Ch 36

"So tell me again why the FBI is interested in a bear attack?" Deputy Jones said as he closed the case file and glared at the 'agents' in front of him as Sam and Dean tucked their fake badges back into their jacket pockets.

"Maybe it has something to do with one of your locals, the late Mr. Randolph, getting his head ripped off?" Dean grunted.

The sheriff sighed again, "By a bear."

"A bear that chased Mr. Randolph out of the woods, followed him all the way to his house, busted through the locked front door, up a flight of stairs and into his master bedroom? Does that sound like normal bear activity to you?" Dean asked. Sam cast his brother a sideways glance, they couldn't afford to tick off the local law this early into the case.

"I don't know, Agent. Guess it depends on how pissed off they are." Deputy Jones said crossing his arms over his chest.

"Deputy, the report said Mrs. Randolph witnessed the whole thing is that correct?" Sam asked giving the Deputy a tight smile.

Jones nodded, "Yeah, poor woman my heart goes out to her. They live way up there in high country, trout streams, lots of forrest, bears…"

"And did she say she saw a bear kill her husband?" Sam prodded the Deputy.

Deputy Jones let out another long breath, "Not exactly…she's been through a hell of a trauma. She's confused…"

The brothers shared a quick look and turned back to the deputy. "I think we'd like to speak with Mrs. Randolph directly, Deputy." Dean said smiling.

Mrs. Randolph was brought in for questioning a half hour later. She was a thin, frightened looking woman with drawn features. She clutched her oversized purse to her chest like it was a life preserver as she sat across from the Winchesters. "Mrs. Randolph we know you've been through quite an ordeal but we need to know exactly what you saw," Sam said gently.

The woman nervously tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and checked over her shoulder to make sure the door to the interview room was shut. "It was a bear…definitely a bear…I mean it's impossible. It's crazy…"

"Ma'am, the FBI is here to help you. We'll be the judge of what's impossible," Dean told her.

She nodded and hugged her purse tighter, "I…swear I saw the Incredible Hulk." Her cheeks burned red and she bowed her head. "I told you it's crazy…"

"The Incredible Hulk?" Dean repeated, drawing his tongue over his bottom lip, "Bana or Norton? Or who's the new guy…Mark something?"

"Ruffalo and no it was…the TV Hulk," she smiled shyly.

"Lou Ferrigno?" Dean said smiling at his brother, "Man I loved that show….would there be any reason The Incredible Hulk umm Lou Ferrigno would have a grudge against your husband?"

The woman gave Dean an incredulous look, "No. Of course not…"

The brothers thanked the newly widowed Mrs. Randolph for her assistance and left the police station a short while later. Dean returned to their motel room to search for any clues to what the hell they were possibly dealing with while Sam went to check out the site of the mysterious murder. The house had a giant 8 foot tall hole where the front door used to be, their were several deep foot prints in the front yard; Hulk sized foot prints. Dean checked into Mr. Randolph's personal background and found out the man had quite the temper.

"Douche bag had a couple of counts of spousal battery, public intoxication and court ordered anger management courses." Dean told his younger brother.

"So a hot head getting killed by TV's biggest hot head," Sam said thoughtfully. "Sounds kind of like just desserts…it's all starting to make sense."

"What about any of this is making sense?" Dean asked.

"Found something else at the crime scene," Sam said pulling something out of his jacket pocket. "Candy wrappers." He dumped the hand full of wadded foil wrappers on the table in front of Dean.

Dean picked up one of the wrappers and inspected it, "Sweet tooth, just deserts, screwing with people before you kill them…we're dealing with that Trickster asshole aren't we?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah looks like it…you think he knows about River?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Don't know. Don't care. Man I've been looking forward to ganking this son of a bitch."

"You sure you wanna kill him?" Sam asked.

"Am I sure I want to kill the asshat that killed me a couple hundred times at the Mystery Spot and kidnapped my girlfriend on a regular basis? Yeah I'm sure."

"Well, technically I think Riv went with him willingly…most of the time," Sam took a deep breath, "Maybe we should not…kill him."

"What?" Dean demanded crossing his arms over his chest.

"He's a dick. I know. But," Sam paused again, "He is one of the most powerful creatures we have ever run into. You've heard the stories River told us, manipulating time and space. Like a fucking Time Lord." Dean rolled his eyes at the Doctor Who reference, he gave Sam and River shit about their shared Whovian obsession but secretly had fallen in love with the series after watching David Tennant as the Tenth doctor. "He's a party guy right, Hugh Heifner fuzzy bathrobe, booze, babes, candy…maybe he doesn't want the party to end."

"Ok…" Dean told him.

"Maybe he hates this Angel/ Demon B.S as much as we do. River and him were close; maybe he'll help us."

"Son of a bitch, are we really considering allying with a bloody, violent monster just because my dead girlfriend was besties with him?" Dean grumbled.

