A/N; BEWARE

This isn't just a Supernatural story. This fanfiction will span across different fandoms and media types, so stay, have a cup of tea, and find a chapter that includes the fandom you like. If you're just curious about other fandoms, you can follow, and explore them with us.

This is a shared account so there are 2 lovely authors. We don't own the cover or any of the fandoms.

Reviews are love, just let us know if you're interested or if you like it. Constructional criticism is welcome as well.

With love,

DragonXeona and MsThunderSkies

I already knew today would be awful. I woke up to a father not even out of bed. It's the same thing every morning; he wakes up late, blames me and I have to figure out a way to get myself to school. So I had to drag his ass out of bed and make breakfast for the both of us. And then, he left for work without so much of a thank you, handing me a credit card, a silent message for me to take an Uber. That always made me nervous, but at least we lived in a boring town in Iowa, where the chances of my Uber driver being a serial killer or rapist was 40% less. I know it's morbid, but if there was any day to be kidnapped, it was today. I did not want to start at this stupid, suburban private school. With the stuck up, probably homophobic, upper-middle class white dorks. A city of Bella Swans, without Kristen Stewart's attractiveness.

I close Wattpad as the driver rolls into the parking lot. I look at the digital map on my phone, and make my way to the freshman's hallway. It's on the third fucking floor. Walking into the hall, I take in my surroundings. There's maybe a total of 45 students. In. My. Entire. Grade. 'I'm never gonna find a friend here!' I find my locker that reads, "Atla Khoja" between "Morgan Davis" and "Johnathan Dodge." I turn to my right, there's a girl my height, about 5'4 or 5'5. She has blonde hair that falls in waves a few inches past her shoulders. It's silky and very well put together. She is obviously Morgan. 'She's pretty, I hope she's nice. It'll make this year a bit more tolerable.' To my left I see Jonathan. He's basically a stick, tall with a mop of curly red hair. Morgan smiles at me, then turns away to talk to some of her friends. Jonathan slams his locker and walks with his books over to a group of guys, all of them glued their phones. 'Wow, not even a hello. Asshole.' Nobody seems to be even the slightest bit interested in making their way to class.

I sigh and look at my schedule. 'Damn. I fucking hate english.' I love writing and reading, but grammar is horrible. Mostly because I suck at it. On top of that, English teachers are all failed authors who are over enthusiastic and have read Pride and Prejudice one too many times. 'I'm just gonna go to class, no point in talking to anyone.' Now, I'm not one of those emo, loner kids, I'm just a little overwhelmed, and don't feel like socializing. I miss my old school, my friends. But this is my life now, might as well live it.

The English room is cold as hell. As expected, it's practically empty. I would never admit it, but I let out a small sigh of relief. 'Thank god, I can't deal with that many people.' There is only one other person in there, a girl writing furiously in a notebook, and sitting about as close to the front of the room as possible. To her slight left is the teacher's desk and directly in front of her is the whiteboard. She looks up at me for a second with comically large eyes, as if she's never seen another person in her life. She makes intense eye contact, I'll give her that. I suddenly started to feel very uncomfortable, and as if to comfort me, she buried her face right back into her notebook. 'Does she seriously have nowhere else to be twenty minutes before class started?' She's either new, or very, very sad. I sit at the desk in the back corner of the room, as far away from her and the teacher, as I can. Look, she might be perfectly pleasant, but I am not in the mood for conversation. As I passed her desk, I snuck a peak at her notebook (I'm chaotic neutral and privacy doesn't exist in my family so bite me) I couldn't see exactly what she was writing, but I could tell she had small, messy script. I've learned that handwriting says a lot about a person, and her page was an absolute mess. With little sections that look like poetry, others that looked like offhand reminders to herself, and giant blocks of text that probably were class notes or something.

I play on my phone, trying not to look up at her. She occasionally would stand up and walk around talking to herself before sitting back down and writing. I noticed she had earbuds that disappeared into her pocket, most likely connected to her phone. 'I wonder what she's listening to. Are we even allowed to listen to music?' When she stands up, you can see that she's quite short. She has big brown eyes and her short bob cut frames her round face. She has that half cute, half dorky look about her. Her skin is tanner than most, but not nearly as dark as mine. 'She doesn't look latina, so maybe a North Indian descendant, or possibly Pakistani.' The girl stands up again and skips in a circle like motion with her eyes trained on the ceiling, words forming on her lips, but no sound. She falls deathly still, and she turns her head, gaze landing on me. She smiles, and walks over to me. Her hands are together in front of her stomach and she's picking her cuticles nervously. I can tell she's sort of shy, but at least she's making an effort to be friendly. 'She's already got an "ok" in my book.' She's certainly trying harder than I am.

