Chapter One:
Go For Broke

Summary: Being a fan isn't always easy. Meeting the object of your desire isn't all that it's hyped up to be, either. The Winchesters are certainly no exception, in any case, whatsoever. A woman must find her way back home, and endure the drama and heartbreak of the Winchester's lives. No pairings for now.

Notes: This is all just for fun. I think. It's kind of hard recognizing what's fun anymore these days.

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"If you're about to break, go for broke."
— Richie Norton

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"Funny thing about homeless people; they only ever seem to notice when one of their own has disappeared. Not a lot of missing persons reports get logged in when it's a homeless person. But there have been some who filed, and then…nothing. They started disappearing too. No bodies, nothing."

Sam pursed his lips at the news from Dean.

"Great. So, no leads."

"Didn't say that. That woman that's still at the station, if she's really the last one left in the latest string of break-ins, she might actually be able to tell us something. The only problem is we might just have to bust her out."

"What about all the others that were filed for those break-ins? Where're they?"

"Gone. Disappeared."

"Like they vanished off the face of the earth. Great." Sam lightly scoffed.

"So, we're right back to Shackleford."

"Doubt that's her real name and yeah, that'd be a great plan, except for the part where she's refusing to speak to anyone. I mean, come on, Dean. She literally told us to fuck off."

Dean wagged a finger at his younger brother. "Ye of little faith, Sammy. She didn't want to talk to me. But you, on the other hand, might be able to get through to her."

Sam frowned. "And why would she do that? Dean, if she's from…that other place, like you think, then she probably thinks this is all some hoax, that I'm that actor, that all of this is nothing but a part of the show."

"The actor who's married to Ruby, yeah, I remember."

Sam's lips quirked further at the reminder and scoffed. "The actress who played Ruby," he corrected stiffly, as if that made it better somehow. He expelled a deep breath through his nostrils, eyes drawn back to the glow of his laptop's screen. All the names provided to him listed as recent B n' E's had all simply vanished. They weren't in any motels in town, not at shelters for the homeless, nothing at all. Best case scenario, they all went back home, somehow.

Worst case scenario…

"I think you're right, though. It just might be the only lead we have. Let's head back to the station. Who knows? Maybe she's changed her tune in the last couple of hours."

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Shay's ass was numb. It was hurting a while ago, but now it was numb and that was beginning to spread down her thighs and hips. She was afraid to move and end up with the flare of painful pins and needles and white-hot nails dancing up and down her ass and legs.

The cell block she was in was empty, save for a man sleeping a few cells down from her. He was snoring away, splayed out on the bench in his corner of the block.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been in the cell. Hours, for sure. There weren't any clocks to be had, no windows either. The police had confiscated her phone, her wallet. Her bags. The key. Everything she had had on her. All she could guess was she's been in for nearly a day, but it wasn't quite night yet.

Worry ate away at her from the inside out for Kosmo. Please. Please be okay. Please don't be shot up. Please be at the pound or something.

Her stomach clenched from hunger and she winced. Nobody has stopped by in hours. Nobody has come and offered any food or drink to her or her sleeping cellmate either. The police seemed quite content to simply leave them and forget they were even there in the first place. It irked Shay to no end, and now she sort of regretted being a completely miserable and cranky asshole earlier on.

Consequences, motherfucker. Life has them.

She was pretty sure they'd deny her request for something to read if she ever got a chance to ask. If anyone even bothered to swing by and make sure everyone was still alive.

She was also pretty damn sure she was screwed beyond saving.

The more she thought about it and played over the final moments she'd spent with the cops in that interrogation room—and the so-called feds—the more she gathered a sinking feeling in her gut. The more she played with the idea that things had really gone sideways, the more regret she was filled with. I really fucked up.

The door leading out of the holding cells suddenly swung open, stunning Shay enough that she jumped. She caught snippets of voices and phones ringing before it all fell away as the door closed. A uniformed officer came striding through and paused in front of her cell. She blinked at him, tense and unsettled.

"Shackleford?"

"…Yep."

Why the hell did I go with such a stupid alias? In the immortal words of Hank Hill…dammit, Dale!

