"That's great, babe! Tell me about school."

Sam looked over at Chrys in the passenger seat, talking to Jesse on the phone. She had her back leaned against the door, her hair spilling over one shoulder, and her feet resting in his lap. He squeezed her slim ankles briefly before turning back to watch the road.

They were on their way back to Bobby's, with Dean asleep in the backseat after they had gotten away from Gabriel. Sam was still a little shocked about the trickster's actual identity. I tried to stab that guy.

"All right, Jesse, well take care of yourself, okay?" Chrys smiled, and it softened her face. "Okay, babe, talk to you soon." She flipped the phone shut and smiled at Sam, warming a little part of him. "Jesse's doing really well. I knew Kevin and Serene would be a good fit."

He flashed her a smile before facing forward again. "Good."

She nodded and leaned back against the door, closing her eyes. "Wake me up when we get to Bobby's, Sammy," she said with a soft sigh.

Before she could get to sleep, Dean's phone started buzzing in the back. Dean started awake with an ungraceful snort. "What the fuck?" he muttered, pulling his phone out. He sat up and Sam met his eyes in the rear view. "Chuck needs us."

Chrys frowned, having sat up as well. "Who the hell is Chuck?"


Chrys followed Sam up the steps in front of the hotel they'd been called to. A skinny, scruffy man in a hoodie stood there, looking nervous. As they passed the parking lot, Chrys noticed a lot of Impalas. Like… A lot. She frowned.

She turned when Sam spoke. "Chuck! There you are."

The scruffy man turned, his eyebrows raising in surprise. "Guys?" He looked at Chrys. "Who are you?"

"This is Chrys," Dean introduced gruffly. "What's going on?"

Chuck paled. "Ah, nothing. You know, I'm just kinda hanging. What are you guys doing here?"

Chrys squinted her eyes. "You text Dean. This address, 'life or death situation.'"

Chuck looked at Dean. "I didn't send you a text."

Dean threw his hands in the air. "We drove all night!"

Chuck shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't understand what could…" Comprehension dawned on his face. "Oh, no."

Sam glared. "What?"

An unpleasantly familiar voice rang from the top of the stairs. "Sam! You made it!"

Chrys narrowed her eyes as the girl ran to Sam. Sam made apologetic eye contact with Chrys, then looked back down at the woman in front of him. "Uh, Becky, right?"

Becky squealed. Actually squealed. "Oh, you remembered." She pitched her voice low. "You've been thinking about me."

Chrys's temper snapped. This bitch. "All right, Becky," she snarled, ignoring the amused look on Sam's face. "You're going to want to back the fuck up." She moved between the other woman and Sam, glaring down at Becky with her arms crossed. She didn't soften when Sam put his big hand on her hip, or tried not to, anyway.

"Becky, did you take my phone?" Chuck asked from behind her.

Becky turned to look at him. "I just borrowed it from your pants."

Chuck winced. "Becky-"

"What? They're going to want to see it!"

"See what?" Sam and Dean asked in unison.

Chrys grit her teeth when Becky squealed again. "Oh my God! I love it when they talk at the same time!"

Chrys turned to look up at Sam. "Can I shoot her?"

He grinned and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her back into him to press a kiss against the side of her head. "Not in public you can't." Becky glared, and Chrys felt smug.

A man walked through the doors of the hotel. "Hey, Chuck? Come on pal, it's show time."

Becky squealed again, Chrys growled at her, and Chuck winced. "Guys, I'm sorry. For everything."


Chrys's peals of laughter ringing through the halls were in turn enchanting and irritating Sam. She was wiping tears from her eyes and holding her stomach. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, I'm trying-" she was interrupted by another fit of giggles.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'd believe you if you could stop laughing for two minutes." That set her off again, and she was trying to keep it together as they entered the auditorium.

The man who had summoned them in was standing at a microphone in front of the small crowd. Sam, Dean, and Chrys stood against the back wall. Chrys was still chuckling when the man started speaking.

"Welcome to the first annual Supernatural convention. At three forty-five in the Magnolia room, we have the panel, Frightened Little Boy, the Secret Life of Dean. And at four-thirty, there's the Homoerotic Subtext of Supernatural." Sam had to physically put his hand over Chrys's mouth to keep her from laughing out loud. He also had to ignore Becky, who was glaring daggers at the two of them.

"Oh," the manager continued. "And, of course, the big hunts starts at seven sharp!" The crowd applauded. "But right now, right now I'd like to introduce the man himself. The creator, the writer of the Supernatural books. The one, the only, Carver Edlund!"

