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bamby0304 · 1 year

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The Hart III: Secrets

Ch.28: Carver Edlund

Series Masterlist

Summary: Three months… Dean was gone for three months and now he’s back. He’s back and he truly has no idea how much things have changed. Life moved on while Dean was in Hell, and now things are complicated. With new faces and troubles right around the corner, will the trio find a way to come back together? Or has all hope been lost?

Bamby

DPOV

The moment the man in front of me pulled his fingers away from where they'd been pressed to my forehead, it was like everything around me changed. Like the lighting dimmed a little as everything settled back into place.

"What the hell?" I frowned, looking around, confused... as I looked down at myself, the confusion only grew. "Why am I wearing a tie?" As if on cue, my stomach growled, pulling my attention to the fact that it felt like I hadn't eaten in weeks. "My God, am I hungry."

The man in front of me- who dressed in a suit which I was pretty sure would be more expensive than the one I was wearing- chuckled lightly. "Welcome back."

Standing up I looked him up and down, getting ready to be on the defensive. "Wait. Did I- did I just get touched by... you're an angel, aren't you?"

"I'm Zachariah."

I groaned, "Oh, great. That's all I need is another one of you guys."

He smirked at my response, moving around to stand on my side of the desk in the office we stood in. "I'm hardly another one, Dean. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things." He gestured to the body he was wearing. "But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row."

"I am not one of your ducks."

"Starting with your attitude," he added without missing a beat.

"Oh, so, what? This was all some sort of a lesson?" I gestured to the room, but was talking about everything I was remembering... though I wasn't sure if it had all been real or not. "Is that what you're telling me? Wow. Very creative."

"You should see my decoupage."

"Gross. No thank you." I frowned, genuinely grossed out, before going on. "So, what? I'm just hallucinating all this? Is that it?"

"Not at all." He shook his head, moving back to the other side of the desk. "Real place, real haunting. Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories."

The last thing I remembered was being in the hospital. I mean, I remember the rest, but it's like it wasn't me. Three weeks ago, I woke up in an apartment I knew, with a life I fully believed was my own. I had a new job, a family, things felt pretty great. I was a happy guy.

But then people started dying at work. Most of them were suicides. Things started to get a little weird- especially after I met Sam a couple of days ago. We'd been working here for the same amount of time, but while I was some fancy office guy, he was a cubicle worker bee. We knew nothing of each other, but still managed to become friends pretty quickly.

We figured out what was happening to all the people who were dying. We figure out who the ghost was and why they were here. We learnt how to kill it- which we did. We saved the day just like we did in our normal lives, despite the fact that we were one hundred percent clueless as to who we really were.

I shook my head at Zachariah. "Just to shake things up? Hm? So you guys can have fun watching us run around like ass clowns in monkey suits?" I snapped.

"To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a hunter. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it."

"Stop what? The apocalypse, huh?" I asked, getting worked up. I just wanted an answer already. "Lucifer? What? Be specific, man."

"You'll do everything you're destined to do. All of it," he answered, without telling me what I actually wanted to know. Without telling me anything. "But I know, I know. You're not strong enough. You're scared. You got daddy issues. You can't do it. Right?"

"Angel or not, I will stab you in your face," I told him simply.

Ignoring me, he continued to speak. "All I'm saying is it's how you look at it. Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things." As I turned away he went on. "Save people, maybe even the world. All the while you drive a classic car and fornicate with women. This isn't a curse. It's a gift. So for God's sakes, Dean, quit whining about it." I turned back to him. "Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than yours. So are you with me? You wanna go steam yourself another latte? Or are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?"

SPOV

I was still reeling from everything that had just happened. I'd quit working at Sandover, walked out the front doors, and was hit with the memories of my real life. Just like that, I knew who I was. Only problem was, I had no idea how I'd gotten where I was.

The first thing I did was turn back around and ran inside, heading for Dean's office, hoping he'd be there and that he remembered too. But as the doors of the elevator opened, I came face to face with him and knew he remembered everything as well.

