LadyChesters Chapter 35: Grand Finale 1: Mr E Spott, a supernatural fanfic

headcannon: dean could be shipped with a camera tripod and nobody would care

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I was outside watching badminton, when outta nowhere, forty hundred demons came bookin - CAME BOOKIN! They went and busted up that weird old pink dude's racket! He was cheatin' up in there! Denoms hold the record for creepy crimes, but Deanna is strong as hell!

COINCIDENCE! She won, dammit! It's a total fluke! COINCIDENCE! She won, dammit! Deanna is strong as hell!

I've known her ten years, and nobody seen no win! Nobody heard no win! Nobody smelled no win!

They went back underground, prob'ly goin' like Hellbound, like a bunch of Punxsutawney Phils, and I said, "Deanna, is this for reals?"

One, two, three, four beings left.

COINCIDENCE! She won, dammit! It's a total fluke! COINCIDENCE! She won, dammit! Deanna is strong as hell!

SEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT TTTTTTTTTTTFF TSEEEEE TTTTTTTTTTTTTEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNTTTTTTTTTT

I joltAlerts+ed upright to the sound of Heat of the Moment playing on the motel clock radio.

"I had a, uhh, you know, uhhh, fascinating dream," I muttered.

"DAMMIT!" cursed Deanna. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, dying (a/n haha) her boot, and she'd messed up. A bit awkwardly, she said, "Rise and shine, Sami! Clowns or midgets?"

"Neither," I muttered. She started lip-syncing. Out -of-tunely.

"Asia? Really?" I asked.

"C'mon, you love this song!"

"Jerk!"

"BIIIIIIIITCH!" she crooned, singing along in perfect harmony with the lead singer of Asia, Fredi Merqueeri.

I ran my fingers through my tangled hair as Deanna got up to commence her lengthy morning bathroom routine. First she showered for twenty minutes, singing MEtallica unsynchronizationally. Then she brushed her teeth and gargled for fifteen minutes. Then she straightened her hair for a long time. I wanted to tell her that her hair was already perfectly straight, and that the iron couldn't do anything for her sexuality. She spit out the toothpastey water she'd been holding in her mouth, and started with her makeup. She almost poked herself in the eye with her mascara brush, and laughed in pain. "Ready to go, Sami? Want breakfast?"

"They have breakfast salads?" I asked.

Deanna shrugged. "I hope they have pie."

"Tuesdays! Pig in a poke!" Deanna exclaimed, lounging in the booth and gay-zing (a/n haha) longingly at the specials board. "San Jose has great food!"

"Oh my god, Deanna, do you even know what a pig in a poke is?" I asked. She brushed me off, staring at one of her many lost loves: the pig in a poke.

The waiter, a cheery young man with a nametag that said DAN SMITH, came over to take our order. "I'll take the special. Pig in a poke!" Deanna said. "Side of bacon. Hot sauce, too. Love me my hot sauce."

I rolled my eyes at her. "I'll have a coffee. Black. And do you have breakfast salads?"

"Waffles, y'mean?"

"Never mind."

"Pancakes?"

"I said never mind!"

"Geez. Sorry," Dan said, walking off to deliver our orders.

"So, anyways," said Deanna. "You're serious about checking out this Mystery House spot?"

"It's not a spot! It's a house!"

"Whatever. So, they're legitimately making a movie about Great-Grandma Sarah?"

"Yeah! Did you hear about that crazy on-set murder? I think we should check it out after hours."

"We should check out their place at the shipping yard first, though. See what kinda bones they could be bringing in."

"I'm down for that. Breakfast first, right?"

"HELLS YEAH!" Deanna exclaimed.

Dan came back with our breakfast, but tripped over an uneven floor tile. The food went flying everywhere. "CRAP!" he yelled.

"Crap," Deanna and I said in unison.

Dan cleaned everything up, and came back a full half-hour later with new food. "Sorry about the wait, girls," he said.

"It's fine, Dan Smith," Deanna said, biting back a laugh as she said his full name.

