A/N: I'm sorry for the wait everyone! That's all I can really say :( I hope you enjoy and any mistakes are mine :s
Special thanks to my beta for trying her hardest :) And just so you know I did look up the Supernatural transcript for this chapter, so there are conversations in this chapter that revolve heavily around that transcript. I wanted it to remain as true to the actual episode as I could make it.
Supernatural does not belong to me and I make no money out of doing this. My only reward is the people who enjoy reading my stories that I take an effort in putting on here :)
Thank you all!
Celest ^I^
Weeks, actually months had passed since that fateful day in the kitchen. The upside to it was at least everyone, including Missy, was informed about her predicament with Pandora. But since Missy had dropped that bombshell, the bigger issue at large had to preoccupy everyone, including herself. She had been pouring almost nonstop over ancient tomes, trying to find any clue as to how to stop this, or possibly any information on seals in order to try and halt it a different way. Up to that point she had been achieving no luck, none of them had. And the end prognosis seemed to be becoming bleak as the days passed.
She had taken Missy's word of advice and had tuned into the "angel radio" in order to try and keep up with the real-time news. Along with the talk of vessels, battle plans, and the seals, there had been increasing talk over the two Winchester brothers. Sam and Dean seemed to be a core involvement around the angels and it worried Amy for that reason. What did they want with them?
Steeling herself, she got up and walked out of her room. The others were dispersed around the place; Gabe watching cartoons, Jazz and Missy talking quietly in the kitchen, heads bent towards the other, and Lance just walking out of the bathroom. He gave her a tight-lipped smile and walked out to sit next to Gabe, who didn't even acknowledge his presence. They had all become more tense as the days passed and Amy took a large breath before saying what she meant to.
"I'm going out."
The others looked at her in mild interest and Gabe gave her a piercing stare. The trickster had been relatively reclusive for the last little while but he still had his humor about him, he was just more shut in.
"Where you going?" he asked her.
She shrugged, trying to wave it away. "I need some air, and besides you'll know where I am at all times and if I'm in any kind of danger." She pointed meaningfully at her left hip.
His eyes flickered with something; was it maybe worry? And then it was gone just as fast as she thought it was there.
"Don't worry guys. I'll be back a little later or in a few days. But I need to do this on my own."
The others seemed hesitant but reluctantly nodded, and she walked out of the condo. As soon as the door clicked behind her, she felt the familiar whoosh around her and noticed that she was standing outside of a motel. The other day she had come across something that had disturbed her greatly. In her perusals of some ancient tomes, she had walked into a small, used bookstore. She knew she wouldn't find anything useful to their predicament, but that was the point; she needed the distraction.
Walking up to the door, she rapped on the fading green paint and waited patiently, glancing around her to make sure no one was around. The door slowly creaked open in front of her and half a face was presented to her. The eye that she could see widened and the door was thrown wide open in greeting.
"Amy?!"
"Sam!" she exclaimed as she gave him a large hug, throwing herself in his arms. The hunter laughed as he embraced her in his strong arms and squeezed tightly. Laughing, he set her down and closed the door, placing the gun that he had been holding on the small shelf beside it.
The bathroom door opened and Dean came strolling out. His eyes widened in shock then crinkled at the edges as he took her in. "Heya girl! What's up?" He too gave her a large hug and she giggled.
"Well I thought I should come and see you guys," she began.
Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Um no offense or anything, Amy, we're glad to see you and all but how exactly did you know where to find us?"
"Oh!" She rummaged around in the small book bag she kept slung over her shoulder and produced a small, worn, dog eared copy of a book and held it out to the two of them. It was titled, "No Rest for the Wicked," with two males on the cover, their hair blowing in the wind and the Impala streaking along a dark road. "Something you guys maybe need to tell me?"
Sam let out a breath and he offered a grim smile. "So you've found them too."
Amy nodded. "That was worrisome, but when I went a little more in depth into the other books I found something that made me slightly more on edge." At Sam and Dean's confused looks she finished, "I'm in a book as well. Apparently it details when you two were – well, when we all were – stuck in a time loop at the mystery spot; freaky, ain't it? As to how I found you, well, I have my ways, but spells can go a long way. And I know some interesting people. Rules are meant to be broken, boys." She said this while crossing her fingers behind her back.
Sam's eyebrows skyrocketed on his face, but he made no claims to her supposed witchcraft. Instead, he reached over to grab the novel. Flipping through it frantically, he came to certain passages that she marked and she watched as his eyes quickly scanned across the words. Closing it gently, he hummed to himself.
"How does he know all this stuff about you guys anyways?" asked Amy in confusion. "I mean, I'm not an expert, but something tells me you're not offering your stories up to the New York Times."
Dean smirked and sat on the end of one of the hotel beds. "Nah, that's too Wall Street style. We would prefer to do it in movies or TV shows."
Sam snickered and walked to the small table by the window. Amy rolled her eyes at that. "Oh, and Amy?" she turned, arching an eyebrow at the younger brother, "his name actually isn't Carver Edlund, it's Chuck Shurley."
She rolled her eyes at that tidbit of information. "Of course it is; why wouldn't I have thought of that. A pen name." She sighed in frustration, running her hand through her long blonde hair. "Okay, sooo... should we go meet him?"
