get ready for some serious humor in this one... i hope it's funny. sometimes i think my sense of humor has gone whack. [shrug]
I don't own anything except for my OC's.
Aubrey stared down at the script in her hands with insecurity. "So," she started slowly. "I just have to be Sam, basically."
"Basically," the turtle-man repeated. "Seeing as Jared won't be up to acting any time soon, you'll get all his lines. Misha's gonna edit some of his script so that he'll be talking to you instead of Sam." He took a short pause. "Let's just say Sam had to go to the bathroom and it's just you, Dean, and Castiel in this scene."
"So Jensen's still in this one," said Aubrey, pointing over her shoulder at Dean, who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the set, rocking on his feet.
"Yep," turtle-man said, with a hint of melancholy in his voice. "Jensen's still in this one. Let's pray he'll actually say his lines right for once." The last bit he had said under his breath, but Aubrey still heard it. She rolled her eyes but she knew he was right. Apparently, Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki were very good actors. If she and Dean were going to keep trouble away from them, they had to be less suspicious and more normal.
She really didn't know what was going on with the two Winchesters; normally they were very good actors. Whenever they would sweep into a job as an FBI agent or a news reporter, they always did a damn good job. What was happening now? As turtle-man sauntered back to the console a little ways from "Bobby's study", Aubrey dragged Dean to the side of the set and muttered hotly into his ear.
"If you want to get out of here with minimal universe-changes, I suggest you do better," she told him sternly. Several of the filming crews threw them curious glances, but she returned their stares with her own cool ones. "So act your ass off, because you are not Dean Winchester, you are Jensen Ackles, star of this goddamn show and winner of multiple trophies!"
"Don't you know how hard it is?" he demanded, throwing his arms about. "I mean, have you seen the script?"
"Yes, I've seen the script," she retorted. "I don't see what's so difficult. You don't even have to say the lines exactly right. It just has to be close enough for Misha to be able to form a proper reply!"
Dean's face fell. "Oh… I didn't know that."
"It's called improv, Dean," she practically hissed, folding her script and shoving it into her jeans' back pocket. "You ready?"
She heard no reply, as she had already turned around and walked back onto the middle of the set. But what she did hear, very vaguely, was Dean murmuring something about her being on her period. Or something along those lines. Either way, all the impatience she'd felt towards the hunter suddenly bubbled up her throat. She whirled around to face him again, eyes blazing, and she had enough time to register the fear that jumped into his eyes before turtle-man was talking to them again.
"Let's get this show back on the road, people!" he called, clapping loudly. "We have two scenes left and they're not gonna shoot themselves! Misha, back on set, please."
As Misha approached her wearily, Aubrey shot Dean one final dark look before straightening her blouse, taking deep, calming breaths. It wouldn't do for her to be angry with him, not when they were in a place none of them knew much about. She gestured for him to come closer, softening her voice. "Come on," she said. And after a moment of expectancy, he walked over to her so that they were practically shoulder to shoulder. "You remember your lines?" she asked, to which he nodded. "Remember: improv. Just act like your same, douche self and we'll be fine. Here we go."
A crew member walked into the set, standing right between the valley between her and Dean, and Misha. He brandished the digital marker board, said, "Supernatural, scene 36, take 21. Marker!" and then clapped the board. Aubrey's eyes didn't follow him as he rushed out of sight of the camera. Aubrey schooled on a confused expression, which was what she assumed her character was supposed to be feeling while she pre-read the script.
"Action!" turtle-man yelled, and her stomach twisted in on itself.
"Balthazar is no hero," said Misha, using the low and raspy tone that Castiel was apparently created to have. "But he knows Raphael will never take him back."
Aubrey silently prayed to herself that Dean knew what the parentheses meant in grimly.
"But somehow you got no problem with it," he stated, thankfully, in his normal voice, and with a normal facial expression. "You're all caught up in this heaven and hell crap that you're becoming total assholes. Didn't God teach you any morals?"
Thank God, Aubrey thought to herself, but still minding enough the scene unfolding before her. She and Dean were having an argument with Castiel in this scene, and she knew that she wasn't going to be 'acting' very much; she was furious with the angel, but apparently the producers already knew that.
"And what about you, Dean?" Misha said pointedly. "Your family is as caught up with this whole situation as I am."
"That's because we have no other choice," Aubrey interjected, a defensive tone creeping into her voice. "We didn't choose for Balthazar to throw the keys to us. We didn't even want him flying to Bobby's study in the first place."
Somehow, she'd still managed to remember the lines even though she'd only scanned through it for a whole of two minutes. She was actually proud of herself, but the true anger for the angel was starting to bubble up, and she struggled to keep it down. Otherwise, she could have started hitting Misha, whose artificial voice resembled nothing like Castiel's.
"Speaking of keys," stated said actor after a minute of scripted silence. "Do you have it?"
"Yeah, I have it," Aubrey said, but held out on fishing the key out of her pocket. "But first, what's it for?" Jeez, the script writers are crappy.
"It opens a room," Misha replied, repeating the same lines he'd said to them the previous day during their first encounter.