The officer eyed her up and down. Unclipped a ring of keys on his belt. Unlocked the gate and pulled it open.

"You made bail."

That genuinely stunned her. Her mouth popped open, yet nothing came out at first. Her tongue was twisted into too many knots for words to properly form. Slowly, Shay pushed herself up to her feet, using the wall for support as feeling rushed into her legs, prickling and painful, like TV static scorching through her lower extremities.

"I…how? I don't…I didn't…I'm sorry, but what the fuck?"

The officer snorted. 'Hennig' was written on the nameplate pinned to his chest.

He merely motioned for her to follow him and she did so reluctantly. Officer Hennig closed the cell door and led the way out of the holding cell area, and through the station.

"Hey. If I'm getting out of here, I need to know: Where's my dog? And my stuff, too."

"Your bags are up by the front reception desk, ready to go. You dog, on the other hand, is down at the county pound. You're going to have to pay a fine to get him out."

"How much is that going to cost me?"

"Hell, if I know."

"Gee, great. That's super helpful, dude. Thanks," Shay deadpanned right back. The officer gave her the stink eye from over his shoulder.

"Keep up with the smart mouth, lady. I'll throw you back inside the cell and leave you there to rot 'til Judgement Day. You understand me?"

"Whatever, dude. Everyone knows it's not illegal to smart mouth the cops. You just like throwing your weight around." She shot him a seething glare before adding with a hiss, "like the shitty corrupted bullies that you are."

After a quick stop by the front desk, Shay found herself out on the street right outside the station. 'White Pine Police Department' was emblazoned on a sign marker out front.

Where the fuck is White Pine and how in the hell did I even get here?

A little petty voice at the back of her head whispered away, telling her she knew, or at the very least, had an inkling of an idea. Shay tried to shake away the thoughts, the ideas, the possibilities. The terrifying truth of it all, no matter how preposterous it all seemed.

You're in your thirties, you ain't got time for some voodoo magic bullshit that don't even exist.

And yet…

The what-ifs played out in her head as she started down the street, fumbling with her recovered phone.

Figure out where I am first. Get Kosmo. Get the hell out of Dodge—

"Hey, Shackleford! Wait up!"

Shay ground to a halt, perturbed by the call. Hairs along the back of her neck rose stiffly. When she turned around, her stomach slithered lower into her abdomen and left a gaping crater in its place.

"Oh, no. What the hell do you two want with me now?"

She was now seriously doubting that she—idle and lowkey fan of Supernatural—was not on a filming set of any kind. And the two men coming up to her were not, in any way, the actors of the titular show. They really were the bona fide brotherly duo, Sam and Dean Winchester.

Shay's anger deflated on the spot upon that revelation and terror took its place.

I am so fucking screwed.

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The diner was small and quaint for a small-town gathering place. The locals loitered by the counter, keeping to themselves.

Shay sat in a booth close toward the back. Seated across from her were the Winchesters.

In the flesh.

She drummed her fingers on the table, leg jittering below, heart beating away frantically as reality in all its painful glory crashed down on her head. The coffee she'd ordered was slowly growing more tepid by the minute, untouched.

"So, I'm…really here."

"You are definitely in a diner, yes."

"You know what I really mean," she said, her voice softer. She stared into the creamer-laced liquid inside her mug and finally took a sip. She couldn't even bring herself to look either of them in the eye.

"I don't even know how I got here in the first place. One minute, I was in my apartment, and then…"

"Somewhere else completely," Sam finished for her. Shay nodded.

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Did anything…strange go on, before you…jumped?"

Jumped. That was a cute, polite way of saying 'crossed over to another universe' if she ever heard one. Shay found herself shaking her head, but then stopped, eyes growing wide.

"Yes. Yes, there actually was something—it was the reason I was leaving my apartment in the first place—"

She looked up, stared at the Winchesters for a split second, then dove into her pack like a woman possessed.

"Hey, slow down, take it easy—"

"No, you don't understand. Someone dropped this off at my place in the middle of the friggin' night, and it was in an unmarked package on my doorstep, and it was filled with blood and-and I know how that sounds—" Shay cut herself off. She unzipped another pocket. And then another, and another. She searched, frantic, desperate, looking for a golden and bejeweled key that was no longer there.