Sam and Dean exchanged a look until Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Why not?" Dean said with a bright smile. "After all, you're in this issue."
Amy huffed out in annoyance and rolled her eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time. "Don't remind me."
~x~
Outside Chuck Shurley's Home
~x~
The Impala pulled up outside of a beaten down looking home, which appears to be on the last legs of its life. She can tell just from its appearance that it's been severely neglected over the years and the yard needs a good weeding. Getting out of the backseat, she closes the door slightly more forcefully then she at first intended. Dean gives her a glare and she shrugs in apology. Walking up the cracked cement sidewalk, they reach the stairs; climb up to the tune of creaks and groans, and Dean punches the doorbell forcefully with the tip of his finger. His lips are thinned out and she can tell that he's trying to keep it together, although none of them know quite what to expect when the door opens.
The door creaks open before them and a scruffy man looks out at them. He appears kind of ratty; old, worn out clothing adorns his person. His hair and overall body appear in need of a good scrub and his eyes seem somewhat bloodshot, as if he hasn't had a good days rest in ages.
"You Chuck Shurley?" asks Dean gruffly.
"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the "Supernatural" books?" asks Sam after Dean.
The man at the door looks at the three of them like a mouse would in a mousetrap. He seems sketchy and fidgety. "Maybe. Why?"
"I'm Dean," states Dean, pointing to himself and introducing them, "This is Sam and Amy. The Dean and Sam you've been writing about, and apparently our friend here, Amy, shows up in one of your books as well."
In answer to Dean's introduction, Chuck closes the door on their face calmly, as if he doesn't fully believe what he's seeing and hearing with his own senses. 'He probably thinks were one of his drunken stupor hallucinations,' Amy can't help but think silently to herself. She couldn't help but notice the waft of alcohol come off his person when he had opened the door. It was faint, but still just enough for her to notice. The three of them look at each other in puzzlement, and Dean rings the doorbell again. Chuck opens the door and looks at them in bafflement and maybe some impatience.
"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 says to them as if he's attempting to impart some heavenly wisdom.
He again tries to shut the door in their faces, but Dean's ready for it. He puts a hand out and blocks the door before it can fully close and glares at the miniscule man next to his height and bulk.
"See, here's the thing," Dean begins his explanation, "We have a life. The three of us. You've been using it to write your books." With that he shoves the door open forcefully leaving Chuck no choice but to back up further into his own house as they walk in.
"Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny," Chuck stutters out to them, attempting to make the finger he's pointing at them seem threatening.
"Damn straight, it's not funny, you little munchkin," Dean growls at him, stepping closer.
"Look, we just want to know how you're doing it," Sam says, trying to defuse the situation.
Chuck frowns at them in confusion. "Uh, doing it? I'm not doing anything."
"Are you a hunter?" asks Dean, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"What? No. I'm a writer," Chuck says in defense. "I've never hunted anything in my life."
"Then how do you know so much about demons?" asks Amy, advancing on the poor quaking man before them. He backs up so far and doesn't quite realize the couch is behind him. Falling down on it, she comes to a halt right in front of him. "And Tulpas, and changelings?"
"Is this some kind of "Misery" thing?" Chuck asks in confusion. "Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a "Misery" thing!
"No, it's not a "Misery" thing. Believe me, we are not fans!" Amy exclaims in indignation, trying to make the man understand.
"Well, then, what do you want?!" Chuck exclaims, his eyes blown wide in panic as he stares between the three of them.
"I'm Sam. And that's Dean and Amy," he tries again, introducing them all. Amy couldn't see the logic in that; clearly the man wasn't getting it.
"Sam, Amy and Dean are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!" Chuck protests vehemently.
Dean looks at them in frustration and throws his hands up. "Fine! We're just gonna have to show him the hard way."
"Dean-" Sam begins worryingly as Chuck stares scared between the two brothers. He reminds her of a rabbit stuck in a hole with nowhere to run.
"Relax," Dean laughs at his brother, "I'm just gonna show him the car. Okay, man, hop to it. I want to show you my ride and then maybe you'll be more in the listening mood."
Chuck looks like he would rather do anything but go with Dean; however, Dean doesn't exactly give him much of a choice. He grabs the smaller man by his elbow and steers him outside, down the creaking porch steps, and around to the back of the Impala.
When Chuck sees that they're heading towards the back of the car, he starts to stutter, panic beginning to take over. "Okay you know what? That's cool if you want to be Sam, Dean and Amy. Hey, everyone has a different kink; but seriously, man you don't have to hurt me. I won't call the cops; you can just be on your way."
"Shut up, Stuart Little," Dean grumbles at him. "I'm not going to hurt you; I just want you to see something."
Sam and Amy watch from the front door as Dean unlocks the trunk and opens the back compartment up. Inside is the weapons arsenal that the brothers carry around with them 24/7 gleaming out at the two males. Chuck looks down shocked at everything he takes in, his mouth hanging open.
"Are those real guns?" he asks, stuttering slightly.
"Yup. This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs," Dean says pointing to some stuff sitting innocently in the back, then putting his hands back in his pockets.
"Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans," Chuck states nervously as he rubs a hand along his jaw. "That's, that's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some posters in the house."
"Chuck, stop," Dean says tiredly.
"Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt me," Chuck begins to plead again. It seems seeing all the weapons had the exact opposite effect. Instead of maybe making him understand, he seems more skittish then he was to begin with. Sam and Amy walk over to the two.
"How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?" asks Sam, trying to get a handle on everything.
"Wait a minute. How do you know about that?" asks Chuck, pointing an accusing finger at Sam.
"The better question is how do you," says Amy, scrutinizing him closely.
"Because I wrote it?" he answers hesitantly, as if scared that that's the wrong answer.
"Wait, you kept writing?" Amy asks, frowning.
"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?" he asks them, cracking up a smile.
"Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam, and our good friend Amy from your book 'Tall Tales,' said Dean, smiling, his eyes sparkling.
Chuck stops suddenly and looks at them with a new light. "The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down."
~x~
Back in Chuck's Home
~x~
Chuck stands at the kitchen counter pouring himself a large glass of whiskey. He swigs the whole thing down in one shot and slams the glass down, scratching his cheek as he does so. Turning around he sees the three of them sitting around his kitchen and groans.
"Oh! Oh, you're still there," he says as if in reproach, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
Amy arches an eyebrow. "You know, maybe you should lay off the alcohol for a bit. You look like you've had quite the bender."
Chuck waves her statement away. "I think I have more than enough reason to drink right now, don't you? I mean I just met my fictional characters from my books, which turn out to maybe not be so fictional after all."
Dean shrugs. "Yup. Dude's got a point."
"So you're not a hallucination," Chuck says, trying to put everything out.
"Nope."
"Well, there's only one explanation," Chuck says looking at them head on. Amy braces herself for this revelation. This is gonna be good. "Obviously I'm a god." Yup, she was right; in fact it was even better than she thought.
Sam smacks his forehead. "You're not a god."
"Well how else do you explain it then?" asks Chuck, throwing up his hands in frustration. "I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god." Amy raised both of her eyebrows at this. "The things I put you through – The physical beatings alone."
"Yeah, we're still in one piece," Dean reassures him.
"Well at least he feels guilty, that's a start to acceptance I guess," Amy says from her perch on the counter.
"I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica," Chuck merely continues on as if deaf to anything else but his own thoughts.
"Chuck..." Sam begins warningly.
"All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment."
"You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us," Dean says, trying to make the man see sense.
"Did you really have to live through the bugs?" he asks, completely disregarding what Dean had just said.
"Yeah," Dean answers. Amy can't help the wrinkling of her nose at that title. She could only imagine…
"What about the ghost ship?"
"Yes, that too," Sam speaks up from leaning on the doorframe beside Dean.
"I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live through bad writing... if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass."
"Chuck, you're not a god!" Dean exclaims, slightly losing his patience.
"What we were thinking is that you're probably just psychic," Amy tells him gently.
"No," Chuck shakes his head in denial at that, "If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard. The deadlines, the fans. It's psychotic sometimes."
"It seems that somehow, you're just... focused on our lives," Sam makes the connection.
"It's almost like you're tuned in completely to what's going around with them, and the people they come into contact with. Almost like a radio frequency or something," Amy follows Sam's lead, thinking aloud.
Dean nods his head at what they had just said. "Yeah, like laser-focused. Are you working on anything right now?"
Chuck freezes at the question, almost as if he had just realized something as soon as Dean asks. "Holy crap."
"What?" asks Sam, frowning.
Chuck walks over to where he had been typing just half an hour earlier and picks up some smooth white pages, sitting innocently at his otherwise chaotic desk. "The, uh, latest book? It's, uh, it's kind of weird."
"I'm scared to ask, but weird" how?" she asks tentatively not finding any overall comfort in the way Chuck looked at his pages and then back up to them individually.
Chuck looks at them wearily as he clutches the pages to his chest like a life raft. "It's very Vonnegut."
Dean stares at the man intently. "'Slaughterhouse-Five' Vonnegut or 'Cat's Cradle' Vonnegut?"
Sam and Amy both glance at him, surprised and speechless. Dean glares at the both of them. "What?"
"It's, uh, 'Kilgore Trout' Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house... confronted by my characters," Chuck finishes, stuttering as he looks up at them again.
~x~
At the Laundromat
~x~
Sam folds out some of his clothes and chucks them into the washing machine. He frowns in thought as he does this, slightly worried about everything that they had learned. Dean and Amy are both sitting on the table behind Sam, reading the little manuscript that Chuck let them borrow for the time being. Both of them frowned at it as if they were experiencing headaches; which they actually were.
"I'm sitting in a Laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a Laundromat reading about myself. My head hurts," Dean says, shuffling the papers and massaging his neck.
Amy snorts. "You and me both. This is the most absurd thing that I've ever read. Or seen, and I've seen quite a lot lately." She paused after saying that and her eyes roamed the page for a few seconds, her gaze becoming darker. "And wouldn't you know, I just said exactly what it said I would say, and now … you know what, never mind, I'm just going to shut up now."
"There's got to be something this guy's not telling us," Sam muttered to them in frustration. He turns and tosses his darks in the machine next as Dean turns back to the manuscript and begins reading to them again. She sat with her forehead in her hand.
"'Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth.'"
Sam turns around and glares at him. ""Stop it."
