A/N: Holy fuck, this literally took me about a month to write. I literally could have been on an episode of House because I got deathly sick and no one knew why BUT now I am better and hopefully will be able to write more frequently. I am so sorry for leaving you guys hanging, but IM BACK! Sorry if this chapter sucks, lol.
Disclaimer: you know
Episode: The Monster at the End of the Book.
Sam drove me to Bobby's house, which wasn't too far away from the hospital Dean was still resting at. I lied on her back in the impala, covering her stomach with my arms. God, it hurt so badly. All I remember was trying to fight off Alastair, which I new I was going to get a beating for.
Bobby helped me into the house, whispering curses in my ear, while Sam drove off to be with Dean again.
"Are you fucking stupid?" Bobby led me upstairs, taking one step at a time. He was angry with me but at least he was patient with my mobility. "Trying to take on Alastair yourself, you could have died back there."
"I couldn't let Dean do it, it was killing him inside."
"Yeah well now you have Sam Dean and I getting ready to kill you, lie your ass down."
I rested my head against the flat pillow. It smelled of sweat and was stained with god knows what. But it's familiarity made me comfortable. I dozed off into another fitful nightmare. I was running, running fast and hard but I was only moving in slo motion. There was barking around me coming in all sorts of directions. But I was alone with no one there. Sharp pains tore at my chest and abdomen. And that's when I woke up, like every time.
I turned my head on my pillow. The sun was still down for the early morning. I moved my head when I heard the squeak of the rocking chair.
Braden was rocking back and forth with his head cocked to the side. His eyes were closed in a peaceful slumber, his body was relaxed as he dreamt. I always found it super cute when he slept—his mouth being slightly parted, his need to feel the warm body next to him. He always said it made him feel better knowing I was safe while he slept. I remember falling asleep to his heartbeat while my head lay on his chest as we watched an old movie, talked until we fell asleep, or just had an exhausting night of sex.
I wasn't angry to see him here. I was more confused. I didn't know how he knew we were here. We were only here for a couple of more hours and Bobby was too preoccupied to call Braden up as he tried taking care of my brothers.
I tried sitting up, my stomach and sides were extremely sore. Flashbacks of last night pulsated in my head and it's memories had it's own heartbeat.
My groan woke Braden up with a stir. First, he was confused as of to where he was, but reality seemed to sink in a second later and rushed to my side.
"Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"What are you doing here?" I tried sitting up again but had to lay right back down. "Where's Dean?"
"He's getting ready to leave the hospital now. Sam and Bobby are helping him with his stuff and driving him back."
"Where's Susie?"
"Kyra."
"What?"
"Her name was Kyra," He corrected.
He brought the rocking chair closer to my bed. My eyes were getting used to the lighting as I was able to take in his weakening features. He looked like he hasn't slept in days; his clothes were wrinkled dirty and smelled of sweat, odor and cologne.
"We broke up," He continued. He reached over to the nightstand and opened the ful water bottle and handing it to me. "It just wasn't right."
"Did you cheat on her too?" There was an awkward silence. I bit my lip and handed back the water bottle. "How's Dean doing?"
"He was beat pretty bad. Castiel couldn't heal him."
"But he could heal me?" When I asked the question, he looked down instantly as if I just asked a question he planned to avoid. "What is it?"
"Bobby asked me not to tell you."
"When have you ever been one to follow orders?" I was able to raise myself on my elbows. "Now what are you hiding?"
"Castiel didn't heal you," Braden said. "You did it yourself."
"All of this?" I directed my eyes to my stomach. "There is no way—"
"It's the only explanation."
I hit my head against my pillow, taking a deep breath and thinking about how much my life completely sucks. But I new there was more. There had to be worse news.
"But that's not the only reason you are here, is it?"
"You need to rest—"
"I need to know what's going on," I said. "We may be broken up but I still care about you. Are you okay?"
He liked his lips as he tried to come up with an answer, or how to speak his answer in the right way. "I was uh…I was walking back from this bar one night and uh…I was pulled to the side—an alley way. All I saw were black eyes before I passed out. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in a church basement, cuffed to a chair. I woke up to the same black eyes I passed out to."
"A demon."
Braden nodded. His voice held sorrow but with his body language I also detected anger. I don't think this story was about him.
"He wanted to know everything about you…everything—especially where you were, what you were doing, and who was keeping you alive. I didn't answer until…"
I put two and two together and felt a tug at my heart. Guilt filled inside me as I thought. "Kyra. You guys didn't just break up. She was used as leverage, wasn't she?"
He nodded again. "She was so scared. I had to do something, I had to say something, anything to save her life."
"Are you telling me this to give me a head start? They're coming?"
"I wouldn't tell them where you were. I just couldn't dot."
"Even with Kyra's life at stake?" I asked, completely surprised. His silence was a loud answer. "…You guys didn't just break up, did you."
What Braden said next took me off guard completely. "Castiel showed up at the last second, killed off that demon and saved Kyra. I realized there that there was no way Kyra could be with me without being in this life. She would have been dead if Cas didn't show up. He erased her memory of me and the past event. I haven't seen her since."
I looked down at my hands and twiddled my thumb. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood as to stop the tears that brimmed my eyes. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your—"
"If it weren't for me, you would have never been in that situation. No one would threaten your girlfriend because of me."
Braden got close to me, looked into my eyes with serious ones, "I knew what I was getting myself into when I got together with you and your family. I knew the drama that was bound to happen."
I felt our faces getting closer and closer. I wanted nothing more than those lips to chastely kiss mine and fill my body with the tingly bubbles and warmth every girl desires. But it was too soon. I was weak and he was coming down from another girl. I'm not a rebound—I'm a first choice. Luckily, the sound of the doors closing and new voices broke us apart before anything could happen.
"Uh," Braden coughed, turning his head before things got awkward. "Here, I'll help you up." He said after noticing my struggle."
I accepted his offer. He held me up with his arm around my waist. We walked slowly to the edge of the steps. He was patient and gentle with me.
Dean had walked through the door. He looked sore just like me but most likely not as much. However, he did look like shit. There were still a couple bruises decorating his arms and a cut here and there on his face.