"No. No, no, no…it was here, I know it was."

"What is it you're going apeshit over?"

"It was…this really ornate looking key. It didn't even look usable, it…it had some pretty delicate craftsmanship put into its design. It had a bird on it. Like, a peacock. A golden peacock, with rubies for eyes and some black metal on the tail and, like, sapphires and stuff on the wings…"

She sounded insane. She knew she did, but it was a tinny whisper at the back of her head at this point. Panic was blaring loudly above all else, gripped her tightly as she dove into all pockets of her bag. She kept finding nothing in all zippered compartments, even as she pulled things out and piled them up on the diner table.

Had the cops found it and kept it? It certainly looked valuable, could probably fetch a very pretty penny or more if it was sold off. It was the first thing that had come to mind: the cops stole it. Search and seizures. Rings of corrupted shitheads that stole goods from evidence to sell them off.

She didn't trust cops as far as she could throw them.

"I had it, I swear I had it. It…it came in a box and it was…filled with blood. I…I swear."

Sam waved his hands at her, looking like the epitome of calm. "Easy. Settle down and take a deep breath. Why don't you go back and start at the beginning? Okay?"

Shay's throat grew tight and it hurt trying to breath. Alarm was still crawling, painful as ice through her veins, and she wanted nothing more than to shout back, to plead her case that she wasn't insane. She wanted to cry. Instead, she followed Sam's advice, taking deep breaths to settle her splintered nerves. Slowly, she felt her pulse calm before she began anew.

"I had something in my bag and it was dropped off at my place, literally around midnight. That… package was why I was leaving. My dog went absolutely batshit seconds before someone knocked on my door. I didn't see who it was or anyone around, but the package was there when I opened the door." She groaned softly, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes. "And I'm realizing just how fucking stupid that really was. It could have been a bomb or-or anthrax or something equally insane. Someone could have been waiting me to leave, for all I knew, but here my dumb ass thought it was an Amazon package I'd forgotten about. So fucking stupid of me. Doesn't help I was drinking last night, either."

She shook her head, ignoring the pounding tempo beating away at the insides of her skull. "I brought it inside, opened the box, and it looked like it was all duct-taped on the inside to keep the blood from seeping through the cardboard. There was this key inside the box, covered in blood. It was pretty gross—and-and I knew it was blood, just from the smell. That coppery-metal tang. It kind of freaked me out. I don't know who or what it belonged to. And I'm pretty sure the key was made of gold and some kind of black metal, and it had jewels imbedded in it."

She closed her eyes and on the backs of her lids, she could see the key. Gorgeously crafted, with its swooping arcs and filigreed curves and little intricate designs.

"I…I don't know why I picked it up. Everything was just…blank when I did, and it was only after I finished cleaning it that I started to kinda freak out again. I didn't feel safe, I felt like I was being watched. Everything just felt wrong if I had stayed put. I was on the phone with the emergency operator, had my bags ready to go, I walked through my front door with Kosmo and then…poof. I'm in that house with Kosmo. He flipped out when the other dog showed up, and…yeah. That's how I got caught. Cue the cops taking me away and throwing me in that room soon as we got to the station. That's roughly about it."

It was relatively quiet as Shay wound down from her haphazard little tale. Her appetite waned quite a bit, and not even the diner's constant wafting scents could rouse it back up again. Quiet chatter from other diner patrons faded in and out of focus, peppering the background. Shay replaced her hands around the coffee mug, holding it tight.

"And I realize where I am, dimension-wise. I'm…not in the boring non-magic world where I'm from…am I?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm going to have to say no on that front. And everything you just said, it sounds totally batshit crazy, and if we were anybody else…we probably wouldn't believe you. In fact, we'd probably personally toss you into the looney bin."

"See why I didn't want to talk to the cops? Even I thought I was crazy and…I just went right through it all. I still don't want to believe everything went down the way it did, but I can't really keep holding on to that, can I?"

Would it be too dramatic to start bashing my head into the table? Probably. I should hold off on that.

"That key isn't in my pack anymore. I know it's real, though. I held it in my hands, I picked it up and handled it, I cleaned it up and put it away in my pack."