"What's in the room?" Dean asked, and Aubrey knew that he was thinking the same things she was thinking.
"Every weapon Balthazar stole from heaven."
"And he gave it to us?"
"To keep it safe, until I could reach you." Misha held his hand out and shook his fingers subtly. Aubrey quickly took the single key he'd given to her earlier in the day out of her front pocket. She gingerly placed it in the palm of his hand, watching as he closed his fingers around it. "With those weapons, I have a chance to rally my forces."
"Got it," Aubrey said. "But if there's a key, then there must be a lock." She looked at Misha earnestly, tilting her head. "Where's the room?"
He shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that." Then he tilted his head upwards, at a window nobody else was seeing—exactly the same way Castiel did. Aubrey felt her heartbeat falter slightly before getting back on track. "I must go."
Aubrey rolled her eyes. "You always say that."
"CUT!"
Shit, that wasn't part of my line. Sheepishly, she turned her head to face the turtle-man, whose eyes were bright, like a proud papa.
"Great shoot, Candice!" he told her. "Jensen, keep doing what you're doing. But please, let's stick as close to the original script as we can, okay? And Candice, remember, Aubrey is feeling conflicted about her feelings for Castiel. She's not angry—she's conflicted."
I'm angry. The script is bullcrap. "Right," Aubrey replied half-heartedly, inching closer to Dean and fishing out the script from her pocket. In front of them, Misha was having his hair retouched. Aubrey did her best to keep her eyes off him and on the script instead. She raked through her lines, flinching slightly when Dean touched her shoulder.
"What the hell was that?" he asked, sounding more urgent than he needed to be.
"I got carried away," Aubrey grumbled in reply, shoving the script into his hands. "Here, review." He didn't say more.
He's not Cas, he's not Cas, he's not Cas… Aubrey kept repeating to herself, her eyes often flicking to where Misha stood to find that he was watching her as well. His hair artist was gone, and he looked as if he was contemplating the idea of coming over to where she and Dean stood.
Not wanting that to happen, she snatched the script back from Dean's hands and refolded it, once again shoving it deep into her pocket. "Ready," she said, loud enough for the turtle-man to hear from where he sat behind the panel.
The dark-skinned man with the marker board came running into the scene. "Supernatural, scene 36, take 22. Marker!" He clapped the board shut before running out of camera view once more.
"And…" turtle-man drawled. "Action!"
"I must go," Misha repeated, looking upwards again at the window that wasn't there.
"Of course, Cas," Aubrey said softly, walking up to Misha and putting a hand on his shoulder because her script required her to do so. "I hope the weapons help you." Misha looked at her, nodded once, then looked up at the ceiling again.
There were a few moments of silence. Aubrey didn't let her eyes flicker to the sides, but she wanted to; she wasn't sure if Dean had forgotten to say a line or not, or if she'd forgotten. Then: "CUT!" She let out a loud sigh of relief and hastily pulled her hand off Misha's shoulder, initially backing away from him so that she was once again standing shoulder to shoulder with Dean.
"Wonderful!" said turtle-man's voice from the side of the set. "Alright, let's take 5 before one more shot."
"That means five minutes, right?" Dean asked in a quiet voice beside her. Aubrey nodded her head quickly before grabbing his sleeve and pulling him to where Sam sat a little far off from "Bobby's study". She plopped down on her seat, pulling the script out again and rereading her lines.
"And, one more shot means…?" Dean looked at her questioningly.
"We're gonna reshoot the scene," Aubrey said. "Same lines, same everything."
"Why do we have to reshoot?"
"So they can get all the shots they need for the scene."
Dean said nothing more, which was odd. Aubrey turned her head and found him staring at her with an odd expression. Behind him, Sam cradled their package on his lap like a baby but Aubrey tried to ignore that. "Did you go to film school or something?" Dean said, not unfriendly.
She frowned. "My mom did," said Aubrey softly. "Didn't I tell you that before?"
"No," the hunter replied, before patting her back gently. "Sorry, Aub—I mean, Candice." She shot him a questioning look, and he pursed his lips and shook his head, his pupils switching from her to the side. That was when Aubrey noticed, from the corner of her eye, Misha sitting behind them in his own chair, watching them and, quite possibly, filming them—as his phone was held out subtly in front of him that it was very well probable.
Aubrey cleared her throat and leaned across Dean, swiping a finger over Sam's shoulder roughly. He turned his head to face her. "Everything's in the box?" she asked, to which he nodded. "You checked?" He nodded again. "Alright. We're gonna take one more shoot. Then I reckon turtle-man over there—"
"Turtle-man?" Sam cut in, raising an eyebrow.
"The director," Aubrey quickly explained. "I reckon he'll let us take a break before the next scene. We'll have enough time to finish the spell, and we're home sweet home."
Sam bobbed his head in understanding. Aubrey's eyes shot downwards; she noticed his hands tighten around the box, almost protectively. She understood the defensiveness he felt, for she wanted to get back home as much as he did. She just wished she didn't have to share another scene with a certain trench coat wearing actor.
