2009
"Hurry! We need to barricade all the doors and windows," the jock said. There was a large gash over his right eye. The final girl nodded breathlessly and ran to help him move the bookshelf. The stoner sat on the couch, rocking back and forth and muttering how the government arranged everything and that they were all going to die. Castiel just stood in the middle of the cabin with his back towards me, his head tilted slightly. Hmm… he was probably the nerd. I slipped through the door and silently eased it closed.
"But you aren't real," the angel said. "None of this is real." The jock gave up on the bookshelf and stalked over to Castiel.
"Look," he said, jamming a finger into Castiel's chest, "Sarah's already dead. And if you honestly think that that isn't real, then maybe you should go outside with those monsters and – " I snapped my fingers, freezing the three stock characters on the spot. I couldn't help it: I giggled. Castiel slowly turned to look at me and I waved.
"Hello!" I said. "Oh, and for the record, I am real." I pushed myself off of the door and wandered over to the fireplace. No heat came off of it; even the flames were frozen. It was actually quite beautiful to look at. "Don't worry, we should have a few minutes before the zombies attack again.
"You're human." Castiel still hadn't moved from the center of the room. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and leaned against the fireplace.
"Yeah. You're an angel. Castiel, right? I've never met an angel before. Well… yeah, no, Tyler doesn't really count."
"There's no angel by that name." His eyes narrowed slightly as they focused on my hand. I glanced down at it briefly. Was the scar paler than normal? "Who are you talking about?"
"Some fallen angel that I met a few years ago. I think his real name started with an 'N.' Oh, what was it? Hershey would probably know." I shook my head to clear it. "Doesn't matter. I'm Nicky, by the way. I'm with Hershey." Castiel's brow furrowed. "Sorry. Loki. The trickster." He shook his head and looked around the room.
"No, that's impossible," he said.
"Why? Because I'm human and he's not? I'm pretty sure that a god and a human have been together before."
"No. Not… that." Castiel took a step closer. Every few seconds, he would look at my scar. It twinged painfully, and I put my hands behind my back. "This thing isn't a trickster. And it's certainly no god."
"Would you stop calling Hershey an it? Trust me, he's a he," I said. "And I already told you what he is." Because Hershey was Loki, the Norse trickster god. That's all he was. He would have told me by now if he wasn't… right? Right. He loved me. He would have trusted me with the fact that he wasn't a trickster.
"It's far too powerful," Castiel continued as if he hadn't heard me. "Few beings would be capable of creating all this. And your hand." He walked towards me, sparing a glance for the frozen stoner. I moved quickly away from the fireplace, not wanting to be backed up against something solid. My scar began to tingle like static electricity was collecting on it. But it wasn't. Not unless static electricity looked like small, golden, glowing beads that outlined the shape of the 'S.'
"What about my hand?" I looked up at the ceiling, kind of surprised that Hershey hadn't magiced me away yet. Was he not watching? "Why is it glowing? It never glows! Not since that weird ghost lady and Vulcan. Hershey! Hey!"
Castiel roughly grabbed my hand, but it was like he has grabbed onto a live wire. He went flying backwards and crashed face-first through the window. I flinched as the glass shattered, memories of fire and heat and eyes as dark as coal repeating before my eyes. The beads of light flashed for a moment before dimming and melting into my skin. I watched as they raced through my veins up my arm. The light looked familiar. Well, of course. It was Hershey's magic. I had seen it coming off of him enough times by now to recognize it. But it wasn't just that… I had seen it somewhere else too… If only I could remember where…
Castiel staggered to his feet, bracing against the wall with one hand. I hesitated for a moment before slowly stepping towards him.
"I didn't know that it was going to do that," I said. "It doesn't really do that. Although, to be fair, that was probably Hershey." The angel looked over his shoulder at me. I winced. "Damn, how hard were you thrown?" The bridge of his nose was cut, and blood was beginning to trickle out of it.
"You're marked by Grace," he said. Well then… that was a stereotypically angelic thing to say. A low groan came from outside the broken window.
"It's just magic," I said. Still, I hid my hands behind me. "I mean, Hershey put it there to protect me. So that people know not to mess with me." Not that it necessarily worked.
"No," Castiel stood up straight. His voice rumbled with absolute authority. A lump formed in the back of my throat. My hands balled into fists, mostly so that I could keep them from shaking.