Sam felt another wave of irritation wash over him when Chuck took the stage. He made eye contact with Dean over Chrys's shaking shoulders, and saw that his brother was stonefaced, too.

A whine of feedback rang through the room. "Okay," Chuck said nervously. "Okay, good, this isn't nearly as awkward as I…" He looked around the crowd, then cleared his throat. "Dry mouth." He took a few long drinks of water, and there was complete silence as he did so.

Chuck nodded and looked out to the crowd. "Okay, uh… Ahem. So, I guess… Questions?"

Every hand in the room shot up, much to Sam's surprise. Chrys had stopped laughing and was shaking him off, clearly wanting to listen. He let her go.

Chuck pointed. "Uh, you?"

A skinny young man leapt to his feet. "Hey, Mr Edlund. Uh... Big fan. I was just wondering, where'd you come up with Sam and Dean in the first place?"

Chuck glanced nervously back at Sam and Dean. Sam raised his eyebrows, interested to hear how Chuck would finagle himself out of that.

"Oh, ah, I… It just came to me."

Hands shot into the air again.

"Okay, yeah. The hook man."

A man with a thick German accent spoke. "Ah, yeah. Why in every fight scene, Sam and Dean are having their gun knocked away by the bad guy? Why don't they keep it on some kind of bungee?"

Sam's eyebrows rose, trying to figure out how that would work, when Chuck answered. "I… Yeah, I really don't know."

The German man nodded. "Ja, follow up. Why can't Sam and Dean be telling that Ruby is evil? I mean, she is clearly manipulating Sam into some kind of moral lapse. It's obvious, nein?"

Sam barely grabbed Chrys in time to keep her from attacking the man, but she was low key growling. He wrapped an arm around her waist. "Chrys, come on, please chill," he whispered, ignoring her growl. Not laughing now, are you?

Apparently, Becky was on the same wavelength. "Hey! If you don't like the books, don't read 'em, Fritz."

Chuck held his hands up in a peacekeeping gesture. "Okay, okay, just… Okay, it's okay. So, next question." Hands shot up again. "Yeah, you."

"Yeah, at the end of the last book, Dean goes to hell. So, what happens next?"


"Hey, I didn't call you!"

Chrys was gritting her teeth, trying to convince herself that outright decking Becky was a bad idea, as Chuck tried to defend himself.

Sam frowned. "He means the books, Chuck. Why are you publishing more books?" His big hand on Chrys's back was going a long way toward keeping her from attacking the other woman at the table, who was shooting come hither looks at Sam.

Chuck blinked. "Um... For food and shelter?"

Dean glared at the writer. "Who gave you the rights to our life story?"

"An Archangel, and I didn't want it!"

Sam shook his head. "Well, deal's off, okay? No more books. Our lives are not for public consumption." He shot a look at Becky, which made Chrys glare at the other woman again.

Chuck looked at Becky. "Ah… Becky. Would you excuse us for just a second?"


Chrys was standing on stage with Chuck, as Sam and Dean fought the actual ghosts haunting this stupid convention. Chuck was looking at her nervously, and she was gritting her teeth. You're helping keep these people safe, you're helping keep these people safe.

This was stupid. She hated this. She didn't like birthday parties, much less a group of people asking her ridiculously personal questions about the man she was in love with and his brother. You're helping keep these people safe.

A timid woman stood up. Chrys noted with approval that she wasn't in costume. "Hi," she said shyly, and Chrys gave her a smile. "I, uh, I was wondering why there aren't any long-term romantic interests for Sam or Dean?"

Chuck blinked, then looked at her. "Anna?" he asked, using the alias he'd given her on the spot. "Do you want to take this one?"

She glared at him when he held the microphone to her. She took it, then turned back to the crowd, butterflies in her stomach. "Well, that's a good question…"

She thought about it for a moment. She thought about her life, and her life now with the boys. Then she shook that away. This wasn't about her. And then she had her answer.

"There's no romantic interests because that's not what the story is about. The story is about two brothers, fighting to save themselves and each other. When you put romance into that story, it tends to overtake everything else." She shook her head. "Romance would distract from every good message in Supernatural." She smiled gently at the girl. "That's what fanfiction is for."

The girl gave her a shy smile and sat back down. Chrys handed the mic back to Chuck and sat down, her mind whirring, her heart aching. Sam and Dean, they were never going to let her in. Not for real. Yes, they felt responsible for her, and yes, she and Sam were sleeping together. But like she'd just said… This story wasn't about her.