"Hi!" She says. Her voice is bubbly, but soft. As if she's afraid of waking a baby.

"Sup." I reply. She smiles joyfully.

"The sky!" Wow. That was lame.

"Uh huh." I respond.

"I'm Rowan. Our english teacher is Mr. Kennedy. He's kind of annoying sometimes, and he's always late, but he gives really easy tests and is sort of one of those, 'If you fail, you fail, not my problem' kinda guys. Which I think is nice because I don't like it when my teachers are bothering me about stuff. I prefer to just sort of work hard to figure things out on my own. You know?" She rambles. This is all actually helpful information. It's not small talk, she's genuinely trying to comfort me.

"Um, yeah I think I agree?" She smiles and nods.

"I had him last year for eighth grade english. He's pretty alright. Oh, and for lunch the tacos are good, but the quesadillas are nauseating. And we don't really have official popular kids, but there's a table you sit at if your… I don't wanna say basic, cause that's kinda mean, but, yeah, basic. And then a separate table if you wanna sit with table A, but aren't officially part of the group. If one of them is absent they'll invite someone from that table to sit with them." Jesus that's creepy. "And then the rest of the tables are for smaller friend groups that just stay out of the drama." I nod. This is all extremely useful.

"Anyway, see ya." She walked back to her desk just as the rest of the freshman period A english class walked in and broke the comfortable silence. She didn't seem so bad. A little talkative for my taste, but overall pretty ok. She was here in eighth grade? But she sat alone. Weird.

I raised my hand again. The teacher was displaying his classic english teacher mug, which had the opening lines of a bunch of books on them. He had just read the quote, "If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth." And asked if anyone knew what it was from. I did. I read The Catcher in the Rye in 6th grade. I didn't enjoy it very much. It was sad, and confusing. Maybe if I reread it now I'd get more out of it. "Rowan," he called on me.

"Uh, I read it, it's called er," I blanked, "Um..." He revealed the title, to be Catcher in the Rye. Ugh, I hate that. Fucking social anxiety. I was getting better, the way I walked up and talked to that girl was way impressive for me. She obviously thought I was delusional, but I'm doing my best not to care. First days are hard. Overwhelming. It'll get better. I'm hoping if I say it enough, it'll come true.

When class is dismissed, I struggle with my books, shoving them into my bag, and I end up being the last out of the classroom besides the same girl with poofy, long hair. I always envied that kind of hair. She wouldn't look bald in a ponytail, and if she didn't shower for a day it wouldn't look like she dunked her head in grease. She probably was the only kid in the grade with darker skin than mine, (There's a biracial African American kid with about the same shade, but I don't think I've ever spoken to him.) She's probably two-ish inches taller than me, and a little bit thinner, with cheekbones instead of my stupid baby face. Jesus, I need to stop comparing myself to others. It's really not good for my self esteem. I silently hoped she was going to a different class than me, because I was already semi afraid of her, but nope. She turned the corner to the biology room with me. Since we were the last ones there, we took the only two available seats, in the front (which she didn't look happy about.)

"Ok kids, I don't wanna just jump into lectures on the first day, and I have some things to set up anyway, so why don't you just talk amongst yourselves for a few minutes?" Great. I look at her for a moment, and see the same annoyance that I assume was displayed on my face reflected back at me. Without a word, we both pull out our phones, (And also my notebook) and begin to ignore each other. Right before the bell rings, the teacher gives us a quick assignment, to do some relaxed research on the parts of a cell before class on wednesday.

Walking out of class I spot the girl I met earlier. , "So… You wanna exchange numbers?"

"Sure." I gave her mine, and she typed it in and texted me.

"Atla." She says. I nod.

"That's pretty. I'm Rowan. Khan."

"Khoja, for my surname." I push in the contact info.

"Alright. You wanna work on it in person or over the phone?" She asks nonchalantly.

"Well, I have to stay after school anyway cause my Mom works late, so how about we meet up at the library after the last period?" Atla nods. Maybe even a little excited.

"Yeah that sounds good. I've been meaning to check out the library." I smile.