We both left then, getting in the car he'd been using during the three weeks that we hadn't been ourselves. As he drove, he explained to me what had actually happened to us. How the angels had erased our memories to prove a point. Then they'd told Dean where we could find the Impala and all our stuff- which is where we were headed.

We found the car parked in the middle of a forest, a tarp thrown over her. Sure enough, everything of ours was inside. Nothing appeared to have been touched. Though our phones had been dead. Needing to make sure everyone was okay and that we hadn't missed anything, we headed for the nearest diner where we could grab some food and charge our phones.

"So, this Zachariah guy just dumped us in the middle of a murder ghost hot spot, hoping that we'd figure out how to save the day?" I asked.

Dean shrugged, spooning a mouthful of pie onto his fork. "I mean, you even said it. It's in our blood," he noted.

He had a point. Even with all our memories missing, I still felt like we were destined for more. After we ganked the ghost, it was like I just knew that's what we were made for...

I reached for my phone and turned it on. The moment the light flashed on, I was bombarded with dozens of missed calls and messages from Bobby. Frowning, I checked some of the voice mails, hearing the worry in his voice. With each one he seemed to get more and more panicked. Then I heard the last one...

"I don't know where you boys are, but I need you to get here now. Lizzie... there's something wrong with her. I don't know what to-" The line cut off.

Grabbing my charger, bag and wallet, I threw some money on the table as Dean watched me with a confused frown. He hadn't checked his phone yet and had no idea about the missed calls and messages I was sure he'd have as well.

"Where are you goin'? We just got here," he noted with a mouth full of food.

"We gotta go. It's Lizzie."

That's all I had to say. Hearing the urgency in my voice, and seeing the concerned look on my face. Dean knew this wasn't some joke. He could see how serious this was. If Lizzie was in danger, we had to go and help. She was family.

Leaving his pie, he grabbed a napkin and stood, wiping his face quickly before throwing the napkin back on the table as we both left the diner in a rush.

DPOV

I was a fast driver. Sometimes Sam would scold me for it. I knew there were times where I would be a little too reckless just for the sake of having some fun, and it annoyed him. But at that moment, as I pressed my foot down as hard as I could, he didn't say a word.

We both knew we needed to get to Bobby's as soon as possible. It was a bit of a drive, but I wasn't going to let that slow us down. If Liz needed us, then we'd be there.

It was at that point, as I sped down the many roads, making our way to Bobby's, that I really wanted to rip the angels a new one. If they hadn't taken our memories away for their own purposes then Sam and I might have been able to be there for Liz and Bobby sooner.

It's their fault. Son of a bitch.

I was getting more and more worked up, the more I thought about it. My grip on the wheel tightened as I pressed my foot down even more.

We couldn't get there soon enough.

...

I slammed on the brakes as soon as we were at Bobby's. Dust and dirt picked up around Baby like a cloud, but Sam and I just ignored it as we hurried out of the car and towards the front door. Our feet pounded on the wooden boards of the porch, each of us lifting a hand to knock on the door with panicked force.

A moment or two later, the door opened. Bobby stood there, genuinely surprised to see both of us. But at the same time, he was equally relieved and annoyed.

"Where the hell have you two been?" he asked as he stepped back so Sam and I could enter the house.

"Long story-"

I cut Sam off, wanting to skip the pleasantries and get to the point, "Where's Liz?"

Bobby looked to each of us, an unreadable expression on his face as he gave a short nod and started for the stairs to head to the second story. Sam and I were right behind, saying nothing as we followed.

As we walked down the hall, Bobby stopped at a door.

When I was younger, Bobby use to take care of Sammy and I. A lot of the times we'd stay here. At first the room had been empty. Just some boxes in a corner. But one day, when I went to go look inside, it was suddenly locked. Since then, the door had never been opened.

When I was younger I thought it was because there might be something dangerous in there. As I got older I lost interest. If Bobby didn't want us to see something then he must have a good reason. But now, as he raised his hand to the open the door, I was surprised to see it open without a creak. The movement so smooth and silent...