His whole demeanor changed as soon as he laid eyes on me. His body soften and he was no longer talking into whatever conversation he had going on with Sam and Bobby moments before.
Braden helped me to the bottom step. Dean rushed over and embraced me tight—one hand around my back and the other my head. I swear I heard him sniff, holding in tears that had been threatening to fall. I did the same. I grasped the tough fabric that clothed his body, I held on for dear life.
He pulled me away, putting his two hands on either side of my cheeks. "Don't you ever do that to me again, alright? You had me scared shitless."
I nodded. I didn't nod for the promise, but I owed him the respect of his wishes. I held his hands in mine. "I'm sorry. I thought you were going to die."
"I'm not leaving you for a very long time. Okay? Remember that."
I nodded my head.
"How are you feeling? You should go back upstairs and rest." Dean looked me up and down.
"I think walking around will do me good."
"I just got some booze. We can talk in the kitchen," Bobby said and walked in front of us.
"What's he doing here?" Dean pointed to Braden when he walked away. To be honest, I was surprised he held out for so long.
"He came to visit and make sure I was okay. Maybe he wasn't the best boyfriend, but he is a good guy. Give him a chance." I said softly.
"So nothing happened?"
"I was lying still and stiff in a lumpy bed ever since I got back. What do you think could happen in my condition."
Dean nodded, knowing I had a point.
"Alright, let's go drink our pain away."
To take my mind off of things, Bobby sent me and my brothers off to try and set free a vengeful spirit haunting some bookstore. We had no clue why, where, or when.
We arrived at our camping ground. A two-story comic book store located in the middle of town right next to a liquor store and baker on the other side. Inside, it smelled like middle-aged men and comic nerds.
I walked in dressed in my normal-day attire—ripped jeans and v-neck with a pair of combat boots.
Sam and Dean walked in behind me in their FBI suits. The case was too small to go in with three feds so I was the one kicked out of the group cause I was 'born last'. Stupid. And, I was not to be left alone basically ever again, so that was good.
The man behind the counter looked my brothers up and down as they entered, obviously not looking like the normal guys that come in here. "Uh… can I help you?"
He was a bigger man, that stereotype you would find working at these places. The kind of man who lives off of paycheck to paycheck, still living under his mother's roof. His hair looked like he had just rolled out of bed and his body odor said that he hadn't showered in a couple of days. I was glad I was able to keep my distance a few feet away.
"Sure hope so," Dean said. He and Sam slap their FBI badges on the counter. "Agents DeYoung and Shaw. Just need to ask you a few questions."
"Notice anything strange in the building last couple of days?" Sam got right to the questions.
"Like what?" The man asked with a shrug.
"Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights." Dean said.
"Uh, I don't think so. Why?"
"What about noises? Any skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?" Sam asked.
The man behind the counter began to look skeptical at the two men in front of him. I put the spider man comic book that I was just glancing at down so I could focus more.
"And The FBI is investigating a rodent problem?"
"What about cold spots? Dell an sudden drops in temperature?" Sam continued. I was agreeing with the cashier now. If we were going to ask these kind of questions, they should have dressed up as workers who fix air conditioners or something.
Soon, the man began to grin, looking as if he just found the last piece to the a puzzle. "I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?"
"Excuse me?" Dean looked at him like he was stupid.
"You're fans."
"Fans of what?" Sam asked,
"What is LARPing?" Dean was stuck on that one word.
"Like you don't know," The man couldn't contain his excitement. Soon, he saw that Sam and Dean really did have no idea what he was talking about. "Live-Action-Role-Playing! And pretty hardcore, too." He motioned to their attire.
"I'm sorry, I have no idea what you are talking about." Dean finally said.
"You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys from the books. What are they called? Uh... "Supernatural." Two guys, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh... Steve and Dirk? Uh, Sal and Dane?"
Sam looked over at Dean and slowly muttered, "Sam and Dean?"
The guy snapped his fingers. "That's it! And they have a sister…"
"Maddie?" I finished for him. I walked over, now completely intrigued that this boring hunt was taking a whole different direction.
"Yes," he said. "Are you with them too?"
"For the rest of my life," I painfully grinned.
"You're saying this is a book?" Dean asked.
"Books," he corrected. It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following." He walked over to the 'Bargain Bin' and found one of the books. "Lets see…Um…Ah, yeah." He handed it to Dean, "That's the first one, I think."
Dean started reading the title out loud, ""Supernatural" by Carver Edlund." He flipped the book over and started reading the back cover. ""Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths."
"Give me that," Sam grabs the book out of Dean's hands and turned to the guy. "We're gonna need all the copies of "Supernatural" you've got."
My mind was completely blown away as I sat on one of the motel room beds, reading and reading a biography about my family and I written by a total freaky stranger.
The book knew everything there was to know about my family and me. It even had written dialogue about my secret conversations with Yellow Eyes and how he would torture me when I was unconscious in the hospital. The book knew stuff about me that I didn't even know.
"This is freakin' insane," Dean was reclined on the bed, flipping through his own book and frowning. "How's this guy know all this stuff?"
"You got me," Sam shrugged. He was seated by the window, scrolling through on his laptop.
Dean got up and walked across the room to Sam. "How come we haven't heard of them before?"
"Because you have never been in a conversation that revolved around basic literature?" I suggested. Dean looked over with a glare and Sam smirked over at me.
"hey're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started in '05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one – "No Rest For The Wicked" –" Sam turned the laptop over to Dean, displaying a website listing all the books. I got up from my spot on the bed and looked over Dean's shoulder. "Ends with you going to hell."
"I reiterate," Dean said, "Freaking insane." Dean moved his finger on the mouse pad. "Check it out. There's actually fans. There's not many of them, but still. Did you read this?"
"Yeah," Sam answered. He looked like he had read something he wished he never had. This spiked my interest and I read everything on the screen.
"Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this – Simpatico says "the demon story line is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic.""
" Well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it." I muttered and moved Dean's hand away when I saw something interesting. "There are Sam girls and Dean girls…uh and Maddie girls…. And—what's a 'slash fan'?"