She half-heartedly peeked into the open lip of her pack again, feeling crummier than she had minutes ago. Shay slowly began to repack all her things back into her bag. She stole glances around the diner, saw that nobody else seemed to notice her or her little tirade either. Her cheeks flushed as she ducked her head back down again and finished up.

"Do you think the cops took it? Kept it, or something?" It wouldn't surprise Shay in the least if that's what happened. Her thoughts flashed back to the possibilities once again. Someone owed money to some sleazebag and selling a bunch of trinkets was a surefire way to get that cash. They wanted a taste of the better life.

Something that screwed everyone over except the offending asshole.

There was an awkward pause as the Winchesters exchanged looks. Sam sighed, shaking his head.

"Possibly. We could head back to the station, try to get more information about it. They must have done an inventory on your belongings."

"What if that thing is the reason I got here in the first place? Is it possible it could be used to send me back? It was like, a fucking portkey."

She was willing to grasp onto any theories. Anything at all to get her back to where she belonged. She nearly missed the little twitch from Dean, questions gleaming in his eyes.

Almost.

"What the hell is a portkey?"

"It's from Harry Potter," Shay sighed, turning her attentions to Dean. Sam bobbed his head in agreement when the older Winchester glanced at him for confirmation. She continued on, "It's a magically imbued object that transports the user to a predetermined location once they touch it. Except they don't fling you into random universes."

"Oh, well of course. That makes total sense." Dean muttered back.

"It might be the reason you got here, but there's also a chance it might not. We'd have to see it ourselves before we move forward, see what it actually is and what it isn't."

Sam's words made Shay want to curl up into a ball and not ever get up. The possibility that it could all be nothing but a wild goose chase did little to put her doubts to rest.

"So, what, are you saying it could be a coincidence? That there's something else at work and that key is just…an unfortunately timed fluke?"

"Not necessarily," Dean interjected. "But yeah, it's also possible that maybe it is. I'm kind of doubting it being that, though. A box of blood with a golden key stuffed inside of it? Kind of screams some weird crazy magic or curse, but what kind, we don't know. Except for the fact that it was in your universe, where magic tends to be null and void."

"Right. And as of right now, there's just not enough information," Sam added with a decisive nod. Shay's gaze dropped as she offered a small nod of her own. She could understand that road of logic. She stole another sip from her mug, the coffee now borderline cold.

"Uh…I got something else to say," she said, clearing her throat. "I'm…I'm sorry about the other day. The whole 'fuck you' thing, Dean. I just…was wigging out, you know? I didn't really comprehend all that was going on."

She managed to keep a level gaze with Dean without flinching. He held her level gaze for a long time before he gave her a shrug of the shoulders.

"Water under the bridge for now, considering your situation. Gotta hand it to you, though. You were starting to make the cops sweat and not the other way around."

The levity from the two, along with the flash of a grin from Dean, made Shay feel slightly better. And somewhat safer. The fleeting ghost of a smile threatened to pull at the corners of her lips. Instead, she tucked into her coffee, draining the mug clean. The waitress deigned to pass them by at that moment, as if she had timed her arrival. She began putting down plates of food before them all. Shay's hunger returned with a vengeance and after her mug was refilled, she dug into her burger with zeal.

Halfway through their meal, an alarmed thought jolted through her. "Uh…I know I probably don't have any right to ask, but…do you think it's possible for me to get a ride to the local pound? I…I need to bust my dog out."

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Kosmo was miraculously unharmed. He practically knocked Shay down the moment he was set free from the confines of his kennel, paws stepping all over her, tongue lashing against whatever he could get at. She spluttered and dropped down to her knees, pulling the dog into a fierce embrace.

"Kozzie, it's okay! Mama's here, baby. Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to get you involved in this crazy ride. We're gonna go now, okay? We're going, we're gone, I promise."

She didn't bother putting on his leash. He followed after her with an extra bounce in his step as he trotted besides Shay. After she paid the fee, they walked out of the pound together, crossing the parking lot over to where Dean had parked. A weight lifted from Shay's shoulders, making every step lighter. Things were absolutely crazy, but it felt easier to face things now that she had her dog back.

