A/N: I had to up the rating. Sorry guys. This chapter gets an award for being embarrassing. It made me laugh the entire time I wrote it but it's still embarrassing.

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I don't know where they found it, but someone located a wheelchair that would fit into the backseat of the Impala. I suspected that they bought it somewhere. It was relatively new, in better shape than the one from my universe, and some of the parts were an obnoxious bright yellow.

"Ready to go?" Dean said as he pushed it into the room.

I looked up from yet another useless book. "I can't believe you're dragging me to Philly. You have more important things to do. Trust me." I tapped the side of my head. "I know things." What I didn't say is that it seemed highly out of character. This went against every good sense in my body—not to mention every creative writing class and forum I had stalked.

"Look at it like this," Sam interrupted. "We get you home now and then we'll get back to what you think we're supposed to be doing."

I was getting scared that somehow they wouldn't want me to leave when the time came. "And for now I have to everything you say or I could get my butt killed by something, right?" The sarcasm in my voice couldn't be clearer in my personal opinion.

"Exactly," Dean answered, seeming unfazed by it. "Are you going to be able to get into this thing or do I get to lift you?"

I tried my darnest to ignore the fact that he said "or do I get to lift you," but I could feel a blush. I was fairly sure the Dean I would write would say "or do I have to lift you." I wasn't pretty or skinny and in my universe, he was a married man with a baby. The person responsible for this was going to die.

"I've crawled to the bathroom. I think I manage a few feet." I rolled my eyes and pushed myself to my feet. I wobbled and stumbled. Although Jones had the same scars from the surgery that had allowed me to learn to walk, it clearly hadn't worked as well for her. I managed to make it into the chair though.

Dean raised an eyebrow and my struggle. "You sure about that, Christine?"

"For the last time, it's Cristin. You got it right earlier. Knock it off. Can we just get this 20-something hour drive over with?"

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I managed to get away with sleeping most of the journey but that's because I stopped any attempt at conversation. Whenever Sam or Dean tried to ask me questions about how different this world and my own were, I shut them down. I wasn't going to tell them about my personal life. It was messed up enough. I also claimed I thought I might eventually wake up in my own universe. It was worth the attempt.

Also, the Impala wasn't roomy with a wheelchair crammed in the backseat. Just saying.

When we pulled up to a hotel, I was already awake but was keeping up appearances. Sam and Dean shared a look. "How do we do this?" Dean asked.

"She'll probably want her own room," Sam answered.

"But you saw her trying to walk, Sam. I don't want to let her out of my sight. What if she falls or gets hurt?"

"Just get adjoining rooms, morons," I grumbled, unwilling to listen to the unnecessary protective spiel any longer. "And I'm fine. You guys got that wheelchair for a reason."

Unsurprisingly, I didn't get a wink of sleep. With having to face my not-mother and the sleeping I had done on the trip, I wasn't tired. Sam and Dean had hit the hay as soon as they had eaten. I hadn't eaten since I showed up here. I didn't want to. I was sure I'd get hungry eventually. It also didn't help that Dean had insisted we keep the door between the rooms open in case I needed something.

I spent my time staring at the ceiling. I considered turning on the television but the idea of watching made me feel a little sick. TV had gotten me into this mess. I even dug through Jones' bag. I had discovered some clothes, a dead cellphone, and a wallet with a small amount of cash in it. No clues as to how she and I had switched places.

Eventually I saw a light turn on in the other room. Dean, without so much as a knock on the door frame, walked into my room. "I know you're awake."

"Kindly stop trying to befriend me, sir," I replied. "And I've sent most the last few days sleeping so duh."

"Why do keep calling me sir?"

"I have a thing for being proper." I roll my eyes even though I know he probably can't see them. "And I'm serious. Please stop trying to get me to like you. To me, it isn't you at all."

"More of that 'we're a TV show' thing?"

"Yes. What to do want? Sam isn't up yet."

"You should call Jones' Mom."

"At three o'clock in the morning? Right. Bother me when you get a good idea."

"From what Sam's read, you've been missing for four years. She's been through enough, don't you think?"

"Fine. Do we have a phone number? I'll at least leave a message." Never mind that I had no idea how to talk like someone I wasn't.

Dean handed me a cellphone, the number already dialed. "We have an address too. You might want to check it though."

I took the phone with a sigh. This continued to be the stupidest idea I had heard. I hit send. After one ring, someone answered. "Hello, Jones residence?"

"Mom?" I answered back. The similarities between their voices was uncanny. "It's me. Cristin."

"Cristin? Oh, baby, where are you?"

"Actually, I'm in town. Do you still live at the house?" I had to channel all my improv training into the conversation.

"Oh, baby. Of course we are. Why don't you stop by for lunch? Noon?"

"Of course. Noon sounds great." I looked over at Dean, a sudden and Mary-Sueish thought coming to mind. We needed to get whichever one of them was going with me a cover, and fast. "Say, is it okay if I bring someone with me?"

"Who is it?"

"My...Um." Crap. I had no non-Sue ideas in my head. I panicked and stopped talking.

"It's your boyfriend, isn't it? You came here with your boyfriend." She sounded more excited than my mother would be at the idea, at least.

"Sure, whatever." I realized what I said the moment it left my mouth. I had just affirmed that one of the Winchesters was going to have to pretend I was dating him. Why hadn't we brought Kevin? It would have made sense to bring Kevin. At least then there wouldn't have been an over ten-year age difference. I nearly dropped the phone.

Dean gave me a look as I quickly stumbled out my good byes and hung up. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"I think I just called one of you my boyfriend." I closed my eyes, wincing. I expected yelling, loud enough to wake Sam and maybe some swearing. "I'm sorry?"

"That works better than any lie I could have come up with," he said instead. "You can't exactly pass for law enforcement."

"But-" Oh no. I had gotten over my head. "She's going to ask us how we met. What you do for a living. About your family. Where we live." I felt another blush creep across my cheeks. "If she's anything like my mother, she's going to ask whether or not we're—well, you know."

Please don't say it, Dean. Just don't ask. Leave it alone.

"It's nothing to be nervous about. It would be natural for her to assume that."

I let out surprised a hiccup. He didn't mention the chance that I might prefer having Sam doing the undercover work. Which I did, by the way. Talking with either one about this stuff was embarrassing but at least Sam was a little bit closer to my age. "Dean, I don't want to have this conversation."

"You're the one that decided I was your boyfriend." He chuckled at my discomfort. "Everything will be fine."

"I did not!" I whispered, finally aware that Sam might be awake and listening in. "She asked if who I was bringing was my boyfriend and I panicked and said sure. You were here the entire time! I didn't say a name! You're the one who assumed it's going to be you!"

"Of course it's going to be me. You know what Sam was like after those challenges. He needs all the rest he can get." He sat down on the bed beside me. I scooted away slightly but knew I couldn't run—not unless I wanted him to help me get off the floor. "Does this have something to do with the fact that you're a virgin?"

"It's that obvious?" I groaned.

"You've been turning redder the more we've talked about it. It's more than obvious. If it comes up, let me do the talking. I guess I better stop calling you kid. You might want to get some rest. When Sam wakes up, tell him I went to go pick up food." He squeezed my hand. "I promise. You'll be fine."

I pulled my hand away and shook it out as he left via the exit door of my room. I shuddered. It wasn't that Dean was gross or anything but I was uncomfortable enough with visiting Jones' mom. Now, I had to pretend I was dating someone who was still mostly fictional (or married!) in my mind. Any of those fangirls who thought it was okay to fantasize about this sort of thing were clearly wrong. They had no idea what it was like to be in the situation.