The spell didn't work; Aubrey couldn't believe it. After all the crap they'd went through, the lying they'd had to do in the span of a day and a half, it didn't work. She, Sam, and Dean had retreated back to Jensen's trailer to recuperate. As she sat herself down on the floor, Aubrey could feel the large bruise on her upper right arm start to heal.
"Maybe we did it wrong," she muttered, grimacing slightly.
"No," Dean instantly replied. "No, that spell was perfect. It should have worked.
"What if it can't?" came Sam's sudden statement. Aubrey raised her eyes and looked over at him questioningly. He shifted on his seat. "Look, I was up all night looking online. There's no sign that anything like the apocalypse happened here. Ever. And as far as I can tell, monsters, ghosts, demons—they're all pretend."
Dean scoffed. "So, nobody's hunting them?"
"No hunters." At Sam's reply, Aubrey's stomach turned over. A world without hunters? How had the entire globe not be overrun by monsters? "Look, maybe that's why our spell didn't work, Dean. Maybe here, there's no supernatural, no magic."
"No demons, no hell," Dean further clarified, "No heaven, no—no God?"
"Something like," Sam said. "But even better: no angels."
Aubrey frowned, but said nothing more. She cradled her arm, letting it sit for another minute or two before starting to move it around. She bent it, stretched it behind her head, threw it in front of her in pushing motions before she was satisfied that it was fully healed. Sam and Dean watched her actions with uninterested eyes, and she stood up.
"Come on, guys," she told them. "We have work to do."
"Literally?" Dean groaned.
"Maybe." She took a quick glance out the window, regarding the bustling people with a sigh. "Look, maybe we can't get out of earth number two right now, but the least we can do is get out of the Canadian part of it. Anyone up for a joyride?"
The brothers shared a look, and Aubrey knew that she'd gotten them convinced. She pulled them onto their feet. "You guys go on ahead to Clif. I'll catch up."
"Woah, woah, woah." Dean halted himself as Aubrey was pushing him to the door of the trailer. "Where are you going?"
She looked at him as if the answer was obvious enough. "Explain to the director exactly why I decided to take you guys on a joyride in the middle of shooting day. Didn't you know that actors could get sued if they don't talk to their bosses about things like that? No? Well, now you know. So, off you go, boys!" She practically shoved them out of the trailer, right before stalking off towards a completely different direction on her own.
Why would the boys go on a joyride with her?
Turtle-man was surprisingly considerate, but that was probably because it was her talking to him, not Jared or Jensen. He told her to stay out with them for as long as she wanted, but that tomorrow they had to be at the set, ready to "act their asses off". Aubrey nodded an affirmation, no matter how amused she was by the phrase.
She was on her way to meet up with the boys at the parking lot when she heard yelling and loud grunts; it was the unmistakable sound accompanied by knuckle hitting skin. Aubrey ran to where she assumed the sounds were coming from, and the closer she got, the more she started thinking that it was Sam and Dean… along with a third person.
Her assumptions weren't wrong, for when she reached a rather odd-looking tunnel (a prop, for sure), inside were Sam and Dean. The younger of the brothers held a dark-haired man's arms behind him, while the eldest was beating the man on the face. Aubrey narrowed her eyes and was shocked to see that it was Virgil they were punishing so brutally. She took a single step forward—to stop them or to help them, she wasn't sure.
But before she was even up the short flight of stairs, several other men had run into the scene. Aubrey recognized a tall, dirty-haired man as someone who always sat beside turtle-man, the director of the show. "Not good, not good," he muttered to himself as he ran up to Sam and Dean. Aubrey watched from the background as the extra stunt men struggled to pull the brothers off of Virgil. Sam released quite a few objections, and a few curses here and there, but the moment Virgil started running away, Aubrey gave chase.
She slipped past the struggling horde of men, nearly tripping over a stray foot. Once she had regained her balance, though, Virgil was out of sight but that didn't stop her. She sped down the metal tunnel, her heart pumping against her chest. When she reached the end, Virgil was nowhere to be found.
Her head whirled left and right, desperate to find any trace of the angel, but there was none. Aubrey turned back around and took in the scene of Sam and Dean being led out of the other end of the tunnel, their heads bowed low. She quickly trailed after them.
"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded, slipping between them and the men who apparently still thought they were going to start punching again.
Sam sighed. "Apparently, the director wants to see us."
Aubrey rolled her eyes. "Yeah, 'cause you were found beating a guy to death! What were you thinking? You couldn't have done it in a more secluded place?" She said these in a hushed tone, afraid her words might disturb the unknowing crew members. "And he might have known a way to get back!"
"Or he has no juice here and now he's stuck," said Dean, rather pessimistically. "Like us."
"Did you have to start punching him so hard though?"
"I was pissed!"
"Yeah, and now we're gonna have our asses handed to us by a guy who looks like a turtle," Aubrey retorted sharply. "Look, until we find Virgil again, no going loopy, alright? We're in over our heads as it is."
"Fine," the brothers grumbled at the same time. Aubrey huffed, silently praying that turtle-man's anger was as slow to rise as his ancestors' walking.