Stepping inside, I found myself looking around at the unfamiliar room. Forest green walls, wooden dresser and chest of drawers. Books lined the shelves on the walls. A mirror sat above a dresser, with some photos framing it. White lace curtains sat on either side of the window. A wooden double bed with dark grey sheets sat under the window, and tucked under those sheets and blankets was Liz, fast asleep.

Just like that, it clicked. Nothing dangerous had been hiding in the room. Nothing sinister or creepy or weird. It had been locked for her privacy. Even when she hadn't lived here, when she'd gone off to hunt on her own, Bobby had kept the room locked.

"Sam called to tell me you were in the hospital," Bobby started as the three of us watched Liz, "I was about to go see you when that angel friend of yours showed up in the middle of my living room, with Lizzie. Her clothes were covered in blood, but she didn't look hurt. I didn't have time to ask any questions. The angel was gone as quickly as he showed up. I was still going to see you, but wanted to make sure she was okay first." He shook his head. "Last I heard she was with her boyfriend."

My jaw tensed at the reminder of her boyfriend. The reminder of the fact that he'd been lying, that he wasn't a hunter. I hadn't told anyone, yet, but the moment I was sure Liz was okay, I'd find out who that asshole really is.

As I stood there, I wondered where he might be. Why had Castiel been with her? Where was Tristan? Had something happened? Had they been hunting and something went wrong? Had he done something to her? Were they still together? Was he even still alive? So many questions...

"Once I was sure she was okay, I ended up leaving. Lizzie wanted to stay and get cleaned up. I told her I wouldn't be too long. When I got to the hospital both of you were gone. I waited and looked around for a day or so, tried callin' both of you, but you were missing. So, I headed back home. When I got back things still seemed to be fine, but I wanted to make sure. Decided to keep an eye on her.

"Spent a week with her here. Things went back to fine. Eventually I got word of a case, had to leave for a couple of days. We talked on the phone while I was away, but I could tell things were getting worse again. I don't know what happened, but when I got home I found her on the bathroom floor, passed out. Managed to get her to bed, but she didn't wake up for hours."

"You know what's wrong?" I asked, my concern growing with each word he said.

"Got no idea." Bobby shook his head. "She has good days and bad days. Most of the time she's fine. But..."

When he didn't say anything, I pressed for him to go on, "But what, Bobby?"

"I'm really worried about her. I just... I don't know what to do, boys."

EPOV

As I opened my eyes, I flinched at the light streaming into my room. It was like looking directly at the sun, though I knew that was just my body reacting to the withdrawals. I knew everything that was happening was because of that. It had been three weeks since I had demon blood, which hadn't been much, not to keep the withdrawal symptoms at bay long enough.

"Here."

I hadn't even realised someone else was in the room.

Dean stood from the chair that had apparently been set by my bed while I was asleep. Reaching over, he pulled the curtains closed, giving me instant relief. As he sat back down, he watched me carefully.

We were silent for a moment, just looking at each other. I knew he wanted to ask me a million questions, and I wanted to answer all of them. But he wasn't sure where to start and I wasn't sure if I should tell him anything...

"Hey."

A small smile played on my lips. "Hi."

"How are you feeling? You need anything?"

"I'm fine. But I do need something..." Wincing and hissing in pain, I managed to sit myself up, ignoring every ache in my body and throb in my head. "I need to get out of here."

"Liz, I don't think-"

"It's not a good idea. I agree. But Dean, nothing is going to make me feel better. There's just bad, and worse. Staying here, having you, Bobby and Sam worrying about me, is just going to make things worse. Getting out there, finding a distraction, it's the best thing for me right now."

I wasn't sure if that was true, and if I'm being honest, the idea of moving from my bed was a horrible idea. But I did know that staying here was not going to help me find Tristan and kill the asshole.