"' Guess what you do next," Dean remarks, smirking at him.
Sam scowls at his brother, rolls his shoulders, and turns away from him.
"'Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive.' I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your 'brooding and pensive' shoulders," Dean remarks from behind as he looks up at his brother.
Sam sighs again, completely exasperated at this whole turn of events. He looks off into the distance as if in thought for a split second, and Dean looks back down at the manuscript in his hands. There's a slight pause as Dean frowns and looks up.
"You just thought I was a dick." Amy looks up with her eyebrows raised. Even though they can't see Sam's face yet, the brother ends up with a shocked look over his features and he grudgingly nods. Turning around he looks at the two of them.
"The guy's good."
Amy can't help the peal of laughter she lets out at his response.
~x~
Back at Chuck's Place
~x~
Sam, Dean, and Amy eventually make it back to Chuck's place. Upon their arrival, he was nervously pacing in front of them as if he were trying to work up the courage to tell them something to them. Amy can't help but notice the new sheets of paper grasped tightly in his hand. Her stomach sinks, knowing that he had written again.
"So... You wrote another chapter?" Sam begins, trying to coax the poor man to begin talking to them.
Chuck licks his lips nervously as his eyes dart to the pages and then back up to them. "This was all so much easier before you were real."
Dean smirks at him. "We can take it; just spit it out."
Chuck turns to him and raises his eyebrows. "You especially are not gonna like this," he tells Dean seriously.
Dean snorts and rolls his eyes. "I didn't like hell."
"It's Lilith," Chuck begins hesitantly. "She's coming for Sam."
Dean frowns in confusion at that. "Coming to kill him?"
"When?" asks Sam from his seat.
"How?" asks Amy, equally floored. Lilith? The first demon Lilith? Shit, this was getting out of hand and quickly snowballing into something far worse. She considered for a quick second whether she should contact Gabe. Before she did, though, she sucked it back and balled her fists; she would deal with this on her own.
"Tonight," Chuck said, cutting through her internal debate.
"She's just gonna show up? Here?" asked Dean skeptically.
Chuck nervously puts his glasses on and sits down unsteadily in the chair beside him. "Uh... let's see, uh, 'Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion.'"
Sam begins to laugh at the end of Chuck's reading, as they all look at him aghast. "You're kidding me, right?"
Dean glares at his brother. "You think this is funny?"
Sam raises his eyebrows at him disbelievingly. "You don't? I mean, come on. "Fiery, demonic passion? Who writes that? Never mind saying it."
"It's just a first draft," Chuck mumbles out, somewhat embarrassed.
Dean frowns for a second then holds up his hand. "Wait, wait, wait, wait. Lilith is a little girl," he says confusedly.
Chuck stutters and flips back some pages. "No, uh, this time she's a 'comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana.'"
Rolling his eyes, Dean mumbles, "Great. Perfect. So what happens after the...'fiery demonic' whatever?"
Chuck shrugs his shoulders dejectedly. "I don't know; it hasn't come to me yet."
"Dean, look, there's nothing to worry about," Sam tries to reassure and calm his brother down. "Lilith and me? In bed?"
Dean merely glares at Sam but while he keeps eye contact with his brother, he addresses his next question at Chuck. "How does this whole psychic thing of yours work?"
"Uh, um, you mean my process?"
"Yes, your 'process,'" Dean says, somewhat snappish now.
Chuck scratches the back of his head as he ponders what he knows. "Well, it usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so... I drink. Until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream."
Amy rolls her head on her shoulders; well at least the alcoholic scent that she smelled off of him before, and even now, makes sense to her. So that's why he had turned so heavily to drinking, because he couldn't take these visions.
"The first time you dreamt about us? How did it go?" asked Dean, intrigued.
"It flowed. It just, it kept flowing. It still does. I-I can't stop it, really," Chuck answers Dean, looking up at him.
"You can't seriously believe –" Sam begins to say; however, Amy cuts him off.
"Sam, so far everything that he has written down has happened. I mean, this doesn't look too good for you right now. We need to know what happens with you and Lilith. Now, Chuck says he hasn't seen everything, so maybe it doesn't actually end up happening," Amy tries to reassure him.
Chuck nods his head in her direction. "It's true. I didn't actually see you guys getting down and dirty," Dean looks at Chuck as if he's lost his mind, "so maybe it never gets that far. But I won't know until another vision passes."
Dean stands now, and Chuck holds out the manuscript for him to take. Dean takes it and starts thumbing through it. "Look, why don't we, we just..." He thumbs through a few more pages. "Take a look at these and see what's what."
Suddenly, he looks up at Chuck, who's looking back at him sheepishly. "You –"
"...knew you were gonna ask for that. Yeah," Chuck says shrugging.
~x~
Dean, Sam and Amy in the Impala
~x~
"Dean, come on," Sam tries to encourage his older brother as he reads the next passage.
Dean rolled his eyes. It was easy for Sam to say. "So?"
"So, I've seen you gushing blood. You'd use duct tape and bar rags before you'd put on a pink flower Band-Aid," Sam told him. At that Amy couldn't keep in the snort from the back seat that she had been trying to contain. Dean glared at her through the rear view mirror and she smiled back at him cheekily.
"What's your point?" Dean asked his brother gruffly.