"It's the end of the world, Dean. We don't have the luxury of taking a moral stand here and…River trusted him," Sam said. Dean still looked conflicted. "If it doesn't work then we'll kill him, ok?"

Dean smiled slightly, "How do we find him? I don't exactly have his number."

"He'll show. He won't be able to resist, town like this I bet has a lot of people he'd like to serve comeuppance to."

"Well, I'll get the wooden stake ready," Dean replied. Sam turned on their Police scanner and Dean ran to the local hardware store. He took his sweet time picking out the perfect piece of wood to carve into the weapon he hoped to kill Loki with. Dean returned to the motel room to find Sam scrolling through local news stories while simultaneously keeping an ear on the Police scanner.

"Attention dispatch! This is car 513. We got a possible 187 at the Old Mill on Route 3," a frantic voice suddenly broke out over the radio. Sam reached for the radio and turned the volume up.

"Come in car 513, this is dispatch. Can you tell me what you're seeing?" A second voice blared over the radio, followed by a burst of static.

"I-I don't really know…I can't….just send help, send everybody!"

The radio returned to static and Sam clicked it off. "That sounded kind of weird." Dean said inspecting the pointy end of the stake

"Weird enough for the trickster?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Guess it's better than nothing." Sam quickly typed the address into his phones GPS and the brothers climbed into the Impala and sped away. They arrived at the Old Mill fifteen minutes later and apparently beat the towns scant police force. From outward appearances the mill was long abandoned, the parking lot overgrown with knee high weeds, pot holes every few feet, broken windows and a sagging roof. "There was a murder here? Where the hell's the Calvary?" Dean asked opening the trunk so he and Sam could grab weapons. They each grabbed a flashlight and a wooden stake and headed into the dark building.

River lounged on the kitchen counter next to the sink grasping her warm coffee mug. Apparently her morning prayers to Gabriel had done nothing more than piss him off because the situation unfolding in front of her was definitely not in the comics she had read.

"Logan's strong hold is here, surrounded by a wall of the dead," Nick pointed to a spot on a map he had laid out on the kitchen table. "Sarge, JT, River you'll flank our position by cutting through this neighborhood."

"Nick, that neighborhood is overrun with biters. We lost three people the last time we got stuck there. We shouldn't risk it," River said.

Nick glanced over his shoulder at her, "Duly noted, River. But Logan's men have these roads monitored," he pointed to a couple more spots on the map. "You'll set off the fire crackers at the end of Baker street to draw the dead away from his compound."

"Yeah, ok Nick I get that. But then we're gonna be boxed in by the Zergs behind us-" River continued. Nick slammed his fist on the table cutting her off and earning a stern glare from Sarge and a few of the others gathered in the cramped kitchen.

"This way is the only way we are going to be able to cut off his supply route," Nick turned to face her, one hand resting on his hip right above the giant Colt Python he always carried. "So either you shut up and listen or you stay here and look after Mr. Arnette, I heard he's gotta bad case of hay fever." A few quiet snickers broke out amongst the group and River felt her cheeks burn red. She pressed her lips together and gave Nick a compliant nod of her chin.

"Fuck this place. It's getting cramped anyways," River thought to herself and finished her coffee. Nick finished his speech, the groups would head out at dusk giving them ample time to get in position to strike at dawn. Sometime later, after having packed supplies and weapons the caravan left the relative safety of their walled town.

"Nick didn't mean anything girly, you know that," Sarge mumbled as their truck trundled along the weather beaten highway. "He's just scared of losing more people. After Colin, Stephen and…Delilah. This is the only play we got now." JT sat next to him in the front seat quietly singing along to the FooFighters CD that was stuck in the stereo. River met his eyes briefly in the rearview mirror and smiled noncommittally. One hand traced circle eights on the dirty car window the other she rested on the M4 assault rifle next to her. She tried not to think about their limited ammo and the wall of dead they were driving into.

Sam and Dean entered the dark building and instantly found themselves in a brightly lit, bustling hospital corridor smelling faintly of antiseptic. The brothers took in their surroundings then looked at each other. "What the hell are you wearing?" Sam asked. He grabbed at the plastic badge hanging off the white lab coat his brother wore. Deans face was a mask of confusion. Two nurses in bright patterned scrubs walked slowly by, each taking their time letting their eyes roam over the Winchesters. "Doctor," they each echoed giving the brothers a coy smile.

Dean cocked his head and checked his ID badge again, "No way…" Before he could let his brother in on his potential revelation, a woman in lite blue scrubs came charging towards his younger brother.

Sam watched her warily as she came to a halt in front of him. Before he could ask her what she wanted she pulled her hand back and slapped him. "You're brilliant you know that!" she yelled at him.

