It's funny how I find myself in love with you
If I could buy my reasoning I'd pay to lose
One half won't do
I've asked myself
How much do you commit yourself?
…...
Funny how I blind myself
I never knew
If I was sometimes played upon
Afraid to lose
I'd tell myself what good do you do
Convince myself
….
It's my life
Don't you forget
Caught in the crowd
It never ends
No Doubt – It's My Life
As we entered the comic book store, there was a man pulling a comic book off one of the shelves, looking it over. The owner of this place sat behind the counter, glancing up at us from the book in his hands.
We held up our badges as we walked over to him and he quickly placed the book down. "Can I help you?"
"Sure hope so." Dean said, introducing the three of us. "Agents DeYoung, Shaw and Phillips. Just need to ask you a few questions."
"Notice anything strange in the building, last couple of days?" Sam asked.
The man stared at us blankly before a moment before shrugging. "Like what?"
"Some other tenants reported flickering lights." Dean said.
"I don't think so, why?"
"What about noises?" I asked. "Any scratching noises in the walls? It would sound kind of like rats."
"And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?"
"What about cold spots?" Sam continued, ignoring the mans skepticism. "Feel any sudden drops in temperature?"
Suddenly, a grin spread across the man's face as his eyes widened slightly. "I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?"
Dean furrowed his brow, he and I sharing a confused look as he turned back to the guy. "Excuse me?"
"You're fans."
"Of what?" I asked.
"What is LARPing?" Dean asked.
"Like you don't know." The man scoffed, rolling his eyes at our confusion. "Live-Action Role-Play! And pretty hardcore, too."
"I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys from the books. Supernatural. Two guys and a girl, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh, Steve, Dirk and Tina? Sal, Dane and Tara?
"Sam, Dean and Tori?" I interjected, not really sure how to feel about all of this.
"That's it!"
"And this is a- this is a book?"
"Books. It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following." He said, moving over to a table labeled bargain bin. The three of us followed along, watching him pull out a small hardcover book, handing it to Dean. "That's the first one, I think."
"Supernatural by Carver Edlund." Dean read, flipping the book over to read the back cover. "Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths."
"Give me that." Sam said, taking the book from Dean before looking back to the store owner. "We're gonna need all the copies of Supernatural you've got."
MOTEL – NIGHT
Sam sat across the room at the table, typing away on his laptop while Dean and I sat on one of the beds, him leading up against the headboard and me sitting cross-legged near the foot of the bed, facing him. After a few mind numbing hours of flipping through books about...our life, I was starting to feel like someone was watching me...more so than usual.
"This is fucking insane. How's this guy know all this stuff?" Dean asked, flipping through another book.
"You got me." Sam mumbled.
I let out a sigh, shaking my head. "Everything is in here."
"Everything. From the racist truck to- to Tori and I having sex." Dean said, looking over at Sam, who grimaced.
"It's really, really explicit."
"We're full-frontal in here, dude."
"Details are involved." I mumbled, pulling in a deep breath. "Lots of details."
"Okay, okay." Sam said, stopping us. "Too much information."
"Why haven't we heard of these things before?"
"They're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started in oh-five. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one – No Rest For The Wicked –" Sam paused, looking over at Dean. "Ends with you going to hell."
"I reiterate. Fucking insane." Dean said, heading over to the table, going through the fan site that Sam was on. I turned around on the beg, swinging my legs over the end of it, resting my elbows on my knees. "There's actually fans. There's not many of them, but still. Did you read this?"
"Yeah."
"Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this – Simpatico says the demon story line is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic. Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it.
"Yeah. Well, keep on reading. It gets better."
"There are Sam girls, Dean girls and..." Dean paused, his eyes widening for a moment before he glanced over at me. "There are Tori girls."
"What the hell does that even mean?" I asked.
"I don't know, but it sounds good to me." Dean smiled, looking back at the screen. "Hey, what's a slash fan?"
"As in...Sam-slash-Dean." Sam cleared his throat. "Together."
"Like, together, together?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, my god that's- that's just wrong." I mumbled, a grimace on my face.
"They do know we're brothers, right?" Dean asked, thoroughly disgusted.
"Doesn't seem to matter." Sam shrugged, looking over to me. "There are also fans of you and me together."
"...why?"
"I don't know, it's pretty disgusting." Sam mumbled, a grimace on his face.
"Thanks, Sam." I scoffed, pretending to be offended.
"You know what I mean."
"Believe me, I know. You're gross." I said jokingly.
"So are you." Sam retorted, glancing back to the computer for a moment as Dean continued to scroll down the website. "It gets worse."
"How?"
"Oh no." Dean muttered, his eyes going wide as he stared down at the screen.
"What now?"
"I just found worse."
"Which is?"
"All three of us." Dean said vaguely.
"Doing what?"
Sam cleared his throat again, looking uncomfortable. "You know..."
My eyes widened as the realization dawned on me. "Oh."
"Yeah."
"Oh, no."
Dean slammed the laptop shut, shaking his head. "We got to find this Carver Edlund."
"Yeah, that might not be so easy." Sam muttered.
"Why not?"
"No tax records, no known address. Looks like Carver Edlund is a pen name."
"Well, he got the books published...somehow." I said, standing to my feet. "So somebody's gotta know who he really is."