"My point is this – all of this – is totally implausible, it's nuts," Sam says, his eyes narrowing.
"He's been right about everything so far," Dean states, shrugging, "You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?"
Sam scoffs and then snickers. "Huh. Here listen to this, 'Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow.'"
Dean's eyes narrow. "A tarp?" he asks in confusion.
"Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that."
"Well, he might be wrong about the details, but doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result," says Dean as he shrugs.
"So we're just gonna run?"
"Dude," Dean laughs nervously, "We are a long way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith."
Before that idea can fully sink in to Amy's brain she hears Dean mutter, "Ah, hell no, what's this?" and snaps her out of her daze. Looking through the front window, she sees a police car and a deputy approaching them. Dean slows down and opens his window to talk to the man.
"What seems to be the problem?" he asks the deputy.
"Bridge is out ahead," the man informs them, and Amy can feel her stomach drop at the words.
"We're just trying to get out of town," Dean says to the man, "you're sure there's no way through?"
"Yeah, afraid not," the man says apologetically. "You're gonna have to spend the night. Sorry, son."
"There's no detour?" asks Dean, trying not to give up hope.
The deputy shook his head. "Nope."
"There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?"
The Deputy pointed back up the road that was blocked by his cruiser. "To get to the highway, you have to cross that river. To cross the river, you have to take that bridge."
"How deep's the river?" asked Amy from the backseat. Dean's mouth twitches at that question.
"Sorry. Afraid you boys, and you too, young miss, are gonna have to spend the night in town."
Dean nods at the man, and as he begins to walk away from them, he pulls the Impala back around and heads towards town. She can see he's gripping the steering wheel hard to the point where it looks like his knuckles have turned bone white and his face is slightly red and flushed. They shortly pull into a local diner and get seats at a far booth, removed from the local hubbub, in the corner.
Dean begins flipping through the manuscript while Amy and Sam point to stuff that looks good on the menu they had been given.
"Hey, this could be a good thing. I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path," says Dean thinking aloud. "You know, like kind of a guide to avoiding her and what not."
"How do you mean?" asks Sam both of them not looking up yet.
"Well it's a blueprint of what not to do. I mean, if the pages say that we go left –"
"Then we go right," finishes Sam, finally looking up at his brother.
"Exactly. We get off-book. We never make it to the end. It's opposite day. It says that we, uh, we get into a fight. So, no fighting. No research for you..."
"No bacon cheeseburger for you," Sam remarks back at his brother.
Dean fidgets in his seat and his lower lip trembles, but he shrugs it off. "Yeah, no problem. I'll just order something else."
At that exact moment, the waitress walked over and smiled at Dean. "Hi, uh, what's good?" asked Dean.
"Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country."
Sam and Amy began laughing at the irony of the whole situation. She could see a tic start on Dean's face as his eye twitched.
"You don't say?" he said with a strained smile.
"I'll just have the cobb salad, please," he ordered politely.
"And the Caesar for me," Amy said to the woman. She nodded, jotting down their two orders and then looked back at Dean. "And for you, sir?"
"I'll have the... veggie tofu burger. Thanks," he said handing back the menus as he gives her a shaky smile. She gathers all the menus, then struts away to give in their orders.
"Okay, this is seriously getting a little ridiculous," Amy said leaning over the table with her arms crossed in front of her.
"Lilith is ridiculous?" Dean asks with a surprised expression on his face.
"Well, the idea of Sam hooking up with her is," Amy countered.
"Right," Dean scoffs, "Cause something like that can never happen."
Sam glares at his brother and opens his mouth to argue. Before he can say anything however, he takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Dean, for the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close."
"So?"
"So... we've got the jump on her. If we know when she's coming, we know where she's – this is an opportunity," Sam says, trying to talk his older brother into it.
Dean glares at him for a second. "Are you –" He pauses and runs a hand over his face in frustration. "It frustrates me when you say such reckless things."
Sam rebukes him. "Well, it frustrates me when you'd rather hide than fight."
The waitress comes at that exact moment and hands out their food. "Cobb salad for you. Caesar for you. And the tofu veggie burger for you."
Dean smiles at her. "Thank you." The waitress walks away and Dean leans in closer to the two of them sitting across from him. "It's not hiding. It's being smart. It's picking your battles. This is a battle that we are not ready to fight." He ends his sentence as if that's the end of the debate then takes a large, juicy bite of his burger. His eyes widen in surprise and he moans in pleasure. "Oh, my god. This is delicious. Tofu is amazing!"
At that exact moment, the waitress bustles back over to the table, looking slightly harried and picks up Dean's plate. He glances up at her in confusion and it seems hurt.
"I am so sorry," she apologies profusely, "I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake." With that, she walks away from them quickly, leaving Dean dumbstruck and staring after her.
Sam scowls and Amy sighs beside him as Dean looks dejectedly down at the table.
"I'm just saying it; we're royally screwed." The other two don't even have the heart to contradict her.
~x~
At the Motel
~x~
They drive up to a rundown, dilapidated looking motel near the outskirts of town. Pulling into a parking space, Dean shuts the ignition off, the purring of the Impala cutting off immediately. Sam looks around in confusion.
"Dude, this place charges by the hour," he said to his brother, frowning in confusion.