"Ow!" Sam croaked rubbing his stinging cheek, "What the hell?"

"You are seriously brilliant! And a coward! A seriously brilliant coward!" she yelled jabbing a finger into his chest. With a huff she turned on her heel and stalked away.

"What the hell dude?" Sam grumbled watching the short, angry woman walk away from them. Dean was grinning like an idiot, eyes wide and turning in slow circles as he surveyed their surroundings. He walked past a wooden desk where a middle aged woman was busy directing visitors and answering phones. A large grey metal sign behind her declared they were at 'Seattle Mercy Hospital'.

"I knew it!" Dean said smiling triumphantly.

"Knew what dude?" Sam asked.

"Dude! We are at Seattle Mercy Hospital!" Dean pointed at the sign. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, he was more than capable of reading. "Dr. Sexy works at Seattle Mercy. We are in Dr. Sexy, MD!"

"That stupid show you and River used to watch? The one where the 'doctors' spend the majority of the episode screwing each other instead of savings lives?"

"Yeah!" Dean told him smiling broadly, "Well, I mean I just watched it because Riv liked it." Dean took a deep breath a sudden feeling of dread replaced the excitement he was trying to hide from his younger brother. "What the hell? What the hell is going on?" He turned away from the desk and walked down an adjoining corridor, groups of people skittered back and forth and Dean realized everyone was exceptionally good looking. "Give me one theory as to what the hell this is?"

"I don't know…. The trickster trapped us in TV land? Maybe." Sam said shrugging his shoulders.

"Ok, give me one sane theory," Dean countered turning down another straight hallway.

"It's the best I got and you're the one that said this was 'Doctor Sexy, MD'," Sam mumbled. "River told us he zapped her into 'Land of the Lost' and she told me one she swore she spent an afternoon in Narnia."

Dean stopped, "Narnia? I am so going to fucking kill that….oh my god!" He grabbed his brother by the arm and stared down the hallway. "It's him!"

Sam turned around quickly and saw a man with flowing locks of chocolate brown hair, perfectly tanned skin and a jaw that wouldn't have been more magnificent if Michelangelo himself carved it from marble."Him who?" he muttered quickly out of the corner of his mouth.

"Doctor Sexy! Oh my god Sam he's coming over here, he made eye contact, just be cool. Be cool…Should I ask him for his autograph? No, be cool Dean." Dean muttered to himself, he straightened his white lab coat and wiped his sweaty palms down the front of it. Sam looked down at his older brother who at this moment was acting very much like his own superfan Becky.

The gorgeous man stopped in front of them and after exchanging the obligatory 'Doctor' greetings, Dean blushing nervously the entire time, Doctor Sexy arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't fire both of you for disregarding my direct order about the experimental face transplant on Mrs. Beale?"

Dean cleared his throat, "Uhh one reason?" His eyes shifted to his younger brother, the ceiling, the wall behind Dr. Sexy and finally the good doctors feet. "Tennis shoes?" Dean thought to himself. Doctor Sexy definitely did not wear tennis shoes. "You're not Dr. Sexy!" he yelled slamming the man into the wall.

"You're crazy!" Dr. Sexy yelled back.

Dean smirked and pressed his forearm into the mans chest. "Oh yeah? Part of what makes Dr. Sexy so sexy are his cowboy boots."

Sam rolled his eyes and muttered, "Yeah you're not a fan."

"It's a guilty pleasure. Shut up," Dean barked over his shoulder.

"Call security!" Dr. Sexy yelled at a group of nurses that walked by.

"Go ahead lets see what happens," Dean told him, "I know who you are, Loki." The group of nurses paused as did every other person within eyesight. They all stopped in mid motion, the hospital instantly became silent. Dean and Sam turned their heads to look at the frozen people around them.

Dr. Sexy smiled, "You two are getting good at this." Dr. Sexy's sexy face and perfect hair dissolved in a wisp of smoke. The Trickster smiled up at Dean, his whiskey colored eyes shining with amusement. He grabbed Deans arm and forced the much taller hunter away from him like he was a small child. Dean sneered in pain as Loki tightened his grip. "Whatch'a gonna do, big guy? I don't see your big pointy sticks."

"The police scanner? That was you. This is a trick," Sam sighed.

Loki smiled, "Hello-o-o Trickster!" he said with a waive of his hands. "Come on! I heard you two yahoos were in town. I couldn't resist."

"Where the hell are we?" Dean grumbled.

Loki walked a way with a flourish, "You like it? It's all homemade. My own sets, actors. My own little idiot box."

"How do we get out?"

"Well, now thats the $64 question isn't it?" Loki told him.

"Whatever, look we're here because we need your help," Sam said.

The Trickster tilted his head, "Hmmm. Lemme guess you think because me and that snarky ginger are compadres my handsome ass would swoop in and mop up the shit storm you two started when you broke the world."