PUBLISHER'S HOUSE – DAY
The publisher, a pretty woman with long brown hair tied up on top of her head stood in front of us, had been staring at Sam and Dean, very obviously undressing them with her eyes from the very moment we walked into this place. If she thought she was being subtle about it, she was failing miserably and I almost found it funny until I remembered why we were here.
Someone had written every part of our lives down and sold the story.
"So you published the Supernatural books?" Sam asked.
"Yup. Yeah. Gosh, these books...you know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that Doctor Sexy, M.D. crap." She scoffed. "Please."
"Right. Well, we're hoping that our article can...shine a light on an under-appreciated series."
"Yeah, yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press then m-maybe we could start publishing again."
"God, no." Dean complained, quickly trying to backtrack. "I mean, why would you want to do that? It's such a complete series, what with Dean going to hell and all." I glanced up at Dean, narrowing my eyes slightly. He just shrugged, looking back to the woman as her eyes started tearing up.
"Oh, my god, that was one of my favorite ones. Poor Tori. Oh, it was horrible to see her so upset. She's been through so much, but she's so strong. And so was Dean. He was so sad and brave. How he asked Tori to marry him right before being ripped to shreds." She paused, holding a hand over her heart. I glanced down, remembering that night all to clearly, even now. "It was so sweet. But so sad. Oh, and Sam...I mean, the best parts are when the boys cry. You know, like in Heart, when Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in Home, when Dean had to call John and ask him for help."
As the woman droned on, I patted both Sam and Dean's backs lightly, trying to comfort them with all the memories she was stirring up.
"Gosh...if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings." She finally finished.
"Real men?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, huh?"
I raised an eyebrow, shrugging slightly. "Well-"
Dean gently nudged me in the side with his elbow, shooting the woman a small, sarcastic smile. "Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside."
"Is that supposed to be funny?" She asked.
"Lady, this whole thing is funny."
"How do I know you three are legit, hm?"
"Oh, trust me. We're legit."
"Well, I don't want any smart-ass article making fun of little Tori and my boys."
"Little Tori and your boys?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
"We would never." Sam interjected, shooting me a look. "We are actually...big fans."
"You've read the books?"
"Cover to cover." Dean nodded.
"We know everything." I added.
"What's the year and model of the car?" She asked, folding her arms.
"It's a 1967 Chevy Impala." Dean answered.
"What's May second?"
"That's my-" Sam paused, catching himself. "That's Sam's birthday."
"January twenty-fourth is Dean's." Dean said.
"October fifteenth is Tori's." I said.
She nodded, thinking over another question. "Sam's score on the LSAT?"
"One..." Sam trailed off, glancing over at Dean and I, seemingly at a loss. "Seventy-four?"
"Dean's favorite song?"
"It's a tie between Led Zepplin's Ramble On and Traveling Riverside Blues." I answered.
"What's does Dean call Tori?"
I glanced up at Dean, seeing him already looking down at me, a small smirk on his face. "Cherry Pie."
"Okay. Why'd he start calling her that?"
"Uh." I mumbled, biting my lip, Dean and I sharing a small wide-eyed look before I turning back to the woman. "Is that really appropriate?"
"We're all consenting adults here." She shrugged. Sam looked over at Dean and I, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Tori made Dean a cherry pie. The end."
"That's not all."
"Okay, I think we've answered enough of your questions-"
"No, go ahead." Sam said, a curious look in his eyes and a small grin on his lips.
God, he had no idea.
"Okay, fine." Dean nodded, smirking at his little brother. "Tori made a joke about Dean liking to eat her pie-"
Sam instantly paled, looking a little green, probably remembering that moment in Bobby's kitchen when he was unaware of what was going on between Dean and I, also that I lied when I said I was lying about asking Dean that. "Oh- oh, god."
Dean grinned, looking down at me. "And Dean started calling her that because, well, he really does love to eat her-"
"Okay!" I exclaimed, placing a hand over his mouth, feeling a smile spread across his lips under my palm. I let out a sigh, looking over to the woman as my face heated up. "Is that enough now?"
"Alright." The woman nodded. "What do you want to know?"
"What's Carver Edlund's real name?"
"Oh, no. I- no. Sorry, I can't do that."
"Listen, we just want to talk to him. Get the whole Supernatural story in his own words."
"He's very private. It's like Salinger."
"Listen, like I said-" I paused, hating myself for what I was about to do, pulling my jacket and shirt aside, showing her my anti-posession tattoo on my left collarbone. "We are big, big fans."
I shot the boys a pointed look, see Dean roll his eyes before pulling his shirt and jacket aside too, along with Sam, showing their tattoo's on their left chest's. The woman stared at them hungrily, licking her lips. I narrowed my eyes at her, pulling Dean's hand away so his shirt would fall back into place, covering his chest.
"Awesome." She smiled, turning and hiking up her skirt, revealing the light pink thong she was wearing along with same tattoo on the side of her right butt-cheek. "I got one too."
"Whoa. You are a fan." Dean nodded, staring down at her. I smacked him, shaking my head as he looked down at me with apologetic eyes.
"Okay." The woman nodded, pulling her skirt back down, turning towards her desk to scribble something on a piece of paper, handing it to Dean. "His name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off."
