Three months.
Three months she was stuck in Bobby's place, ever since she helped the boys kill that chupacabra in New Mexico. Gabriel had been MIA since then, regardless of how many times she had prayed. Castiel seemed to be avoiding her as well, and the boys haven't called in three weeks.
Bobby, naturally, wasn't worried all that much. He assured her that they were probably caught up in a big case and didn't have time. They've gone longer, but even then, that didn't ease Zoe's worries.
And then Zachariah came.
Bobby had left for a hunt, leaving her alone in the house, answering phones, and directing hunters. Jason stopped by once to ask for some help, but they didn't speak much, and Jason left soon after that.
All Zoe had to do was turn around to see Zachariah smiling smugly.
"Zoe," he greeted, extending a hand, "Long time no see. That angel of yours really runs a tight shift with you. Barely let me squeeze any time with you."
Zoe naturally backed away. This wasn't happening. It shouldn't be happening. Zachariah could not be here.
"What do you want?" she asked, backing away from the angel.
"To talk," Zachariah replied calmly, "I'm assuming you know about what?"
She nodded, swallowing down her growing anxiety, "The Apocalypse."
Zachariah waved his hand dismissively, "That name gives it such bad press, you know? What's wrong with paradise on earth?"
She said nothing.
Zachariah sighed, and sat down, "Listen Zoe. Your Winchesters' purpose is the Apocalypse, and you should know that. You know that Michael and Lucifer will get their vessels as soon as Lucifer is released from the cage." He sniffed a glass of wine, and placed it back where it was, "Kiddo, I'm not asking for much. All I want is for you to keep the Winchesters on their path. That's all. I know Dean is stubborn, but I'm sure you can do that, right?"
Before Zoe could say anything, a high pitched noise began to fill the air, and blinding light began to fill the room. The house shook, and a feeling washed over Zoe. Anger. Gabriel was furious. Zachariah glanced up, slightly annoyed.
"I was just talking to her," he assured, "Didn't even lay a…" he paused, nodding his head, "Understood sir."
And then everything went silent. Zoe glanced around, and took a hesitant step forward.
"Gabriel?"
The archangel didn't answer, but that wasn't all that surprising, especially of late.
"Thanks for getting rid of Zachariah, jerk," she added before sitting down on the couch.
If Gabriel didn't want to speak to her, then fine. She could get by on her own. She didn't need him. It's not like the boys hadn't called in a while, and Castiel seemed to be making his visits very brief.
About a week later, the boys showed up. For three weeks they had been working at a company called sandover, without any memory of each other, and dealt with the ghost of the founder. Zachariah apparently wanted to show them that hunting was in their blood. Zoe had to force herself to seem genuinely interested when Zachariah was mentioned. Of course the douchebag was behind it.
And Gabriel still hadn't shown up.
…
About a week after the Sandover incident, the boys caught whiff of a haunting and let Zoe come along. After interviewing some of the tenants they went into the adjoining comic store, to see if the owner heard of anything strange. That's when the boys learned she'd never been inside one.
"You've seriously never been in a comic store?" Dean asked.
Zoe shrugged, "I never got out much back home," she said, "Besides it's not like I had the money to buy comic books."
Dean considered it and entered the store, followed closely by Zoe and Sam.
Wait…she knew this place. And the guy behind the counter.
"Uh... can I help you?" the owner said.
"Sure hope so," Dean said digging into his coat and pulling out his badge, "Agents DeYoung and Shaw. Just need to ask you a few questions."
"Notice anything strange in the building, last couple of days?" Sam suggested.
Zoe looked around, a small collection of Batman comics catching her attention. She managed to catch Dean's eye and held up the comics, but Dean shook his head.
Dammit.
"Like what?" the owner said, confused.
"Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights," Dean offered.
"Uh, I don't think so," the man replied slowly, "Why?"
"What about noises?" Sam added, "Any skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?"
The man was skeptical, and Zoe didn't blame him one bit, "And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?"
"What about cold spots?" Sam asked, "Feel any sudden drops in temperature?"
Something seemed to click, and a wide grin appeared on the owner's face, "I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?"
Shit. She knew this episode. Dammit.
"Excuse me?" Dean asked, now his turn to act confused.
"You're fans," the owner said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Fans of what?" Sam asked.
Dean turned to Zoe, "What is "LARPing"?"
"Live Action Role-Playing," Zoe said.
"And pretty hardcore, too," The man said nodding.
"I'm sorry," Dean said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You're asking questions like the building's haunted," The owner pointed out, "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?"
The brothers shared a look and turned to Zoe who had taken a sudden interest in a Captain America comic book.
"Sam and Dean?" Sam offered.
