The time was 11:57. Sam was situating his laptop on the bedside table, which he'd moved to the center of the room, while Dean was pushing the couch and coffee table out of the way.
"So, what, you think they're gonna ask us to bump and grind or something?" Dean asked, antsy but containing it.
Sam adjusted the webcam, frown lines prominent. "I have no idea, man. We know that fangirls are bat-crap insane. And these three are the worst of them all." The taller Winchester straightened, running a hand though his hair. "I think we should expect the worst, but with any luck, it won't last long. As soon as they start transmitting..."
Dean's cellphone began to alarm. "It's time," he said gravely. He sounded like he was about to go back to hell.
Sam hurriedly typed in the website and hit 'enter'. "We'll get through this. For Bobby."
"For Bobby," agreed Dean determinedly.
The website was one a like a tailored version of Skype. The boys could see themselves in a small, inset screen in the bottom-right corner of the laptop. As the screen dissolved into static, then blocks of primary colors, Dean and Sam stiffened.
"Hel-lo, Winchesters!" crowed a redhead from the screen before them.
"You're not a Sister!" accused Dean, deflating slightly.
The redhead laughed. "Sure I am! One of the lesser-known, but united with the cause all the same. Cherry's the name: Cherry Pie. Like the Warrant song, Dean, darlin'." She waggled her eyebrow suggestively. This was her dream. Fangirl had graciously allowed Cherry, the collegiate film major (how appropriate!), to spearhead the production.
"And what is that cause, again?" asked Sam snidely. The more time they could keep this Cherry character talking, the better.
"You know, silly goose!" she giggled, twirling a lock around her red fingernail. She tone was sacred, fervent. "To create a Dictionary of Winchester Acts comprising every fangirl fantasy imaginable, and some that have yet to even be conceived."
Dean gritted his teeth. "Where's Bobby? What have you done to him?"
"Nothing," assured Cherry in a way that was not assuring at all. "He's safe and sound. When we're through here, we'll let him go. Sister's Honor!" She held held up three fingers splayed to form a 'W'.
"And what happened to the ninja? And that psycho goth?" demanded Sam, unconsciously reaching up to his chunk of missing hair.
"Yeah, and the BDSM wanna-be," added Dean darkly.
The camera that fed them the image of the strange room and the redhead swiveled to show Gothic Lolita's beaming face. "Ooh, miss me already, Sam, baby?" she half-cooed, half-squealed. "You know I'm only psycho for you, Sammy-poo!"
Dean covered his laugh with a fisted cough.
Sam scowled at him. "Let's get this show on the road. We want Bobby back. How many - erm, acts - does this Dictionary consist of?"
The screen's view changed again, this time, to show Fangirl, with Otaku's soul-staring eyes over her shoulder. "Hard to say," she purred. "More are pouring in by the second. We're up to about two-thousand as of now..."
"TWO-THOUSAND?" shouted Dean. "We can't do that!"
"You have to," asserted Otaku, pulling the camera to bear on herself. "If you want Bobby in one piece."
"Only way to finish is to start!" chirped Lolita.
Dean resisted the urge to flip her off. "Fine," he snarled.
The camera jerked back and panned, showing the four Sisters taking their places at various monitors, fingers poised over keyboards. "But first..." The Winchesters jumped as the door to their hotel room was knocked upon. Sam stalked over and flung it open.
A acne-ridden young man in a brown uniform stood there, holding a dolly of large cardboard boxes. "I gotta delivery for," he checked his scanner and smirked, "Mr. Sexy and Mr. Hot?"
Sam's movements were tight as he yanked the dolly past the threshold, tipped the contents off it, shoved the metal platform back outside, and slammed the door in the young man's face.
"Your props," filled in Cherry. "Go on, open up Box 1 first!"
Dean met Sam's eyes as he pulled his knife and slit the tape on the box marked '1'. The cardboard flaps were folded back to reveal...
"Oh, hell, no," growled Dean, shooting to his feet.
"No way in hell," agreed Sam, standing rigid.
Cherry's eyes were gleeful. "Excellent! A dash of dub-con to whet our appetites."
"I second that, with sugar on top!" said Fangirl, pumping her fist and swiveling in her chair.
"Are you broadcasting this?" queried Dean disbelievingly.
"As you so aptly put it," smiled Cherry. "Hells yeah, we are! And the hit counter is already in the hundred-thousands..."
"ENOUGH TALK!" shouted Otaku, leaning into the screen with narrowed eyes. "PROMPT THEM! PROMPT THEM NOW!" Sam's laptop speakers crackled slightly with the volume increase.
"Damn, Otaku!" cried Cherry, rubbing her ear and shoving the ninja away. "Inside voice!"
"She's right," chuckled Lolita coquettishly. "The first prompt, from one particularly persistent denizen in another circle of fanlove, Leahelisabeth, is 'Sam in a box'."
Sam's grimace was tinged with no small measure of relief. He emptied Box 1 out on the dirty hotel carpet, and climbed in, hugging his knees to his chest. "How's this?"
"Aaaaww!" chorused the quartet of fangirls.
"Maybe this won't be so bad," murmured Dean to Sam hopefully.
"Dean, sweetie?" sing-songed Lolita. "See that bottle of self-hardening chocolate icecream shell? Open it, please."
Dean did as bade.
"Now, pour the entire thing over Sam's luscious hair."
"So much for hoping," muttered Sam, closing his eyes as the sticky, dark substance coursed down his face.
"Now we can kill about fifty birds with one stone," said Fangirl, scrolling down the list of suggestions she was receiving to her screen. "Dean, lick that stripe of chocolate off his face."
"Oh, Mary, mother of God," groaned Dean. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he bent down. His tongue snaked out and traced Sam's cheek from jaw point to cheekbone.
"Eeew! Gross!" Sam's convulsion was so strong he burst out of the box's seams.
"WWAAAAAAA!" Again, the laptop's poor speakers crackled under the shrieks. It also showed Lolita flipping her chair backwards, face frozen in joy.
"I can put that in slow motion," said Cherry happily, wiping a tear. "And I will post it immediately. After props, we get jiggy with green screen!"
Please hurry, Shirley, thought Dean, wincing as the squeals rose again. Who knows how long we can last...?
Author's Note: So, I managed to fit in Leahelisabeth's by-proxy suggestion for Sam-in-a-box, as well as the mighty Lampito's suggestion for making Sam a soft-centre truffle. More to come!
BTW, this chapter is dedicated to Lampito. She brought me up when I felt down, and gave me several prompts besides! READ HER STUFF IT'S hIlArIoUs!