Author's note: Thanks a lot to Ghastly Eternity for beta reading this story and for encouraging me in general. Also many thanks to everyone who reads and/or reviews. I'm most grateful for those doing both, though. ;-)
7
The motel room was rather small with a decor clearly out of the sixties, mixed with random newer objects to replace whatever had been broken at some point, if it had been replaced at all. In short, it looked exactly like every other motel room Sam and Dean have ever been in.
It would have been comforting, usually. The Impala was home in some sense of the word, Bobby's house was home in a way, but the generic motel rooms, they always found everywhere all over the country also came close. They might not have spent too much time in any single one of them, but the many similarities between them still made them feel familiar.
"So, what is this?" Dean spoke first. He quite obviously didn't trust the new setting they were in any more than his brother did.
Sam just shrugged, before he tested the bed carefully, sitting down once he deemed it safe enough. With every other location they had known something was off immediately, but this actually looked like the room they had checked into before going on the hunt for the Trickster in the first place.
"How long do you think we've been here?" Sam finally asked with a thoughtful frown, "Cas said we'd been missing for days! And that was how long ago?"
Dean just shrugged. They had no way of knowing. Even if there had been a calendar or a clock anywhere, they wouldn't have been able to say, seeing as the Trickster could have tampered with it.
"I hate this!" Dean suddenly yelled, which made his brother jump slightly and look at him alarmed. "It's bad enough that the douchebag is throwing us into every other TV-show he can think of, but this? Oh come on!"
Sam thought he understood what his brother was talking about, even if Dean wasn't in the most rational mindset at the moment. Being in various fictional settings was bad enough, but being in a setting that quite likely was fictional, but didn't seem like it was, was messing with their heads.
"He'll get bored soon enough," Sam tried to reassure his brother, even though he knew from experience just how long the Trickster could wait to see the end of one of his little games. He wasn't likely to ever forget those six months, when he had thought that Dean was dead and in hell, before his time had even been up. Neither was he likely to ever forget the four months he had been on his own, when Dean had actually been dead and in hell, but the Trickster had had nothing to do with that one.
"Either that, or Michael or Lucifer will catch on and come to get us," Dean replied dryly.
Both options sucked in both their opinions. Either they were at the mercy of one crazy-ass Trickster or they were at the mercy of one crazy-ass archangel and Satan himself. You knew your life was completely fucked up, when being at the mercy of the Trickster sounded like the better option.
There was only a moment of silence before somebody knocked on the door.
The Winchesters exchanged looks and Dean's hand automatically searched for the gun that he'd usually have tucked into the waistband of his trousers. That there was nothing was a pretty good indication for this not being part of their real lives, if he thought about it. The knocking resumed and Dean went to open the door cautiously. Now this was the definite answer to the question, if this could possibly be real!
"Your ride has been officially pimped!" Xzibit exclaimed cheerfully. A second later the show host was lying on the floor, holding his nose. "Ah man, what was that for?"
"Sam… they touched my baby!" Dean pressed through gritted teeth, "Enough is enough! I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!"
Sam quickly held his brother's arms behind his back. He was a little unsure, if the older Winchester had talked about Xzibit, the Trickster or both, he had a feeling that they'd be in trouble if they tried to kill their show-host however.
"It's not the real Impala, Dean," he reminded his brother, hoping that he hadn't just lied. For all they knew, the Trickster might have modified the real car in the same way. If it were so, Sam didn't doubt that his nose would have to suffer the consequences as soon as Dean found out about it.
The older Winchester was taking deep breaths through his nose glaring at Xzibit, who had only just managed to get back to his feet. He looked astonishingly upbeat and calm for a man who had just been attacked out of the blue, but then again all this was just a part of a game.
Sam made sure to stay very close to his brother, when they went to the parking lot. He'd probably have to keep Dean from murdering everyone in sight sooner rather than later. Thinking back to Dean's reaction to the iPod Sam had installed into the Impala, the younger Winchester thought it was a safe bet that he'd explode spectacularly this time. It was nearly too bad that there was nobody around to take bets, that would have been easily won money.
"So man, you like pie," Xzibit stated as they approached the still covered car.
Dean's entire posture was as stiff as it could get. "I swear if you're ruining pie for me now, I'll kick your sorry ass so hard you'll never sit again!"
Their show-host ignored that the older Winchester had said anything though, instead of replying he took the cover off the Impala.
Sam cocked his head and tried his very best not to look amused. Okay, he wouldn't want to be seen in the car the way it looked now, but Dean had had a good laugh at Sam's expenses so often, that the younger Winchester felt it was just fair, that this time Dean had to take the brunt of the – admittedly not all too funny – joke.
"Are you out of your mind?" Dean yelled at the top of his lungs, after being completely speechless for a moment, "She's a classic! You don't mess with a classic! And especially not like this!"
To tell the truth Sam was very close to pointing out, that the new paintjob looked like it had been done professionally at least, but once more he didn't want to be on the receiving end of his brother's fist so he bit his tongue and kept quiet. It was quite impressive how they had painted the entire Impala like one gigantic pie with whipped cream on top however.
Xzibit once more completely ignored the reaction he had just been given, which – in Sam's opinion – confirmed that the other people were influenced to see everything they said and did in a certain way to make the Trickster's scenarios work without him having to bother with their reactions. A part of Sam wondered how far they'd have to go to break out of their roles enough so the Trickster would have to intervene directly, but he'd probably just take them to someplace else or punish them severely. In short it wasn't worth the effort, as long as there was no chance to really break away from the entire world the Trickster had made up.
"The interior was a big challenge, man, I'm telling you," Xzibit told Dean with a grave nod, "But after we threw everything out, we managed to redo it in a way that matches you perfectly."
Sam could basically see Dean going through every single swear word he knew and every single way to kill someone he could come up with in his mind, as he forced himself to just stand there.
The younger Winchester had to bite his tongue a little harder so he wouldn't laugh or comment, but it was even harder this time, especially after seeing that the seats were now a blueberry color. Basically every other detail was of a matching color as well.
The controls and instruments had been replaced with digital ones, and, of course there was a brand-new radio. Everything in blue and with little highlights to make the impression that you were sitting in a gigantic pie even stronger.
If they had been workaholic pie-makers, they'd have been in heaven. As things were, Dean felt like he was in hell. Only this was one kind of torture not even Alastair had come up with.
Without saying a word, Dean went to open the trunk of what used to be the Impala. Before he lifted the trunk lid he gently stroked over the metal though. "Don't worry, baby, there'll be revenge!"
Of course Dean had known that he had been grasping at straws with the hope, that their weapons would be in the poor mutilated Impala's trunk, but what he found instead damn near made him lose his temper for good instantly.
"D'you like your new transportable bakery?" Xzibit asked, obviously awaiting the confirmation that it was indeed great.
"Just wait a second and I'll show you exactly how much I like it," Dean growled, searching the trunk for anything he could use but coming up with nothing but a rolling pin. That would have to do then!