"Yeah, that's probably the best thing about a private school, it's got way more books and comfy chairs than what my old public school had the budget for." I remember the tiny library at Loveton Middle. Jesus that was small.

"You went to public school?" Atla asked, almost as if she saw that as a redeeming quality for me. I couldn't blame her.

"Yeah, when I first moved to Iowa in seventh grade. My mom didn't like it so I moved here last year." Atla nodded in understanding. She must have a similar story.

"My dad and I just moved here from Boston. He said if we lived somewhere smaller, we'd have more time to spend with each other."

"That's nice." I smile, but I have a feeling that she wasn't too on board with this plan. She nods, then says see you later. She heads off in the opposite direction, whilst I was left to make my way to Geometry.

At lunch I was hoping to sit by Rowan. Because she seemed kind of a loner, and it's nice to have a fellow loner to sit next to so you don't look like a complete loser. But when I walked into the cafeteria, she was nowhere to be found. So I went outside, and sat on the curb to eat my taco 'Not bad.' I put my tray back in the cafeteria, then wandered around outside for the rest of my lunch period. I had a study hall for my fourth period, so I just hung around the courtyard until history.

'Thank god, last class of the day!' It was shockingly interesting and I like my teacher, Ms. Samuels. By the end of the period, I genuinely thought I had learned something. Which is rare for me in school. I almost forgot about meeting Rowan before I saw her grabbing her backpack and a shit ton of books and heading in the direction of the library. Her locker, which read "Rowan Khan" was between, "Laura Henry" and "Charlie Mann" Both of them towered over her, Laura being probably 5'6 and Charlie being maybe 5' 10. A bunch of girls were crowded around Laura, and I could see Rowan struggling to get past them. I saw her mouth form the words excuse me. But no one seemed to hear her. She looked around annoyed and seemed to resolve to just wait until they moved. 'This is ridiculous.' I slammed my locker shut and marched over to her.

"Hey! Move!" I yell.

"Oh! Sorry." A girl with long, dirty blonde hair giggles, and the way is cleared. Rowan and I walk down the hall, and she smiles at me, relieved that I'm somewhat cool. Probably not something she's used to going to a school like this.

I am ultra relieved that Atla was able to get those kids to move. If she hadn't come along, I would've been waiting there for who knows how long. We walk into the library, and my breath hitches. Shivers run up and down my spine. I love this room. It has two floors, and it's bookshelves double my height. With little obscure desks and comfy chairs to read in between the shelves. Last year, I discovered a bay window with a desk in front of it in the poetry section. I'm one of the only kids who actually reads the poetry books, so it's basically mine. I led her to that area, and sat in my spot. She sits across from me, and we both pull our laptops out of our bags.

"Parts of the cell." She mumbles. We find some diagrams and draw them in our individual notebooks. We write down some vocab words, and then decide we've basically completed the assignment. I get up to look around for books to check out, and she does the same.

"Hey, Rowan?" She calls from a few isles over, and I resist the urge to shush her. I walk over to her, in the Y/A fantasy section. She's looking through the Rick Riordan books.

"What's up?" I ask. She looks at me uncomfortably.

"Well… It's just sort of weird, but I'm a huge Rick Riordan fan." I nodded. I'd read all of the Percy Jackson books, and loved them, but never got a chance to explore much outside of that.

"And?" I ask, a little confused.

"Well, I noticed this book over here, The Missing Library, and it's not a real book."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, the book doesn't exist. I looked it up." I stared at the book, wedged between "Blood of Olympus" and "Magnus Chase" I reached up, and tried to pull it off the shelf. It didn't budge. Atla tried, and she couldn't either. Finally, with our combined strength, and clearing a few of the other books on the shelf, we were able to pull it down.

"Oh fuck." Escaped my mouth before I could stop it. I shit you not, like some scooby doo episode, the shelf like, compacted into itself, and revealed a secret staircase.

"Sorry, are you seeing this mindfuckery too?" I ask glancing over at Rowan, who stood looking down the narrow and dark staircase with her eyes the size of tennis balls and her mouth open slightly.

"Ok, yes, I get it, this is insane, now focus so we can figure out what the fuck this is!" I shake her shoulders. Her eyes snap up to mine.

"Uh, I don't know?" We stare at each other for a second. We both know where this is going. We are going to go down that staircase. And we are gonna figure out whatever the hell this is. Smiling to herself, she walks cautiously down the steps, using her phone flashlight to guide us both. The stairs are so fucking long and I'm throughly creeped out. So, I count our steps. I'm at 163 before she stops.