"As in… Sam-slash-Dean." Sam answered with a pained look on his face. "Together."
"Like, together together?" Dean raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah."
"They do know we're brothers, right?"
"Oh, come on. That…That's just sick." Dean shut the laptop in disgust. But before I did I saw something catch my eye. I had a Maddie-slash-Braden fan. People actually like us together? Is that a good thing? My heart prickled with mixed feelings. "We got to find this Carver Edlund."
"Yeah, that might not be so easy," Sam said.
"Why not?" I asked, sitting on Dean's lap and sipping on Sam's beer across the table.
"No tax records, no known address. Look's like 'Carver Edlund' is a pen name."
Dean shrugged. "Somebody's gotta know who he is."
"Like his publisher?" I suggested. I looked over my shoulder at Dean who was considering the idea. I mean, seriously, who else could we turn to. Sam had a face like 'yeah why not?' That's where I knew where our next spot was.
After Sam did his ringity-ding-ding, he was able to pull up the address of his publisher, who would have to know who the real author was. A young and an attractive woman let us into her office, astounded that someone other than her were appreciative of the Supernatural series. She was eager to meet us but also looked nervous and somewhat skeptical of our intentions.
"So you published the 'Supernatual' books?" Sam asked as the publisher invited us into her office space.
"Yep. Yeah. Gosh. These books... You know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. You know – "Doctor Sexy, M.D."?" She scoffed, "Please."
I raised my eyebrows. This girl was very animated and was really obsessed with these books.
"Right. Well, we're hoping that our article can…shine a light on an underappreciated series."
"Yeah, yeah, because you know, if we got a little bit of good press then maybe we could start publishing again." She was mesmerized.
"No, no, no, no. God, no." Dean quickly cut in. I gave him a look to remind him we're supposed to be fans here. "I mean, why – why would you want to do that? You know, it's, uh, such a complete series, what with Dean going to hell and all."
Then, the publisher started getting emotional as she thought back on all the stories, "Oh, my god! That was one of my favorite ones, because Dean was so... strong... and sad and brave. And Maddie…her dropping off the wall and throwing herself in front of those hounds, And Sam... I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry. You know, like in "Home," when Dean had to call John and ask him for help." She turned as she tried and recollect himself. "Gosh…if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings."
"Real men?" Dean looked offended. I had to hold in my smirk. I looked down at my shoes.
"I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?" Oooo, sassy.
Dean grinned painfully, "Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside."
"Is that supposed to be funny?"
"Lady this whole thing is funny."
I looked to Sam, begging for him to say something as to shut Dean up. But he didn't, cause he was just as weirded out as I was to say anything.
She narrowed her eyes at the three of us and pointed her finger. "How do I know you three are legit, hmm?"
"Oh, trust me. We, uh… we're legit."
Dean you need to stop talking.
"Well, I don't want any smart-ass article making fun of my family."
"No! No, no, no. Never," Sam stammered.
"No, that's…" Dean trailed.
"We're actually really big fans," I said, cutting my brothers off.
"Hmm, you've read the books?" She looked at us skeptically.
"Cover to cover." Dean smirked.
"Um-hmm," Sam nodded.
Then, the publisher started going rapid-fire with questions. It was as if she was trying to have us prove to her that we were true fans of this absurd series.
"What's the year and model of the car?"
With this question Dean smirked, "It's a 1967 Chevy Impala."
"What's May 2nd?"
"That's my—uh," Sam coughed. "That's Sam's birthday."
"January 24th is Dean's," Dean smiled He liked this attention on him right now. A second ago he was hating all of this.
"How old was Maddie when she lost her virginity?" She raised her eyebrows.
"Whoa," I narrowed my eyes. "Why…uh," I tried standing up straighter. "Why that question?"
"Do you not know?" She challenged.
I sighed and bit my lip before answering, "16," I grumbled.
"16?" I heard Dean say behind me.
"When?" The publisher raised one eyebrow.
"Seriously?" I scoffed. She nodded her head. "When Dean left to grab Sam from college."
"Sam's score on the LSAT?" She continued.
"One…" Sam looked at Dean. Even he was at a loss. "Seventy-four?" Why the hell was that in the book?
"Dean's favorite song?"
"It's a tie," Dean said like he was waiting for this question. "Between Zep's "Ramble On" and Traveling Riverside Blues."
"Okay, Okay," She smiled and straightened out her long skirt. Impressed with what we knew she asked. "What do you want to know?"
"What's Carver Edlund's real name?" I got straight to the point. After being asked those very personal questions, I wanted to get there hell out of there.
Her eyes went wide. "h, no. I—No. Sorry, I can't do that."
"We just want to talk to him. You know, get the Supernatural story in his own words," Sam stepped up to the plate. She obviously didn't like me cause of my hesitation to my questions.
"He's very private. It's like a Salinger."
"Please. Like I said—we are, um…" Sam pulled his button up shirt to the side, revealing his anti-possession tattoo underneath his left collarbone.
Dean rolled his eyes and moved his shirt to reveal his as well. I sighed and turned around, lifting my hair from my pony tail to show mine on the back of my neck.
The woman licked her lips and got excited. "Awesome. You know what?" She turned around and bent over, lifting up her skirt and flashing her ass. "I got one, too."
"Wow, okay," I shielded my eyes and turned my head.
"Whoa, you are a fan," I could hear Dean's smile.
"Okay," She scribbled on a piece of paper from her notepad. "His name's chuck shurly. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off." She ripped off the paper and handed it to Sam.
I walked in front of my brothers to the car. Behind me, Dean quickly shot is question. "16?" I thought Braden was your first.
"You left a teenager home alone for months…not your smoothest move, Dean." I pulled on the handle to the back seat of Dean's shiny Impala. "And besides, you lost your virginity at 15. And remember Dean, I look up to you as a role model. I wanna be just like my brother." I smirked, bringing my sunglasses out from shirt, putting them on.
"Way to go, Dean," Sam hopped in the car after me.
Dean shook his head and got into the driver's seat. No one talked on our way to Chuck's house, but no one was talking. I think we were all anticipating meeting the man who has been literally writing out our life story for everyone to read.
