"You're telling me that Dean and Sam are the main characters?" Bobby was taken aback. "Those two idjits?"

"Well, people liked watching them." I shrugged.

"So what, you know their whole life story until now?"

"It's actually what comes after that." I dropped the spoon into the empty cup. "A lot of people in my world know what happens to them. We only got their lives before the show in flashbacks and tidbits of information."

"And when does the show start?"

"It starts in–" I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Huh. That was weird. I tried again. "It starts in–" Yet, not a single word. It was right at the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't say it. Why?

"Do you not want to say it?" Bobby shook his head.

"I can't." I said truthfully. I grabbed at my neck. Why couldn't I say 2005? What if I just said 2005? Still, nothing. What if I added the numbers? "1001 plus 1004." Huh. That worked surprisingly.

"What?" Bobby frowned. "Why are you giving me math problems?"

"I can't say the year for some reason. So I tried giving you the years by adding them up." I touched my mouth. It was like censoring certain words in video games. You could easily circle past them just by saying it in a different way.

"2005?" Bobby asked.

I tried to confirm it, but nothing came out. I tried nodding my head. But nothing.

Don't try it again.

"Did you say something Bobby?"

"I asked if it was 2005?"

Don't confirm it. I won't let you.

If Bobby wasn't saying it… then who was? I stood up from my chair and looked around. Nothing. There was no one.

"Kid, what's wrong?"

"Someone's talking to me–"

Don't talk about me!

A sharp pain rang in my ears. It hurt. It hurt so bad.

"Sharon?" Bobby was immediately next to me.

"It hurts…" I managed to force out. But the ringing only got worse. It soon crept to my head. "Make it stop!" But it wouldn't. Of course it wouldn't.

You may have managed to get away with telling him the year. But anything else, and I will make sure you can never do anything again.

And suddenly, everything went black.

"Why's there a chick on the couch Bobby?" someone yelled.

Who the hell was yelling? And Bobby? Was this another dream?

"Leave the kid alone."

"You didn't tell me you had guests over."

"Is it even alright for us to be here, then?"

"She knows already. So it's fine. Came from some other dimension where it's January 3rd 2025. Exactly 28 years from now. Said we're characters in a TV show, and as far as I could tell, she was… sane. Not a nutcase. Not even drunk."

"No way. The girl's delusional."

Could they not talk about me that way in my presence? I forced an eye open. Bright sunlight seared my eyes. Damn it. I slammed my arm over my eyes and turned around. My face hit the softness of the couch I was most likely on. I opened my eyes once more, and let myself adjust to the bright daylight. I much preferred the dimness of Bobby's desk lamp.

"She's up, Dad, Uncle Bobby!" A blond kid popped into my view. He looked like… Sam. Sam Winchester. A much younger Sam Winchester than I was used to.

"Let her wake up on her own… You need me to watch them for a few days?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah. This one's a bigger hunt. I don't think I can take these two with me." I recognised that as John Winchester.

"I can go with you though Dad." And… that must have been Dean Winchester. The famous womaniser. And honestly? He had my heart too. At least the 26 year old one did.

"No, Dean. Not this one. It's a vampire nest. Besides, you should be studying for that GED."

GED? How old was he right now then? I racked my brain for the dates. Dean was born in 1979. And it was 1997 right now. So he was 18. A grand total of ten months older than yours truly. But wait, what month in 1997? No wait. It was January 3rd 1997. His birthday was in late January as far as I could remember. So… he was 17. Two months younger than me. And Sam must be 13, soon to be 14.

I pushed myself up. My head felt heavy. Oh right, I had stitches and a bandage on it.

"Hey!" I almost jumped when Sam crept up behind me. "Are you really from another world?"

"Uhh… I think so. I don't think you can sleep in your dreams so…" I laughed nervously at the young boy.

"I'm Sam." the kid held out a hand.

"I kn– I'm Sharon." I grabbed it and shook it. I'd almost told him I knew him.

"You know me right?" Sam grinned. "Bobby told us." So I had nothing to worry about. But was Sam always this friendly? "You went to college, or go to college, or will go to college, right?"

How did he– Oh right. I was wearing a University shirt.

"Yeah. I'm a sophomore right now." But I was in another world. "Or was–" But also, I wasn't in college yet… "Or will be– You know what. Yeah, I'm in college. Let's just roll with that."

"College?" Dean flopped onto the couch opposite the one I was on. "You skip a couple of grades or something?"

I shrugged. "I skipped kindergarten. Doesn't really count."

"Wow, young and smart." Dean flashed me a smirk and sauntered over to sit next to me. Was he flirting with me?

"I'm older than you." I dodged the arm he was trying to put around me.

"Wh-what?" I loved the shocked expression on his face.

"Dean. Stop flirting with every woman you see." Sam slapped his brother's arm away.

"I'm going to the bathroom." I grabbed my bag from the floor and left the two boys to duke it out. Wait– where was the bathroom again? I caught Bobby's eye and raised an eyebrow.

"Second door on the left. There's a clean towel in there too." he pointed down the hallway. As I turned around, I caught a glimpse of John Winchester eying me warily. Of course he would be nervous about his kids being around me. I was a stranger, who claimed to know a lot about all of them. I pressed my lips into a smile, hoping it would put the bearded man at ease. It did little to do so. I sighed.