"Yes." He looked at me curiously. I tried to ignore the distinct feeling that the angel was looking into my soul. "He would have told me," I said. "So my hand is marked with trickster magic, and you are wrong."
"You're scared," he said. "You love him, but you're scared that he's lying to you."
"You don't know anything about him!" I snapped. Castiel's expression didn't change in the slightest. It was slightly unnerving. "Or me. Why am I even talking to you? This is a waste of time."
"Nicolette Burns, the woman who walks with gods and monsters," he said with a sigh. I blinked. "It's a long title, I know. Blame the other angels."
"I – " My mouth shut with a click. "Sorry, what?"
"The angels were very excited that you were dead. I'm assuming because it meant they had leverage over," he searched for the right word, "Hershey."
"But I was already dead. What were they going to do? Have another van run me over? And that doesn't explain the nickname either!"
A large, discolored hand shot through the window and scrambled for a grip on Castiel's coat. The zombie's face, complete with one eyeball dangling out of its socket, appeared a moment later. Castiel jerked away from it, the zombie's decomposed fingers just missing his tie. Around us, the stock characters came back to life. The final girl immediately started screaming.
Hey! We were still talking!
I snapped my fingers.
Nothing.
"Oh, come on, Hershey," I muttered under my breath.
The jock pushed past Castiel and smashed the zombie's head with a lamp. The zombie toppled to the ground, but not before grabbing the jock's arm and dragging him half out of the window. I knew that he would promptly be decapitated even before I heard the chainsaw growled and sputtered to life. It came down swiftly, and a thick stream of blood sailed through the broken window and hit me square in the face. Awesome. Now, the stoner was screaming too.
I slowly wiped the blood from my eyes and turned my face to the ceiling. "Okay, I get it! You don't like the angel! Don't take it out on me!" A fluffy, yellow towel appeared out of thing air and landed on my head. "Thank you."
Castiel was silent as I wiped to blood off my face, although he did get behind me. The two stock characters were still screaming. I felt a headache start to build behind my eyelids. I looked at Castiel for a moment before speaking.
"How sure are you that Hershey isn't a trickster?" I asked, ignoring how my heart was screaming at me that Castiel had to be wrong or lying.
"This is not a trickster," Castiel said with the same authority as before. But there was a new sincerity in his eyes that made my heart quiet down for a moment.
"You're wrong," I said. "But come on."
"Where are we going?" he asked. I opened the door that I came from, relief jolting through me when I saw the control room. It was quickly replaced by a dull worry when I saw that the room was empty.
"Do you want to get out of here or not?" I motioned for Castiel go in first and shut the door behind us. The screaming was instantly silenced. Finally. "So. Welcome to Mission Control," I said. Castiel eyed the dark corners suspiciously.
"I need to find Sam and Dean," he said. I nodded and led him over to the screens. A piece of paper sat on the middle of the switchboard.
"Be back soon. Going to do some research," I read, squinting at Hershey's horrible handwriting. What? Hershey would never leave in the middle of a trick. And was I supposed to be flattered that he trusted me and believed in me enough to leave me alone with Castiel, or hurt that he didn't feel like watching over me? I tucked the small pain in my heart away, and waved Castiel closer.
"What do all of these switches do?" he asked.
"Don't know. That's why they're labeled. Okay, looks like the boys are in a sitcom. Wait, is that supposed to be the motel? Oh, Hershey, those colors are much too bright." Although, it did match the sitcom feeling. Castiel tilted his head slightly as he watched the screens. I followed his gaze to see Dean standing in front of a very large, very fake sandwich.
"I'm gonna need a better mouth!" he said. The audience laughed. Sam entered the set to cheers and applause. "Hey, Sam! What's happening?"
"Oh, you know, just the end of the world," Sam said.
Okay… so how do we get over there? Presumably, Hershey left the connection to the control room when he went to go do research. But how do I set one up? Maybe there was a switch? Why were there so many switches anyway? We couldn't possibly need this many.
"Oh, Dean… We have some more research to do."
I looked up at the screen at the unfamiliar voice just in time to see a woman in a bikini throw me a wink. Research to do…
"That woman isn't like the people in the cabin," Castiel said slowly. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. Two hours ago, I would have found this hilarious.
