Sam, Dean, and I walked into a comic book store wearing our FBI outfits. "Uh... can I help you?" the man behind the counter asked. We pulled out our badges and showed them to him. "Sure hope so. Agents DeYoung, Shaw, and Benatar. Just need to ask you a few questions," Dean said. "Notice anything strange in the building, last couple of days?" Sam asked. "Like what?" The man asked giving us a funny look. "Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights," Dean said. The man seemed to be thinking, but not about what we had asked. "Uh, I don't think so. Why?" he said. "What about noises? Any skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?" Sam asked. The man looked even more skeptical than he did a moment ago. "And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?" he asked. "No of course not. These are just routine questions," I said giving him a small smile. "What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?" Sam asked.
That was when I could feel the excitement coming from the man and I wasn't sure why. "I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?" he asked. I looked at the guys utterly confused. "Fan's of what?" Sam asked as Dean said, "What's LARPing?" and I said, "The hell you talking about?" The man just looks at us for a minute. "Like you don't know-" he started but seeing our confused looks said, "Live-Action Role-Play! And pretty hardcore, too." Okay now I know what LARPing is, but I still don't understand what this guy is going on about. "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about," Dean said. "Yeah could you please explain?" I asked. "You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys from the books. What are they called? Uh... 'Supernatural.' Two guys, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh... Steve and Dirk? Uh, Sal and Dane?" he starts explaining.
"Sam and Dean?" Sam asked. I was hoping the guy would say that wasn't it. "That's it!" he said. I looked at Sam and frowned, this situation was getting weirder by the minute. "You're saying this is a book?" Dean asked. "Books. It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following," he explained walking over to a table labeled 'bargain bin' "Let's see. Um... Ah. Yeah," he said handing one over to Dean. "That's the first one, I think," he told us. I looked at the front and it read 'Supernatural by Carver Edlund" Dean flipped it over and read the back out loud. "Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths." That was the first case they did once Dean got Sam from college. Seriously what the hell was going on? Sam grabbed the book out of Dean's hand and looks at it. "We're gonna need all the copies of 'Supernatural' you've got." Sam tells the man.
We returned to the hotel Sam was on his laptop while Dean and I read the books. "Everything is in here. I mean everything. From the racist truck to – to me having sex. I'm full-frontal in here, dude." Dean said. I scrunched up my face not needing that image in my brain. "That was something I could have went without knowing. Glad I haven't got that far," I said throwing the book to the side. Dean got up and walked over to where Sam was. "How come we haven't heard of them before?" Dean asked and I wondered the same. "They're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started in '05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one – 'No Rest For The Wicked'-" Sam turned the computer toward us before finishing with, "Ends with you going to hell." Well that explains why the guy didn't mention my name; the books ended before I met the boys. "I reiterate. Freaking insane." Dean said.
I nodded my head because this was crazy. "Glad I'm not in these freaking books," I said. Dean browsed the site for a second. "Check it out. There's actually fans. There's not many of them, but still. Did you read this?" Dean asked. "Yeah," Sam replied. I was curious as to what the fans were saying. "Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this – Simpatico says 'the demon story line is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic.' Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it." Dean said. Well then if you didn't like it why did you read it? "Yeah. Well, keep on reading. It gets better." Sam said and that had me a little worried. "There are 'Sam girls' and 'Dean girls' and – what's a 'slash fan'?" Dean asked. My face once again scrunched up, but this time in pure disgust. "As in... Sam-slash-Dean. Together." Sam explained feeling just as disgusted as I was. Dean looked at us confused and asked, "Like, together together?" I nodded my head while Sam replied, "Yeah."
Dean was now just as disgusted as we were. "They do know we're brothers, right?" Dean asked. I doubted these weirdos cared. "Doesn't seem to matter." Sam told him. "I reiterate I'm really glad I'm not part of these books." I said. Sam pulled me toward him and nuzzled into my neck. "So am I," he said. Dean closed the laptop and said, "Oh, come on. That... That's just sick. We got to find this Carver Edlund." I was on board with that because I didn't want more books written. "Yeah, that might not be so easy." Sam said. I looked at him confused. "Why not?" Dean asked. "No tax records, no known address. Looks like 'Carver Edlund' is a pen name," Sam explained. I let out a groan letting my head fall forward in exasperation. "Somebody's gotta know who he is." Dean said.