"Yeah, well, the book says Lilith finds you at the Red Motel. Hence, the uh, yeah, this inn. It's opposite day, remember?" Amy says, reading from the back seat. Sam shrugs, rolls his eyes, and exits the Impala. They walk into the small room and the two brothers dump their bags. Dean begins rooting through one of his bags and pulls out some string-tied bags. He tosses two to Amy and indicates the corners of the room on her side.
"Put those in the corners there," he says pointing. She nods and does what he says.
Sam frowns at this. "What are you doing?"
"Couple of hex bags ought to Lilith-proof the room," Dean states confidently.
"So what? I'm supposed to just hole up here all night?"
Dean nods at him. "That's exactly what you're gonna do, okay?" he says to his brother. "But Amy will stay with you. Oh, and no research. I don't care what you do. Use the magic fingers or watch Casa Erotica on Pay-Per-View."
Amy rolls her eyes at that. "Gee thanks, Dean. That's exactly how I want to spend my night."
Dean shrugs his shoulders. "Sorry, girl, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Take one for the team," he tells her, lightly slapping her shoulder as he reaches behind her and grabs Sam's laptop.
Sam frowns in exasperation. "Oh, dude, come on. You don't have to go that far."
"Just call it a little insurance," Dean says, patting the top of it. "Don't worry, I'll bring her back as good as new."
"What are you gonna do, exactly, while we're stuck here?" asks Amy.
"Well, the pages say that I spend all day riding around in the Impala, so I'm gonna go park her," Dean says in explanation. "Behave yourself, would you? No homework. Watch some porn."
He smiles at that, pleased with his bright idea. Walking out of the room, he closes the door with a thud of finality as Amy and Sam both fume inside.
After driving for a short amount of time, Dean finds a secluded spot and parks the Impala. He does a quick check to make sure all the doors are locked and the windows are up. Once he's assured himself that everything is fine, he nods and exits the car heading across the street. He doesn't get too far when he turns around one last time to see some teenagers smashing the back window of his car, trying to break in.
"Hey!" he yells at the two boys as he runs across the street. The boys take off, but he doesn't notice the van that careens towards him. He can't get out of the way in time, and it hits him. It knocks him flying into the hard pavement, where the world goes black and he loses consciousness.
~x~
Back at the Motel
(With Sam and Amy shortly after the above incident with Dean)
~x~
Amy opened the door and smiled at the sight of Chuck on their doorstep of the motel. Sam had told her that he had wanted to talk to the fidgety man, and she had shrugged back at him, completely ambivalent on the topic.
"Sam wanted to see me?" he asked her, looking up.
She nodded, letting him in. "Yeah."
Sam walks out from the bathroom and smiles at Chuck. "Thanks for coming."
Chuck shifts nervously. "Ah, sure, it wasn't like it was exactly a problem."
Sam wrung his hands nervously in front of his body. "Um... I was just wondering how much you know. About me."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you seen visions of me when I'm not with Dean?" Sam tried clarifying to the confused man.
Chucks eyes brightened with understanding then clouded over with worry. Amy frowned at his obvious uncomfortable posture. "Oh...You want to know if I know about the demon blood."
Amy's eyes widened. "Sam?" she asked in a stunned voice.
Sam sighed and offered her a small smile in apology. "You didn't tell Dean."
"I didn't even write it into the books. I was afraid it would make you look unsympathetic," Chuck told Sam, trying to make him understand.
"Unsympathetic?" Sam asked in confusion.
"Yeah, come on, Sam. I mean, sucking blood? You got to know that's wrong," Chuck stated, as if telling Sam two plus two was four, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. To Amy, it was obvious. Why would he even think about doing that in the first place?
'Sam, what happened?' she thought to herself silently as she watched the younger brother.
"It scares the hell out of me," Sam confessed to the both of them. She could see his hands trembling in front of them and how he clasped them tighter in an effort to stop the shakes. "I mean, I feel it inside of me. I... I wish to God I could stop."
"But you keep going back."
"What choice have I got?" asked Sam, throwing his hands up in defeat. "If it helps me kill Lilith and stop the apocalypse –"
"I thought that was Dean's job. That's what the angels say, right?" Chuck asked, confused.
Amy looked at Sam, completely baffled. They were supposed to stop the apocalypse? Specifically Dean? How? What made them so special in this whole scenario?
"Dean's not... he's not Dean lately. Ever since he got out of hell. He needs help," Sam mumbled quietly, looking down at the floor.
"So you got to carry the weight? Is that it? A guilt thing or something?" Chuck said, trying to clear the air.
"Well," Sam began shrugging, "he's looked out for me my whole life. I can't return the favor?"
"Yeah, sure you can," Chuck said, "I mean, if that's what this is."
Sam frowned at that. "What else would it be?"
Chuck scratched the back of his head. "I don't know. Maybe the demon blood makes you feel stronger? More in control?"
Sam shook his head vehemently at that. "No. That's not true."
Amy slowly sat down as this conversation kept going. She could feel her knees shaking against each other and her legs felt like jelly. Slowly, she lowered herself into one of the spindly chairs and covered her mouth with her hand, her elbow resting on the table.
"I'm sorry, Sam. I know it's a terrible burden – feeling that it all rests on your shoulders."