"Really, Hershey?"
Present
Dean stared at Hershey with wide eyes. "That was you?" he shouted. Hershey winced.
"Maybe? Relax, Deano. It's not like anything happened."
Someone in the audience booed loudly. Dean blanched. Hershey quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing. Becky whirled around to see who it was. I only saw her face for a second, but her expression was enough to make me laugh. The last time I saw that look was a few days ago during the panel on shipping. I caught Dean's eye and shrugged.
"I was kind of in a tough spot," I said. "I honestly hadn't expected to get that far. I expected Hershey to magic me away the moment that Cas went flying, or to not allow Cas into the control room. I'm actually not sure why he didn't. Maybe he was distracted with the Winchesters. Maybe he thought that there was no way that I would believe Cas." I paused, expecting Hershey to say something. When he didn't, I continued. "Or maybe he finally wanted me to learn the truth. Oh yeah, Hershey isn't just a trickster. He had been lying to me – "
"Hey!" There was the interruption.
"Or at least not telling me the whole truth. Better? Of course, he could have just told me. That would have gone over a lot better than me finding out the same time as the Winchesters. Although, I'll admit that the big reveal was a hell of a lot more dramatic than it would have been otherwise." I plopped down on the edge of the stage and took a sip from one of the water bottles that Becky helpfully provided.
"So, there wasn't a switch to send us to Sitcom Land. Or, at least, none that I could find. But that's okay because, Castiel came up with a brilliant idea. When Hershey came back, we run through the door before he closes it! Okay, so maybe it wasn't brilliant. But it was better than anything I could come up with, and in all fairness, it did work. Somehow. Now that I think about it, the plan really, really shouldn't have worked. But it did. And Cas and I found ourselves on the set of the sitcom Supernatural.
2009
I slammed the door shut behind me, sending Hershey a quick mental apology. The invisible audience gasped dramatically at Castiel's sudden appearance, but quite a few boos snuck in there when they noticed me as well.
"Nicky? Cas? You okay?" Dean asked. Both Winchesters looked thoroughly confused.
"We don't have a lot of time, maybe two minutes. Whatever you want to say or do, do it quick," I told Castiel. "Hi, guys."
"What happened?" Sam asked, looking as if he wasn't sure whether or not he really wanted to hear the answer.
"Nicolette got me out," Castiel said. I gave him a small smile.
"From where?" Dean asked. He shook his head. "Wait, scratch that. Why are you helping him?"
Castiel interrupted me before I had a chance to answer. "That's not important. Listen to me. We need to get out of here now. I know why he's far more powerful than he should be." I pinched the bridge of my nose again. It did absolutely nothing for my headache.
"We've gone over this," I said. "He's a trickster god!" Castiel sighed and looked skyward.
"What are you talking about?" Dean said.
"Nicolette, I am sorry, but he is not a trickster." Why is he sorry? We just met. And according to Hershey, angels were just dicks with wings. So why was he apologizing to me?
"If he's not a trickster, then what is he?" Sam asked. I bit back the urge to repeat, once again, that Hershey was just a trickster. Castiel seemed so sure of himself when he said otherwise. It couldn't hurt to hear what he thought… right?
Unfortunately, I never got the chance to. I flinched as Castiel flew past me and into the wall. Hershey leapt through the set door with a loud "Hello!" and grinned at the ecstatic audience. I was more worried about Castiel. I… liked the angel. And this was the second time in only a few minutes that he received head trauma. Were angels okay with getting this much abuse? Castiel looked at me, his mouth duct taped shut. Wait… why would Hershey do that unless… Hershey followed my gaze and his grin widened.
"Hiya, Castiel!" he said, and flicked his hand at him. The angel vanished in a burst of static. "And you!" Hershey spun on his heel to face me. I held up my hands in the universal sign of surrender. "Trying to kick me out of my own TV show, Cola?"
"You're the one who made me Station Manager," I said. Hershey made an amused noise in the back of his throat, and for a moment, his grin softened into a real smile. Oh, thank God. He wasn't mad at me. He held out an arm expectantly, and I walked closer so that he could wrap it around my waist. I leaned into his solid warmth with a small, happy sigh. Trickster god, or not, I had missed this. Hershey pressed a kiss to my temple and magiced my headache away. Which was great, until I remembered that we weren't alone.