The neighborhood he lived in was compact with a bunch of dark grey houses and barely any room for a yard. His grass was long and his two of his shutters were crooked from its window.
The man who answered the door didn't open it all the way. He was dressed in sloppy pajamas—a stained white t shit and overused blue plaid paints accompanied with a dingy robe.
"You Chuck Shurley?" Dean asked.
"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the 'Supernatural' books?" Sam clarified.
"Maybe. Why?"
Chuck wasn't intimidating to my brother's taller size compared to his shorter size. He was smaller and wore crooked reading glasses. He was pale and looked like he hasn't slept in days. I could even smell alcohol either on his breath or in his clothing.
"I'm Dean. This is Sam, and Maddie. The Dean, Sam, and Maddie you've been writing about."
Chuck was not pleased with Dean's answer. Instead of saying anything else, he shut the door on us. Dean let out a sigh and rang the door bell again. I was surprised he didn't just barge in there and demand answers.
Chuck opened the door again "Look, uh... I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life. "
He tried to shut the door on us again, but Dean aggressively shot out his hand to stop it. "See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books." He shoved the door opened and entered, forcing Chuck back into the house.
Inside, the house was a mess. Papers were strewn everywhere along with empty alcohol bottles and take-out wrappers.
Chuck was now intimidated, tripping on his own feet as he backed away from my pursuing family. But Dean was sure as hell not taking crap for an answer, and he already tried playing nice.
Chuck fell back on his couch and held his hand up, "Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny."
"Damn straight, it's not funny," I said and crossed the room, looking for papers that might have indicated he wrote more than his last published book.
"Look, we just want to know how you're doing it," Sam said calmly.
I rolled my eyes at his kindness. Then, I found a drawer or a secret stash of tequila mini bottles.
"I'm not doing anything," Chuck shook his head.
"Are you a hunter?" Dean asked.
"What? No. I'm a writer."
"Then how do you know so much about demons?" Dean made his advances on Chuck. "And Tulpas, and changelings?"
"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing? Ah, I t is, isn't it? It's a Misery thing!"
"No, it's not a Misery thing. Believe me, we are not fans!"
"Well, then what do you want?"
I shut the drawer with a slam and walked over to him. "I'm Maddie. Those two are my big brothers, Sam and Dean."
"No, they're fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!" he continued to deny.
As a last resort, we brought him outside to the Impala. Dean looked around to make sure no one was watching and when it was all clear, he opened the trunk, revealing all of the weapons we had and were used in his books. Chuck was shocked.
"Are those real guns?"
"Yup," Dean nodded and started picking up some of the arsenal. "This is real rock salt, there are real fake IDs…"
Chuck gulped in nervousness. "Well, I got to hadn it to you guys. You really are my number one fans." He began walking away. "That's, that's awesome. So, I –I think I've got some posters in the house."
"You had posters made?" I asked.
"Chuck, stop." Dean demanded.
"Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt me."
"How much do you know?" Sam questioned. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"
"Wait a minute. How do you about that?" Chuck stopped. Finally. We got his attention and he was seeing the picture of reality.
"The question is how do you?" Dean asked.
"Because I wrote it?" Chuck said like it was obvious.
"You kept writing?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right? Did that – Did Phil put you up to this?"
"Well, nice to meet you." Dean ginned. "I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam, and sister Maddie."
"The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody that. I never even wrote that down."
"Now, we're getting somewhere," I smiled and walked myself back into his house.
Chuck poured himself a large glass of whiskey ad gulped it down in two swallows. He set the glass down in the sink and pondered what the hell was going on right now.
He turned around and groaned when we made eye contact, "Oh! Oh, you're still here."
"Yup," Dean popped the p.
"You're not a hallucination."
"Nope."
"Well there's only one explanation," Chuck nodded. "Obviously, I'm a god."
"You're not a god," Sam rolled his eyes.
"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."
"Yeah, we're still in one piece." I sarcastically grinned.
"I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica."
"Chuck…" Sam said slowly.
"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." Dean said.
"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!"
"We think you're probably just psychic," Sam explained.
"No," Chuck shook his head. "If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard."
"It seems that somehow, you're just…focused on our lives."
"Yeah, like laser-focused," Dean said
"Are you working on anything right now?" I asked.
Chuck went wide-eyed, "Holy crap."
"What?"
Chuck picked up a few scattered papers on his desk and shuffled through them, "The uh, latest book? It's, uh, it's kind of weird."
"Weird, how?" Sam raised his eyebrows.
"It's very Vonnegut."
Dean looked at him intently, "Slaughterhouse-Five Vonnegur or Cat's Cradle Vonnegut?"
"What?" Sam looked at him surprised.
"What?" Dean defended defensively.
"It's, uh, "Kilgore Trout" Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house... confronted by my characters."
We moved on to the Laundromat as Dean sat on one of the machines, reading the new books Chuck has written but never published. I sat in one of the carts, pushing myself away from the machine Dean was sitting on and then pulling myself back with Dean's ankles. Then, repeated. Sam was the one doing our laundry with his back to us.
"I'm sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself. My head hurts." Dean looked up, pointing to the manuscript.
"There's got to be something this guy's not telling us," I push myself off the machine again and grab Dean's ankles.
"Are you a child?" Dean looked at me.
I smirked and pulled myself back into his legs and pushing off again.
Dean continued reading, " "Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth.""
"Stop it," Sam grumbled.
"'Stop it,' Sam said.'" Dean smiled. "Guess what you do next." Sam turned away scowling. ""Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive." 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 "brooding and pensive" shoulders."
Sam sighed, exasperated , turning back around to do his laundry. Dean looked backed down at the manuscript and looked back up. "You just thought I was a dick."
Sam turned around looking impressed. "The guy's good."
I bit my lip, laughing and pushing off the machine again, looking at Dean's offended expression.
We went back to Chucks' place. When we got there, he was pacing nervously in his living room, as if building up the courage to speak. He held more pages in his hand that he wrote when we were gone.
"So…you wrote another chapter?" I asked. What was the point of me being here if he was just going to stand there and shake.
"This was so much easier before you were real."