"That's it!" the owner exclaimed.
Dean glanced at Zoe who was flipping through the comic, completely oblivious to what was happening "You're saying this is a book?"
"Books. It was a series," the man explained, "Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following." He turned to the table labeled bargain bin, and pulled a book, "Let's see. Um... Ah. 's the first one, I think."
Dean examined the book, "Supernatural by Carver Edlund." He flipped it over, and read the back cover aloud, "Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths."
Sam snatched the book from his brother's hands, "Give me that." Then he turned to the man, "We're gonna need all the copies of "Supernatural" you've got."
…
Dean flipped through the copies of the book while Sam researched the author. Zoe began reading Tall Tales.
"This is freakin' insane," Dean said, throwing the book back on the bed, "How's this guy know all this stuff?"
"You got me," Sam said glancing at Zoe who was too engrossed to listen.
"Everything is in here," Dean said, "I mean everything. From the racist truck to – to me having sex. I'm full-frontal in here, dude."
Zoe glanced up from her book, "You mean you aren't?"
Dean shut his mouth, and returned to the books, "How come we haven't heard of them before?"
"They're pretty obscure," Sam said, "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" Ends with you going to hell."
"Awesome episode by the way," Zoe said.
"Did you know about this?" Dean asked.
"I cannot deny nor confirm these allegations," Zoe said, and returned to reading her book.
"Kid," Dean said, "You better start talking or-"
"Dean," Sam snapped, "Leave her alone."
She should tell them.
Then again, she looked forward to meeting Chuck. She liked Chuck. Chuck was awesome.
She'll just help them along. Yes. That's what she'll do.
Dean shot her one last glare and looked at the laptop, "Check it out. There's actually fans. There's not many of them, but still. Did you read this?" Zoe wandered over to the laptop, and poked her head through Sam's arm, "Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this – Simpatico says "the demon story line is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic." Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it."
"Keep reading," Zoe said.
"There are "Sam girls" and "Dean girls" and," Dean paused to squint at the screen, "what's a "slash fan"?"
"As in... Sam-slash-Dean," Sam said slowly, as if the very words pained him, "Together."
Dean took a moment to register this, "Like, together together?"
Zoe nodded and hummed in confirmation. She pursed her lips, and frowned. She hated them. How where they even in the same fandom?
Dean opened his mouth and then closed it, before considering what he was going to say, "They do know we're brothers, right?"
"Doesn't seem to matter," Sam said.
"Oh, come on. That..." Dean paused, at a loss for words, "That's just sick." He closed the laptop, "We got to find this Carver Edlund."
"Publisher," Zoe chirped, "We go to the publisher, and get Ch-Carver Edlund's address and go see him."
Dean glanced at her, frowning, "Why are you so hyped up?"
Zoe grinned, "Because Carver Edlund! They're the last names of the show's writers, Jeremy Carver and Ben Edlund. Hell fucking Yeah I'm hyped up! It's an Easter Egg!"
"You just keep getting weirder and weirder, you know that?" Dean said, before slapping the table, "Let's get to it, then."
…
"So you published the "Supernatural" books?"
The publisher looked a bit nervous and skeptical at the three people standing before her. Two grown men and a smaller younger girl, stood before her. The taller one looked at her expectantly.
"Yep. Yeah. Gosh. These books," She stammered, "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."? Please."
Zoe stepped on Dean's foot who looked appalled at that the publisher's commen about Dr. Sexy.
"Right. Well, we're hoping that our article can," Sam paused, trying to find the words, "shine a light on an underappreciated series."
The publisher readily agreed, nodding her head, "Yeah, yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press then m-maybe we could start publishing again."
"No, no, no, no. God, no. I mean, why-" Dean stopped at a glare from Zoe who stepped up.
"Look, I know we don't seem like much, but trust me, I'm a huge fan," she said, "The books have a lot of potential, and it's a really incomplete series, what with Dean being in Hell and all."
"Oh, my god! That was one of my favorite ones," The publisher cried out, "because Dean was so... strong... and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry. You know, like in – In "Heart," when Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in "Home," when Dean had to call John and ask him for help. Gosh... if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings."
"I know right?" Zoe agreed.
Oh she loved poking fun at the boys.
"Real men?" Dean interrupted offended.
"I mean, no offense," the publisher said, "How often do you cry like that, hmm?"
"Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside," Dean said, a bit disgusted.
The publisher heard, and immediately got defensive, "Is that supposed to be funny?"
Dean scoffed, "Lady, this whole thing is funny."
She wasn't even sure why she was surprised. Dean never liked other people romanticizing hunting.
"How do I know you three are legit, hmm?" the publisher asked.
