Supernatural was awoken by a beam of light stabbing into his eyes, he promptly groaned and rolled over. He wrapped the blanket he was using tighter around himself, I feel like I've been hit by a bus while hungover, he thought, and like I have the worst whiplash in history.
He laid in the bed for a few minutes more and, when he couldn't ignore his splitting headache anymore, he groaned and got up.
He flew into the kitchen, hoping to find Homestuck or really anyone to firstly, ask for painkillers and, arguably, more importantly to form some sort of plan.
He popped into the room he looked around and saw Sam, Dean, and Bobby on various seats in the living room. Homestuck was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter on his phone and sipping a cup of coffee. The three hunters jumped at his sudden appearance.
"Hello sleeping beauty," the horned fandom said without taking his eyes off the small screen, all to used to Supernatural's teleporting.
"Can I borrow your painkillers?" Supernatural asked his friend directly. He chose to ignore the others until the pounding in his head stopped. The small pill bottle appeared in flash of white and Homestuck tossed them over. Supernatural mumbled his thanks and went to make himself his own cup of coffee.
"So Hannibal? We talking like 'Silence of the Lambs' Hannibal?" Dean asked when Supernatural had poured his first cup.
"Yes," Supernatural said simply. He downed the pills, along with a large gulp of lukewarm coffee.
"No?" Homestuck said confused at his friend's quick answer. He turned to Supernatural and raised one eyebrow.
"I mean the series is based off that but this one's just….well mannered," Supernatural clarified.
"Series?" Sam asked. He had leaned forward in his seat, a sign that he was truly interested and curious.
Bobby and Dean had also started listening more intently at that. Both Bobby and Dean had abandoned the books they were reading in favour of the conversation.
"Yeah," Homestuck said plainly. He waved his hand that wasn't holding the cup, "What with the production teams, editing, plots, all that nonsense."
"And unsettling as all hell," Supernatural added as an afterthought; he rubbed his temples.
"They probably thought this was a favour," Homestuck said, "he's fucking weird."
The hunters just seemed to have more questions. Supernatural could almost feel their confusion.
"Remember the wendigo you guys fought when you were looking for your dad? Yeah like that but more human, and," Supernatural continued trying to make a connection so the brothers understood how dangerous this really was. He put hands to forehead in fague antler shape, "with antlers and gaunt. Hannibal isn't a mindless beast, they're smart, cunning, terrifying, and are honestly pissed as fuck right now because they might not get any more content, seasons, whatever you want to call it. Believe me it's not a good mix for a trickster to have."
The fandom could tell that the hunters were taken aback by his, admittedly stalker sounding, knowledge of their lives. He just prayed to whoever was listening, preferably Chuck, that they wouldn't comment on it.
"Especially this trickster," Homestuck said, the tense air in the room caused him no concern. He had put down his, now empty, cup.
Supernatural tried to turn his head to look at the other fandom but pain flared from his neck. He whined and nudged Homestuck as he pointed to the hurt area. The other fandom rolled his eyes and quickly walked over to heal his friend. He pushed and prodded at the tense muscle before ultimately giving up and pulling a cream out of his sylladex. He rubbed the, vaguely green, paste over the area and then walked back to the counter.
"Okay, so how do we stop it?" Sam said after watching the exchange. Homestuck looked back up at him and gave a bitter laugh.
"Them, and you guys don't. We do," Homestuck said, "see Hannibal is is almost never not trickster." He pulled out his phone again pulling up a cheerful picture of Hannibal and himself, "It's kind of a pain, they're really nice when they're not trickster, we used to hang out a lot." He tapped his temple, "Y'know horns and antlers bros."
"Wait," Bobby held up his hands, "you guys were friends?"
"Not, were. Are," Homestuck scoffed, "I'm not gonna shun my friends everytime they go on murderous rage sprees."
Supernatural kept talking as if this sort of comment was normal; far to used to his friends strangeness to be fazed. The hunters shared a dumbfounded look, but simply chose not to question it.
"That could be why we're stuck. Hannibal wants to keep us in one place, apart from everyone else," Supernatural looked at his friend.
"What do you mean?" Homestuck asked, confused.
"Well, who else would do this? You really think Who or Hetalia would trap us here," the winged fandom said. He quickly turned towards the three hunters, "no offense of course."
"None taken?" Dean said, confused. He looked to his brother and Bobby who only shrugged, equally confused.
"Ok, but why?" Homestuck impatiently tapped his foot against the tiled just ignored him and teleported in front of Sam, who jumped with a start. The two were so close that they had gone cross eyed trying to focus on the took a step back and held out his hand expectantly.
"I need my phone," he said plainly.
"What?" Sam's eyebrows scrunched together. He looked past Supernatural and to his brother. Dean just frowned and shrugged.