Sam stepped out from the car that was most definitely not Dean's Impala, but instead an old Dodge Charger painted in a pleasing shading of dark blue. Sam opened the back door for Shay and Kosmo and gave the dog a scratch on the head. Sam flashed a smile Shay's way.

"Pretty handsome dog," he said with admiration in his voice. "What's his name?"

"Shhh. He'll hear you and compliments like that will just go straight to his head. I don't need his ego getting any bigger than it already is." She grinned, giving a conspiratorial wink to her dog. "And it's Kosmo, with a 'K'. I was thinking if I ever got a girl, I'd name her Wanda."

Sam chuckled as Shay climbed in after her dog. Kosmo laid across her lap the moment she sat down and buckled herself in. He let out a huff of contentment as he settled. Sam pushed the seat back and clambered back into the car. As soon as the door shut, Dean pulled out of the parking spot.

"Make sure that mutt doesn't tear up my seats back there, all right? Bad enough it's shedding all over the place."

"His name's Kosmo, and he'll behave."

Dean snorted in doubt but thankfully said nothing further on the matter. The old Charger roared to life and they were zipping out of the parking lot.

A coil of apprehension slithered into Shay's gut as the police department came into sight. She honestly didn't want to return, to step foot into the place and risk being snatched back up and thrown in a cell once again. The thought made her skin crawl.

The reward of finding out where that key went was too great to pass up. Even if the worst-case scenario resulted in a bogus trip, Shay held on to the hope that she was right. That she wasn't crazy, that she would be absolutely vindicated.

The longer she played things out in her head, the more the theories piled on top of one another, over and over and over again. And the longer she thought on it, the more convinced she became that the key had indeed yanked her from one reality and unceremoniously deposited her into another. This place she's found herself in was a reality that by all rights should be a world of fiction and not factual, functional, and above all else, tangible.

Monsters and gods and demons and angels, oh my. This is definitely not the reality I would have chosen to go to. Why couldn't I just meet the ninja turtles? That would be more fun. We could have pizza and just fucking chill out.

Dean swerved into the police department's parking lot, the Charger grinding to a smooth halt. Shay began to undo her seatbelt, but as Sam swung open the door and clambered out, he leaned back in to address her.

"Maybe you should stay back, you know? We don't want you to push your luck right now. We'll go in and see what we can dig up."

A wave of raw and primal relief washed over Shay at his words, and yet she hated it at the same time.

"Are you guys sure?" Uncertainty crept through her voice, hesitant doubt gripping her tightly.

"Worst case scenario, we'll have to find a way to snoop around and see what happened, if someone really did swipe that thing from your bag. We'll try not to take too long." Dean added as he pulled himself out of the driver's seat and began to fidget at his suit. He pocketed his keys and waved at Sam to follow. The slam of the door signaled a finality in the decision.

Shay slumped in her seat, closing her eyes and running a hand over Kosmo's head. The simple motion soothed her tattered and anxious nerves. He issued forth another deep sigh but did little else. She saw him tilt his head slightly, cinnamon-bright eyes watching her warmly. Shay scratched behind his ears with the one hand, pulled out her phone with the other. She tried to connect to any one of her online social media profiles—Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr—but nothing would come up. Her profiles wouldn't load. Her posts, her everything, gone like smoke. Her SIM card had been rendered virtually useless. She had no foundations, no ties, no…life.

No. No, that wasn't the worst thing in the world.

Her connection to her family and her friends…that was the worst thing about this all. She could read shit posts all she liked.

She couldn't call her bestie up and cry her eyes out to her. She couldn't text her mother for advice.

She couldn't ask her stupid ex to send her pictures of their kids to her to cheer her up.

She couldn't reach any of them. Not here.

That was the worst part of it all.

The sheer, absolute disconnection came crashing down all around her and a violent tidal wave washed over her. The waves of emotion crested so high, she was almost certain she'd never find a way back to the surface for clarity.

The reality sunk in as painfully as barbed wire wrapping around her limbs, her torso, her throat. Tighter and tighter it wound, the needle-sharp points piercing through.

I'm…alone.

And the only allies she had were a pair of brothers who she was almost sure low-key hated her guts and not for who she was, but from where she came from. How she knew about them. Everything.