CHUCK SHURLEY'S HOUSE – DAY
The three of us got out of the Impala, making our way up the path towards the run-down looking home. I had no idea what to expect, and to be honest, I was a little nervous. This guy knew everything about us, yet we knew nothing about him.
That bothered me more than I'd like to admit and I could tell the boys felt the same.
"You know, I don't know why I thought you guys would have a nice story behind a nickname." Sam complained for the millionth time.
"Oh, get over it." Dean said, rolling his eyes at his brother. We stopped at the door, sharing a look before Dean pressed the doorbell forcefully.
A few moments passed before a disheveled looking man answered, looking up at us in question. "Yes?"
"You Chuck Shurley?"
"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?" Sam added.
"Maybe." The man mumbled. "Why?"
"I'm Tori." I said. "This is Sam and Dean. You know, the ones you've been writing about."
Chuck quickly shut the door, to which Dean let out a huff, ringing the doorbell again. Chuck opened it, looking nervous. "Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's- it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life."
Just as Chuck tried to shut the door again, Dean put a hand on it, stopping him. "See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books."
"Now, wait a minute-" Chuck started as Dean pushed his way into the house, Sam and I following along. "This isn't funny."
"No, it's not." I snapped. "Not at all."
Sam turned to face him, trying to stay neutral. "Look, we just want to know how you're doing it."
"I'm not doing anything." Chuck replied.
"Are you a hunter?" Dean asked.
"What? No. I'm a writer."
"Then how do you know so much about demons? And Tulpas, and changelings?" Dean asked, advancing towards Chuck a little more with every question, causing him to fall back onto his couch.
"Is this some kind of Misery thing? It is, isn't it? It's a Misery thing!"
"No, it's not a Misery thing!" I exclaimed. "We are not fans."
"Well, then, what do you want?"
"I'm Sam. That's Tori and that's Dean." Sam said.
"They are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!"
"Okay." Dean nodded, hauling Chuck up off the couch. "Let's go take a look at something."
"What?" Chuck asked, his eyes going wide. "What do you mean?"
"Come on." I mumbled, opening the door for Dean as he brought Chuck to the trunk of the Impala, opening it to reveal the arsenal.
"Are those real guns?"
"Yup." Dean replied. "This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs."
"Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans." Chuck said nervously. "That's- that's awesome. So, I- I think I've got some posters in the house."
"Chuck, stop." I said.
"Please, don't hurt me."
"How much do you know?" Sam asked. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"
"Wait a minute...how do you know about that?
"The question is how do you." Dean said pointedly.
"Because I wrote it?" Chuck mumbled obviously.
"Wait, you kept writing?" I asked.
"Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out."
"Why?"
"This is some kind of joke, right?"
"I wish it was."
"You're crazy."
"Well, nice to meet you, I'm Victoria Anderson, that's Dean Winchester, and his brother, Sam."
"The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down." Chuck mumbled, looking shocked, passing by us to go back into his house.
The three of us followed him in, watching him go right to the kitchen to pour himself a large glass of whiskey, downing it all in one gulp.
As he turned around he saw us, letting out a groan. "Oh, you're still there."
"Yup." Dean nodded.
"You're not a hallucination."
"Nope."
"Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously I'm a god."
"Oh, please. You are not a god." I scoffed.
"How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through- the physical beatings alone. The mental hell."
"Yeah, we're still in one piece." Dean mumbled.
"I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica." Chuck said, looking to Dean and Sam, then me. "And your parents, and- and you, making you kill them. All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment."
"You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us."
"Did you really have to live through the bugs?"
"Yup."
I nodded. "Somehow not worse than being possessed though."
"Right. I am- I am so sorry about that-"
"Chuck you didn't do that. You didn't make that happen."
"What about the ghost ship? Did you live through that?"
"Yes, that too."
"I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing...if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass."
"Chuck, you're not a god!" Dean exclaimed.
"Then I'm the god."
"Yeah, I don't think so. Aim lower. Much lower." I said. Chuck shot me a strange, almost irritated look before pouring himself another glass of whiskey.
"We think you're probably just psychic." Sam muttered.
"No. If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing?" Chuck asked. "Writing is hard."
"It seems that somehow, you're just...focused on our lives."
"Yeah, like laser-focused." Dean added. "Are you working on anything right now?"
"Holy crap." Chuck mumbled, his eyes going wide.
"What?" I asked.
"The latest book? It's- it's kind of weird." Chuck said, flipping through a few pages of paper stapled together at the top corner.
"Weird, how?" Sam asked.
"It's very Vonnegut."
Dean nodded. "Slaughterhouse-Five Vonnegut or Cat's Cradle Vonnegut?"
"What?" Sam asked, looking surprised.
"What?" Dean retorted defensively
"Guys." I called, looking back to Chuck.
"It's Kilgore Trout Vonnegut." Chuck said." I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house...confronted by my characters."
Once we'd taken the manuscript from Chuck, we headed over to the local laundromat where Dean was now sitting on one of the tables in the middle of the room while Sam took his clothes out of a washing machine and I folded some of mine.
"I'm sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself. My head hurts." Dean mumbled.
"There's got to be more to this. Whether this guy knows it or not." I said.