Supernatural huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, "you took my phone. I need it back." He tried his best to convey the desperation of the situation through his voice. It seemed to work as all of them shared a look before Sam hesitantly took the flip phone out of his pocket.
"Oh, right," Sam said slowly. He held out the phone, which Supernatural grabbed immediately.
Supernatural pulled up the modified menu and typed in a code and, from the old camera on the front, came a projection of a closed journal. The fandom swiped a hand across the 'cover' and the book fell open in a smooth animation. The group was presented with, what appeared to be, a hand written table of contents. He 'tapped' a chapter called "North America" and the virtual pages flipped until they landed at a page decorated with sketches of different types of forest and fur. He flipped a few more pages before he found what he was looking for.
The digital page held a picture of Hannibal when they weren't trickster. Their brown curly hair fell just short of their chocolate coloured eyes, their dark lips stretched in a wide, cheerful grin.
The picture showed them wearing a plaid shirt with a tie was partially covered by a worn-looking jacket which contrasted with their dark skin. The notes beside the picture were clear and said things like; 'good at chess, caught Trekkie in a stalemate', and ' vegetarian, for obvious reasons'.
Homestuck gasped at what the page held. Quietly, he said, "when the fuck did you do this?"
With a few more waves of his hand another page was pulled up next to the original, this one holding a picture of an inky, unnaturally black, figure with their ribs showing, the face set in an expression of a voracious person. The cheek bones stuck out at sharp angles from dirty, gaunt face. The picture was slightly blurred, looking like it had been taken on the run. The notes next to think picture were less neat and stained with blotches; 'Do not approach alone' and 'Kill on sight. This is no longer the Hannibal we know.'
"As you can see from the second page," Supernatural paused and bit his lip. He made eye contact with the hunters, but avoided Homestuck's gaze. He looked back to the first picture again before he continued, "they aren't really our friend when they're like this."
The fandom cleared his throat and gestured at the projection in front of him. He pointed to the image of a smiling Hannibal first.
"This is my friend, Hannibal. They, similar to myself, become trickster when they taste," he looked away from everyone. He refused to meet anyone's eyes as he said, "human or fandom flesh."
Homestuck set his cup down with a quiet clink before he walked across the room to Supernatural. He patted his shoulder before continuing on from where Supernatural left off. Albeit more clinically, "They're fast, smart, and have a weird obsession with manners as we mentioned earlier. They look sickly when they're trickster, kind of like they've been starved for weeks."
Supernatural waved his hand and a drawn picture showing the tall coal black figure enlarged.
The thing had dark curly hair, ripped clothes that looked like they had once been a flannel shirt and jeans, instead of shoes it had bare feet, and eyes that almost glowed white. The creature's body had long fingers attached to bulky hands. Stick thin arms stuck out of shoulders too broad for its skeletal frame. Bobby thought of a Wendigo and, with a shared look with the two brothers, saw them thinking the same thing.
"We can stop them with flame, or Anasazi symbols, uh, flare guns," Supernatural stopped to think and Dean took the chance to speak.
"So, basically a super charged Wendigo?" Dean asked.
"Yes," Supernatural said hesitantly. He bit his lip as he tried to figure out how to best explain the situation, "well, yes and no. They're still a person. Their perception of the worlds just been fucked with. For our, erm, kind, if you experience severe emotional trauma or something specific triggers the transformation you become trickster. Hannibal was told they weren't getting anymore, how do I say this, substance. We all thought they were fine, but clearly not. Now we have a super charged being out and about."
Homestuck still looked confused. We looked form the hunters to his friend, before he cleared his throat in order to get everyone's attention.
"A what now?" Homestuck's voice conveyed his confusion. He stuck his tongue out in disgust, "Wendigo? What a gross word."
Dean cut in with a quick, "It's a human who eats other humans. It's a native american legend, where cannibals turns into monsters."
Homestuck made a noise of horrified disgust, "That's real nice, Winnie. Real classy place you got here."
The winged fandoms gaze snapped to his friend. With other fandoms it was an, unspoken, rule that you weren't to talk bad about anyone's universe.
Supernatural's wings puffed up in indignation, "like you can talk. How many times have those kids been killed?"
"You want to play that? How many times have they died?" Homestuck gestured towards the hunters.
Supernatural opened his mouth to respond but snapped it shut again with a click. He grimaced, "Don't fucking insult my home, you fucking demon."
The bone-knife appeared in his clenched fist.
"Then don't have a shitty universe," Homestuck sneered. He put his fingers to his temples, red and blue sparks started to crackle out from his eyes.
"Enough," both teenagers fell silent and looked back to Bobby, "you two idjits better come up with a plan if we're going to beat this thing."
"Right, back to the main point," Supernatural turned towards the three hunters again and said sternly, "you guys aren't helping us."
"Of course we are." Sam said immediately. His face showed his genuine concern, eyebrows knitted together and mouth set in a frown.