She stifled the tears in her eyes and watched Chuck field more questions. "No, there's really no such thing as a Croatoan virus for down there. You really should see a doctor."


Chrys found Dean outside. He was talking to two men, cosplaying as Sam and Dean. I'm learning a lot tonight.

Dean was speaking. "You know, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really saved our asses back there. So ah, you know, thanks." He thought for a moment. "Guys, I don't even know your names."

One of the other men smiled. "Oh. Well, I'm Barnes. This is Demian. What's yours?"

Dean thought for a moment, then, "Dean. The real Dean."

Demian and Barnes burst into laughter. "Ahhh, yeah, right! Me, too!"

"Get the hell out of here Dean!"

Dean chuckled. "Well, anyway. Thanks. Really." He turned back and spotted Chrys. She smiled and came to stand next to him when Demian spoke again.

"You're wrong, you know."

Chrys frowned, and Dean turned around. "Sorry?"

The man looked earnest. "About Supernatural. No offense but I'm not sure you get what the story's about."

Chrys smirked along with Dean. "Is that so?"

Demian nodded. "In real life, he sells stereo equipment. I fix copiers. Our lives suck. But to be Sam and Dean, to wake up every morning and save the world? To have a brother who would die for you? Well, who wouldn't want that?"

Chrys had tears standing in her eyes when he was done. He gets it.

Dean sounded a little hoarse, himself. "Maybe you got a point."


Dean watched Chrys out of the corner of his eye. She was quiet, which was weird, because she'd been mocking them the entire day.

"Stop it, Dean, I'm fine."

He blinked. Perceptive little thing, isn't she? "Stop what?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Dean, I'm just thinking about what Demian said."

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, what a crock."

She smiled, wrapping her arms around her middle as they walked. "No, it's nice."

He blinked. "What's nice?"

She shrugged, and didn't look at him. "Just… Knowing that there's someone who would die for you, someone who would literally go to hell and back to keep you safe." She inhaled deeply. "It's… It's just nice to see that someone has that."

She turned to look at him, and he saw no bitterness in her face, only a hint of sadness. "It kind of gives the rest of us something to hope for."

She walked away quickly, joining Sam in the parking lot, and Dean could almost see the walls she had built to keep his little brother out being put back up. Dean frowned as he ambled up to the little group gathered near Baby. He didn't like that. He didn't like that Chrys saw herself as a part of "the rest of us," instead of part of them.

She was part of the team. He didn't know how the hell she had managed it, but she had wormed her way into being part of the team.

Dean didn't like it that she didn't know that.


Chrys was laughing again, standing behind Sam, listening to Becky's good-bye speech.

"Look Sam. I'm not gonna lie. We had undeniable chemistry. But like a monkey on the sun, it was too hot to live. It can't go on. Chuck and I, we found each other. My yin to his proud yang. And well, the heart wants what the heart wants. I'm so, so sorry."

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, Sam. Sorry." He did not look sorry. Good for you, Chuck.

Chrys smiled and twined her fingers through Sam's, patting his arm. "I will do my best to make sure he gets through this."

Becky looked concerned. "Will you be all right?"

Sam put on a sad face and gave a heavy sigh, which had Chrys trying again to smother her mirth. "Honestly? I don't know. I'll just have to find a way to keep living, I guess."

Becky smiled. "God bless you."

Sam nodded and swallowed thickly. Then he turned to Chuck. "Oh, hey, Chuck. If you really want to publish more books, I guess that's okay with us."

Chuck's face lit up. "Wow. Really?"

"No, not really. We have guns, and we will find you."

Chrys's burst of laughter couldn't be stopped.


Chrys was in the passenger seat while Dean drove, only because Sam had passed out in the back. She was enjoying the silence and the long, dark road, when Dean spoke.

"Chrys, you know you're part of the team."

She looked over at him, eyebrows raised in surprised. "What?"

He refused to meet her eyes, just looked straight forward. "You're part of the team. I mean, I don't know what's going on between you and Sam," he made a face, "and I don't really want to. But… You're part of the team." He met her eyes. "So I don't want to hear anymore of this 'rest of us' shit, got it?"

She looked at him for a long time, emotions washing through her. Dean thinks I'm part of the team? Warmth spread through her chest, and her face split into a wide smile. "Aw, Dean, you like me."

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up. I do not."

She laughed softly. "Oh, my God, you do." She scooted across the seat and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "All right, all right, I'm part of the team, you big softy."

He rolled his eyes again. "Shut up, Summers."


**Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.