"Finally." I grumble. We're in a pitch black room, probably like 80 feet underground. There's a weird wind shift every few moments.

"Is there a light?" She asks, waving her phone around. We feel the walls for a switch. I discovered a large lever. 'Ah, what the hell. Nothing interesting ever happens to me anyway.' I yank it down. The walls start to make a humming sound and the lights come on. Rowan hums in happiness, and my heart stops. We are standing, in an absolutely enormous library. With shelves and shelves of books going in every direction ahead of us, and with fog obscuring the ceiling, ladders line the shelves, and they seem to extend on forever. We can't see where the light is coming from, but I assume it's wherever the ceiling is.

"This… It can't be real…" She mumbled, walking like a zombie towards the shelves, holding her hand out as if she expected that she would just go through them. The two of us explored the room. We climbed up two adjacent ladders, and found the top of a shelf, labeled "The internet" it seemed to be the source of the whooshing sounds. There was a consistent dropping of pages into different books. I picked up one and started reading the words as an invisible force wrote them.

"This is… everything that is being written on the internet right now…" I whisper, completely awestruck. She looked over my shoulder at the book and didn't respond.

So now, after you've washed your face thoroughly with the clindamycin, I put a dot of tropical ointment on my finger and spread it.

And then the asshole blocked me! Can you believe it?

Dude Dude! To the right! Go to the right! Fuck nooooo! Ugh we were so close.

"This is like, everything posted on the internet, maybe even written down period." I say. I look at Rowan shaking her head.

"No, I think… Some of these over here… They're people's lives. Unrecorded lives. It's like, every event and moment is being documented here." I shudder at this idea.

"So like, every time someone takes a shit, their shit is recorded in this library?" Rowan shakes her head.

"No, I don't think so, if it wouldn't be written about in a story, then it's not documented. So like, a person's first time having sex may be documented, but only in certain detail, and not every time. And it seems to change, different invisible writers seem to have different personalities."

"This is so fucking weird." I say.

"For sure." We continue wandering around the so far, endless library. At one point, we find an altar that is very well lit. Rowan grabs a random book off the shelf, and opens it on the altar. We stand next to each other, and look down at the pages. Things start to… for lack of a better word, glitch. My sight goes blurry and I feel like I'm wearing a virtual reality headset. Everything is dark, for a moment, absolutely black. My eyes are wide open but there isn't anything to see. I run forward, trying to find a wall. I yell but I can't even hear my own voice. I spin around and find myself standing on a cold dock, late at night. A girl in a bathing suit stands a few meters away from me. She's tall and skinny, and has bruises clawing up her legs. She looks around, before lowering herself into the water. After a few moments, the girl begins to panic. I'm about to rush to her aid, when someone grabs my arm.

"Wait… I know this…" Rowan says cautiously.

"Know what?" I ask, looking at her incredulously, "Where the hell are we?"

"This is when Emily is testing her mermaid abilities. In The Tale of Emily Windsnap. That was one of my favourite series when I was younger." I look at the girl, and soon enough, her legs are replaced by a mermaid tail. I gape at her.

"We're inside a book?" I ask, shaking with excitement. Rowan nods at me. Was this really real? Could we do this with any book? With any movie? Suddenly, we're spit back into the library. We stare at each other for a few moments, mouths agape. The reality of this situation hits us. I start laughing hysterically. "Rowan, do you realise what this means!? Every single thing from the beginning of time is here, in this library, and we discovered it! This is incredible! Texts lost in time! There could be scrolls that had burned in Alexandria down here!" I grab her shoulders and look her in the eyes. "Since we found this place together, we are in this together." We are in an infinitely sized library. Trillions of stories at our fingertips, and we can be a part of every single one. The book we had placed on the Altar (The Tale of Emily Windsnap) flew back to its place. We leaned down and read the carvings.

Every story that has ever been written

Every moment that has been lived

Every adventure taken

It belongs to whomever stands above this altar

History and imagination, are yours to mold

To observe, to play a part in, to lead

Make use of this gift, and fill your life with more joy than anything on the earth can give.

But use it wisely, for if the writers sense your heart is not true, you shall be cast out, this library lost to the ages once again.

I shiver, and look at Rowan. She has tears in her eyes.

Till next time...