We ate in relative silence, as Deanna was extremely occupied with her pig in a poke. "Delicious," she said once she was finished, pulling out a wad of cash. "You got a twenty?"

"How much did that cost?!"

"Ten bucks. I just don't wanna pay."

I scowled at her and fished a twenty-dollar bill out of my pocket. "Keep the ten dollars of change," I muttered bitterly.

We payed for our breakfast and went off to see the town. They were busy in the shipping yard right now, so we couldn't check anything out. San Jose was pretty cool anyways, and it wasn't every day the two of us were in California. Deanna had been weirdly insistent about taking a family road trip, so it was just the two of us. No Fourchette, no Chad, no Tammy, no Alexa. Even Sue was still in L-Suds.

We wandered through the city for a while, before Deanna got a news alert on her phone (which I was pretty sure had been somehow hacked to display this kind of news alert) that filming had finished up, and the shipping yard was empty.

"Let's go," Deanna said, taking a sip out of her novelty tourist martini glass. It held nothing but water.

We headed off to the shipyard, taking in the nice California scenery. There were shipping boxes stacked high all around us, and the movie equipment had been abandoned right at the edge of the water.

"Let's check it out!" Deanna said with a grin, running over to the storage boxes to the left.

Out of nowhere, a short and very ugly man shot out with a camera tripod in hand. I was caught between running and freezing, not entirely sure what I was doing, as he drove the sharpened tripod into my sister's chest.

I didn't quite register what had happened until he'd kicked Deanna's lifeless body into the shipping container, which tumbled into the choppy waters below. He'd shipped Deanna and the tripod!

I ran after her, and dove into the icy July waters, and as soon as the tips of my fingers touched the surface -

HEAAAAAT OOOOOOF THEEEE MOOOOOMEEEEENT!

I jolted upright in the motel bed, terror on my face. "I had a, uhh, you know, uhhh, fascinating dream," I muttered, registering where I was. My sister was sitting on the edge of her motel bed, failing at tying her shoe.

So she wasn't dead.

"DAMMIT!" She paused awkwardly, just like she had yesterday? Today? In that weird-ass dream I'd had? Who knew. "Rise and shine, Sami. Clowns or midgets?"

"...Midgets?"

"Yeah, midgets."

I decided not to engage her further, and instead threw a pillow straight (a/n haha) at her and tried to go back to sleep. I missed.

I was half asleep when I heard Deanna gargling furiously, coming towards the end of her two-hour-long bathroom routine. I buried my head under my pillow, but was dragged out of bed just a few minutes later to go get breakfast. Deanna, as I expected, ordered the special.

"Tuesday! Pig in a poke!" she exclaimed. That was...oddly familiar. This whole day was oddly familiar. Maybe that dream had been prophetic. I shrugged to biself (a/n haha), which got a concerned gay-ze (a/n haha) from my cister (a/n haha).

"Y'ogay?" (a/n haha)

"Bi'm (haha a/n) bine (a/n haha)," bi (pa/n(a/n haha) haha) muttered bistractedly. (a/n haha)

"Really, Sami? Cuz that was a lot of a/n hahas," Deanna strated heterosexually (a/n haha).

"What's an a/n haha?" I asked.

She just scowled at me.

Dan came, just like yesterday. "Hi, I'm your waiter, Dan Smith. I'll be your waiter today."

Deanna placed her order, and asked me about the Mystery House, as well as the shipping yard. I said maybe the yard wasn't the best place to look, and she tried to argue, but was soon distracted by Dan spilling the food everywhere.

I scowled.

"Really? Agayn (a/n haha)?" I muttered to myself.

"Agayn (gay/n (a/n haha) haha)?"

"Just...never mind." I leaned back sullenly in my chair, waiting for the food - or, rather, my black coffee.

The Winchester Mystery House stood imposing in the center of San Jose, its skyscraping towers scraping the sky. I'd done some reading on the house, and I knew a bit of its history. Sarah had been my great grandmother, so Deanna and I knew a little about her. I knew more, because I was smart.