"We're legit," Zoe assured.
The publisher crossed her arms, "Well, I don't want any smart-ass article making fun of my boys."
Sam racked his brains quickly, and said,"We – We are actually, um... big fans."
"Hmm," the publisher wasn't convinced, "You've read the books?"
"Cover to cover," Zoe said.
Did it count if she's seen all the episodes?
"What's the year and model of the car?" the publisher quizzed.
"It's a 1967 Chevy Impala," Dean answered proudly.
"What's May 2nd?"
"Sam's birthday,' Zoe answered.
"January 24th is Dean's," Dean threw in.
"Sam's score on the LSAT?"
Shit. Both Dean and Zoe looked at Sam for assistance. Sam frowned, trying to comb through year old memories.
"One...Seventy-four?" he trailed off.
"Dean's favorite song?"
"It's a tie," Dean pointed out, "Between Zep's "Ramble On" and "Traveling Riverside Blues."
The publisher studied them for a moment, before a smile appeared on her face, "Okay. Okay. What do you want to know?"
"What's Chuck Shurley's address?" Zoe asked.
This got looks from the Winchesters and the publishers, but at the moment, she wanted to meet Chuck now.
"I'm sorry?" The publisher asked, confused.
"He's my cousin," Zoe explained, "And it's been a while since I last saw him and I figured 'hey, let me check out the publisher and find out. My friends here thought they could interview him and maybe get the books out there."
The publisher frowned, thinking it over, "I guess, I could do that."
"Great!" Dean said, "So where does Mr. Shurley live?"
…
"I thought we were going to have to do a little more," Dean said, "How'd you pull off the whole Chuck Shurley is my cousin crap?"
Zoe grinned, "Because fandom means family. Once we singlehandedly made an episode the most watched episode because of some Bieber fans."
"So you're a cult," Dean said.
She shrugged, "We are the fandom that defends the devil…don't ask."
…
The trio approached the run down house apprehensively. Zoe practically bouncing with joy because Chuck had always been a favorite character of hers, that and the man was God, at least according to popular theory. The boys exchanged a look and shrugged, before ringing the doorbell.
The door opened to reveal an unshaven man wearing an old robe, that Zoe was pretty sure hadn't been washed in a while. She covered her mouth to prevent her loud squeal from deafening the neighborhood.
"You Chuck Shurley?" Dean asked.
"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the "Supernatural" books?" Sam added.
Chuck looked at them nervously, and stammered, "Maybe. Why?"
"I'm Dean. This is Sam," Dean said referring to himself and his brother, "The Dean and Sam you've been writing about."
Chuck gave them another look before closing the door. Dean frowned and rang the doorbell again.
"Look, uh," Chuck paused, struggling to form words, "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."
"See, here's the thing," Dean said forcing himself into the house, "We have a life. You've been using it to write your books."
"Um…Dean," Zoe tried, hoping he would listen.
Not that he did, but it never hurt to try.
"Now, wait a minute," Chuck said shrinking away from Dean, "Now, this isn't funny."
"Damn straight, it's not funny," Dean agreed.
"Look, we just want to know how you're doing it," Sam intervened.
"I'm not doing anything," Chuck defended.
"Are you a hunter?" Dean asked.
Zoe laughed, getting Chuck and the Winchester's attention, "Chuck Shurley? A hunter? No offense to you, Mr. Shurley, but that's rich. He's a writer, Dean."
"Yeah, thanks-"
"Zoe," she offered.
"Then how does he know so much about demons," Dean asked, turning to Chuck again, "And tulpas, and changelings?"
"Is this some kind of "Misery" thing?" Chuck asked, "Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a "Misery" thing!"
"No, it's not a "Misery" thing," Dean said, and lowered his voice, "Believe me, we are not fans!"
"I am," Zoe chirped.
"Well, then, what do you want?!" Chuck cried out.
"I'm Sam. And that's Dean," Sam introduced.
"Sam and Dean are fictional characters," Chuck insisted, "I made them up! They're not real!"
Zoe grinned, "Welcome to my world, Chuck."
"Come on," Dean said and motioned for Chuck to follow him.
They led him outside where Dean opened up the trunk of the Impala and showed Chuck the arsenal of weapons.
The poor man gulped, and said in a weak voice, "Are those real guns?"
Dean nodded, and patted the assorted items, "Yup. This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs."
"Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans," at this point chuck was moving away from them and back into his house, "That's, that's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some posters in the house."
Dean noticed him, and sighed, "Chuck, stop."
"Please. Wait," Chuck said, raising his hands defensively, "Please, don't hurt me."
"How much do you know?" Sam demanded, "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"
"Wait a minute," Chuck paused, "How do you know about that?"