"River's dead," Dean told him flatly.

Loki turned to face the green eyed hunter, "Is she? Well, I warned her if she stuck with you two dipshits you'd get her killed again."

"Just give us five minutes, please." Sam asked him.

"Sure, you know what? You survive the next 24 hours and I'll give you five minutes."

"Survive what?" Sam questioned.

"The game, Lurch," Loki smiled.

"What game?" Dean asked the Trickster.

"You're in it." Loki's smile broadened, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"How do we play?"

"You already are," Loki grinned, "Toodles." He snapped his fingers and disappeared. The people around them started walking around as if nothing happened.

"Son of a bitch," Dean grumbled, "By the way this teaming up with monsters thing? Not a good idea."

"What do we do now?" Sam asked.

"I'm finding a way out," he answered. The brothers quickly found out that getting out of Loki's idiot box wasn't going to be an easy task. Before they could find a way out of Seattle Mercy Hospital, Dean got shot in the back by a disgruntled patient. Sam was able to save him, not by using the best high tech medical equipment available in the Pacific North-West but by relying on two decades of life as a hunter which included dental floss, a pen knife and some whiskey. The celebration in the OR was cut short when the walls around them dissolved into static before reappearing as a brightly lit Japanese game show studio. The brothers figured their way out of that and then were transported into a genital herpes commercial, a rom-com, and a variety sketch show a-la Sonny and Cher before finding themselves in a sitcom complete with laugh track and 'live studio audience'.

Nick's plan quickly went to shit, just as River had expected. The dead swarmed from every possible angle. Nick and his car of people disappeared in a bloody spray of screams and bullets. JT was the next to fall, his throat ripped out by something that used to be somebody's grandma. It still wore a pair of broken reading glasses on a chain around her neck. River turned and ran into the mass of swarming bodies, pushing and dodging past as many of the biters as she could, saving as many bullets as possible. She saw the bright fire-orange head of Sarge stand out amongst the sea of grey-green decaying bodies and rushed towards him. He fought off a group of them with nothing more than a bowie knife, his pant leg drenched in his own dark red blood. His t-shirt ripped were one of the zombies had bitten clean through to the tough muscle beneath. "Sarge!" she screamed at him, "We have to go, now!"

The retired Marine turned warily to face her, "I'm done for kid. Git the hell outta here."

"No. No way," she positioned herself under his arm, carrying the bulk of his weight, "We're gettin' the fuck outta here." They limped quickly past dozens of the dead, headed down an alley that River knew would dump them in the parking lot of an old motel. They could maybe barricade themselves in one of the rooms until things cooled down and then she would decide what to do with Sarge.

"Hey, Sammy! How're things?" Dean jovially called to his younger brother. The audience cheered and cat called as the taller man strode into their frame.

"Oh you know, it's just the end of the world," Sam smiled at the studio audience. They were little more than a group of moving shadows, the bright stage lights hiding their features. The obligatory laugh track sounded and Sam turned away from the audience. Dean had seated himself at the dining table in front of a comically huge sandwich. "You're gonna need a bigger mouth!" Sam said through a tight smile. More canned laughter echoed through the studio.

"That's what I said little bro'," Dean countered.

"How much longer do you think we're gonna have to do this?" Sam said out of the corner of his mouth.

Dean flashed a grin and took a bite of his huge sandwich. "I don't know. Maybe forever?"

Automatic rifle shots suddenly rang from outside the stage door- "dhak-dhak-dhak". The brothers ducked low and reached for their belts; which were empty of any weapon as usual since being trapped in sitcom hell. Frantic yells, groans, and thumping shook the door on its hinges as someone tried to kick it in. The door finally swung open and a dirty, bloody figure backed in. She fired a few shots of her machine gun before it clicked empty and so she swung it like a bat instead knocking some teetering, dirty thing away. She gripped a bloody, mostly dead man under the arms and was dragging him in behind her. Sam and Dean stood rooted to the spot, they had never seen a sitcom quite like this. Decaying hands and hungry mouths latched onto the man on the ground and he let out a gurgled cry before being wrenched away from her. "NO! Sarge! You dead sons of bitches," she kicked out at the greedy hands now reaching for her and slammed the door shut. She splayed her dirty hands on the door and screamed in rage, "This isn't how the story goes! It doesn't *bleeping* end like this!" Her steel toed boots kicked the door and the studio audience let out a long "oooohhhhhh!"

She turned on her heels to face the sound and the audience clapped, cheered and whistled. "What the *bleep*?" River muttered then threw her hand to her lips when the 'fuck' was edited out for the prime time audience. "Bleep-bleeptiy-bleep-bleep," she tested out the censorship and the audience laughed again.

"River?" a shaky, familiar voice called out.

Authors note: Thank you to everyone that is reading and following this story. Leave a review.