Sarah had married a man named William Wart Winchester, and had inherited the Winchester Non-Repeating Legs Company. They had had a daughter named Annie Party, who had died at the tender age of six months due to mirror asthma. Sarah had not known about her daughter's condition, and had left her in the house's famous Mirror Room for too lung (a/n haha). When she'd returned, poor Party had been strangled.

"What a party pooper! (a/n haha" said Deanna, reading a guidebook she had picked up out of the gutter.

"That's a little rude," said a tour guide. "Annie Party was a fine young lady."

Deanna threw the guidebook in what might have been a trash can. "Where're they filming?"

The tour guide pointed a hand boredly at the stairs.

Deanna ran off, only for the tour guide to yell, "You're not allowed up there!" She didn't listen, and I, being the dutiful younger sister I was, followed her.

The Winchester Mystery House was just as weird upstairs as it was downstairs. There were surprisingly few ghosts, demons, and children dead of mirror asthma, but it was pretty freaky. Aside from the cameras, the doors leading nowhere, and the stairs that went straight (a/n haha) up to the ceiling, it was just like any fancy 1800s mansion. That made it all the weirder. In my distraction with the Winchester Mystery House's architecture, I didn't notice the short person from the dock in the corner of my eye until it was too late.

Deanna shrieked, and I spun around just in time to witness a horrific tripod stabbing. I grabbed the only weapon I could find, a very heavy filming camera, and lugged it at my sister's attacker's short head. She - from hearing her voice, sheeee (a/n haha) seemed like a she - yelped, and ran as fast as she could agay. (an haHAha)

My sister was very much stabbed. As per usual, it took a second for me to realize what had happened.

And then it hit me. Deanna. Stabbed. Stabby stab. Sister. Dying. Stab. Gay. A/N HaHA.

Stab!

Stab.

Stabby stabbed.

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

I bolted upright, slamming the STOP button on the alarm clock. This did not work, and my sister, somehow very much alive, continued to lip-sync along to Fredi Merqueeri. "DAMMIT!" she said, kicking her poorly-tied boot against the side of the bed. She shrieked in pain and fell over. "Rise and shine, Sami," she said from the floor.

"Yeeech," I muttered. "Is it Tuesday?"

She picked herself up and looked at her phone. "Yup. Tuesday."

"Asia?" I asked. "Again? Tuesday? Words?"

She shrugged shruggingly. "What's your problem, Sami? Got hit over the head in your sleep?"

"Ughhhh. Not me."

The house was, well, a house. Just like it was yesterday. Today? Yesterday? Tuesday? Twosday? I settled on Tuesday. I decided that letting Deanna go upstairs was a very bad idea, so instead we took the guided tour. Our tour guide was a little spacy, but she was nice.

"And these steps'll take you up to Sarah Winchester's priiiiivate bedroom! Well, one of them. She slept in a different room every night so the ghosts wouldn't get her. GHOOOOOSTS! Hah."

Deanna bolted up the stairs with the ferocity of a curious toddler and the speed of an impala. Like, the gazelle. She hit her head smack on the ceiling, which probably wasn't supposed to be there, and fell backwards down the stairs.

Crap.

"DEANNA!" I yelled, running over to her lifeless form. "Dude. Wake up. It's, like, uh."

"She was using improper stair techniques. That's covered in the waiver. We're technically not re - "

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"UUIUnngh."

"DAMMIT!" Deanna was still tying her shoe.

Again.

And again.

This day could not get any worse.

Or longer.

My thoughts were incomprehensible, even to me, but there was one thing I understood. Today was Tuesday. And today Deanna died.

"Rise and shine, Sami!" Deanna yelled.

"No."

"Yes. It's breakfast."

"No."

"Yes it is."

"No."

"Samantha. It's always breakfast this time of the morning!"

"No, Deanna, it's breakfast after you get out of the shower!"