Shay promptly popped the back door open and puked up her lunch as it all crashed down on her just how fucked she truly was.

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The motel room was deafening in its silence, not unlike the death echoes of a gunshot's aftermath. All Shay could really hear was a faint ringing in her ears that stubbornly persisted. The television was on, but it may as well have been on mute to her. The buzz of electricity that powered the lights had faded as well. Even the quiet thump of Kosmo's tail as she absentmindedly scratched at his belly fell silent to her ears. The room seemed dull and washed out of its colours as her thoughts continued ramping up.

Dean and Sam sat at the little table, quietly discussing their strategy. From the sounds of things, they had nothing further to go on even after that. Shay had tuned them out after that, just like everything else.

She closed her eyes, finding solace in the blackened backs of her eyelids. It was a strange kind of comfort. There was nothing to worry about, no monsters or demons or any other sort of beast ready to come out from the shadows. There was no haunting reality in which any of that existed. If she kept her eyes closed, and held on to Kosmo, it would be just the two of them. Things made more sense with her eyes shut tight.

If she opened her eyes, she'd be forced to recognize the drastic change of her reality. She'd be forced to acknowledge it, because the Winchesters were real, and if they were real, then so was everything else. Lucifer and God, leviathans and angels and demons and werewolves and ghouls and reapers and more, oh so much more.

Eventually, she had to face this new reality. She had to open her eyes. She shot a glance where Sam and Dean sat at the table, flipping pages through what she could only assume was the late John Winchester's journal. Sam's computer was also up and running, the glow of the screen bathing him in its soft light. Kosmo flopped upright on the bed beside her, tongue dangling out as he began to pant, a doggy grin painted across his dark muzzle.

He swiveled to look at the Winchesters with sharp intensity before hopping off the bed and joining the two men. Sam patted his head, distracted for only a moment. Dean waved a hand at the dog, telling him to get away. Shay clapped her hands, directing Kosmo to come back to her.

He did no such thing and instead darted toward the motel door, tail wagging slightly.

"You need to go out, bud?" she asked of him softly. His head tilted to the side; his telltale sign. She got up, stretched, and snatched up his leash sitting on the bedside table.

"Be right back. Gotta take the dog out."

"Come right back when he's done, all right? Don't go wandering off."

"Roger that," Shay sighed, waving over her shoulder as she and Kosmo slipped out of the room. Not like I have any other place to be. Or a way to get out of town.

The room the Winchesters had was on the first floor, and the closest patch of grass wasn't too far off the property line past the parking lot. Kosmo practically dragged Shay across the lot and sniffed at the stretch of grass before his hips dipped and he began to pee. Shay looked away, keeping a tight grip on the ravel of leash in her hand. A few cars passed by on the road. The sun was hidden behind the grey of overcast clouds, yet it wasn't that chilly. It wasn't too warm, either.

It was surprisingly balmy and light. A mild day Shay would have otherwise enjoyed.

She found no comfort in the weather's agreeable disposition.

Kosmo pulled tightly on his leash, trying to drag Shay in the direction he wished to go. She complied, letting him sniff about before he chose a spot to finish his bathroom business. When he was done, he came back to her side. She patted his head, a hint of a smile painting itself on her face. She clucked her tongue and led the way back to the room.

Almost as soon as she walked in, attention was drawn to her. Sam called and waved her over.

"Hey, c'mere a minute. Look at this."

Curious, Shay slowly came around, looking between him and his computer screen and Dean.

"Is this what that key thing looked like?" Sam motioned to the screen, and Shay frowned, then shook her head.

"No. No, it's not. It…it looked kinda like a peacock, you know? With the little feathered crest and stuff. And there was this, like…circular background behind it."

She made a vague motion over her head, grinding her teeth when he merely furrowed his brow back at her. She paused long enough to unclip Kosmo from his leash, then scurried over to her backpack, yanked out her iPad tablet, worked through the motions, and then chose Procreate. She scribbled away at the screen, dashing her tablet pencil over a fresh canvas, trying to portray what she could remember about the missing key. When she was done with a rough sketch, she turned the iPad around, presenting the Winchesters with her drawing.