"Tori started to have doubts about the whole situation, wondering if there was more to everything going on than Chuck knew. She let out a heavy breath, folding a pair of her black lacepanties."
My eyes widened as I looked down to my hands, seeing the aforementioned panties in my hands, dropping them like they were a snake about to bite me, turning to look at Dean. "Okay, stop it. This is freaking me out."
"'Okay, stop it, this is freaking me out' Tori said." Dean continued to read while I let out a huff, going back to my clothes. "Tori turned her back on Dean, letting out a huff as she became irritated and moody. I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your irritated and moody shoulders."
Dick.
"You just thought I was a dick."
"I gotta give it to him, this guy's good." I mumbled, glancing back to Dean with a small, sheepish smile, folding my last shirt up before going over to him, resting a hand on the table he was sitting on.
"Tori folded up her last shirt, placing it on a pile of others before going over to Dean, leaning beside him. Sam moved to throw his giant darks into the dryer, passing themon the way, something sparkling on Tori'shand catching his eye- oh." Dean stopped suddenly, clearing his throat.
"What's that?" Sam asked, staring down at my left hand.
I followed his gaze to the ring that now sat on my finger, peering back up at him. "Oh, uh-"
Sam's mouth open and shut a few times, looking between Dean and I. "Are you- did you- are you- are you guys egaged?"
"Yeah." I nodded.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah." Dean interjected.
"Honestly?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes, Sam! Jesus Christ."
"Oh my god!" Sam smiled, a happy look flooding into his eyes as he pulled both Dean and I in for a hug.
"Fucking- Sam, come on." Dean complained, pushing his brother away.
The smile didn't leave Sam's face as he moved back, play-punching Dean's shoulder. "Took you long enough, you idiot."
"Shut up." Dean mumbled, rubbing his arm while I chuckled. "I know."
"I'm really happy for you guys."
"Thanks, Shorty." I smiled, fluffing his hair. He looked a little taken a-back by that gesture, considering I hadn't done that in some time, but quickly smiled back at me.
Dean picked up his phone, which was vibrating next to us on the table. "Yeah? What?"
"Who is it?" Sam asked.
"Okay. We'll be right there." Dean let out a breath, hanging up the phone. "That wasn't in the script."
"Who was it?"
"Chuck. He asked if we could go back to his house."
"Why?"
"Because he wrote something else."
CHUCK'S HOUSE – DAY
Inside his living room, Chuck paced back and forth nervously in front of us, looking as though he was trying to build up courage to speak, holding more pages in his hands.
"So, you wrote another chapter?" Sam asked.
Chuck sighed. "This was all so much easier before you were real."
"We can take it. Just spit it out." Dean said.
"You two, especially, are not gonna like this." Chuck said, looking at Dean and I.
"I didn't like hell."
"I didn't like seeing him in hell." I added with a shrug.
"It's Lilith." Chuck muttered. "She's coming for Sam."
"Coming to kill him."
"When?" Sam asked.
"Tonight." Chuck replied.
"She's just gonna show up?" Dean asked. "Here?"
"Uh, let's see, uh-" Chuck mumbled, slipping a pair of glasses on, picking up another manuscript. "Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion."
"You're kidding, right?" Sam laughed.
Dean looked over at his brother, his eyes hard. "You think this is funny?"
"You don't? I mean, come on, fiery demonic passion?"
"It's just a first draft." Chuck defended himself.
"Wouldn't be the first time you've had sex with a demon." I interjected, gaining a harsh glare from Sam.
"Wait, wait." Dean called. "Lilith is a little girl."
"No, uh, this time she's a comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana." Chuck said.
"Why does she always have to be from Indiana?" I asked with a huff.
"She knows it bothers you."
"So what happens after the fiery demonic whatever?" Dean asked.
"I don't know, it hasn't come to me yet."
"Guys, look, there's nothing to worry about." Sam said, looking to Dean and I. "Lilith and me? In bed?"
"How does this whole psychic thing of yours work?" Dean asked Chuck, ignoring his brother.
"You mean my process?" Chuck asked.
Dean rolled his eyes, about to say something else when I placed a hand on his arm, looking to Chuck. "Sure, yeah. You're process."
"Well, it usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so I drink. Until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream."
"The first time you had a dream about us?"
"It flowed. It just, it kept flowing. It still does. I-I can't stop it, really."
Sam shook his head. "You can't seriously believe-"
"Look, why don't we, we just-" Dean paused, barely holding his hand up before Chuck held the manuscript out to him. "Take a look at these and see what's what...you-"
"Knew you were gonna ask for that?" Chuck finished. "Yeah."
ROAD – DAY
"Guys, come on." Sam said, glancing over at Dean from the passenger seat as he drove the Impala down the road, beginning to read from the pages in his hands. "The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean were still seeing stars. Tori looked over at him, seeing him scratch absently at the pink flower Band-Aids on his face."
"So?" Dean asked.
"Dean I've seen you gushing blood. You'd use duct tape ad bar rags before putting on a pink flower band-aid."
"What's your point?"
"My point is this, all of this, is totally implausible. It's nuts."
"He's been right about everything else so far." I shrugged.
"You believe this crap?"
"I don't know. You had visions, why can't he?"