"Thanks, Bobby." I slipped inside the bathroom and peeled off my shirt.

I sniffed it and flinched. God. It stank. And even then Dean was hitting his shots. He was much more of a womanizer than I'd thought. I wiggled out of my jeggings and shimmied out of my undergarments. Then I turned on the shower slowly. I couldn't get the dressing around my head wet. The wound needed to heal. I stepped into the shower, doing my best to keep my head dry. My thoughts started to run wild.

Would I ever be able to go home? Would I see my parents again? What about my friends? Were they still hunting for me? Were they panicking and crying as they called my family to let them know I was probably never going to come back?

You think too much.

I gasped as the voice entered my head again. Who was this guy?

I am neither man nor woman.

Then who?

You mean what. I am an Angel.

Angel? That made no sense. Angels didn't show up until season 4.

You being there was a clerical error.

Huh?

You were never meant to be born.

I blinked. What the fu–

You were meant to be in this world from the beginning. But one of our idiot worker angels sent you to the wrong one.

So my parents were meant to be childless?

No. They were meant to have your brother. But not you.

So… they were meant to grieve over a lost daughter? My chest felt heavy as I realised. They were never going to know where I was. If they didn't grieve me then, then they would grieve me now. I dug my heels into my eyes as I tried to keep the tears from falling. I could picture them crying over my body as it burned. And it hurt. No parent should have to watch their child die. And my brother. My poor brother. Who would keep him company when he got upset? Who would listen to him as he confessed to liking pink over blue and his type of women being tall and busty? Despite my tears, I felt a smile come onto my face as I remembered him making an hourglass figure with his hands while he described his ideal woman to me. That was just one of the few things you couldn't share with your parents.

No point crying over spilt milk. Anyways, I was waiting for you to wake up. I have work to do other than this. Now remember. Do not. Under any circumstance. Reveal the future. Try to get around it and we will find you and make sure you never do anything again.

Then why was I brought here?

To set things right. The brothers have caused many deaths that never should have happened.

But they saved a lot of people.

Not as many as they could have.

Yeah, because they didn't know how to hold pressure on someone's wounds.

Exactly.

But then why me? Wouldn't a doctor have been better?

Because you were always meant to be here. I must go now.

Wait! I had so many questions to ask.

All in due time. But not today. See you later.

I looked around as the voice went silent. Not another word, not anything. It was gone. Just like that.

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in the towel. I pulled out another University shirt and a fresh pair of jeans that were too long for my height. But they were being sold for 9 dollars. Who said no to that? I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked the same. Same eyes, same hair, same cheeks with acne littered everywhere. Then I looked down at my body. Same old one. Giant thighs that got rashes when they rubbed together, and that small pouch under my belly button that bulged out if I drank even a drop of water. And for some reason I was supposed to save people? Hah! What a joke. I could barely even roll out of bed without having my bones creak.

I walked out of the bathroom and headed up to where Bobby was still sitting with John. It looked like they were going over a case together. "Can I have a fresh bandage?" I asked.

The two men looked up at me. "Sure." Bobby reached for his first aid box and pulled out a small bandaid.

I frowned. "Is that even gonna cover it?"

"Don't be a sissy. You have three stitches. It's not like your skull got cracked open. That bandaid'll cover the whole thing."

Seriously? I stared at the tiny bandaid. It was larger than standard size but would that really cover my stitches?

"Ask Dean or Sam to help you out with it." John offered. "They're good with that kind of stuff."

"Um. I will. Thanks." I held out my palm for the bandaid and Bobby unceremoniously dropped it into my hand.

"You need help with something sweetheart?" I turned around to see Dean leaning against the doorframe to the living room. The way my heart fluttered at the nickname. Ugh.

"I can help!" Sam chimed.

"Thanks." I sat down on the couch.

I hissed as he slowly unwrapped the giant bandage. I knew why Bobby had used that giant thing. It was to keep the stitches in place so that they would settle. But now that it had settled mostly, a band aid would do just fine. Still didn't help my skepticism.

"Owww!" I tried not to flinch away when Sam got down to the gauze pad pressed against my cut. "Wait, maybe don't peel that off."

"But we have to." Dean said. "That bandaid won't cover it."

"But it's gonna hurt."

"A lot of things hurt in this world."

"Shut up." I snapped. I was in a world of hurt and that's all he had to say? "You think I wanted to be thrown into this world? You think I wanted to be stuck with the main characters of a TV show? Sure I've fantasised about it, but I never actually wanted to be here. I had to leave my family because of this. I had a life! And now I have nothing! Just a bag with less than a millionth of the things I love!"

The tears were falling now. Sam looked terrified and Dean looked guilty.

"I-i didn't mean to–" Dean started.

"Shut up." I looked down at my feet. "Sorry Sam, I can do the rest on my own. And I can help you with what you want– Just– give me a minute."

"Yeah, of course." Sam grabbed the old bandage and started pushing Dean out of the room. "Come on Dean, give her some space."

"Thanks." I whispered. But I doubted they could hear it.