seriously? You're brilliant, you know that? And a coward. You're a brilliant coward."

"Is that an oxymoron?" I manage through my giggles and the woman whirls around to glare at me for making fun of her apparently-serious dialogue.

"Um. What are you talking about?" Sam returns her attention to him and she slaps him again. He grimaces, clearly regretting getting her attention once more.

"As if you don't know!" She stalks off as Sam rubs his reddening cheek with a wince.

Dean stares after the female doctor, wide-eyed. "I don't believe this. That's Dr. Piccolo."

"Who?" Sam and I ask blankly.

"Dr. Ellen Piccolo. The sexy, yet earnest doctor at-" Dean sees the name of the hospital on the wall and gestures to it wildly. "Seattle Mercy Hospital!"

Luckily for my clueless self, Sam doesn't seem to catch on, either. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The doctor getups. The - the sexy interns. The 'seriouslys.' It all makes sense."

"Oh, no. Please don't tell me we're in-" I groan.

"Dr. Sexy, M.D." Dean's expression is a mix between bewilderment and excitement.

"Dude, what the hell." It's not a question, and I don't think Dean means it to be as we walk down the hallway. I'm running through all the possibilities. It seems too real to be some sort of illusion; I'm pretty sure the rubbing alcohol scent is going to linger on me until I take a long shower. But we can't be in a real hospital; Dean even admits that Dr. Sexy is just a television show.

I suddenly realize that I might be in a television show...inside a television show. Wow. If that isn't telly-ception or something, I don't know what is.

"I don't know," Sam replies to Dean's not-question, sounding just as confused.

"No, seriously, what the hell."

"I don't know."

"That's enlightening," I mutter at the Winchesters' backs as I follow them.

"All right, smart-ass," Dean snaps back at me, "One theory. Any theory."

"The Trickster trapped us in T.V. Land," I suggest.

"That's your idea? That's stupid."

"Oh, just because I'm the one who suggested it..." I roll my eyes.

"You're the one who said we're on Dr. Sexy, M.D.," Sam points out to Dean.

"Yeah, but T.V. Land isn't 'T.V. Land.' I mean, there's actors and, and lights and crew members, you know. This looks real." Which basically summarizes my earlier thought process. Way to keep up, Dean.

As if catching my thought process, Dean glares over his shoulder at me. "Stop it."

"What?" I blink, startled.

"That 'I'm so much smarter than you' look." He sulks and I pat his shoulder.

"There, there. You're so much smarter than me." He nods, satisfied. "Slower, of course, but still smarter." Sam snorts as Dean glowers once more.

Suddenly, an Asian doctor walks past us. "Doctors."

"There goes Dr. Wang. The sexy, but arrogant heart surgeon," Dean says quietly, glancing after her.

"Dude, I'm not even a doctor," I realize as I look down at my identification card, "I'm a nurse. I don't even want to go to nursing school!"

"Nothing wrong with that," Sam tells me.

"Yeah, well, for someone who's actually planning to get her M.D., this is stupid." I take off the identification card and pitch it into the nearest trash can.

"And there's Johnny Drake," Dean adds, seeing a man sitting on a gurney, "Oh, he's not even alive, he's a ghost in the mind of-" He breaks off when another female doctor approaches said ghost. "Of her. The sexy, yet neurotic doctor over there."

"So...this show has ghosts? Why?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. It is compelling," Dean says absently.

"I thought you said you weren't a fan," I remind him, grinning.

"I'm not!" Dean bristles, but then looks past us, his eyes doubling in size. "Oh, boy."

"What?" I turn around to see yet another doctor, this time a tall man with shoulder-length dark hair, approaching us.

"It's him, it's Dr. Sexy." Dean's voice has become breathless now, and I recognize the symptoms of a fangirl immediately.

"Don't drool too much," I shoot over my shoulder as Dr. Sexy stops in front of us. I can hear Sam fighting back laughter behind me.

"Doctor," Dr. Sexy intones solemnly.

"D-Doctor," Dean says quickly and though I can't see his face, he sounds almost shy. There's so much blackmail I plan to use from this incident.

"Doctor," Dr. Sexy addresses Sam next.

After Dean steps on his foot, Sam grunts, "Doctor."

Dr. Sexy then turns to me, frowns briefly, before adding, "Nurse."

"What?" I look down and there's the identification card I'd thrown out, safely attached to my front pocket. "Oh, for crying out loud!" I tear it off and throw it into the trash can again. Dr. Sexy doesn't seem perturbed by my outburst, but Dean looks scandalized that I've spoken so brashly in front of his idol.

"You want to give me one good reason why you defied my direct order to do the experimental face transplant on Mrs. Biehl?" Dr. Sexy now asks Dean sternly.

The older Winchester's face switches from fangirl-mode to total confusion. "One reason?" Dr. Sexy raises an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. "Sure." Dean looks down before his expression suddenly changes to anger. He slams Dr. Sexy against the wall abruptly and unfortunately, all I can think of is please don't kiss him in front of me and Sam, save yourself for Cas.

I am a terrible friend and a shameless fangirl.

"You're not Dr. Sexy," Dean snarls.

"You're crazy," Dr. Sexy says. He sounds a little too calm for someone who's just been slammed into a wall.

"Really? Because I swore part of what makes Dr. Sexy sexy is the fact that he wears cowboy boots. Not tennis shoes."

"Yeah, you're not a fan," Sam snickers.

"It's a guilty pleasure," Dean admits grudgingly.

"Call security," Dr. Sexy says almost lazily to a nearby nurse.

"Yeah, go ahead, pal. See, we know who you are." Suddenly, everyone around us freezes, as if someone's hit the pause button on a remote. I guess the analogy's accurate since we're apparently in a television show. Dr. Sexy's scowling face then morphs into a familiar grinning one.

"You guys are getting better!" The Trickster now stands where Dr. Sexy had been, his golden eyes bright with amusement. He looks past Dean and winks at me. "Hey, there, Ariel. Nice to finally meet you in person."

If you guys are surprised I'm stopping it here, shame on you. I'm a sucker for cliffhangers, whether they're predictable or not. But here's the first part of Changing Channels, quite possibly my favorite SPN episode of all time. And of course, the first official introduction of the Trickster, and anyone who's had the misfortune of having a review answered by me knows that the Trickster holds a large place in my heart for obvious reasons.

Ariel's story will come out soon, I promise, and it will partially have to deal with the Trickster, hence all the subterfuge until this episode.

Reviews are nice. Like flowers, but require less maintenance. Send them. (Send flowers, too, if you wish, but again. Maintenance.)