"I was always real," I said.
Dean rolled his eyes. "We can take it; just spit it out."
"You especially are not gonna like this," Chuck pointed at Dean.
"I didn't like hell," Dean retorted.
"It's Lilith," Chuck said. I sat up straighter. "She's coming for Sam."
"Coming to kill him?" I was officially standing up.
"When?" Sam's voice got deep and it deep into the conversation than he was a second ago.
"Tonight."
"She's just gonna show up? Here?" Now, Dean was in his older-brother-protective-mode.
Chuck pushed his glasses up his nose. "Uh…let's see, uh," he read from the manuscript. ""Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion.""
Sam laughed, causing us all to look at him. "You're kidding me, right?"
"You think this is funny?" Dean took a step closer.
"You don't?" Sam looked at him in disbelief. "I mean, come on. 'Fiery demonic passion'?"
"It's just a first draft," Chuck looked down at his papers distracted.
Lilith. The reason Dean was sent to hell. Well—Dean was the reason he was sent to hell, but Lilith finished him off. But when we saw her, she was a child before she possessed Ruby.
I waved my hands and took a step between my brothers and looked behind me at Chuck, "Wait, wait, wait, wait. Lilith is a little girl."
"No, uh, this time she's a 'comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana'," Chuck read off.
Dean slapped his hand at his thighs. "Great. Perfect. So what happens after the… 'fiery demonic' whatever?"
"I don't know. It hasn't come to me yet."
"Dean, look, there's nothing to worry about," Sam walked closer to me and to him. "Lilith and me? In bed?"
"I wish it sounded crazier than it really is," I mumbled, stuffing my hands into my pocket.
"What the hell does that mean?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but Dean beat me to it, asking Chuck how is whole psychic thing of his works. Good thing he did to, or else I would have probably said something I regretted and Sam would kill me for.
"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 dreamt about us?"
"It flowed," Chuck shrugged. "I just, it kept flowing. It still does. I—I can't stop it, really."
"You can't seriously believe—" Sam was cut off by Dean.
"Humor me." Dean glared. Chuck held up a manuscript for Dean to take. "Look, why don't we, we just…take a look at these and see what's what." Dean looked down at the manuscripts and back at Chuck. "You—"
"…knew you were gonna ask for that?" Chuck nodded. "Yeah."
This guy was good.
Dean was driving to get the hell out of here. Dean was driving with a stoned face, arguing in his head most likely about Sam. Sam re-read over the manuscripts, laughing about how ridiculous this all seemed. But as far as Dean and I were, there was nothing ridiculous or funny about it.
"Dean, come on," Sam scoffed, reading off the one of the paragraphs. "The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars. He scratched absently at the pink flower Band-Aids on his face."
"So?" Dean said.
"So, I've seen you gushing blood. You'd use duct tape and bar rags before you'd put 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 so far. You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?" I speak up from the back seat.
Sam scoffed, reading more, "Huh. "Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow.""
"A tarp?" Dean looked up.
"Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that." Sam said as if he was finally going to get his point across with that detail.
"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?"
"Dude, we are a long way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith."
As soon as Dean spoke, the car came slowly to a stop. Police men lined with cars in front of us. I shift my body over to look out the window. Barriers guarded the exit of town, letting no one enter and/or leave.
Dean rolled down his window, talking to the deputy that walked over. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Bridge is out ahead," the deputy pointed.
"We're just trying to get out of town."
"Yeah, afraid not."
"IS there a detour?"
"Nope."
"There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?" Dean kept trying, but it was inevitable. We were stuck here.
"To get to the highway, you have to cross that river. To cross the river, you have to take the bridge."
"How deeps the river?"
"Sorry. Afraid you three are gonna have to spend the night in town."
Dean rolled up the window and we sat there in silence. I think everyone was thinking the same thing…this was happening for a reason. So, with a sigh, Dean turned the car around. I was hoping to be going back to the motel and get some sleep…or at least try, but of course we went to a diner instead.
Dean looked over the manuscript one last time. Sam looked over the menu.
"Hey, this could be a good thing. I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path."
"How do you mean?" Sam looked up.
"It's a blueprint of what not to do. I mean, if the pages say that we go left—"
"Then we go right," I said.
"Exactly. We get off-book. We never make it to the end. It's opposite day. It says that we, uh, we get into a fight. So, no fighting. No research for you..."
"No bacon cheeseburger for you," Sam said. "And no bitching from you," Sam snickered at me.
Dean looked slightly put out. "Yeah, no problem. I'll just order something else." I grinned that this was such a problem for him to handle. I got excited when the waitress approached our table. "Hi, uh, what's good?"
"Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country." She replied.
Sam laughed, folding his menu back up.
"Really?"
"I'll just have the cobb salad, please." Sam smiled, handing her the menu.
"I'll have the…veggie tofu burger. Thanks." Dean's lips were set into a thin line.
"You know what?" I smiled at our waitress. "I want to try that famous burger." I looked at Dean. "It sounds delicious."
"You must hate me don't you?" Dean glared at me.
"It's more of a love-hate kind of relationship," I smirked.
"This whole thing is ridiculous," Sam said, bringing the topic back to the important.
"Lilith is ridiculous?" Dean raised his eyebrows.
"The idea of me hooking up with her is!"
"Right, cause something like that could never happen." I said.
Sam scowled, but controlled himself. "For the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close.
"So?" Dean shrugged.
"So... we've got the jump on her. If we know when she's coming, we know where she's – this is an opportunity."
"Are you—"
"Remember…no arguing," I sipped out of my glass of water.
Dean controlled his anger. "It frustrates me when you say such reckless things."
"Well, it frustrates me when you'd rather hide than fight."
"And it frustrates me that you two are saying 'it frustrates me'," I said.
The pippy waitress walked back, balancing all three plates in her two arms. I always was in awe at how they could do that. I tried once in a motel room while Dad was out on another hunt, bringing Dean along for training. I broke a plate and cracked the edge of another one. Sam helped me clean it up, but I had anxiety of Dad finding out about the damage until we left that town.