We made a trip to the publishing building the next day hoping to find this 'Carver Edlund'. "So you published the 'Supernatural' books?" Sam asked the publisher. "Yep. Yeah. Gosh. These books... You know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. You know – 'Doctor Sexy, M.D.' Please," she said before scoffing. "Right. Well, we're hoping that our article can... shine a light on an underappreciated series." Sam told her. I gave her a smile and said, "Yeah a series like this deserves better." She gave me a huge smile in return. "Yeah, yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press then m-maybe we could start publishing again," she said. That was the last thing any of us wanted. "No, no, no, no. God, no. I mean, why – why would you want to do that? You know, it's, uh, such a complete series, what with Dean going to hell and all," Dean said.
The publisher seemed to be getting emotional. "Oh, my god! That was one of my favorite ones, because Dean was so... strong... and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry. You know, like in – In 'Heart,' when Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in 'Home,' when Dean had to call John and ask him for help," she said before turning away from us. "Gosh... if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings." She finished her sentence. Oh lady if you only knew. "Real men?" Dean asked and I understood why because this lady without realizing it was talking about him. "I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?" she asked. I had to turn and cough to hide my laugh at the irony of this situation. "Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside." Dean told her.
Really Dean with the smartass comments; we need her to like us. "Is that supposed to be funny?" she asked. "Lady, this whole thing is funny," Dean replied. I looked up and shook my head. "How do I know you three are legit, hmm?" she asked. Think Cassidy think. "Oh, trust me. We, uh... we're legit," Dean told her trying to dig himself out of the hole he just created. "Well, I don't want any smart-ass article making fun of my boys," she told them. "Listen ignore him. He's just saying that because his ego was bruised with the real men comment. Truth is we're huge fans. And when the boys cried I cried. It was as if I could feel their pain as my own," I told her. "Hmm. You've read the books?" she asked. I looked to the boys hoping they would play along. "Cover to Cover," Dean said.
The publisher was still a little skeptical, but what I had said was helping to win her over. "What's the year and model of the car?" she asked. I smiled knowing we had this in the bag. "It's a 1967 Chevy Impala," Dean answered with a smile; he truly loved Baby. "What's May 2nd?" she asked. "That's my – Uh... that's Sam's birthday," Sam answered this time. I smiled at the fact he caught his slip up. "Sam's score on the LSAT?" she asked. "One…74," Sam answered not completely sure. "Dean's favorite song?" "It's a tie. Between Zep's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues.'" Dean said finally convincing her. "Okay. Okay. What do you want to know?" she asked. Great now we were getting somewhere. "What's Carver Edlund's real name?" Sam asked. "Oh, no. I – No. Sorry, I can't do that," she said causing me to groan. I was hoping Sam had a way to convince her because this time I was at a loss. "We just want to talk to him. You know, get the 'Supernatural' story in his own words," Sam tried to convince her.
"He's very private. It's like Salinger," she told us. Sam gave me a look that said he had an idea, but I probably wouldn't like it. "Please. Like she said – we are, um..." he started while unbuttoning his shirt showing his anti-possession tattoo "…big…big fans." He finished. Sam gave Dean and me a look. Dean pulled his shirt down to show his tattoo while I pulled mine up. The publisher looked at the boys and licked her lips. I could feel her arousal and had to swallow a growl; Sam was mine. "Awesome. You know what?" she asked before turning around and pulling her skirt up. "I got one too." She said. I didn't have anything to say to that. "Whoa. You are a fan," Dean said. She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote something down. "His name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off," she said. On the paper was his address.
We pulled up to a house that looked very rundown. "This is where he lives?" I asked. Sam nodded and replied, "That's what the paper says." I shrugged my shoulders and walked up the steps with the boys. Dean and Sam shared a look before glancing back at me. I nodded my head; while we were all slightly freaked out we wanted answers. Dean rang the door bell and we waited. A man who looked like he had seen better days answered the door. "You Chuck Shurley?" Dean asked. "The Chuck Shurley who wrote the 'Supernatural' books?" Sam asked his own question. I could feel the worry and confusion coming from him. "Maybe. Why?" he asked in return. "I'm Dean. This is Sam. The Dean and Sam you've been writing about. And that's Cassidy," Dean said. Chuck closed the door in our face. "Well that was certainly rude," I said.
