Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters or Supernatural. They belong to the WB and far more talented people than me. But goddess I wish I did own them. The only thing that's mine is Lacey and believe me, she wishes she weren't.

Note: A big Thank You shout out to those who have given me feedback, in whatever form you chose. I honestly appreciate it. Ya'll are fabulous. offers cake

Part 4: Overdose Delusion

I was shocked. Appalled.

My debit card still worked. I kid you not. I checked my account and it existed. Here. What the fuck? I took a guess and assumed my credit cards worked too. They did.

So there I was. Stuck in an obvious alternate reality, but with all my necessities intact. Something was weird. Of course something was weird. This whole situation was completely insane.

Not that I'd knock it. But enough about that. You're going, "Get on with the story!" I am. I just monologue a lot. Hush. It's my head.

It was a few days after I offered my car to the boys. The Bobby guy showed up and I left the things with him without any fuss, much to Sam and Dean's relief. Then I went to stay in a motel, which is where I got to test one of my cards.

Sam had my cell number, and he was nice enough to keep me updated on Dean and Nurse Goodlay. Not really, but you know what I mean. I still want to know where those nurses come from. Are they bred somewhere?

Just what was I doing now? I was on my laptop, which had been in my tote bag since I don't go anywhere without it, and surfing the net for anything that might help me out.

I had no idea what I was looking for. None. But it wouldn't stop me from trying. I didn't want to die by some stereotype monster's hands.

Speaking of which, it had been quiet most of the week. No calls, no warnings, and no taunts. It was starting to worry me. Even more worrisome was that I had stopped researching for the last ten minutes to read fan fiction. I was bored, ok? Sheesh.

So there I was, going through fanfiction dot net and a pop up came onscreen. It was a black square with nothing on it. I scowled and tried to get rid of it. So I clicked the X on the window.

Instead of going poof like a good little pop up, it grew until it filled my screen. I frowned at the now blackened screen and a question faded into sight.

Do you want to play?

Yes / No

Oh hell. I clicked 'no' and the words faded to black again. The image changed and I found myself staring at.. myself. It was my motel room on the screen, as if there were a camera in the room. I turned around in my seat to face the direction the view was coming from, but there was nothing there except a wall. No painting, no strange object that may have a camera, nothing.

I turned back to the laptop in time to see the walls on the webfeed room change. The pale golden yellow darkened and paint began to peel off. Strange symbols formed on the walls as a blood-like substance began to soak through.

I glanced at my walls. Nothing was different.

My eyes went back to the screen and a shadow loomed above the webfeed version of me. It was tall, almost human shaped. Its arms rose and a rusted sword appeared in its hands. It swung down toward me..

I grabbed the laptop, rolled off the chair and onto the floor with a shriek, just as the table was cleaved in half.

There was nothing there. I risked a look at my screen again, but this time the feed was gone and I was staring at the website again.

I was still on the floor staring at my laptop when the door burst open, sending afternoon sunlight streaming inside.

"What happened?"

I looked up to see Sam in the doorway with a shotgun. Huh. They must have gotten their stuff back. Keen.

I smiled weakly at him. "Pop ups are killer."

Would you believe that no one else in the building noticed the noise? Yeah. Real nice neighborhood I was in. Christ.

"Not more than five minutes before I got here, you were attacked by something you could only see on your computer?" Even Sam looked a little wary at that.

"Either that or that table had really shitty construction." I muttered. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true."

Sam sighed and looked at me. I mean really looked. I felt like I was on display in some cheap freak show. I think he was trying to see if I was being honest about everything. "For someone who could have gotten killed, you're taking it pretty well."

"It's not the first time I've come close to dying." I said with a small shrug. I could have been thinking about my previous 'adventures', but surprisingly I was thinking about the wreck that killed my baby. My beautiful baby.

A cherry red 1968 Mustang Convertible.

I missed her so much. See, I too knew the love of the perfect car. I may cry.

I sighed and fell onto my back on my temporary bed. "I'm not saying it's not freaking me out, but what use is it going to be if I get hysterical and start screaming about it? None. So I'll just contain my hysteria behind a nice safe wall of cranky comments and random babble."

Hey, it worked in the past.

I wasn't sure what Sam saw when he looked at me. A crazy person? A liar? I don't know, but whatever it was, it made him quiet for a good while.