"Cobb salad," She lied the plate in front of Sam. "And the two burgers for ya'll. One tofu and one bacon cheeseburger. Let me know if I can get anything else for you."
"Thank you." Dean said. He leaned in closer to the table. Taking his burger in his hands. "It's not hiding. It's being smart. It's picking your battles. This is a battle that we are not ready to fight." He took a huge bite out of his burger and his eyes widen in surprise.
"What? You like tofu now?" I tilted my head, lifting my own burger to my mouth.
"Oh, my god," Dean eyes basically rolled into the back of his head. "This is delicious. Tofu is amazing!"
The waitress approached again, flustered and grimacing. She took Dean's plate away from him with the burger on it. "I am so sorry. I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake."
I grinned and took a bite out of my own burger. And my oh my was it really the best bacon cheeseburger in the world.
"This is the most sleazy looking motel we have ever stayed in." I said, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind me.
"Dude, this place charges by the hour," Sam agreed and walked next to me.
"Yeah, well, the book says Lilith find you at the Red Motel. Hence, the uh, hooker inn. It's opposite day, remember?" Dean dropped his bag on one of the beds and start pulling out random items. He walked around the placing string-tied bags into random nooks and crannys.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked.
"Couple of hex bags ought to Lilith-proof the room," Dean said.
"So, what? I'm supposed to just hole up here all night?" Sam slapped his hands to his thighs. I walked over to Sam's bag where he held his laptop and pulled it out. "Oh, come on."
Dean and I smiled. He put a hand on my shoulder. "Just call it a little insurance."
"What you guys gonna do?" Sam asked, defeated.
"Well, the pages say that I spend all day riding around in the Impala. So I'm gonna go park her. And Maddie will stay with me. Behave yourself, would you? No homework. Watch some porn."
Dean smiled, pleased with himself and walked out the door. "That's disgusting," I mumbled to Dean.
"You're a girl. You wouldn't get it."
"Okay, please stop talking."
"How are you feeling by the way?"
I bit my lip but looked up at him. I knew he blamed himself, but what I did was all me, no matter how much he didn't want to see it. "I'm okay, Dean. I am physically okay."
"Physically?"
"I shouldn't be okay. I should be in a grave next to yours. I should have died with you that night your deal ended. I'm healing quickly…faster than I ever have. All I want is to be a normal human again."
"Madds—"
"But I don't think I'm ever going to get that privilege again." My voice began shaking. I had to look down and fumble with my hands so to distract myself from crying. "Can you promise me something?"
"Yes, anything."
"Please don't let me turn into a monster. I cannot become one of those things that we hunt."
"Things aren't going to get to that point."
"Just…" I sighed. I closed my eyes and pressed my lips into a thin line. "Just swear to me."
Dean nodded, parking his car in an open lot near the street. "I am going to do everything I can to keep you and Sam safe for the rest of your lives. Even if one day, you get an apple pie life, I'm still going to check your house for all protocol."
"All of a hunters protocol?" I smiled with a sniff.
"It doesn't matter how much you try, that hunter life will always be a part of you."
Dean walked over to the other side of the car and wrapped his arm around my neck. Then, he moved his arm and pushed my hair away from the back of my neck. "Your scar is gone." He said.
"Yeah I noticed that earlier. Maybe it just healed up liked the rest of me—"
"Hey!" Dean turned around and walked back towards his car. Two boys, roughly around the teen age attempted to break into his car using a crowbar.
Dean charges towards them at the same time a van races towards hm. Dean stops, paralyzed by shock and the car hits him. Dean tumbles on the front hood before falling back down on the concrete, unconscious.
I grimaced and unlike Dean, I looked both ways before crossing the road. A soccer mom jumped out of her van, holding the hand of her six year old daughter. I knelt down by Dean. He was breathing, just blacked out. He was fine.
"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry," The mom walked over to me. "He came out of nowhere and I didn't have time to stop and—and—and—"
I stood straight, brushing excess gravel off my knees. "He's gonna be okay. My brother should have looked both ways before crossing the street. He was distracted by two amateurs breaking into his car over there."
"Is he going to be okay?"
I looked down at an unconscious man lying in the middle of the street now surrounded by curious stand-byers.
"The fall only knocked him. As far as I can tell, no broken bones. I guess we'll find out when he tries to stand up." I smirked.
The little girl approached Dean. She was cute with long blonde hair rung up in pigtails tied in bright pink scrunchies. She reminded me of me when I was a little girl. Granted, my dad would never let me be caught in bright pink scrunchies—but she was adorable and I was hella adorable.
She squatted by Dean's side. She opened her little green purse and pulled out a pack of band-aids, placing them over the few scratches Dean had on his face. My breath hitched when I saw the design. They were pink with flowers all over it just like the story.
Dean wasn't out long. He woke up slowly five minutes later. Still, in the middle of the road.
"Oh my god. Just take it easy, you're gonna be okay." The mother hovered over him. Lady, I already told you that he was going to be fine, and if anyone knew, Dean knew he was going to be okay.
"Stars," Dean spoke incoherently.
I scrunched my eyes in confusion but looked at the ladies earrings. They were bright dangly earrings. Weird, I didn't notice them before.
"What was that?" The woman responded. He blinked and tried to raise his head. "I'm so sorry. I just didn't see you. Are you okay?" Dean was finally able to sit up right. "And sorry about…you know." She indicated toward her daughter. "M-My daughter's going through a Doctor phase."
"What are you talking about?" Dean grumbled.
"You're all better now," the little girl folded her hands behind her back and rocked on her toes with a smile.
Dean scrunched his eyebrows, confused. He looked across the street. I grimaced knowing exactly what he was talking about and how I was going to get my butt kicked for letting it happen.
"Oh, no…" He limped to his car, fuming. When he saw himself in the reflection of his back window, he frowned, slowly peeling it off. Then, he turned to me, "How the hell did you let this happen?"
"They took nothing, Dean. It happened as soon as the van hit you. Sorry I was more concerned about you then your car."
Dean took a deep breath, "You should be."
"So…" I walk over to the trunk. "Tarp?" I pull it out and smirk.