Yes, you heard right. I wanted to go out there, hunt, and do whatever it takes to find the asshole who did this to me, and kill him. Slowly.

"We don't even have a case-"

As I reached over to the drawer in my bedside table, Dean fell silent. He watched while I pulled out some articles, passing them to him. "Possible haunting. Looks like an easy gank."

Without a word, he took the papers and looked over them. Sighing, he turned his gaze back to me. "What if I say no?"

I gave him a small and knowing smile. "You won't."

DPOV

It took some convincing to get Bobby to let Liz leave with Sam and me. While I'd been in her room, Sam had filed Bobby in on what had happened to us. I guess finding out that the angels could go the same thing at any moment... I mean I understood why he didn't want Liz to go with us. Also, her hunting in this condition was not a good idea, even I knew that.

Yet here we were, dressed in out FBI suits, headed for a comic book store to find out if they'd seen or heard anything related to ghosts.

"Look, I know you said you're feeling fine-"

"Which I am," Liz insisted as I went on.

"But just take it easy. Okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean. I swear," she sighed, clearly annoyed.

Hurrying ahead, she walked into the comic book store without Sam and me. My brother and I shared a look, shaking our heads as we walked into to join her, moving to stand by the counter to talk to the guy at the cashier.

He looked up at us, his eyes glued to Liz. Every pair of eyes were. It was like they'd never seen a chick in here before... which they probably hadn't.

"Uh... can I help you?" the guy behind the counter asked.

"Sure hope so," I started as Sam, Liz and I pulled out our badges. "Agents DeYoung, Shaw and Gowen. Just need to ask you a few questions."

"Notice anything strange in the building, last couple of days?" Sam asked.

The guy looked confused. "Like what?"

"Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights," I noted.

"Uh, I don't think so. Why?"

"Have you heard any noises?" Liz questioned. "Skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?"

The guy's confusion grew into scepticism. "And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?"

Ignoring his snark, Sam went on. "What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?"

Slowly, as if realising something, the guy began to grin. "I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?"

It was my turn to frown, confused. "Excuse me?"

"You're fans."

"Fans of what?" Sam asked, equally confused.

"What is 'LARPing'?" I looked to Liz. "Do you know what 'LARPing' is?"

Before she could say anything, the guy behind the counter scoffed. "Like you don't know." But when we all continued to look at him with silent confusion, he explained what it was, "Live-Action Role-Play! And pretty hardcore, too."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys and that chick from the books. What are they called? Uh... Supernatural. Two guys and a girl, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh... Steve, Dirk and Lexi...? Uh, Sal, Dane and Lilly...?"

Sam glanced at Liz and I for a moment before suggesting, "Sam, Dean, and Lizzie?"

The guy nodded enthusiastically. "That's it!"

"You're saying this is a book?" This was weirding me out and not helping with the confusion...

"Books," the guy corrected. "It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following." Getting up, he moved around the counter and towards a table labelled 'Bargain Bin'. Sam, Liz and I followed, tense and unsure. "Let's see. Um... ah. Yeah." He grabbed a book and handed it over to me. "That's the first one, I think."

I looked at the cover of the book- which had an illustration of a topless guy holding a shot gun, and a guy carrying a bag of salt, standing by what looked like the Impala. "'Supernatural' by Carver Edlund." Turning it over, I read the blurb out loud. "'Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths'."

"Give me that." Sam snatched the book from my hands to take a look. After a quick scan, he looked up at the guy. "We're gonna need all the copies of 'Supernatural' you've got."

EPOV

I sat on the couch in the hotel room I was sharing with Sam and Dean. Sam was on the computer at the table, doing some research. Dean was on his bed while I was on the couch, the two of us reading the books we'd gotten from the comic bookstore. At first, I thought it was amusing, reading Sam and Dean's lives... But when I showed up in the books, things got less funny. I felt very violated.

"This is freakin' insane," Dean suddenly spoke up, clear annoyed. "How'd this guy know all this stuff?"

Sam shrugged. "You got me."