"It could be a poltergeist." He suddenly said. "Sometimes they latch on to people."

"Hehe.. Yeah, that's right.. They do. I remember this game where you could latch a chicken polt.." I cleared my throat nervously. "Nevermind."

"Random babble?" Sam quirked a small smile at me.

"I'm special that way. What I lack in cute, I make up for in 'what the fuck'ness. Wait until you hear me sing random Sesame Street songs. You'll want to shoot me." I rolled onto my side so I could get a look at him. "So when is that brother of yours getting out of the hospital?"

"Tomorrow if nothing comes up." He seemed relieved about that. "The doctor says he should take it easy afterward, but that's going to be hard to do, what with everything the way it is."

"Of course." I murmured. And me asking for help wasn't going to help any. Damn it. Guilt trip. Jerks. I needed a happy. I grinned and got off of my bed with a bit of a bounce. It was forced, but I was trying. Kay? "You know what? I'm hungry. Let's go get Chinese food and bring it to the hospital. We can mock your brother with it while he's stuck with hospital food."

"How is that going to help any?" Sam asked me, looking curious.

"It won't, but it'll get us fed and I can get a fortune cookie. Pleeeeeeease? I'll pay." I could feel my credit cards whimpering. They weren't used to being, well, used.

Sam looked unsure. I would have pouted, but I didn't want to be one of those girls. Too old for that. So I tried another tactic.

"You can have the extra cookie?"

"You guys are killing me here!"

Dean was not a happy camper. He was fidgeting, complaining, and being a genuine brat. I think it was because I wouldn't give him any of the potstickers. He looked almost depressed by the hospital meal he had on his tray. I couldn't identify it and I didn't want to risk an arm by picking up the menu listing. Sam looked pretty damn content with his food. Either he was enjoying his brother's misery or he was glad that I gave in to letting him get whatever he wanted. Stupid puppy dog eyes. He's not even my brother. I don't know how that happened.

"Look at it this way," I said and waved my pair of chopsticks at him, "You get.. Oh. No. Huh. You know, I thought I had something to make you feel better, but it was a mistake. My bad." I happily returned my attention to the potstickers with an innocent smile.

I could feel the dirty look Dean was giving me. I'm pretty sure that if he could, he would have lit me on fire. Was it wrong of me to do this? To encourage Sam into doing this?

Maybe, but frankly with all the drama around, I think this was needed. That's something else I've learned.

Make use of the laughter whenever possible. Cherish it. Enjoy it. Do it. Life is too short, no matter what you're doing, not to find the time to be happy.

I noticed Nurse Goodlay walk by the door. So did Dean. His bad mood vanished for a minute. "That's what I get."

"Is she the Happy Meal or the toy?" I asked with an innocent look. Guys. Pigs.

Dean looked like the cat that ate the canary. "Both."

"So she's cheap and everyone can afford her." I ignored the glare Dean gave me, even though Sam chuckled. "You get to play with her and then e-"

Nurse Goodlay chose that moment enter the room. My mouth snapped shut at the unfinished comment and she smiled at Dean. Good lord, we're talking eye sex. I felt dirty just being in the same room as these two. If the looks kept up, I was going to need a cold shower.

Maybe the nurse was a Mary-Sue and I could push her in front of a bus.

She sauntered over to Dean with her flirtatious smile and whispered something to him. His grin got wider.

Sam and I exchanged a look. He shrugged as if to say 'Brothers.'. I rolled my eyes as if to say, 'Somebody shoot me.'

The nurse slipped a piece of paper to Dean and then walked away without another word.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked Dean.

Dean, who had been watching the nurse sashay her hips out the door, seemed extremely pleased with himself. "She's off the clock this weekend and she gave me her number."

"You're supposed to take it easy for awhile." Sam pointed out with a sigh.

"Believe me, I will." That lazy grin remained in check.

I put my carton of food aside and picked up my fortune cookie without making any insulting comments. There were plenty going through my head, but they were in LaceySpeak. Not everyone could understand my language.

The cookie snapped open with a satisfied crispy sound. Oh good. It wasn't stale. I once had a fortune cookie that was so stale and soft that I could open it up and flatten it without breaking it. Gross.

I pulled out the slip of paper and sighed.

Fortune cookies sucked.

Life is a game that you can't win.