"You still have to get up. Hair products, Sami, hair products."

"UHHHHN." That was the exact moment the radio chose to quit. It sheeeeed, heeeeed, and dissolved into some terrible static never before known by mankind. "Goddammit, Deanna, it sounds like someone running an earthquake through a garbage disposal."

Deanna chuckled, and then hit her head on the headboard. She fell over, looking very dead.

"Deanna? DEANNA!"

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"DAMMIT!"

"Ughhhgn."

"Rise and shine, Sami!"

The diner was pretty not crowded. Of course, it was always pretty not crowded. I'd seen enough Tuesdays to know that the diner was pretty not crowded this time of day.

Deanna had ordered her usual Pig in a Poke, and I was slumped awkwardly in the booth, scowling angstily. "Sooo. That Winchester Mystery spot place."

"Again?"

"A...gayn?(ana hahaa)"

"I've lived this day so. Many. Times."

"...What?"

"I'm stuck. In a time loop. I think."

"Like Groundhog Day?"

"GAAAH! Yes. Like Groundhog Day! But I..." I trailed off.

"What?" she asked, just as Dan nearly spilled our food everywhere. This time, however, I was ready. I grabbed the tray from his hands just as it began to fall, and he stumbled forwards without the food.

"Nice reflexes," Deanna said.

"No! Not reflexes! I have lived this day, like, five times by now!"

"That's so many times, Samantha!" she said.

"And...and...every day, no matter what I do..."

She glared at me, waiting.

"You die."

"I dice?"

"Die. Morir. Mourir. Do. Dood gaan. Morire. Kaloupi. Yn marw."

"Rydych chi newydd ddweud mor marw. Oni bai eich bod wedi dweud marw?" she said.

"I didn't understand any of that."

"Anyways. I die?"

"You die."

"I? Die?"

"You die."

"I DIE?!"

"YOU BI! (a/n haha)"

"CRAP!"

"THAT'S A BIT OF AN UNDERREACTION!"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? STAND UP AND MAKE A SCENE?" she said, standing up and making a scene.

"Sit down, Deanna! Please! You might slip on a wet floor tile and kill yourself!"

"That's not gonna happen." She sat down reluctantly.

"Let's go home. I'll pay."

"What?"

"You might choke on your bacon."

"I mean, since when do you pay?"

"If you don't survive this day, I'll just wake up with the money back in my wallet. Not really a big deal."

"Oh, I'm gonna survive this day! Just one day. And then it's Wednesday!"

"True. True, true, true. True true true true true true true."

"That's an ungodly amount of truth."

I paid for our mostly-uneaten meal, and then we left.

We spent the night in the motel room, playing bored (a/n haHA) games and throwing the pieces at each other. Deanna began to cheat at Monopoly, pretending that she didn't know the difference between a $1 bill and a $100 bill. I was annoyed, so I threw a small metal top hat at her. She fell dramatically to her side, rolling her eyes back in her head.

"Deanna?" I asked. "Not funny. Deanna? DEANNA!"

She shot upright, laughing hysterically. "HAHAHA, I got you good, Sami! I'm so gonna tweet that!" She laughed so hard she fell off of the motel room bed, her head hitting the floor with a sickening thud.

"Deanna?" I asked again. "DeANNA? IT WASN'T FUNNY THE FIRST TIME! DEANNA!"

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"Ugggh. Dammit!"

"Stop swearing, Sami, that's my line!"

"So...every day?"

"Every. Day. It's always Tuesday. You always die."

"Sounds fun."

"Are you paying any attention to me?"

"Yeah. Tons," she said, distracted by her Pig in a Poke.

"Deanna! Your life is on the line!"

"Yeah. Sounds nice."

"DEANNA! PLEASE! Pay attention to me!"

She facepalmed. Hard. Like, really hard.

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"DAMMIT!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

"Rise and shine, Sami!"

Deanna randomly dies in the shower.

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"DAMMIT!"

"UGH."

"Rise and shine, Sami!"

