There's a lot of things that could possibly go through my mind when I wake up in the morning. Usually it's something about not remembering where I put my glasses or using the bathroom or holy-crud-it's-the-garabage-truck-and-the-sun-isn' t-up-and-it's-Monday-and-seriously-why-can't-I-sle ep-in. What I didn't expect was a splitting headache. It hurt enough I didn't want to move.

"She got an id?"

The voice was gruff and obviously male. I wondered briefly if I had landed myself in the hospital but ruled it out. Not bright enough and no beeping.

"I think she has one of those medical alert bracelets." Someone grabbed my wrist.

Any morning muddle wore off at the touch. Despite the pain, I forced my eyes open. It was blurry so I hadn't fallen asleep with my glasses on. I couldn't see the man holding my wrist or his friend clearly. "What?"

"Hey, sleeping beauty," the one further from me said. "Want to tell us how you ended up outside our top-secret head quarters?"

"Ah—What?"

The man holding my wrist had squatted next to me on the bed I seem to have been dumped on—not mine, obviously. I register that he's tall but not much more. He dropped my wrist and dug through a bag. "Glasses or contacts?" He held two cases.

Contacts? Since when did I have contacts? "Glasses." I sat up and put them on. They were mine, thankfully. I could see.

As soon as my vision cleared, I yelled. "Oh, no. Oh, no. Crud, fudge. Curses." I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I backed myself into the corner opposite where my head had been. "Nope. You are—nope. Can't be."

The one that had went to check my bracelet straightened to his full 6 foot 5. "You know who we are, don't you?"

Well, this was brilliant. I felt like I had a hangover and I had woken up in a fan fiction. An undoubtedly horrible, self-insertion, Mary-Sue, featuring me as Mary-Sue, fan fiction. "You're Sam. That's Dean. And this is bad."

"How do you know who we are?"

"Um—" Oh. Crap. What's the standard response in these things? Do I use the standard? Does doing something else make me even more of a Mary-Sue? "I can't explain that." I just can't alter their universe by telling them what I know. "I can't explain anything right now. The last thing I knew, I was in my apartment. That's in Washington, the state."

"Okay..." Dean said slowly. "Can you at least tell us who you are?"

"Um...Well, technically it's Cristin."

"Technically? What kind of answer is technically, Kirsten?"

"It's Cristin. R before I. And you've woken up in alternate universes before. It's not easy."

"Alternate universe? So you're not a prophet?"

"I didn't say I was a prophet! I said I knew who you were. There's a difference. I am nothing the least bit useful or threatening if that helps." I put my hands up. "Although, you are more than welcome to shoot me. If you want. I'd rather you didn't but there are worse ways to go." I realized what I had been doing and put my hand over my mouth. "Crap," I mumbled through my fingers. "I'm rambling. Sorry. I do that when I'm nervous."

"How much do you know about us?"

"That depends on when we are." The vagueness of my my answers were going to bother everyone, myself included. "I can't mess up your plot line—I mean time line. There are rules."

"So, now you're a time-traveler?"

"No." I ran my fingers through my hair. I barely registered surprise at how soft it was. "Well, maybe. You haven't told me what year it is yet."

"It's 2013."

"Okay, I'm not a time-traveler. At least not by years. Do you know where Cas is?"

"You know about Cas?"

"Of course she knows who Cas is," Sam replied. "If she knows who we are, she knows who Cas is."

"I don't like this, Sam. This kid literally drops from the sky right after all the angels fall. She's not an angel. She'd be acting different if she was."

"Maybe we should wake up Cas. He might know something."

"I'm not a kid. I'm 22—well, almost. And Cas probably doesn't know anything." If he was human, he wouldn't. A universe-traveling cripple didn't sound like a story Metatron/Marvin would tell. "Where's Kevin?"

"Also sleeping."

"And Crowley?"

"Chained up in our dungeon, which is where we should put you. We don't even know if you're human, Kirsten Technically."

"That's a good point. That's what I'd do with me, especially since I'm not even sure I'm human." I needed to pee. "Look, I need a bathroom. Can the interrogation take a back seat for a moment?"

"It's right over there." Dean pointed.

"Right." I tried to hide the concern in my voice. My legs were stiff but it was impossible to tell if was because of my "fall" or my cerebral palsy. As great as it would be to wake up in another universe cured from a serious medical condition, I didn't want to become even more of a Mary-Sue. The most I did was look at the back of my calves. The long scars were still there.

I took a deep breath and tried to stand. My legs screamed at me as I forced them to straighten.

"Are you alright?"

"No. I don't think I can walk without help right now." I felt them buckle and I sat back down. "I have cerebral palsy."

Dean cursed. "Are you saying that you're crippled?" he demanded. "Of all the people to randomly fall on us, we get a cripple?"

"Dean," Sam warned. "You shouldn't call her that."

"I call myself that all the time. It's not a problem." There were bigger issues than what Dean wanted to call me. "I'll crawl."

I found the bathroom, feeling a bit odd. I hadn't had to crawl since my surgery. I looked at my reflection after I had finished, gripping the sink to stand. I still looked like myself, with only a few changes. My hair was it's normal dark brown color, not green and healthier looking. I had double piercings and one up in the cartilage on the left. My boobs felt slightly smaller and I wore jeans rather than a skirt. Something told me my tattoo was gone. I'd have to ask someone to check.

I crawled back to the Winchesters and pulled myself onto the couch. Dean opened his mouth to continue asking questions, but I cut him off. "I don't want to do this," I admitted. "It's against my religion. We can't avoid it though. Would one of you mind looking at my back and shoulders?"

"Why?" "Are you hurt?" The two questions overlapped. I was too dazed to figure out who said what.

"Something's off. Please." I waited for a yes and then turned to face the back of the sofa. My hands shook as I pulled the shirt up and part way over my head. The over the head was to cover my blush. "Is there an eye tattooed on my left shoulder?"

"No. Is there any reason why you have scars?" Sam asked as I covered my back again.

"I shouldn't but helps with the theory."

"What theory?"

"I think magic or God or whatever switched the Cristin in this universe with me. My body is a little different but I still recognize myself."

"That doesn't explain why you're here or how you know who we are." Dean repeated.

"You're a television show." Now that I knew we were in between the last season and the new one , I could let on to the level of my knowledge. "You've been to that universe, right? The one where you're actors."

"Yes, but that still doesn't explain why you're here," Dean repeated.

"It might just be that that Cristin needs to learn something from my universe. Equal exchange or something. Or I could be hallucinating or dreaming." I hadn't considered that yet but it was as good as anything else my mind could come up with. "But I doubt that. This seems a bit too detailed for an hallucination. And I usually have nightmares. This isn't quite a nightmare." Yet, I added internally.

"So, you don't need us, right? We can drive you to Washington or wherever you come from and leave you there to figure this out."

"You can't do that," a gruff voice interrupted. "I know who you are here. We've met."

My throat tightened. I couldn't see Cas from around Sam but the voice couldn't anyone else. I read enough self-insertion fics to know it couldn't be good news.