Dean rang the bell again and Chuck actually opened the door. "Look, uh... I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life," Chuck said. He went to shut the door again, but Dean stopped him. "See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books," Dean told him forcing the door open. Chuck took a step back and we followed him in. "Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny," Chuck said. Well no duh we didn't think so either. "Damn straight, it's not funny," Dean told him. I gave him a pointed look trying to figure him out. Something felt off about him, but for the most part I was picking up nervousness and confusion. "Look, we just want to know how you're doing it," Sam told him. "I'm not doing anything," Chuck tried to explain. "Are you a hunter?" Dean asked. "What? No. I'm a writer." Chuck replied. I put a hand on Dean's shoulder stopping him. "He's telling the truth. All you're doing is freaking him out," I said. Dean looked over at me confused. "Then how does he know so much about demons?" Dean asked before he advanced on Chuck, who fell onto the couch. "And Tulpas, and changelings?" Dean asked now looking at Chuck and not me.
"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!" Chuck said. I raised a brow because it definitely wasn't that kind of thing. "No, it's not a 'Misery' thing. Believe me, we are not fans!" Dean said raising his voice. "Well, then, what do you want?!" Chuck exclaimed. "I'm Sam. And that's Dean. And that's Cassidy," Sam told him. This time he caught my name and looked at me in confusion. "Sam and Dean are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real! And Cassidy isn't even in the books so were did you get that name?" Chuck asked. Dean felt it was a good idea to show him the car, maybe it would make him believe us. "Are those real guns?" he asked. Dean smirked and replied, "Yup. This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs." Chuck seemed to get even more nervous and confused. "Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans. That's, that's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some posters in the house." Chuck said turning to go back inside.
"Chuck, stop." Dean said. This caused Chuck's nervousness to turn into fear. "Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt me," He said. "How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? About Cassidy's powers? Or Lilith breaking the seals?" Sam asked. Chuck was now back to being confused. "Wait a minute. How do you know about that?" Chuck asked. "The question is how do you." Dean said. I looked to Chuck who was starting to freak out. "Because I wrote it?" he seemed to question himself. "You kept writing?" Sam asked surprised. "Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right? Did that – Did Phil put you up to this?" Chuck asked. I raised an eyebrow curious as to who Phil was. "Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam. And that's his girlfriend Cassidy Matthews." Dean said. Chuck seemed even more freaked out now. "The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down. And Cassidy isn't in any of the published books," Chuck said.
We followed Chuck back inside as he started to have a mental break down. He poured himself a drink, drank it all then turned toward us. "Oh! Oh, you're still there," he said. Where did he think we were going to go? "Yeah where else would we be?" I asked. "You're not a hallucination," Chuck said. I had to smile at that one; hallucination really? "Nope," all of us said. "Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously I'm a God," Chuck said and I bent over laughing. "You're not a god," Sam said after giving me a pointed look. "What it was funny," I said with a smile. Sam rolled his eyes, but smiled at me none the less. "How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through – The physical beatings alone," Chuck said feeling awful. "Yeah, we're still in one piece," Dean told him. Chuck still felt horrible thinking it was his fault. "I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica. And I killed your husband," he said.
My face fell as I thought about Jason. "That was a vamp not you," I tried to reason with him. "All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment," he cared on. "You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us," Dean told him trying to make him understand. "Did you really have to live through the bugs?" he asked. Luckily I was not there for that one; I'm not afraid of bugs, but that many would be scary. "Yeah," Dean replied. "What about the ghost ship?" Chuck asked. How many past cases was he going to bring up? "Yes, that too." Dean answered. I could tell Chuck was still blaming himself and I wasn't sure how we were going to make him think otherwise. "I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing... if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass," Chuck said. "Chuck, you're not a God," Dean and I said.
"We think you're probably just psychic," Sam explained to him. Chuck looked at Sam for a moment surprised. "No. If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard," Chuck said. While I didn't doubt what he was saying, but psychics didn't choose their visions; take Sam for example. "It seems that somehow, you're just... focused on our lives," Sam told him. "In a creepy stalker way," I said causing Chuck to frown, Dean to chuckle, and Sam to have a small smile. "Are you working on anything right now?" Dean asked. Chuck seemed like he had realized something. "Holy crap," he said. "What?" Sam asked. He picked up some papers from a desk and looked at them. "The, uh, latest book? It's, uh, it's kind of weird," he told us. "Weird how?" Sam asked. I wasn't sure we were going to like the answer. "It's very Vonnegut," he said turning toward us. "'Slaughterhouse-Five Vonnegut or 'Cat's Cradle' Vonnegut?" Dean asked intently. Sam was very surprised and said, "What?" causing Dean to reply, "What?" defensively. I chuckled at their banter. "It's, uh, 'Kilgore Trout' Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house... confronted by my characters," Chuck said before handing us the manuscript.