"So. The Mystery House spot."

"IT'S. A. HOUSE. Not. A spot."

"Okay, fine, the Mystery House house spot."

"I am this close to giving up on you." I pressed my fingers together as if I was about to snap, and pulled them only half a centimeter apart to demonstrate what a lost cause my sister was.

"So."

"After hours. Nothing good happens before hours. Or during hours, for that matter."

"Okay, I'm on board with that. Let's do it."

"Okay, let's split up," Deanna suggested.

"NOOO. That is a terrible idea!"

"C'mon, Sami, I can fend for myself."

"You absolutely cannot! You can't fend for yourself against the ghosts! You can't fend for yourself against a camera tripod!"

"Sure I can," she said, and left me standing awkwardly in the middle of the courtyard.

Fun fact: the closets at the Winchester Mystery House apparently can be locked from somewhere that is neither inside or outside. Maybe the locks were automatic. But I learned, after hearing my sister's strangled shrieks, that it was pretty much impossible to open them once they were locked.

"SAMI!" she shrieked.

"DEE!" I yelled back.

"SSSSS!" she hissed.

"DEE?"

"CHCHCHCH!"

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"DAMMIT!"

"Ugh."

"Rise and shine, Sami!"

I forced her to stay in bed all day. We didn't even go out for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. She didn't even shower, because of that one time she had randomly died in the shower. It was almost nightfall, and I was sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to my chest, talking to her about colleges.

"You should...you should go to Stanford," she said after a while.

"That was already the plan, Deanna! We were just discussing the application questions!"

"No, I mean...You should apply. Now. Or, like, whenever. Tomorrow. Wednesday. Whenever Wednesday happens for you."

"It's just a few hours. Not that long," I said, staring up at the ceiling.

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"What the HELL!"

"DAMMIT!"

"Don't swear, Dena, it is not ladylike!" My brain was completely fried from a few months' worth of Tuesdays.

"Who the heck is Dena?"

"De-anna."

"Hah, Dena. You're never gonna live this one down," she laughed. Of course, judging by my luck, I would. In a few hours, she wouldn't even remember this.

"IT'S NOT A SPOT. IT'S A HOUSE."

"Do you have to make such a scene in the middle of the restaurant."

We went to the Mystery House during hours this time. Though our track records suggested that after-hours was safer, general knowledge said otherwise. We were on the guided tour, with the same space case who had killed Deanna a month or two ago.

"Be...be careful about which stairs you tell us to go up," I cautioned.

"Oh, I'm careful!" she said cheesily, opening a door. Deanna immediately barreled through the door, and the last thing I heard was a loud shriek, punctuated by an awful splat.

"DEANNA!"

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"DAMMIT!"

"UGHH."

"Rise and shine, Sami!"

Dan Smith introduced himself to us very formally. "Hi, I'm Dan Smith," he introduced.

"My pleasure, Dan Smith," said Deanna. "I'm Winchester. Dena Winchester."

I elbowed her. "How do you - never mind."

"What?"

"She'll have the special, a Pig in a Poke, side of bacon. Black coffee for me."

"Oooh, Sami, I get all tingly when you take control like that," she said.

"Shut up, Deanna."

"What?"

"It's just...I've been through, like, fifty Tuesdays, and - "

"You've been through more than that! They happen every week!"

"You don't get it, Deanna! I'm stuck in a time loop! Every day is Tuesday!"

"Like Groundhog Day?" we said in unison. Of course I'd known exactly what she was going to say.

"Exactly like Groundhog Day."

"If you're really stuck in a time loop, can you tell what I'm gonna say next?" we said. I let the unison-talking thing speak for itself.

"Samantha Winchester wears makeup," we said. "Samantha Winchester cries his way through sex. Ooh, good one, surprised I didn't get you on the pronoun thing. Samantha Winchester keeps a ruler by her bed, and every morning when she wakes up - ENOUGH! Good, I had no idea where I was going with that."

"Does that prove it? Do you believe me yet?"