"Does it?" Sam asked. "All rest on my shoulders?"
"That seems to be where the story's headed," Chuck said in acquiescence.
"Am I strong enough to stop Lilith tonight?"
Chuck shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen that far yet."
Amy felt her heart thud down to her toes at Chuck's admission to them. It grew so quiet in the room that you could have heard a pin drop.
~x~
On the Side of the Road
(Same time with Dean)
~x~
Dean groans as he slowly shifts his sore and beaten body. He could feel the hard pavement under him and he slowly squints his eyes open. A young woman hovers over him, her worried gray-blue eyes gazing down at him. He couldn't help but realize that she was wearing long, star earrings that shook violently with each turn of her head.
"Oh, my god. Just take it easy, you're gonna be okay," she said frantically as she noticed him coming to.
He mutters incoherently at seeing her earrings, "Stars."
The woman frowns at him. "What was that?" When he blinks again and feebly tries to raise his head she begins to talk again. "I'm so sorry! I just didn't see you. Are you okay?" She asks him again frantically, as if needing to hear him confirm that he is indeed all right. Slowly he sits up with her help and she bites her bottom lip. "I'm sorry about the, um..." She points to his face. "M-my daughter has been going through a doctor phase lately and she thought she would help try to fix you up."
"What are you talking about?"
The girl smiles a wide toothed gap smile at him. "You're all better now."
Dean frowns at that but still has yet to understand what they're both talking about. Frowning, he turns around and looks at the Impala still parked innocently on the side of the street. He glowers as he sees that the back windshield of his "baby" is smashed out completely.
"Oh, no..." He pushes himself off the tarmac and quickly strides over to the Impala, his temper steadily rising with each footfall. He can feel his heart begin to pound as he slowly surveys the car, a steady mantra of no's leaving his lips. Coming to a window, he notices his reflection and his eye twitches. Noticing the pink Band-Aids littering the left hand side of his face, he peels off one of them and throws it down on the ground. He gets in the car, revs the engine and peals down the street, still ready to erupt like a volcano with anger. A black tarp covers the rear window, flapping like the wings of a crow.
~x~
Chuck's House
(Just after Dean's accident)
~x~
Chuck walks up to his old, tired, and beaten down house carrying a large, brown bag that crunches with each step. He carries in his other hand a six-pack of cans and unsteadily opens his door, shoving it open fully with his shoulder. As he comes from the opening to his living room, he notices Dean sitting on his couch and sighs tiredly.
"Dean," he says tiredly as he puts his groceries down.
"I take it you knew I'd be here," Dean states, looking at him.
"You look terrible," is all Chuck offers in further greeting, eyes crinkling in worry as he takes in the hunter's state.
Dean snorts at that. "That's 'cause I just got hit by a minivan, Chuck. And a little kid decided to go all Doctor Doolittle on me."
"Oh."
"That it? Every damn thing you write about me comes true; that's all you have to say is 'oh'?!" Dean exclaims in outrage as he jumps to his feet. He's fuming mad at everything. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't avoid anything on the manuscript that Chuck had handed to him earlier.
"Please don't yell at me," Chuck pleaded, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Why do I get the feeling there's something that you're not telling us?" Dean asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Chuck sighs tiredly. "What wouldn't I be telling you?"
"How you know what you know, for starters!"
"I don't know how I know, I just do!" Chuck exclaims in his defense.
"That's not good enough," Dean says through his teeth as he shoves the poor man against the wall. "How the hell are you doing this?!"
Suddenly, Castiel appears behind Dean, his blue eyes wide. "Dean, let him go!" Dean immediately releases Chuck, who slumps against the wall, breathing heavily at the altercation. "This man is to be protected," Castiel continues.
"Why?" Dean asks, turning to the angel for answers.
"He's a Prophet of the Lord."
~x~
Back at the Motel with Amy and Sam
(As Dean is at Chuck's Place)
~x~
It was quiet for some time as soon as Chuck left. Sam had sat directly opposite Amy at the small table, looking at his hands as if they were the most interesting things in the world. Amy had watched for him for some time now, engrossed in his own thoughts as if frightened to bring up what she had just heard between the two men. She cleared her throat and Sam jumped at the loud noise in the otherwise silent room.
"Want to talk about it?" she asked him hesitantly. She didn't know if she was pushing her luck with this and she didn't want to put him on the spot if he didn't want to be. Although she was pretty sure a whole conversation of someone drinking demon blood was almost as far as you could go in a conversation.
Sam laid his hands down flat on the table and cleared his throat. "Not much too really say on the matter."
Amy merely nodded. "Okay, but you don't have to tell me everything if you don't want to. I would settle for whatever you're willing to share, just so you know."
Sam looked up at her finally, his eyes damp with guilt and grief. "You're taking this remarkably calmly for someone who just found this out."
She snorted at that. "Yeah, well, my life was turned on its head a long time ago. It really culminated when I saw you, your brother, and that older man stab my friend, Gabe, straight through the chest with a wooden stake."
Sam looked down at the table sheepishly. "I'm sorry you had to see that. But you do realize why we had to do that, right?"