"It looked kinda like this, if it helps."

Dean huffed out a soft breath, brows raised as he nodded his head.

"Not half-bad, Shackleford." he remarked.

"Um. Yeah, my name's not Shackleford. It…" she paused and sighed, shoulders slumping. "I prefer Shay. Kind of an old nickname, if you don't mind."

"All right, then, Shay. Lemme see that drawing, I'll try to match it up, see what we can find."

Shay deposited her iPad down on the table gently beside Sam's laptop, then backed up and returned to her seat on one of the beds. It was almost an hour before Sam let out a sound of triumph. Shay perked up and he motioned for her to come over. She rounded over to his side, frowning apprehensively as she did.

Excitement was quick to bloom inside of her when she saw the picture displayed on Sam's computer screen, however.

"That's it! That-that's the key!" she cried out, before she felt things dull down a bit. "This is the key, but this picture…? It doesn't have the gold veins. This looks outdated."

"What do you mean?" Sam pressed. Shay inhaled deeply and expelled just as slowly. She motioned to the photograph on his screen, then to her rough sketch.

"The black metal here, and here, it had some gold veins running through it. Have you ever heard of kintsugi?"

The creases in Sam's brow deepened, while Dean tilted his head at her.

"What the hell is that?"

"Kintsugi." Shay pronounced slowly; her attention briefly drawn to Dean. "It's Japanese. It's a method of repair for broken things like pottery, using gold to fuse things back together. It's, uh, supposed to be seen as a thing of beauty in the midst of destruction. The key looks like it had suffered breaks in the past, and it was fused back together with gold to match the rest of the key. This looks like it might've been taken a while ago."

She motioned toward the picture once more, dashing invisible lines here and there.

"It kind of crisscrossed here and here, and over here too. Honestly, I don't even think it was a functional key, not with the way the teeth were designed. The key looked more decorative, like it was a piece of art shaped like a key. I mean, you can see that yourself. It's too ornate for function, it's all about the form."

Sam gave a half-hearted nod before he dove back into things. Dean's attention refocused on Sam in the interim.

"It says here that this piece of art—" Sam gave Shay a sly glance. "—was a part of an art collection, designed by a sculptor…wow, a couple hundred years ago. There isn't anything suggesting it being broken, but it does say it was modeled loosely after the phoenix. So, not a peacock."

"I guess that makes sense, too," Shay mumbled quietly. If she squinted, she could almost see a resemblance of a phoenix to modern day depictions. In fact, her mind drifted more towards the Harry Potter version.

"Is there anything suggesting it might be more than just a piece of art?" Shay enquired, going off of a gut feeling that there was more to it than a simple piece of art.

"Uhhh, yeah. It's claimed that it could open gateways to different worlds beyond this one, if used correctly, and it could give the user the ability to cross over between them, if they knew how to do so. And get this, the original creator disappeared shortly after they finished making this piece, and so did the key for quite some time. It only recently resurfaced about a hundred years ago, and since then, the key has changed hands almost on a continuous basis—mostly private collections, but it's made its way into museums here and there—up until a few years ago."

"Well, I do know that I am not in that elite club of interdimensional travelers or the upper one-percenters. Do I look like I belong in Stargate or Star Trek or whatever?" Shay snorted derisively, her lips tugging downward. When neither of the Winchesters answered, she made a soft noise at the back of her throat. "I just…happened to be the one it bumped into this thing. I-it's like a real-life fucking Keyblade. And now it's gone."

"Cops claimed there was no such thing in the inventory of your things. We even checked the logs ourselves; we never saw it listed. You can't find it in your things, either. What they did find was a 9mm pistol hiding at the bottom of your backpack, and a switchblade in your duffle bag. And a freakin' hatchet on top of all that." Dean pushed; there was a slightly amused smirk painted across his face as he glanced at Shay.

Embarrassment rushed through her, hot and quick. "I'm not getting any of that back, am I? And what kind of woman doesn't own a hatchet?"

"Not the normal kind, and you sure as shit ain't normal." Dean shot back with a snort.

Shay hummed a noncommittal response back, unwilling to argue or press the issue any further. She also wasn't sure how to take that comment. Was he negging her or was he complimenting her?