"Holy crap," said Deanna. "We really need to check out this Winchester Mystery House spot."

"IT'S! A! HOUSE! NOT! A! SPOT!" I shrieked, flipping the table over on top of her, just as Dan walked in to spill his food as per usual. "Wait. Noo. CRAP! DEANNA!"

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"DAMMIT!"

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"DAMMIT!"

"WHAT EVEN HAPPENED YESTERDAY?"

"Rise and shine, Sami! Are you hungover?"

I slumped back in my chair, pulling my hands up into the sleeves of my flannel. "Ugh."

"Ugh?"

"Ugh."

Dan Smith approached us, cheery as usual. I ordered for Deanna, and held my hand up in front of her face when she tried to make her usual comment.

"Someone's grumpy today."

"Someone's grumpy every day."

"Is this the same someone?"

"UGHHH!"

She just rolled her eyes.

"So. Maybe we should check out that...house spot," I said reluctantly.

"C'mon, Sami, it's a house, not a spot!"

I froze, frowning loudly, as my blood grew cold. "What?"

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"Do these tacos taste funny to you?"

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"DAMMIT!" Deanna and I said in unison.

"Great minds think alike," she said. "Rise and shine, Sami."

"No offense, Deanna, but you are not exactly a great mind."

"Yes I am," she protested.

"You've been stupid enough to get yourself killed for god knows how many Tuesdays in a row. You are not a great mind."

"What are you even talking about?"

"What I'm talking about is you being an idiot, is what I'm talking about!"

"You can't even talk about talking about talking about things!"

"You can't even talk about talking about talking about talking about talking about talking about talking about talking about talking about things!"

"IN WHAT UNIVERSE DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE?!"

"OUR UNIVERSE!"

"WHAT UNIVERSE EVEN IS THIS?"

"SHUT UP!"

"MAKE ME!"

"WHY DON'T YOU ASK ALEXA TO MAKE YOU!"

"ALEXA, MAKE ME SHUT UP!"

"I'm on it, Deanna."

HEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT OOOOOOOOOOOOF THEEEEEEEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOOOMEEEEEEEEEEENT!

"THAT WAS SUCH A TIP-OFF!" I shrieked, sitting up in bed before Deanna could even give her usual "DAMMIT!"

"Whaa - clowns or midgets?"

"God, I thought I'd figured out how to keep you from saying that."

"Huh?"

"Huh huh?"

"Huh huh huh?"

"Let's just go to breakfast."

"Hey, I'm Don Smith," said the server.

"No. You're not. You are not Don Smith. You are Dan Smith. The same man who serves us EVERY. FRICKIN'. TUESDAY!"

"I'm...I'm pretty sure I'm Don. I've always been Don Smith."

"No, you're not. You are Dan Smith, and I don't care what your nametag says. Don. Not Don. You're Dan."

"I was hoping you'd notice," said Doan, walking away.

"What was that all about?"

"His name is Dan," I said.

"Not according to his name tag, it's not. And I'm pretty sure he knows what his own name is."

"No. Dan. It's Dan."

"Maybe he changed it. People are allowed to change their names, y'know."

"Not in this town. Not on this Tuesday."

"What is it with you, Sami? You've been weird all days (a/n haha)!"

"Shut UP!"

"Okay, okay, fine, I'll shut UP!"

I stood up and left the diner without another word. I was going to find Don, and even my sister's rapidly-approaching death wouldn't stop me.

"SamANTHA!" she yelled, storming out after me, but I didn't have the patience to deal with her. Don was running towards the shipping yard. I ran after him, dodging rocks and fallen branches that definitely hadn't been there every other Tuesday, and chased him into an alley between four tall boxes.

"Stop. Killing. My. SISTER!" I yelled. He was holding a camera tripod - broken at one end, incredibly sharp. I KNEW that camera tripod. I'd know it anywhere.

"Ehhh, you caught me," he said sarcastically, shifting into the short and ugly person who had mercilessly slaughtered Deanna many times.