Slowly she nodded her head at him. "I do. Believe me, Sam. For the longest time I thought he was in the wrong for what he did to people, these deadly pranks he played on them. But, and I know you're going to think I'm nuts for thinking this, he is a genuinely good guy, or trickster. Yes, he makes mistakes. Yes, he makes me want to strangle him some days. But I think he's just trying to do what he thinks is best with what he's given and the time he has. I think he's just as lost as all of us are."
Sam looked down after her explanation, seeming to mull over what she had just said to him. Sighing he rubbed his hands across his face. "It happened when I was a baby," he began. She looked up at him. "When I was only six months old maybe, this demon named Azazel came into my room and bled into my mouth. I was supposed to be one of his chosen kids from that moment onwards. As far as me and my brother can tell, I'm the only one alive today."
"His chosen kids?" she asked in puzzlement. "What does that exactly mean?"
Sam shrugged. "We don't know."
They lapsed into silence for a while until Sam started laughing. "I've screwed up so much in my life, Amy. I've turned my back on my family; I wish I could take back the years that I spent arguing with my dad. Everyone that I ever have grown to care for has either been killed or seriously injured for life." He scratched his forehead. "I'm trying to make it right." Amy watched him in silence. "I'm trying to right all the wrongs that I've done in my past, and just when I feel that maybe I'm on the right path, I'm doubting myself again just as fast."
Amy thought over what he had just confided in her. "It seems to me that you feel guilty about things that you either had no control over or things that you were almost driven to do. Sam, you can't change your past, all you can do is live in the present and work for the future. Jessica wasn't your fault. Your mom dying? Neither was that. And the demon blood thing? Sam, what Azazel did to you that night, you couldn't have stopped him. For heaven's sake! You were just a baby! But you have to know that it doesn't matter what kind of wrong you're trying to correct in your past, misguided as you may be, you have to realize that drinking demon blood is not right."
Sam nodded his head slowly. "Yeah I - hang on," he said looking up at her, "I never mentioned Jessica, or my mom. How did you know?"
She froze at that as her eyes slightly widened. Shit! Missy had warned her that if she wasn't careful she would be able to read people's thoughts. It was a useful tool, but it could get you in trouble quickly if you weren't constantly vigilant. Sure Chuck had mentioned this all earlier somewhat, but she maybe had expanded too much on the idea. She hadn't even realized that she had slipped into Sam's thoughts by accident until it was too late. Sam sat straighter across from her and his muscles tightened under his shirt.
She held up her hands quickly in a non-threatening posture. "Sam, please, I can explain! I don't know how you'll take this but I can tell you how I know."
"Talk quickly," he gritted out on edge.
She took a deep breath. 'Here goes,' she thought to herself as she spilled.
~x~
30 Minutes Later
~x~
Sam sat speechless across from her as she fidgeted nervously in her seat. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if trying to find words to get his thoughts out to her. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead against his palm then looked back up at her.
"You're a nephilim?" he asked incredulously. "Wow," he said leaning back in the chair his arms crossing in front of himself. "I've met a lot of supernatural beings in my life, including angels, but I never thought I would actually meet a nephilim. I thought they were wiped out by the angels, like, eons ago."
Amy nodded slowly. "They kind of were. I'm I guess a newer model," she said sheepishly.
Sam breathed in deeply and shook his head. "No offense Aim, but...I've met your family and, well, they're not exactly the most, um, kind people."
"Well, they aren't exactly people, are they?" she tried joking with him to lessen the tension. "Besides I don't really consider them my family. My family are my friends and are the people who raised me, not the person who helped sire me."
Sam nodded. "No, I guess they aren't."
They were both quiet again as if thinking what to say next. She worked up the nerve to finally say something to the hunter. "Sam?" He looked up at her when she said his name, his eyebrows arching questioningly. "I don't mean any harm to you or your brother; I just wanted you to know that. I'm not here to create a problem."
Sam smiled at her, finally at ease. "Thanks, Aim, but, no offense, I could take you." They both looked at each other and snorted out a laugh at precisely the same time.
"Gee thanks, what a vote of confidence," she teased back at him.
Sam fiddled with his thumb and then a frown crossed his features. "Hey, Amy?" When she hummed for him to go on he said, "How can you stand him? I mean, the trickster? What makes him your friend? You know everything he does and yet you still stick by him. I guess I'm just confused."
Amy bit her lip at that. "I guess because I know that that's not all there is to him, Sam. I think he does care. He has a very unhealthy way of showing it, I'll give you that. But…he has many redeeming qualities about him. I-I...fell in love with him. Not what he is or does, but who he is at the core of his being. Don't tell me that in your hunter years, you haven't run into those exceptions. The ones who actually try to do better and good by people."
Sam nodded slowly; he couldn't deny that that was the case. They had had a few cases in their past where they let certain supernatural beings go because they weren't killing people. Amy looked out the window then and frowned as she noticed the sign.
"Uh, Sam?" He looked up at her again. "What was the name of the hotel in the manuscript? You know the one we were supposed to avoid."
Sam frowned at that as he thought back. "Uh, the Red Motel."
Amy's frown deepens. "And what exactly was the name of this motel that we checked into?"
Sam rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "That would be The Toreador. Why?"
Amy sighs. "Because look." She opens the curtain a little wider so Sam can see the sign as well too. His eyes widen slightly and he sucked in a quick breath of air.
"Shit."
A/N: Okay?