Blushing slightly, I glanced at the Winchesters out of the corner of my eye. Sam didn't seem all that surprised, he looked like he was trying to solve a particularly difficult riddle more than anything. But Dean… Dean was not happy.
"Enough domestic crap! Where did you just send Cas?" he all but yelled. I got the distinct impression that that wasn't the first time he had asked that. Had I really not heard him?
"Relax," Hershey said easily, "he'll live… Maybe." The invisible audience laughed at that. I smacked Hershey lightly on his shoulder. He looked at me with an utterly baffled expression.
"Castiel will be fine," I said sternly. Hershey rolled his eyes and gestured with his head towards the Winchesters. Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. I had forgotten how much of a showman Hershey could be. Dean threw his hands up in the air.
"All right, you know what?" he said. "I am done with the monkey dance, okay? We get it."
"Yeah?" Hershey mocked. "Get what, hot shot?"
"Playing our role, right? That's your game?" Ha! I was right.
"That's half the game." Wait, what?
"What's the other half?" Sam asked. Hershey gave my waist a squeeze before letting go. I looked at him with narrowed eyes. He hadn't willingly let go of me since my… since I came back.
"Play your roles out there," Hershey said, sweeping one arm out towards the fake motel windows. Play your roles out there? No. No, no, no, no. Please. Anything but that. My heart began to sink to my toes.
"Hershey?"
"You know." His voice suddenly took on the tone of a WWE announcer. "Sam starring as Lucifer. Dean starring as Michael. Your celebrity death match! Play your roles."
"Hershey!" Yes, my heart was all the way down to my toes. I backed away slowly, ending up somewhere between the Winchesters and the god who was doing something incredibly stupid.
"You want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?" Sam asked. I'm sure we both had matching expressions.
"Hells yeah," Hershey said. "Let's light this candle!"
"We do that, the world will end," Sam said. "Everyone will die."
"Yeah? And whose fault is that?" For a moment, there was real heat and bitterness behind Hershey's words. "Who popped Lucifer out of the box? Hm?" Hershey looked my way, and I stared back unflinchingly. He looked away first. "Look," he said, "It's started. You started it! It can't be stopped. So let's get it over with!"
"There has to be a way!" I said. Hershey ignored me. "Hershey!"
"Heaven or hell, which side are you on?" Dean asked. He, by far, looked the calmest out of the three humans. Hershey scoffed.
"I'm not on either side."
"Yeah, right. You're grabbing ankle for Michael or Lucifer. Which one brought Nicky back?"
My stomach dropped to my toes and joined my heart. But Hershey had brought me back. The first thing I saw was him surrounded by his magic. But then again, Castiel did say that the angels were excited to have leverage. And Hershey was obviously human for at least a few days, otherwise he would have healed me or brought me back to life sooner.
Hershey's eyes grew colder as his presence began to fill the room. "Dean, don't," I warned.
"You listen to me, you arrogant dick," Hershey said quietly. "I don't work for either of those SOBs. Believe me." A smile twitched on Dean's lips.
"Oh, you're somebody's bitch," he said. Any pretense of a smile that Hershey had vanished in an instant. He reached up, grabbed Dean by the collar, and spun Dean to slam him into the wall. Sam moved to help, but I cut him off and held up my hand to keep him back. Sam glared at me. I glared right back.
"Don't you ever, ever presume to know who I am," he growled. He snapped his head around to glare at Sam. I shrunk back a little instinctively. "Now listen very closely. Here's what's going to happen. You're going to suck it up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that destiny has chosen for you."
"Hershey, please," I said quietly. "You're scaring me." He refused to look at me.
"What if we don't?" Sam asked. I almost hit him. Hershey shrugged.
"Then you'll stay here in TV Land. Forever. Three hundred channels and, uh, nothing's on."
He snapped his fingers, and the Winchesters and the motel disappeared. I sat down heavily in the chair in front of the motherboard and screens and put my head in my hands. Hershey didn't say anything for a few heartbeats, but I knew he was there.
"Cola – "
"Shut up," I snapped. I slowly lifted my head up and squared my shoulders. "You owe me multiple explanations."
Next up, the holy oil scene! (Come on, you know that you've been waiting for it.)
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