"Who are you?" Deanna and I asked in unison. She had appeared behind me without me hearing.

"Who do you think I am?" the person said, her voice full of unwanted and unneeded inflection. "The trickster, babaay! Nice ta finally meet ya!"

"Why are you killing my sister?" I asked.

"Samantha, I've come to bargain," she punned and referenced.

"Cut it out with the puns and references!"

"What is that even a reference to?" Deanna said.

"It's not of import," the Trickster said in a perfect (or, at least, I assumed it was perfect - I'd never met the angel) impression of Castielle.

"What is your problem? Why? For real, why?"

"I've come to prepare you," she said, winking. And then she snapped her fingers, and everything faded out.

We're goin' back in TIIIIIIME! BAH DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH NUH DUH!

'This is gonna be, uhh, y'know, uhh, a fascinating transition,' I thought to myself.

"DAMMIT!" Deanna yelled. "Two days in a row! I just can't tie my boot!"

"Scoff," I scoffed scoffingly. "Oh my god. Wait, wait, wait. Oh my god. It's Wednesday!"

"Yeah, which...usually comes after Tuesday?"

"Wait. What do you think happened yesterday?"

"I woke up, I couldn't tie my boot, I tied my boot, I took a shower - with my boot on - I gargled some water, we went out for breakfast, we checked out the shipping yard and the Mystery Place - "

"Huh, place is new."

" - and it was cool, and we went home early and played board games!"

"Okay. I can live with that," I said. "Let's get out of here. Out of this town, out of this creepy time loop - "

"What creepy time loop?"

"I mean, your mom's a creepy time loop!"

"We have the same mom and she's dead, Samantha!"

"Let's just - let's leave. Now. Before you, like, never mind."

"I'll get packed, Deanna said," Deanna said.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She shoved her laundry into a suitcase. "I'll get the weapons, pack up the trunk. You stay here and don't cause any problems."

"K," I said.

I was lying on the motel bed, trying to remember where I'd left my socks, when I heard a gunshot and a scream from outside. "DEANNA!" I yelped. "WHO DID YOU SHOOT?" I didn't get a reply, so I ran outside as fast as I could.

My sister was bleeding to death in the parking lot.

"Okay, Trickster, not funny. Really," I said. "Okay. Now's the part where Heat of the Moment plays, and I wake up, and Deanna says 'DAMMIT!' and I say 'Ugh!' and she says 'Rise and shine, Sami," and then it's just Tuesday again. Right?"

I was not right.

I was...unright.

I was wrong.

I wished that I could have said the days were exactly the same. They weren't, and that was the problem. If they were exactly the same, then I would have known, at least, what song would be playing when I woke up. What town I'd be staying in. What my sister would do to annoy me.

But my sister was dead.

Shot.

Shooty shot.

Shooty shot shotted shot.

By a rooty-tooty-point-and-shooty.

Sad face.

I hated Wednesdays. I hated Tuesdays. I hated all days. And I HATED that trickster! $# !#$! $

"Great job preparing me," I scoffed, sitting alone in a trashy motel room one night. "Make me watch my sister die, and then make me watch my sister die. Real classy."

"I'm still in the process of preparation," a voice sang out behind me. I spun around in the spinny chair that was for some reason in the motel, pointing a rooty-tooty-point-and-shooty that I had conveniently been holding straight (a/n sad face) at her.

"No need to get all aggressive, Sami!"

"DON'T YOU SAMI ME!"

"OH, I WILL SAMI YOU!"

"WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!"

"None of your business. Now, we sure are in an...interesting position."

"Give. Me. Back. My. Sister," I said, my voice cracking embarrassingly.

"Ask nicely."

"Please. Give. Me. Back. My. Sister."

We're goin' back in TIIIIIIME! BAH DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH NUH DUH!

"IT'S WEDNESDAY!" I yelled, springing upright and practically tackling my sister.

"DAMMIT!" she yelled, as her untied boot flew off of her foot. "Geez, Sami, how many Tuesdays did you have?"