"Exactly." Dean nodded. "You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?"
Sam let out a scoff, continuing to read. "Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala, Tori in the passenger seat,and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow."
"A tarp?"
"Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that."
"Well, he might be wrong about the details, but doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result."
"So we're just gonna run?"
"We're a long way a way from ready for a death match with Lilith, Sam." I said as Dean slowed the Impala to a stop as we approached a roadblock, a deputy making his way over to the car.
"What seems to be the problem?" Dean asked.
"Bridge is out ahead."
"We're just trying to get out of town."
"Yeah, afraid not."
"There's no other way of getting out?" I asked, leaning forward.
"Nope."
"You're joking, right? There's got to be a way out of here." I said, starting to get nervous. There was no way we could go up against Lilith. Not yet.
To be honest, I was afraid of what Sam would do.
"Nope." The cop repeated.
"There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?" Dean asked, glancing back at me for a split second, but I saw the worry in his eyes. His thoughts probably weren't too far off from my own.
"To get to the highway, you have to cross that river. To cross the river, you have to take that bridge."
"How deep is the river?"
"Sorry. Afraid you kids are gonna have to spend the night in town."
DINER – NIGHT
After driving aimlessly, we decided to get some dinner. Dean and I sat next to each other in the booth, the both of us looking over the manuscript while Sam read from the menu.
"Hey, this could be a good thing." Dean said. "I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked, glancing up.
"It's a blueprint of what not to do. I mean, if the pages say that we go left-"
"Then we go right."
"Okay. We get off the script, we never make it to the end." I nodded, pulling the manuscript in front of me. "It says we get into a fight, so no fighting."
Dean smirked. "No research for you."
"No bacon cheeseburger for you." Sam retorted.
"Yeah, no problem. I'll just order something else." Dean mumbled as the waitress walked up to the table, a smile on her face. "Hi, uh, what's good?"
"Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country." She said.
"Really?"
"I'll just have the cob salad, please." Sam said, glancing over at Dean with a smirk.
Dean sighed dejectedly. "I'll have the...veggie tofu burger."
"I'll have one, too." I smiled, handing her the menus, bumping my shoulder into Dean's. "We can suffer together."
"Thanks, babe."
"Sure thing."
"Says you two kiss." Sam announced, reading from the manuscript that I hadn't even realize he'd taken from me. "No kissing."
"Right." I sighed, scooting further away from Dean in the booth.
"Guys, this whole thing's ridiculous."
"Yeah, the whole no kissing, no burgers thing is, but Lilith isn't."
"The idea of me hooking up with her is."
"Right." Dean scoffed. "'Cause something like that can never happen."
"You know, I already heard that from her." Sam said, nodding to me.
"Hey, it happened." I shrugged.
"For the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close. We've got the jump on her. If we know when she's coming- this is an opportunity."
"Are you-" Dean paused trying hard not to get angry. "It frustrates me when you say such reckless things."
"Well, it frustrates me when the both of you would rather hide that fight."
"Well, it frustrates me that you don't ever listen to us." I said, annoyed. "Not fighting is the best option here."
"How?"
"Because we aren't ready, Sam."
Just then the waitress came up placing out plates in front of us. "Cobb salad for you. And the tofu veggie burgers for you guys."
"Thank you."
"It's not hiding. It's being smart. It's picking your battles. This is a battle that we are not ready to fight." Dean said once the waitress had left, his eyes widening in surprise after he'd taken a huge bite. "Oh, my god. This is delicious. Tofu is amazing!"
"Really?"
"Yeah!"
"Okay..." I trailed off, taking a small bite out of my veggie burger. It tasted a little bland, but wasn't so terrible. "I wouldn't say it's amazing."
"I am so sorry." The waitress called, making her way back over to the table, moving to grab Dean's plate. "I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake."
Sam, Dean and I all shared a look of shock. What if we really couldn't get away from this?
TOREADOR MOTEL – NIGHT
The motel we stood in front of was, in no uncertain terms, completely and totally sleazy. But we had no other choice. But God, I wish we did.
"Dude, this place charges by the hour." Sam said as we entered the dingy room.
"Yeah, well, the book says Lilith finds you at the Red Motel. Hence, the hooker inn." Dean said, dropping one of the bags he held onto the floor. I bent down, pulling out some hex bags, handing them to him so he could start placing them around.
"What are you doing?"
"Lilith-proofing." I told Sam. "Hex bags."
"So, what? I'm supposed to just hole up here all night?"
"That's exactly what you're gonna do, okay? And no research. I don't care what you do – use the magic fingers or watch Casa Erotica on Pay-Per-View." Dean said, pulling Sam's laptop out of the bag with a smile.
"Oh, dude, come on."
"Just call it a little insurance. Behave yourself, Sammy." Dean grinned. "No homework. Watch some porn."
"What are you guys gonna do?"
"Well, the script says that we go park the Impala somewhere and make out." I said, standing upright. "So, we're not gonna do that."
"Oh, yeah?"
"We are capable of controlling ourselves, Sam."
"Yeah, okay." Sam scoffed, petulantly folding his arms.
"Be good." I said, Dean and I leaving the motel room. Just before we got to the Impala, I stopped, looking around. "Maybe I should stay back."