She wasn't entirely sure she wanted an answer.

Her previous excitement wilted as she promptly remembered the source of it in the first place: it was her key, quite literally, to get back home to her reality.

To leave this universe, to go home and never see the Winchesters again.

Not in person, at least.

Guilt was quick to come back with vengeance, gnawing away at her insides. Nausea wasn't too far behind the guilt and the urge to puke again rose at the back of her throat.

Shay was beginning to wish she had never even heard of Supernatural.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out before she could even stop herself. She found herself compelled to stare at the ground, even when she felt two pairs of eyes boring into her.

"I'm sorry about everything I know and…about you guys. It's…weird. Knowing you guys are real, in a separate dimension from mine. I…I didn't really even think the theory of a multiverse was actually real, and now it just might be and I—"

"Stop," Dean cut in sharply. "Just…stop."

Shay clamped her mouth shut, shoulders riding up defensively. She could hardly meet his gaze. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides.

"There wasn't any way you could have known. And…you don't seem like the crazy fan-type that's fawning over us and shit."

"Don't…don't make excuses for me." Shay still couldn't meet either of the Winchester's gazes. "It doesn't make it any less okay."

"What're you supposed to do, then? Abstain from everything that might be fake?"

"Fuck man, I don't know! I just…." Shay cut herself off, hands balling up into tight fists. She paced away from the table and across the room, then swiveled on her heel to double back. "I just…I-I'm sorry, okay? I…I know that I probably know things I shouldn't and it's probably awkward as hell, and…"

Shay paused once more, holding her tongue, trying to quickly articulate things as quickly as she could without revealing too much. Without stumbling all over her words and twisting her tongue into knots.

"I don't even know how far along things are with you guys, and…I'm afraid to ask, and I don't want to fuck things up for y'all. I can't…reveal things ahead of time and change timelines. It could hurt things or people o-or do worse. I don't want to be the one that ruins things. That destroys everything."

Her face was growing hot and the skin around her eyes was tightening with stress. A lump threatened to clog up her throat, and paired with the dryness in her mouth, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry in a dark corner.

Suck it up, cupcake. Stop being such a little fucking bitch. Don't you dare break down in front of them.

"I don't know what to do, without hurting you guys. I want to help, do…something worthwhile instead of just being useless here, but I'm afraid I'll fuck everything up instead." She wasn't even sure how she could help. Shay knew, deep down in her gut, that opening her mouth further would result in utter disaster. Especially since she didn't know how deep in the shit the Winchesters really were—and it felt wrong asking point-blank.

The guilt shredded her apart from the inside out the longer she lingered on the matter at hand. She simply couldn't just drop the issue or forget about it.

Her only hope now was to recover the key so that she could return back to her home reality as quickly and efficiently as possible. And after that…she'd have to find a way to destroy the key, so no one else could jump ship and barge in on their lives like she had. Sam and Dean alone deserved that much from her. Especially now that they were, without a doubt, the genuine real deal. Even if no one else from her universe knew the truth, Shay would. That alone was enough to have her swear off anything and everything Supernatural-related.

Shay simultaneously had to wonder just how many universes she once believed to be fictional that were in fact real, right down to their cores, their bones, their structures. Did that mean the Doctor was real? Floating about, in his little blue box across time and space? Was the Lion King real? Or Game of Thrones, for that matter? Or what about—

"We'll figure it out. We've still got the time—"

Shay shook her head, raising a hand of dismissal to whatever Sam was prepping up to say. Reluctantly, he fell silent, and it gave Shay enough time to gather her own words. A part of her raged on, telling her to forget about hypotheticals, possibilities. It couldn't do jack shit for her right now.

"I know too much, and that makes me a liability for you both, the longer I'm here. I could end up being a source of information if anyone found out about me or where I'm from. I don't want to hurt you or Dean or anyone else on your side. Please…we have to find a way to end it, to send me back."

She needed more than anything to focus on that alone.

Fear had a funny, strange way of inspiring people to hurry their asses up. Shay already felt like the White Rabbit, and she was very, very late on that update.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Notes: I think we've all had prolonged existential crisis for almost two years now, right? Pretty sure.