"Enough," I muttered, throwing my arms around her. "Enough, DAMMIT!"

"Dude. You're freaking me out. Are you okay?"

"I had a lot of Tuesdays," I said. "A LOT."

"You sound like you did. Let's...let's get out of here. I'll get the weapons. You pack up your stuff and meet me by the car."

"NO!" I yelled. "No, no, I mean, I'll get the weapons! How 'bout you meet me by the car!"

"Oookaaay," she said, drawing out the oh and the kay. "I'll get your stuff. You get my weapons."

"Sounds good," I said, and practically flew out the door with the bag of weapons.

She met me by the car later, rolling my suitcase behind her. "What's this deal with all the Tuesdays?"

"It's...it's...it's..."

"A long story?"

"Exactly."

"Tell me anyways."

So I told her.

She didn't take it well. "What - I died? All those times? All those Tuesdays?"

"Yeah."

"Wait, wait - did I ever get hit by a car?"

"...Yeah."

"Was it cool?"

"You peed yourself, Deanna."

"Scoff. Woman gets hit by a car, you can't expect her to have control over her bladder." She turned away broodily.

We were both quiet for a while, until she finally spoke. "So...that's all I am anymore. A weapon to be used against you."

"God, Deanna, don't be so overdramatic!"

"I can't sit here and let them do this to you!"

"Who's them?"

"NOT IMPORTANT! You're my little sister, Sami. I care more about you than anyone. And that's why I'm going to leave."

Wait, what?

"Wait, what?" I said.

"I'm leaving. They can't use me as a weapon against you if you can't even text me," she muttered. "I'm going to cut off all my ties with you, get on the next plane to wherever - "

"DEANNA, you hate planes!"

"JUST LET ME LEAVE!"

"NO! YOU'RE MY SISTER!"

"FINE! BE THAT WAY!" She got into the driver's seat of the car, glaring at me glaringly. "Scoff."

"Stop scoffing!"

"I'm not scoffing, I'm saying the word scoff!"

"Does it even matter?"

"Just...just shut up. Let's go."

So we went.

The air conditioning in the motel we stayed in that night was really. Frickin'. Loud. Loud enough that it woke me up when it decided to come on in the middle of the night. I wasn't particularly ticked off by this, because I'd been having a nightmare about Deanna leaving me, and I was glad it was only a dream.

Deanna's bed was empty, the covers pushed back haphazardly. I figured she was in the bathroom, and sure enough, there was a glimmer of light coming out from under the crack of the door. I went back to bed, and stared up at the ceiling for a while, trying not to imagine burning mothers, brothers, sisters, fathers, girlfriends, boyfriends, non-binary relatives, and family pets.

"Take your sister outside as fast as you can!" Joanne yelled, smoke and fire billowing from the door she was trying so hard to keep closed. "Run, Deanna, GO!" My sister pulled me into her arms and ran as fast as she could.

"WHAT ABOUT SMOKEY?!" I yelled. "THE FAMILY DOG!"

"Smokey'll be okay," Deanna said. "Mom and Mom will get him out." She fireman's-carried me down the stairs and out onto the front lawn.

Mom didn't get Smokey out. Neither did Mom, because she didn't make it out at all.

I spent a good half-hour going through the usual flashbacks, but realized Deanna was taking an awful long time in the bathroom. I got up, and knocked on the door. "Deanna?" I asked. No reply. "DEANNA?! DEANNA!"

I didn't wake up to Heat of the Moment, or Back in Time. No Fredi Merqueeri. I opened the bathroom door, expecting to find Deanna dead on the floor, in the shower, on top of the counter, something. But she just wasn't there.

I ran downstairs, still barefoot, to the motel hotel hotel motel parking lot. The Impala was gone. The weapons were gone.

DEANNA was gone.

"DAMMIT!"

a/n LOTs OF WOERDS!

Yo i'm totally fried from writing that so bi

- a/n haha,

luv y'all