So this is a little one-shot that's hopefully somewhat humorous as I do love to write the funny. let me know what you think. thanks again for reading...bambers2
When All Else Fails….
From the moment Sam and Dean's luck had been restored, the younger Winchester had been a mission to win the war against God. If there was a way out of the jam they were in, Dean knew his little brother would find it or research himself to death in the process. While Cas was out searching for any leads on how to win a war that couldn't be won, the Winchesters had been holed up in the bunker. Not that it was the safe haven they once believed it to be, but at least for now it was warm and dry and well stocked with alcohol.
Days upon days, Sam sat in front of his computer, looking up information and cross-referencing anything he found useful with other source material. The long table in front of him was filled to the brim with books the Men of Letters left behind along with their father's journal and books they'd taken from Bobby's house. Whenever Dean mentioned getting some shuteye, Sam would say something along the lines of 'just a few more minutes' or 'I just have to check one more thing', and Dean would find him every morning with his head down on the table, drooling on the books.
Sam was exhausted, they both were, but Dean admired Sam for not giving up without a fight, and so he kept his serious doubts to himself. By the fifth day of nonstop research, Dean was starting to wonder if he tapped Sam's vein would his blood would run a rich coffee brown as he was living on the stuff to keep himself awake.
Dean tried to help, only to be told not to mess with Sam's color coded index cards, files, and facts at a glance rolodex. Maybe it was the coffee that made his brother a little bit – well, maybe more than a little bit crazy, yet he didn't have the heart to tell him that this was a fight they couldn't win. However, even Dean had his limits, and being startled awake by Sam shouting pushed him right over the edge.
"Oh… my God!" Sam shouted for the second time because maybe just maybe he hadn't woken the dead with his first loud exclamation. "How could I have not thought of this days ago when it's all so clear now."
"Found something, Sammy?" Dean uttered, scrubbing a hand down his face then glanced at the time, cursing under his breath when he saw that it was 3:36 in the morning. He sat up in the comfortable recliner he'd dragged into the library the day before, and stretched his arms over his head.
"We can't die, Dean," he said excitedly, and that was definitely the Folgers talking or maybe it was the whiskey. "We're gonna live, and do you know why?"
"'Cause coffee sales would plummet?" Dean covered his mouth with his hand and yawned.
"No, but good guess…very good guess." Sam grinned lopsidedly, jabbing his index finger in Dean's direction. "Try again. Just think about it for a moment and it'll come to you."
"It's 3:30 in the freakin' morning, Sammy. I don't wanna play twenty guesses I wanna be back with the double mint twins which you interrupted right at the best part. So just tell me so I can get back to sleep."
"We're Harry Potter."
"Harry What Now?"
"You know – Harry Potter," he said, gesturing to his computer screen. "The boy who lived?" he added when Dean's eyes narrowed on him in confusion. "He couldn't very well die seven books in, Dean. Then he would be the boy who died, and no one wanted to see that."
"Lemme guess, you switched over from coffee to Jack and his good buddy Jim Beam?"
"I may have had a few drinks," he lifted the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels, peered at it and grinned, "but I'm fine, Dean. Better than fine, I've solved this unsolvable problem."
"So you solved our problem by making us Harry Potter?" Dean brushed a hand through his hair, and scratched at the back of his head. "Did by chance, Harry Potter go up against God and win?"
"No, he went up against Voldemort, but that's not the point."
"Of course it's not the point, why would it be." Dean blew out a heavy breath as he tried to rein in his growing irritation. He didn't want to yell at Sam, not when he was so desperate to find the answers they needed. "Pretend like I don't know anything about Harry Potter at all. You know, like I haven't even read the books, and explain how Voldemort and Harry are gonna win this war for us."
"Well, they're not, Dean. It was just an example…tryin' keep up, okay?"
"So, just so we're clear, we're forgetting about the two of them. They are in no way, shape or form a part of the solution you've discovered."
"Let me try to explain this another way –"
"Sure, why not. I'm up now. Explain away, Sammy."
"Frodo couldn't die," Sam said, raising his arms out to the sides as if he revealed something spectacular.
"Was he in Harry Potter as well, dude, 'cause I gotta tell ya, I'm lost. In fact I've been lost the entire conversation, so I'm stopping to ask for directions."
"Frodo didn't die – Harry didn't die, and that means we won't die, Dean. It's all so perfectly clear when you think about it."
"So…if I'm understanding you correctly, we're not going to die because two fictional characters didn't die." Pushing up out of his chair, Dean lumbered over to Sam, and snatched the bottle of Jack Daniels off the table. He swallowed down a healthy gulp of the whiskey then took another long swallow for good measure. "Maybe if I get as shitfaced drunk as you are, I'll understand it as clearly as you do."
"He's. A. Writer, Dean," Sam said, stressing each word. "He's not going to kill off his main characters, and risk his fans getting upset. Sure, he might threaten to kill them off – he may make the situation they find themselves in appear so dire, they couldn't possibly win, but in the end he'll find a way to pull them through it. That's what draws in a reader – that's what brings them back for more."
"Sam, I know you're trying your damnedest to find a way to save us from dying, but you saw what the future would be –"
"It's called upping the stakes," he explained, turning the computer for Dean to look at a site devoted to upping the stakes in fiction writing. "You see, Dean. It's all right here. Not one of his fans wants to see us die…well, maybe some fanfic writers do, but there aren't that many of them."
"Fanfic?"
"Yeah, don't ask…you don't wanna know."
Dean couldn't fault him for his logic. Chuck was a writer, and he wanted praise for his work every bit as much as any writer, but Sam failed to consider one thing. "The stakes are too high, Sam. He's written us into a corner and there's no way out."
"Right, he did do that didn't he," he said, sounding remarkably calm under the circumstances. "Have you ever heard of deus ex machina?"
"No, but if it's some super special weapon we can use to kick some ass then I'm all for it, Sammy."
"It's a plot device, Dean, and it's how we're going to beat God."
"Your big plan is to beat God with a 'plot device'," Dean said, crooking his fingers in hanging air quotes. "No offense that doesn't sound like a very good idea."
"Oh…it's never a good idea – Never, but even if it's the worst idea in the world, a writer who has backed themselves into a corner with absolutely no way out and when all else has failed, they'll throw in a deus ex machina to save the day. In our case it would be Dad showing up just in the nick of time with his super human ghostly strength to save you so you could shoot the Yellow-Eyed Demon. Without Dad showing up when he did, we would've lost that night and both of us would have died – that was deus ex machina, and it proves that Chuck isn't above using a plot device to save our asses."
"Okay, so how do we get him to use a plot device to save us – and I can't believe I'm actually considering fighting a battle with writing techniques."
"I don't think we have to do anything. We'll keep doing what we're doing and out of the blue some ancient weapon will be found that can magically solve all our problems."
Dean opened his mouth to voice his concerns with Sam's plan, but snapped it shut as Castiel suddenly appeared looking worn out and smelling of sulfur. "You're never going to believe this, but while I was digging my way through Hell, I found an ancient scroll that would solve all of our problems if it works."
"Deus ex machina?" Dean said.
"Deus ex machina…." Sam grinned.
"I don't understand," Cas said, narrowing his eyes as he looked back and forth between the Winchesters. "What does 'god from the machinery' have to do with the scroll?"
"Sam will explain it to you," Dean chuckled, clapping Castiel on the back. "I'm gonna get back to the double mint twins." He made it halfway to the couch then turned back to ask, "So is that how Harry and Frodo survived?"
"No, Dean, they're great writers and I was drunk."
"That's what I thought, Sammy."