I baced myself for the news. What was I? Or rather, who was this other me? Demon or angel vessel? Antichrist? False prophetess? Oddly soild ghost? Celebrity? Really, the options were limitless and all bad. Every single thing I thought of since waking up put firmly in the Mary-Sue catergory. And that was the last thing I wanted to be.

"Her father was the vessel for one of my brothers. I came to you—her—when you prayed for your brother to come back sane. You were 16."

That gets an award for absurd. "Clearly whoever you met isn't me. I'm not religious enough for that, espeically not at 16." Neither my biological father or the man I considered my father where righteous enough to be an angel's vessel. And me praying for either of them was surprising. I was an athesit when 16. Whoever this Cristin was, we didn't have all that much in common.

"You saw me in my real form."

That made me do a double take. Yes, they exist. I know. Stupid right? "What was the other me's last name?" My hand went up to my earings. It felt weird—looking like myself but not being myself. This was worse than any alien/time travel/science fiction stuff I had written.

"If I recall correctly, it was Jones."

"That's funny. My last name is McMullen."

"Were you given up for adoption? That isn't a name you could have."

"I changed it in college. And how do know which names I should have?" Well, if I wasn't a Mary-Sue before this, I certainly was now. "The fact that I have mulitple last names is public knowledge in my world but it shouldn't be here."

"Much like these two, I have wanted to keep watch over you. When your brother's body was found, you went missing, lost amoung the humans. Perhaps had I not failed you, you would not be in this situtation."

"We could please call the other me something else?" My skin crawled at the idea of someone else being me. Having a twin was one thing, but there being two mes was horrid. Not impossible, if there was any warrent to theortical phyics, but still creepy. "We're different people. You didn't fail me. You failed her—Jones or whomever."

The other thought was that both Jones and I sounded like Mary-Sues. It was two for the price of one, apparently. I didn't share this with the Winchesters or Castiel. They had enough fangirls. And I wasn't going to admit I was one.

"So," Dean said. "How do we get this Cristin and Jones back where they belong?"

"I do not know." Castiel looked confused. "This seems to be beyond the powers of heaven. Even if I were still an angel, I do not think I could fix this."

My brain searched for answer. There were several possible plotlines I could think of. I could fall asleep and wake up in my own bed. I could get knocked unconious and wake up in my local hospital. I could die and wake up somewhere in my own universe (hopefully as a last option, I wouldn't want to be dead for real). Maybe Jones had to do something. I didn't make a habit of reading these types of fan fiction. They were normally poorly written and unintentionally satrical.

"We can't just keep her here! We have to deal with the fallen angels and Crowley and the tablets! We don't have to deal with a kid!"

"I'm not a kid." Of all the things I had imagined being called by fictional charcters, kid was not one of them. My name or one of my nicknames, sure, but not kid. I had enough being called kiddo in my own universe.

Dean ingnored me and continued complaining. "It's not like she can help! She can't even walk, Cas!"

No one jumped to my defense on that. I wasn't surprised. From what I knew of the show, almost all of the charaters were pratical. Having a universe-hopping cripple along for the ride wasn't practical. I could jump to my own denfense, however. "There's a lot of papers and books here. I can read. Maybe I can help find some way to help. Or at least find my own way home."

I looked around, finding the bag where my glasses had been stored. "And Jones brought this bag. Maybe there's a hint to why I'm here instead. I just need a way around and food. I can manage, really."

Dean humpted and walked away. "Fine, but you or the other you cause any problems, you're out."

"Wouldn't want it any other way, sir." I had nnever imagined calling Dean by his first name but I couldn't call him Winchester. Someone (most likely me) would get confused. "Where do you want me to start?"

As it turns out, I didn't get much of a chance to start anything. Shortly after Dean dropped a book on my lap, I found myself nodding off. My head still hurt and I was still confused. Very confused. I should be too smart to get in these situtions. I put my head down on the book. "Ugh."

"Who are you?"

"Cristin. Hi, Kevin. I'd say nice to meet you, but it's not." I didn't look up. How could I? There was nothing I could do. I already knew what he looked like.

"You okay, Crista?"

Oh, so even imaginary people can't get my name right? Who was writing this? Someone I knew in high school? "Do I look okay?" At least I had control over my own reactions. If I started saying something I would never say, then we'd have a problem.

"Um..."

"Ugh. I'm being rude again, aren't I?" I looked up and tried to smile. "Look, it's been a weird day. I don't want to talk. I can be horrid sometimes."

"Right." He looked like he was about to say something else but instead he walked away.

I tried to read the book Dean had given me but whatever it was, it didn't help with the situtation. Fantasy had never been my thing. There was no science in any of it. Eventually, I shut the book, curled my legs under me, and nodded off to sleep.

"Cristin. Cristin! DAMN IT, MCMULLEN! WAKE UP!"

"Well, that rules out that theory," I mumbled as I woke up. My headache had stopped but I was still trapped in Supernatural. "Sorry."

"Don't do that," Dean demanded. "We've been trying to wake you up for an hour."

I didn't like the sound of that. Not at all. It sounded like someone fictional was getting attached to me. There was no visable plot device to even get them to like me yet, let alone be worried when I decided to nap. "Yeah, do me a favor, don't worry next time. In fact, don't worry about me at all."

"Well, aren't you Princess Pleasant? You mentioned having a condition—"

"Cerebral Palsy," both Sam and I said in unison.

"And so I got worried."

"One, all I did was fall asleep. Two, you shouldn't be worrying about me. It's dangerous. And creepy." If a writer was behind this garabage, I was going to punch them, hard. "I just got here. No need to get attached." I might as well change my name. Good gosh, what else could possibly go Sue? "I'll be out of here before you know it."

"I did some research into Jones, the other you," Sam said, ending the conversation. "Cas was right. Her father disspeared and then died a few years later, murder. Her mother and younger sister live in Phildaphedia. She has one older half-brother in Idaho with his father. Mom's first husband, apparently."

"Younger sister? Are you sure? In my world, I have a twin."

"Yeah. I read that you had a twin brother. He died shortly after he was born. Sorry." Sam looked confused. "I didn't realize..."

"Oh, I'm not upset!" I assured him. "Different universe, remember? My sister is still alive." As far as I knew. I hadn't actually seen her since we graduated high school. Not that I was going to tell them that. "Go on."

"Jones had a full-ride to Penn State. Econominncs. After her father's body was found, she dropped out. No one had really seen her since." Sam sat down beside me.

"We think you should go talk to the mother." Dean added. "She might have some idea as to why Jones would do this."

It was getting worse by the moment. Their entire plot seemed to have come off course to acommidate my enterance into the universe. I could list all of the problems with that but since I had a much as a clue as what was going to happen in Season Nine as any other fan, I didn't know how bad I was messing things up. Instead, I had to figure out how to avoid an adventure to visit not-my-mother.

"You're kidding, right? You want me to talk to a woman I don't know about myself? She'd expect me to know things I can't possibly know. And how am getting to Philly? You guys have bigger fish to fry. You said it yourself. The tablets, Crowley, the entire legion of Heaven falling from the sky. Seriously. I am not your primary concern."

"We're not any closer to figuring any of what you just listed off," Dean replied. "Look, kid, it's our job to help people. Let us help you."

I sighed. What to do? What to do? I had no idea how to deal with these guys. Every fiber of my being seemed to be telling me what was happening was wrong. "I don't have a choice, do I?"