"Don't you think Chuck is going to be a little upset to find us breaking into is home?" I cross my arms and pace Chuck's living room.
"The dude is always one step ahead of us. We should be fine." Dean grumbled. He was sitting in one of the big chairs. He was leaned over and his hands folded in front of him.
"Maybe Chuck cant help it. Yeah, you got hit by a car but he wasn't driving the vehicle. Look, just don't get mad at him."
"He could have warned me."
"Don't you think that maybe we should check on Sam?"
"Sam is a big boy. He can handle himself for a couple more hours."
I rolled my eyes. Chuck walked through the door. His arms were filled with liquor—a bottle in a brown paper bag and a six pack of cans. He walked into the room slowly. When he saw us here, he was not very surprised. Dean was right. He was one step ahead of us.
"Dean, Maddie," He said. He walked over to the side cabinet and set down his liquids.
"I take it you knew I'd be here," Dean said from his chair.
"You look terrible."
"That's cause I just got hit by a minivan, Chuck," Dean replied.
"Oh."
"That it? Every damn thing you write about me comes true; that's all you have to say is "oh"?!"
"Please don't yell at me," Chuck squeezed his eyes closed.
"Dean…" I warned.
"Why do I get feeling there's something that you're not telling us?" Dean contimued.
"What wouldn't I be telling you?"
"How you know what you know, for starters!" Dean rose from his chair, his voice grew louder in volume.
"I don't know how I know, I just do!" Chuck yelled back, scared.
"That's not good enough," Dean shoved Chuck against the wall. "How the hell are you doing this?!"
"Dean!" I yelled.
"Dean, let him go," A fourth voice appeared out of nowhere. Castiel stood behind me in his same trench coat. Dean released Chuck and turned around to face my guardian angel. "This man is t be protected."
"Why?"
"He's a prophet of the Lord," Castiel answered.
"He's a prophet?" I repeated. "How the hell is he a prophet? The sounds highly respectable, and no offense Chuck….this guy is a drunk."
"None taken, it's okay," Chuck closer to the angel. "You…You're Castiel…aren't you?"
Castiel nodded, "It's an honor to meet you, Chuck. I…admire your work." He picked up one of the books and started paging through it.
Dean and I looked at each other with the same reaction. Was anyone else understanding how crazy this all was.
"Whoa, whoa, what?" Dean moved his hand. " This guy, a prophet? Come on, he's- he's…he's practically a Penthouse Forum writer." Dean looked over at Chuck, "Did you know about this?"
Chuck stumbled over to his arm chair, reaching for something to hold his balance and that something was a bottle of whiskey. "I, uh, I might have dreamt about it."
"And you didn't tell us?" I asked.
"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." He desperately gulped down the whisky.
Dean looked at Castiel and spoke more quietly, "This is the guy who decides our fate?"
"He isn't deciding anything. He's a mouthpiece—a conduit for the inspired word." Castiel answered.
"The word? The word of god? What, like the new new testament?"
"One day, these books—they'll be known as the Winchester gospel."
"The Winchester gospel?" I raised my eyebrows.
"You got to be kidding me," Dean and Chuck said at the same time.
"I am not…kidding you," Castiel looked confused as he said those words, obviously not understanding some of the human vocabulary phrases.
"If you three both please excuse me one minute," Chuck stood up, still clutching his bottle, and sprinted upstairs. You heard a door shut.
"Something tells me it's going to be more than a minute," I said. I pointed towards the stairs with my thumb. "Him? Really?"
"You should've seen Luke," Castiel shook his head.
"Why'd he tapped?" Dean asked.
"I don't know how prophets are chosen. The order comes from high up on the celestial chain of command."
"How high?"
"Very."
"Well, whatever. How do we get around this?"
"Around what?"
"The Sam-Lilith love connection." Dean said. I scoffed just thinking about it. "How do we stop it from happening?"
"What the prophet has written cant be unwritten. As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass." Castiel spoke as if he had that phrase memorized for this chance.
Both mine and Dean's eyes went big. There was no more time to ask questions. We raced to the car.
Dean sped like he has never sped before back to the motel. We rushed out of the car. I put my arm out to stop him when I noticed something. "Dean," I said. I pointed to the motel sign. The neon lights went out in all but three letters. R.E.D just like Chuck had predicted. This made us move faster.
"Come on. We're getting out of here." Dean slammed the door behind him.
Sam was already up, looking as if he had just been in deep thought, pacing back and forth in the room. "What? Where?" He asked.
"Anywhere, okay? Out of this motel, out of this town. I don't care if we got to swim. We are getting out." Dean walked all around the room and then stopped to look at Sam. "Dude, where are all the hex bags?"
"I burned them," Sam answered.
"You what?" I looked up from my things. I felt like Dean, shocked when I shouldn't be and fuming at this point.
"Look, if Lilith is coming, which is a big IF—"
"No, no, no. It's more than an IF. Chuck is not psychic. He's a prophet." Dean explained.
"What?"
"Case showed up, and apparently Chuck is writing the gospel of us," I helped.
"Okay," Sam said.
"Okay. Let's get the hell out of here." Dean waved.
"No," Sam stood his ground. Wow, he was really going to be annoying.
"Lilith is going to slaughter you, and take Maddie as her prize." Dean said. I tensed up just thinking about it. "This is what she wants from you."
"Maybe she will, maybe she wont."
"So what? You think you can take her?" Dean looked at him like he was crazy. "You're not only risking your life, Sam. Maddie's life is at stake her too, you know…your little sister's!"
"Only one way to find out, Dean. And I say, bring her on."
"Sam!" I said.
"You think I'll do it don't you," Sam pointed fingers at me and Dean. "You think I'll go dark side."
"Yes!" Dean yelled. "Okay? Yes. The way you've been acting latelu? The things you've been doing?" Sam looked startled at the outburst, like he had just been caught red-handed. "Oh, I know. How you ripped Alastair apart like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly. Cas told me, okay?"
"What else did he tell you?"
"Nothing I don't already know. That you've been using your psychic crap, and you've been getting stronger. We just don't know why, and we don't know how."
"It's not what you think," Sam said quietly.