"Why?" Dean asked, turning to face me.
"I don't know. I just have a bad feeling about all of this."
"Yeah, me too." Dean sighed, pulling me a little closer to him. "It'll be okay."
"You're totally lying." I mumbled, gently pushing him away. "Get off of me, no psychical contact, remember?"
"Right."
The both of us got into the Impala, driving around for a bit until we found a park with a few stores next to it. We parked the Impala across the street, heading over to a bench to stay as far away from the car as possible.
I mean, we weren't about to start making out on a picnic bench...well, we would, but not with a bunch of kids around.
Okay...maybe we would but we couldn't now and we knew that.
Just to be safe, we decided to forgo the park, heading into one of the stores. At least if we were walking around, it would keep us busy. We'd only been in there for a few minutes when I heard Dean let out a low curse. I followed his gaze out of the store windows to the Impala, seeing a couple teenage boys trying to break into it.
Dean immediately headed towards the door, and I was about to follow along, but he waved me off, stopping me. "I'll just go, you stay here."
"Dean, they're not gonna hurt me."
"Oh, I know. I just don't think we should be so close to the car together..."
"Right. Okay." I nodded, watching Dean for a moment as he headed over to the Impala, looking away with a sigh.
A few more moments passed that I spent looking at random things on the shelves of the small trinket shop when suddenly, a few people let out loud gasps. I looked up, seeing Dean lying on the ground not moving with a woman and young girl standing beside him. I rushed out of the store, my eyes widening when I saw the girl placing another one of the many pink band-aids on Dean's face just as I made my way to them.
But I ignored that, nearly pushing the mother and daughter out of the way as Dean's eyes fluttered open. "Stars?"
"What?" The woman, who I now saw was wearing giant star shaped earrings, asked.
"What happened?" I asked.
The woman indicated to the van parked off on the side of the road. "I just didn't see him. I'm so sorry."
I shook my head at her, kneeling down next to Dean. "Baby, are you okay?"
"Y- yeah." Dean murmured, sitting upright.
"Oh, thank god." I sighed, absentmindedly placing a kiss on his lips. I pulled back quickly, my eyes wide as I realized what I did. "Crap. That totally wasn't making out, right?"
"Sorry about the..." The woman trailed off, gesturing to the side of her face as she looked at Dean. "M-My daughter's going through a doctor phase."
Dean furrowed his brow in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"You're all better now." The girl smiled as I plucked one of the band-aids off, showing it to him.
"Crap."
I sighed, glancing over across the street to the Impala, seeing the back window completely smashed in. "Oh, no."
"What?" Dean asked, following my gaze, immediately fuming as he stood up quickly.
"Be careful, Dean." I called, following him over to the car.
"Shit. Fucking shit. Were fucked."
I just grimaced, not able to disagree with him. We kind of were.
CHUCK'S HOUSE – DAY
On our way to Chuck's house, I was trying to ignore the fact that Dean was driving the Impala, banged up from a minivan running into him and a tarp covering the shattered back window of the Impala...flapping like the wings of a crow. Nothing was said the whole drive, the both of us angry and frustrated.
As soon as Dean pulled in front of Chuck's house, he threw the car in park, storming out off the car with me right behind him. Just before we got to the front door, it opened up, Chuck standing there staring up at us.
"You look terrible." Chuck mumbled, staring up at him.
"That's cause I just got hit by a minivan, Chuck." Dean said, pushing Chuck aside so we could enter.
"Oh."
"That's it?" Dean snapped. "Everything you write about us comes true and all you have to say is oh?"
"Please don't yell at me." Chuck cowered.
"Why do I get the feeling that there's something you're just not telling us?" I asked.
"What wouldn't I be telling you?"
"How you know what you know! Psychics are one thing, but you know every little thing. Every time we so much as breathe, you know. How is that possible?"
"I don't know how I know, I just do!"
"That's not good enough." Dean said, shoving Chuck against the wall. "How the hell are you doing this!?"
Suddenly, the ringing in my ears snapped to the forefront and I turned around, not surprised to see Castiel there. "Dean, let him go. This man is to be protected."
"Why?" Dean asked, releasing Chuck, who was looking at Cas with wide eyes.
"He's a Prophet of the Lord."
"You- you're Castiel... aren't you?" Chuck asked in astonishment.
"It's an honor to meet you, Chuck. I...admire your work." Castiel replied, picking up one of the Supernatural books off the coffee table, flipping through it.
"This guy, a prophet? Come on, he's- he's practically a Penthouse Forum writer." Dean said.
"Aim lower, huh?" Chuck asked me with a raised eyebrow.
"That's still a hell of a lot lower than the creator of everything, Chuck." I said. "Did you know about this?"
"I might have dreamt about it."
"I knew it!"
"And you didn't say anything!?" Dean spat.
"Please, don't tell at me." Chuck mumbled. "It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night-level douchiness."
"This is the guy who decides our fate?" Dean asked Cas as Chuck started drinking straight from a bottle of whiskey.
"He isn't deciding anything." Castiel replied. "He's a mouthpiece – a conduit for the inspired word."
"The word?" I asked. "Like the new, new testament?"
"One day these books, they'll be known as the Winchester gospel."
"You're joking right?"
"I don't...joke."