"Everything is in here," Dean noted, flicking through one of the books. "I mean everything. From the racist truck to… to me having sex. I'm full-frontal in here, dude."

"I am too," I added.

Dean sat up and turned to me. "You are?" He sounded both pissed and interested. As if he wanted to read to but he didn't like the idea of other's reading it.

"Yep," I sighed, tossing him the book I'd been reading, as I got up and moved to sit at the table with Sam. "Like you said, everything is in these books." Even things the guys didn't know about…

Dean- holding he book I'd tossed him- stood and moved over to join Sam and me. "How come we haven't heard of them before?"

"They're pretty obscure," Sam noted. "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," he turned the laptop towards Dean and me, showing us a list of the books, "ends with you going to hell," he told Dean.

"I reiterate. Freaking insane," Dean mumbled as he started to scroll through the page. "Check it out. There's actually fans. There's not many of them, but still. Did you read this?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. He didn't seem as excited as Dean suddenly was.

"Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this. Simpatico says 'the demon story line is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic'," Dean read. "Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it."

"Yeah. Well, keep on reading." Sam gestured to the laptop. "It gets better."

"There are 'Sam girls' and 'Dean girls' and..." Dean's brows furrowed. "What's a 'slash fan'?"

"As in... Sam-slash-Dean," Sam answered, a look of discomfort and disgust on his face. "Together."

"Like, 'together', together?" Dean asked, equally grossed out.

"Wait, what?" Grabbing the laptop, I took a look, cringing at the words before me. "Okay, gross..."

"Yeah," Sam sighed.

"They do know we're brothers, right?" Dean asked, genuinely disturb.

"Doesn't seem to matter," Sam noted.

"Oh, come on. That... that's just sick." Dean shut the laptop in disgust.

"They even have 'Sambeth girls' and 'Dizzie girls'." when Dean and I looked at Sam confused, but also afraid of what that meant, he explained. "Sambeth is a mix of Sam and Elizabeth. Dizzie, Dean and Lizzie. And then there's... 'Dean, Lizzie and Sam girls'."

I looked to both brothers, eyes going wide. "You mean... together? All three of us?"

Dean shook his head. "We got to find this Carver Edlund."

Sam sighed again. "Yeah, that might not be so easy."

"Why not?" Dean and I asked at the same time.

"No tax records, no known address," Sam answered, shifting in his seat to lean forward a bit more. "Looks like 'Carver Edlund' is a pen name."

Dean shook his head. "Somebody's gotta know who he is."

Bamby

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x oc #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic #elizabeth rose hart #the hart #the hart iii #the hart iii secrets

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bamby0304 · 1 year

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The Hart III: Secrets

Ch.29: Chuck Shurley

Series Masterlist

A/N: It's my birthday

Bamby

DPOV

Sam, Liz and I stood in the house of Carver Edlund's publisher's house. I was surprised to find out that the publisher was a she, around the same age as us. But then again, I shouldn't have been. Not with the attention these books seem to get...

"So, you published the Supernatural books?" Sam asked.

The publisher nodded, moving to stand by the books that sat on a shelf. "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.?" She scoffed, "Please."

"Right." Sam offered a polite smile, getting back on track. "Well, we're hoping that our article can... shine a light on an underappreciated series."

"Yeah, yeah." The publisher took a few steps towards us, clearly excited about that idea. "Because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press then m-maybe we could start publishing again."

"No, no, no, no. God, no," I said a little too quickly. In an instant, the woman went from excited to offended. "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."

Once again, the publisher's mood changed as she got a little emotional. "Oh, my god! That was one of my favourite 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 turned away, moving to her desk. "Gosh... if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings."

Liz let out a soft chuckle as I looked to the woman, confused and a little offended- though I wasn't sure why... "Real men?"

The publisher turned to us again. "I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?"

"Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside," I muttered to myself.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Lady, this whole thing is funny."