"Then what is it, Sam? 'Cause I'm at a total loss." Dean grabbed his bag and headed for the door. He stopped and looked back. "Are you coming or not.?"
"No," Sam answered.
I followed Dean out, not being able to look at Sam right now or I would explode over how stupid he is.
Dean walked over to the soda machine out front, dropping coins into it aggravatingly. He took a step back and turned around to face me but look at the ground.
"You know, it's one thing to risk his life, but to risk yours too when we know how low the stakes are in this fight."
"He's thinking too far ahead into the future and his completely unaware of the present. With Lilith dead, tons of lives will be saved in the future. The apocalypse will end. But since he's looking too far ahead, he's not realizing how weak he is compared to one of the most powerful demons we have ever faced."
"We have always grown up with one important rule and it was to keep the family safe. And for me, that means you and Sam. And right now, both of you are in danger, so tell me what am I supposed to do?"
"Call down Cas, cause I don't know. Sam's head is too big right now for him to listen to us."
"You mean like pray?"
I nodded my head.
Dean sighed. "Well, I feel stupid doing this. But..I am fresh out of options. So please. I need some help. I'm praying, okay? Come on. Please."
"Prayer is a sign of faith." Cas was behind me now. "This is a good thing Dean."
"So does that mean you'll help me?"
"I'm not sure what I can do."
"Drag Sam out of here, now. Before Lilith shows up." Dean demanded.
"It's a prophecy. I can't interphere."
"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. I need your help. Please."
"What your asking…it's not within my power to do."
"Why?" I asked. "Cause it's divine prophecy?"
"Yes," Cas answered simply.
"So what—We're just supposed to sit around and wait for it to happen?" I took a step closer. Time was ticking and I was becoming a nervous wreck.
"I'm sorry."
"Screw you. You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me... don't bother knocking." Dean brushed past Castiel and began to walk away.
"Dean. Dean." Castiel said.
Dean stopped and looked at him angrily, "What?!"
"You must understand why I cant intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected."
"I get that," Dean said.
"If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon."
"And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?"
I looked between the two of them. I felt they were having this telekinesis connection that I wasn't following.
"Yes."
"So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon—"
"Then the most fearful wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon," Castiel explained. And soon, I completely understood. Castiel just helped us. "Just so you understand….why I cant help."
"Thanks, Cas."
"Goodluck." Cas vanished.
"Lets go," Dean waved me to the car.
Our plan was to kidnap Chuck and drag him back to the now "RED" motel so scary away Lilith. Well, the angel would…not Chuck. Except, for when we got there, Chuck was sprawled on his couch tipsy. Unlike last time, he was surprised to see us. Huh, guess he didn't see this in his books.
"What are you doing here? I didn't write this." Chuck said.
Dean basically manhandled him, "Com on. I need you to come with me."
"What? Where?"
"To the motel where Sam is," Dean said.
"That's where Lilith is."
"Yeah, exactly," I threw his robe at him. "We need you to stop her."
"Are you insane?" Chuck looked at the both of us. "Lilith? I know what she's capable of, Dean. I wrote her."
"All right, listen to me. You have an archangel tethered to you, okay? All you got to do is show up and boom! Lilith gets smoked." Dean tried quickly explaining.
"But I-I haven't seen that yet. Th-the story –"
"Chuck," I looked deep into his eyes, holding his shoulder with my hands. He seemed to calm down a little bit yet I still felt the shake underneath my palms. "You're the only shot that 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," I pleaded.
"No friggin' way," Chuck declined.
"Okay, well, then, how about this – I've got a gun in my pocket, and if you don't come with me, I'll blow your brains out." Dean said. Well, I mean hey, we did try the easy way.
"I thought you said I was protected by an archangel." Chuck looked up at him nervously.
"Well, interesting exercise. Let's see who the quicker draw is." Dean smirked.
And that is how we got Chuck into the car.
When we got back to the motel the door was locked. I kicked it down, not wanting to waste anymore time. Inside, some lady was on top of Sam on the bed—whom of which I could only think of as Lilith. And damn, was she no longer a little girl anymore.
"I am the prophet Chuck!" Chuck exclaimed as soon as the door was burst open.
I rolled my eyes.
Lilith looked up from Sam and narrowed her eyes at the three of us. "You've got to be joking."
"Oh, this is no joke," Dean said. I shook on my feet as the room began to tremble. Great white light poured into the room from everywhere possible. "You see, Chuck here's got an archangel on his shoulder. You've got about 10 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 one last look, then screamed out of her vessel. Black smoke ran from her mouth and disappeared into the ground.
We all looked at each other crazily. As Lilith was gone, so was the angel. We did it. We actually got rid of Lilith…for now anyway.
Chuck's face was priceless. I think he even peed himself, but that's okay cause in my eyes, he wasn't only a writer today, he was a hero.
We left that night after getting sick of that stupid town and all that it didn't have to offer us. So much for just a spirit hunt, we had to run into the real deal and get into big time arguments.
Dean's car was still broken with the tarp flapping around in the wind as Dean drove. And let me tell you, from the back, now black window really did suck.
Sam tried explaining to us what Lilith said to him before we got there with Chuck. Lilith offered to stop breaking seals and end the apocalypse on two conditions—Sam and Dean's head on a stick, and my ass as her little sidekick for the rest of eternity.
"So a deal, huh?" Dean looked over from the road.
"That's what she said."
"To call the whole thing off—angels, seals, Lucifer rising, the whole nine?"
"That was the gist of it," Sam answered.
"Huh." I said from the back.
Sam turned his shoulder to look back at me. "What?"
"You didn't think once about taking it?" I asked.
"You kidding me? You spent all day trying to talk me off the Lilith track."
"I'm just saying…"
"She wanted to you be just as evils as she is."
"I would kill myself before that ever happened. I'm a sweetheart." I smirked.
"Besides, she would have found someway to weasel out of it. And all it would have cost us was our lives."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Dean agreed.
"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?" I Asked.
"Don't know," Sam shrugged. "But she was telling the truth about one thing."
"What's that?" Dean asked.
"She's not gonna survive the apocalypse. I'll make sure of that." Sam promised.