"If you'll please excuse me one minute." Chuck mumbled, clutching the bottle to his chest as he disappeared upstairs.
"Him?" Dean asked. "Really?"
"You should've seen Luke." Cas muttered.
I furrowed my brow, looking to Cas. "What was wrong with Luke?"
"He was...a strange man."
"More strange than that mess?" I asked, pointing to the stairs where Chuck had gone.
"Not quite, I suppose."
"Why'd he get tapped?" Dean asked.
"What?" Castiel asked.
"Why is Chuck a prophet?"
"I don't know how prophets are chosen. The order comes from high up on the celestial chain of command."
"How high?"
"Very."
"So, like, God-high?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Well, whatever." Dean shrugged it off. "How do we get around this?"
"Around what?"
"The Sam-Lilith love connection. How do we stop it from happening?"
"What the prophet has written can't be unwritten. As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass." Cas said. Dean and I shared a look and I knew the both of us were thinking the same thing. Not if we can't help it.
MOTEL – NIGHT
As the Impala pulled up in front of the Toreador motel, I noticed that all the letters except for the r-e-d had gone out, leaving the sign to read Red Motel. Dean and I shared a tried look before getting out of the car, making our way into the room, finding Sam lying on the bed, looking surprised to see us.
"Guys?"
"Come on, we're getting out of here." Dean said, pulling his brother off the bed.
"What? Where?"
"Anywhere, okay? Out of this motel, out of this town. I don't care if we got to swim, we are getting out."
"Where are all the hex bags?" I asked, noticing that they were gone.
"I burned them." Sam replied simply.
"Excuse me?"
"Look, if Lilith is coming, which is a big if-"
"No, it's more than an if. Chuck is not psychic." Dean told him. "He's a prophet."
"What?" Sam asked, looking shocked.
"Cas showed up and apparently Chuck is writing the gospel of us."
"Okay."
"Okay, let's get the hell out of here."
"No." Sam said, shaking Dean's hand off his arm.
"Lilith is gonna slaughter you."
"Maybe she will, maybe she won't."
"You think you can take her?" I asked Sam, stepping forward.
"There's only one way to find out, and I say bring her on."
"That's ridiculous, Sam-"
"You think I'll do it, don't you? You think I'll go dark side."
"Yes!" Dean exclaimed. "The way you've been acting lately? The things you've been doing?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I know, Sam. I know how you ripped Alastair apart like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly." Dean said. Immediately, Sam glared at me, but I shook my head. "She didn't tell me, Cas did. Tori just backed up that it was the truth."
"What else did he tell you?"
"Nothing I don't already know. That you've been using your psychic shit, and you've been getting stronger. We just don't know why, and we don't know how."
"It's not what you think."
"Then what is it, Sam? 'Cause I'm at a total loss." Dean said, heading towards the door, glancing back to Sam. "Are you coming or not?"
"No."
Dean let out a heavy breath, swinging the door open before stepping outside. I looked back to Sam, watching him for a moment until he glanced up at me. "Go ahead, say it."
"I have nothing to say, Sam."
"That's not true."
"You're doing something that's making you this way, and no one knows what it is. Not even the angels. That's terrifying. We're scared Sam. And if you stay here, we're going to lose you."
"It's what I have to do. Lilith needs to die."
"I want her dead too, believe me, I do. But I don't want to lose you in the process." I said, moving back towards the door. "Will you come?"
"...no."
At that moment, I knew that as much as I wished I could, there was no way I could convince Sam to come with us, so I left. I turned around and shut the door behind me as I walked out into the night air. When I didn't see Dean by the Impala, I headed down the small sidewalk separating the motel doors from the parking lot until I found him by a soda machine.
"Dean?" I called, walking over to him.
"Yeah?"
"What do we do?"
"I don't know. I mean, we can't just go and leave him here to die- to die."
"Of course not. How do we make him listen?"
"Maybe we're not the ones who need to make him."
"What do you mean?"
Dean pulled in a deep breath, glancing up to the sky for a moment. "Well, I feel stupid doing this. But...I am fresh out of options. So please. We need some help. I'm praying, okay? Come on. Please."
"Prayer is a sign of faith." Castiel said, appearing behind me. "This is a good thing, Dean.
"Does that mean you'll help us?"
"I'm not sure what I can do."
"Drag Sam out of here, now. Before Lilith shows up."
"It's a prophecy. I can't interfere."
"You have tested me and thrown me every which way. And I have never asked for anything. Not a damn thing. But now I'm asking. We need your help. Please." Dean said desperately.
"What you're asking, it's not within my power to do."
"Why because it's divine prophecy?" I asked, getting irritated with him.
"Yes."
"So, what? We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?" Dean asked.
"I'm sorry."
"Screw you. You and your mission." Dean said, brushing past Cas to walk to the Impala.
"You know, I really thought you were different, Cas. I thought you were starting to understand that you can't win this way. I don't know why, but I did. I guess I was wrong." I muttered, moving to follow Dean.
"Wait." Cas called, stopping us.
"What?" Dean snapped.
"You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected."
"I get that."
"If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat." Castiel said, looking to me pointedly. "Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon."
"So archangels, they're tied to prophets?" I asked.
"Yes."