Looking us up and down, moving to sit behind her desk, I could tell I'd messed up as the publisher started to shut down. "How do I know you three are legit, hmm?"

"Oh, trust me. We, uh..." I nodded, stepping a little closer to the desk, "we're legit."

"Well, I don't want any smart-ass article making fun of my boys."

"No! No, no, no. Never," Sam stammered.

"No, that's..."

Liz rolled her eyes. "These two don't like to admit it, seeing as they're emotionless real men. But we're all big fans," she told the publisher.

"Hmm." The publisher looked unconvinced. "You've read the books?"

"Cover to cover." I nodded, going along with Liz's story.

"What's the year and model of Dean's car?"

"It's a 1967 Chevy Impala," I answered with a proud smirk.

"What's May 2nd?"

"That's my- uh... that's Sam's birthday," Sam answered, correcting himself.

"January 24th is Dean's," I added.

"October 18th is Lizzie's." Liz finished.

"Lizzie's sister's name?"

"Gabriella," Liz answered. "Or Gabby for short." She shrugged.

"Sam's score on the LSAT?" the publisher asked.

"One..." Sam sounded a little unsure as he looked down at me for a moment, trying to remember. "Seventy-four?"

"Dean's favourite song?"

My smile returned. "It's a tie. Between Zep's Ramble on and Traveling Riverside Blues."

Slowly but surely, the publisher smile. "Okay." She nodded. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

"What's Carver Edlund's real name?" Sam asked, keeping it casual.

But the publisher shook her head. "Oh, no. I- no. Sorry, I can't do that."

"We just want to talk to him," Sam assured her. "You know, get the Supernatural story in his own words."

"He's very private. It's like Salinger."

Liz and I shared a look as Sam pressed a little more. "Please. Like I said- we are, um..." he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his anti-demon-protection tattoo, "big... big fans."

When Sam gave Liz and I a pointed look, Liz turned around and lifted her ponytail to show her tattoo which sat on the back of her neck. I rolled my eyes and side, pulling my shirt over slightly to show the publisher the anti-demon-possession tattoo that sat on my chest.

The publisher licked her lips, looking at Sam's and my tattoos. "Awesome," she chuckled lightly. "You know what?" She stood and turned, hiking up her skirt to show us her own tattoo which was on one of her cheeks. "I got one, too."

"Whoa." I tilted my head slightly, grinning. "You are a fan."

Putting her skirt back in place, the publisher grabbed a pen and paper. "Okay." She scribbled something down. "His name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off."

...

Sam, Liz and I got out of Baby, before walking across the street to the rundown house. This is where the publisher had sent us, but it looked like the place might be empty. If it wasn't for the motorcycle at the front, I would have thought we were in the wrong place.

As we climbed the porch stairs, and came to a stop by the door, Sam and I shared a look as Liz lifted her hand to ring the doorbell.

There was a moment or two before the door opened, revealing a short guy dressed in a white tank, boxers and dressing gown. He hadn't shaven in a while, his stubble turning to bush. He looked tired as he slightly squinted at the sunlight.

"You Chuck Shurley?" I asked.

"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?" Sam added.

The guy looked to each of us. "Maybe. Why?"

"I'm Dean. This is Sam. And that's Elizabeth. The Dean, Sam and Elizabeth you've been writing about."

Without a word, the guy closed the door in our faces. Sighing, Liz lifted her hand and rang the doorbell again. This time it opened almost instantly.

"Look, uh..." Chuck shook his head, seeming slightly agitated. "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." He went to shut the door again.

I reached over Liz and grabbed the door, stopping it from closing. "See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books." Shoving the door opened, I moved around Liz and made my way into the house, forcing Chuck to back up.

"Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny."

With Sam and Liz behind me, I followed Chuck into the living room. "Damn straight, it's not funny."

"Look, we just want to know how you're doing it," Sam told him, not as pissed as I was.

"I'm not doing anything," Chuck insisted.

"Are you a hunter?" I asked.

"What? No. I'm a writer."