"The question is how do you," Dean said.
"Because I wrote it?" Chuck answered, wondering if he could outrun the Winchesters, but then decided he couldn't.
"You kept writing?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt," Chuck said confused, "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?"
Zoe shook her head. She didn't even know who Phil was. She didn't even know a Phil.
"Well, nice to meet you," Dean said, "I'm Dean Winchester, this is my brother, Sam, and the pipsqueak is Zoe."
"The last names were never in the books," Chuck said, "I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down."
…
Few minutes later found the trio in Chuck's living room. Zoe craned her neck to read Chuck's writing, only to have Sam give her a look of disapproval. She huffed and sat down on the couch, wondering if she could make off with one of Chuck's pencils. How bad of a sin is it to steal from God?
Speaking of Chuck, he just downed a glass of alcohol.
"Oh, you're still there," he said, You're not a hallucination."
To be honest, Zoe felt a little offended at that. A hallucination? Please.
"Nope," she said, giving Chuck a two finger salute.
"Well, there's only one explanation," Chuck said resigned, "Obviously I'm a god."
Zoe held back a laugh, while Sam scoffed, "You're not a god."
"How else do you explain it?" Chuck asked, "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," Dean said motioning to himself.
"I killed your father," Chuck said apologetic, and sat down, "I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica."
"Chuck..." Sam began only to be cut off.
"And you," Chuck said motioning to Zoe, "I took you from your family, dropped you into a world that is crawling with monsters. And the things you're going to go through in the future with that archangel. All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment."
Dean noticed a breakdown coming and quickly intervened, though he wasn't gentle either way, "You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us."
"Did you really have to live through the bugs?" Chuck asked.
"Yeah," Dean nodded.
"What about the ghost ship?"
"Yes, that too," Dean said with a hint of annoyance.
"I am so sorry," Chuck said, practically begging for their forgiveness, "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!" Dean shouted, having had enough.
"We think you're probably just psychic," Sam said.
"No," Chuck disagreed, "If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard."
Zoe nodded in agreement. Hell, she had a bunch of stories back home that she never finished. She always lost inspiration for some reason.
"It seems that somehow, you're just... focused on our lives," Sam explained.
"Yeah, like laser-focused," Dean agreed, "Are you working on anything right now?"
Chuck thought for a moment before he remembered something, and groaned, "Holy crap."
"What?" Sam asked.
"The, uh, latest book?" Chuck said, picking up some papers, "It's, uh, it's kind of weird."
"Weird how?" Sam asked.
"It's very Vonnegut," Chuck explained.
"Slaughterhouse-Five" Vonnegut or "Cat's Cradle" Vonnegut?" Dean asked intently.
"It's, uh, "Kilgore Trout" Vonnegut," Chuck said, "I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house... confronted by my characters."
"You mind if we take this?" Sam asked.
Chuck gave them the manuscript gladly. They thanked him and left, headed towards the laundromat they had spotted on the way. It's been a while since they last washed their clothes.
"So what was that thing Chuck said to you," Dean asked.
Zoe glanced up from her book, not catching the question.
"Chuck said something about you and an archangel," he said, "Care to share with the class?"
The teenager looked at Sam for assistance, but he also seemed interested in her answer. She sighed, closing the book.
"I have a guardian angel, sort of," she added since Gabriel never seemed like the Guardian Angel type, "He's an archangel."
"Which one?" Sam asked.
"Don't know," she lied.
"And you trust him?" Dean asked in disbelief.
"He kicked Zachariah out," Zoe said, "And Zach definitely knew him."
"Wait," Dean said, "You met Zachariah? And you never bothered to tell us this, or that you had an angel on your shoulder?"
"You were busy," Zoe said, "And I didn't think it was important."
"Kid," Dean said, "If something happens, like say an angel shows up, we need to know. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," she said.
No one spoke after throughout the rest of the ride. Dean dropped off most of their things and Zoe, much to her protest, at the motel.
"Consider yourself grounded, young lady," Dean said.
"Sam!" She said turning to said brother who only sighed.
"He has a point," Sam said, "I'm sorry."
…
"Cas? Gabriel? Balthazar?"
No one showed up. Not that she was surprised, they never did.
She sighed, "Gadreel, hey bud. Don't know if you can hear me, what with being in heaven's jail and all. Anyway, thought I might talk to you. Figured you might be lonely. Lord knows I am." She paused, "Got the Winchesters mad at me because I didn't tell them Gabriel is my guardian and all. I'm grounded basically."
"Have you really sunk low enough to contact Gadreel of all people?"
Zoe froze.
"Crap."
She turned to see Balthazar leaning smugly against the wall.