Dean nodded. "So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon-"
"Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon." Cas said, glancing to the ground before looking back to us. "Just so you understand...why I can't help."
"Thanks, Cas." Dean said, going over to the driver side of the Impala.
"Really, thank you." I said, reaching out to grab his hand, squeezing it lightly.
Castiel glanced down at my hand on his, what almost looked to be a small smile tugging at the sides of his lips. "Good luck."
In the blink of an eye, Cas was gone and I made my way over to the Impala, a sense of hope filling my chest. At least now we had a good chance of getting out of here in one piece.
CHUCK'S HOUSE – NIGHT
The Impala was nearly pushed to it's limit as Dean sped over to Chuck's house, not even bothering to shut the car off before he got out, heading to the front door. I turned the car off, quickly following him inside. Chuck, who was sprawled out on the couch, let out a loud shriek as we entered, looking surprised to see us.
"What are you doing here? I didn't write this."
Dean didn't waste any time, grabbing Chuck off the couch roughly. "Come on. You need to come with us."
"What? Where?"
"To the motel where Sam is."
"That's where Lilith is."
"Exactly. And you have to stop her." I said.
"Are you insane?" Chuck asked, looking at me with wide eyes. "Lilith? I know what she's capable of. I wrote her."
"Alright, listen. You have an archangel tethered to you, okay? All you got to do is show up and boom, Lilith gets smoked." Dean quickly explained to him.
"But I-I haven't seen that yet. Th-the story-"
"The story can change." I said. "Chuck you're the only chance we have left."
"But... I'm just a writer."
"This isn't a story anymore, man." Dean said. "This is real. And you're in it. Now, I need you to get off your ass and fight. Come on, Chuck."
"No fucking way." Chuck said, pushing Dean's hands off of him.
"Okay how about this? I have a gun and if you don't come with us I'm gonna blow your brains out." I threatened, stepping closer to him, seeing Dean raise an eyebrow at me.
"I thought you said I was protected by an archangel."
"Let's see who the quicker draw is." I muttered. "Don't fuck with my family."
The drive to the motel, Chuck sat in the backseat, looking around nervously, his breathing shallow and loud. "What do I say when we get there?"
"You don't have to say anything, Chuck."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm pretty sure." I mumbled. Almost as soon as we pulled into the parking lot, I felt my stomach churn and let out a low groan. "She's here."
"She is?" Dean asked.
"Is your demon sense working?" Chuck asked.
"Shut up." I snapped back at him.
Dean quickly swung the car in front of the building, getting out before pulling a still very nervous looking Chuck out. I held the tops of his arms while Dean kicked the door down, revealing Lilith on top of Sam, a knife on him. I pushed Chuck into the room, keeping a hand on his arm, staying behind him with Dean.
"I am the prophet Chuck!" He exclaimed. I rolled my eyes.
"You've got to be joking." Lilith grinned, getting off of Sam, standing to face us.
"Oh, this is no joke." Dean said as the room started to tremble around us, the ringing blaring in my ears so loud that I almost couldn't hear anything else. A white light started pouring through the room, getting brighter and brighter with each passing second. "You see, Chuck here's got an archangel on his shoulder. You've got about ten seconds before this room is full of wrath and you're a piece of charcoal. You sure you want to tangle with that?"
Lilith gave Sam a look before throwing her head back, pouring out of the woman's mouth and up through a vent and her body dropped before us.
ROAD – NIGHT
After dropping Chuck, who was still pretty shaken, off at his house we headed back onto the road. Of course, the bridge was perfectly fine now and we could cross it to get out of this God-forsaken place. Just as Dean pulled the Impala onto the highway, Sam had finished telling us about Lilith and what had happened before we got there. Needless to say, it was a lot to process.
"So a deal, huh?" Dean asked, glancing over at his brother.
"That's what she said." Sam shrugged.
"To call the whole thing off?" I asked. "The angels, the seals, Lucifer rising, all of it?"
"That was the gist of it."
"Huh." Dean nodded, staring out to the road.
"What?"
"You didn't think once about taking it?"
"Are you kidding me? Dude, you spent all day trying to talk me off the Lilith track."
"I'm just saying..."
"I'm sure the bitch was lying." I said. "I really doubt she could call all of that off with just one deal. I mean, who is she?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Anyway, that's not the point." Sam said.
"What's the point?"
"The point is, she's scared. I could see it. Lilith is running."
"Running from what?"
"Don't know. But she was telling the truth about one thing."
"What's that?"
"She's not gonna survive the apocalypse. I'll make sure of that." Sam said, his voice threatening.
Dean glanced back at me in the rear-view mirror, the both of us catching that difference in Sam's voice, something that had happened a lot since he'd come back all those months ago. Occasionally I thought back to what Azazel had said...there was a part of Sam that was different since he came back and while I hated believing that, I'd seen to much to keep thinking it wasn't true.
There was big part of me that wanted to know what he was doing to make himself stronger, but at the same time, I knew whatever it was, it wasn't good. And even though I tried not to show it all the time, I was scared out of my mind.
Hey guys! Long time no see. Sorry about that! I've been feeling a little under the weather lately.
Who watched the mid-season finale last night? I thought it was great. Also, who else fucking loves Chuck? He's definitely one of my favorites.
Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!
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