"You're too important!" Supernatural exclaimed, worst case scenarios flashing before his mind's eye. To kill the Winchesters out of context of the story might mean the end of his life.
He thought back to the lessons he was forced to go to when he had first formed.
A younger, and smaller, Supernatural sat at an old desk spinning a pen around his fingers. The mandatory classes were to help introduce him into the world of fandoms. There were rules and regulations each person had to follow to ensure the safety of everybody.
All the fandoms live in their own solar system. Each fandom had a planet that formed when their thing got enough of a following to be declared a fandom. As soon as the fandom is formed, a group of volunteers are to go to the planet and find the personification on their planet.
When his planet had been found and he had been found his hair was brown and shaggy. It had always hung in his eyes, until one day when he had had enough and took scissors to the fringe and a razor to the sides that, along with the gel he had 'borrowed' from Star Wars Sr., was how he wore it now.
His beige trenchcoat, quickly retired when he realized that he tripped over the extra fabric too much, hung around him and tried onto the floor. His black pentagram T-shirt fit loosely on his body, another item quickly replaced with a simple witches knot when he had found out about it's negative connotations.
In front of him stood Professor Lord Of the Rings. The old man's classes was Supernatural's least liked subjects. Not because of the content, but because the old man tended to ramble on and on about useless things.
Today, however, he seemed to get straight to the point, "I am about to warn you. You need to pay attention to the rules and warnings from today."
Prof. Lord, as he liked to be called, had waited for a nod from the young fandom before he continued. He had heaved a sigh and begun, "as you know, there is a counsel of fandoms that watch over our solar system. You are aware that on your individual planet you can do as you please. Your planet of Cars and pitfalls, for example, you can make any law or decree you want, but as soon as you step foot on this neutral station, then you are to abide by our rules.
"Firstly, you are not to go into planets' atmosphere without express permission of the fandom themself. Second, you are not to go into anyone's universe without them there with you at all times, this is for their own good. If you somehow kill the main characters, 'mains' as they are often referred to, then you run the risk of corrupting, maiming, or killing your fellow fandom. Third, you must never allow your characters and inhabitants to know of the existence of fandoms; specifically of your existence. If you break any of these rules you may be subject to community service, a fine, compensation, or exile. Any questions?"
Supernatural was too busy to answer as he could only stare at the man and wonder how he could talk for so long without pause. When the old man raised an eyebrow in question the young fandom felt his face flush.
"I asked if you had any questions so far," he repeated.
"Oh, uh, why can't we let our own people know about us?" Supernatural replied quizzically.
"Ah, this is because of the unfairness to them," he replied. WHen it was clear that the younger fandom still didn't understand he explained in depth, "you are them and they are you. So of course they will be drawn to you. I believe yours are the Winchesters, correct?" He waited for Supernatural to nod before he continued, "well they will give their life to protect you if the situation is dire enough. They won't be able to stop themselves from getting involved. So we, as a people, avoid our mains to avoid confusion, disturbances to our plots, and to allow them to live unobstructed. Now, this isn't to say that you can't go experience other universes, yours or others, but it's simply a very strong warning to be careful."
Lord took a break and Supernatural was glad until the older man simply turned a page. The younger fandom slouched in his seat and almost groaned when the older fandom took a breath and started to talk again.
"Now, there are unspoken rules as well. They most respected being, you are never to insult someone's universe. Us fandos have no control over what has, will, should, or should not happen in our respective stories. I highly encourage you to socialize and attend community events, but of course no one can push you," Prof. Lord had closed the book and dismissed. Shortly after.
The winged fandom was brought out of his own head with a start when Dean suddenly spoke.
"What do you mean?" The eldest Winchester had asked.
Supernatural's wings raised as high as the kitchen would allow in his momentary panic at being startled. He felt true panic of the situation form a lump in his throat as the severity of the situation set in.
"I mean if you die," he gestured to them and then to himself, "then I die."
"Why?" Bobby asked, it was clear that the old hunter was interested in an unfamiliar subject.
At least it seemed that way to Supernatural. There was no way the old man enjoyed being relied on for information. The fandom shook his head to clear it, no time to get distracted, he thought as he tried to come up with a way to explain. Ah, fuck it, he mentally said to himself, we're fucked anyways.
"Well lets see. My whole universe, this universe, revolves around those two." He waved a hand at Dean and Sam's direction, "If your main characters die out of story you aren't coming back."
"Winnie!" Homestuck's panicked voice didn't seem to get through in his friend's state.
Supernatural continued, "and since you two are the core of my world it's a great reason me for wanting to keep you alive."
"Winnie!" Homestuck put his hand over Supernatural's mouth. "Go to another room, I'll handle this."
The winged fandom stared at his friend indignantly. Homestuck removed his hand and pushed him into the direction of the kitchen door; which led to the scrap yard. Without another word Supernatural disappeared.