"Then how do you know so much about demons?" I advanced on him, ready to use violence to get answers. He backed away more, falling onto the couch as I went on, "And Tulpas, and changelings?"

"Is this some kind of Misery thing?" Looking to each of us then, Chuck groaned, "It is, isn't it? It's a Misery thing!"

I frowned at him, getting more a more agitated. "No, it's not a Misery thing. Believe me, we are not fans!"

"Well, then, what do you want?!"

"They're Sam and Dean. I'm Elizabeth," Liz tried to explain once more.

But Chuck just didn't seem to get it. "Sam, Dean and Elizabeth are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!"

EPOV

Dean opened the trunk to show Chuck all the weapons and things we used during hunts.

Chuck's jaw fell open before he looked to the brothers. "Are those real guns?"

"Yup." Dean gestured to some of the items. "This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs."

"Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans." Clearly nervous, Chuck started to back up towards the house. "That's, that's awesome. So, I- I think I've got some posters in the house."

"Chuck, stop," Dean called.

Raising his hands up in defence, Chuck looked like he was about to crap himself. "Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt me."

Ignoring him, Sam got back to the questioning. "How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"Wait a minute." Every part of Chuck changed as he looked to each of us going from scared to confused. "How do you know about that?"

"The question is, how do you," Dean noted.

"Because I wrote it?"

I frowned. "You mean you're still writing?"

"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?"

"Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam. And this is Elizabeth Hart."

It was Chuck's turn to frown, even more confused now. "The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down."

…

I sat on a chair by Chuck's dining table as Sam and Dean stood close by. The three of us were watching as Chuck poured himself a drink, before he turned and jumped at the sight of us and groaned.

"Oh! Oh, you're still there."

"Yup." Dean shoved his hands into his pocket.

"You're not a hallucination."

Dean shook his head. "Nope."

"Well," Chuck sighed, "there's only one explanation. Obviously, I'm a god."

"You're not a god," Sam assured him.

"How else do you explain it?" Chuck asked. "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."

"Yeah, we're still in one piece," Dean muttered.

Chuck looked to him. "I killed your father. I burned your mother alive." He turned to Sam. "And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica. And you?" He turned to me. "Oh, God. I didn't even leave you with your sister."

"Chuck," Sam warned.

Chuck just shook his head, moving to face the sink as he folded his arms over his chest. "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?" Dean started, taking a step closer to the writer. "You didn't create us."

Chuck turned to Dean again. "Did you really have to live through the bugs?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

"What about the ghost ship?"

Dean sighed. "Yes, that too."

"I am so sorry." I was pretty sure Chuck meant it, too. "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, you're not a god!" Dean snapped.

"We think you're probably just psychic," Sam explained.

But Chuck didn't seem to agree as he frowned and shook his head. "No." He moved to sit at the table, across from me. "If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard."

"It seems that somehow, you're just... focused on our lives," Sam noted.

"Yeah, like laser-focused," Dean added.

I took a deep breath, lifting a shaking hand to rub at my temple. "Are you working on anything right now, Chuck?"

There was a moment where Chuck thought about it before his eyes went wide. "Holy crap."

"What?" Dean asked.

Chuck picked up some papers from the table. "The, uh, latest book? It's, uh… it's kind of weird."

"'Weird' how?" Sam pressed.

"It's very Vonnegut."

Dean leaned forward, placing to hands on the table. "Slaughterhouse-Five Vonnegut or Cat's Cradle Vonnegut?"

Sam looked to his brother, surprised. "What?"

"What?" Dean shrugged defensively.

Getting back on track, Chuck answered, "It's, uh, Kilgore Trout Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it," he explained. "I wrote myself, at my house... confronted by my characters."

DPOV

I sat on the bench in the laundromat as I looked through the pages Chuck had given us. Sam was doing some laundry, while Liz sat next to me, doing nothing but watching and waiting.

"I'm sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself." I frowned, feeling a headache coming on. "My head hurts."

"There's got to be something this guy's not telling us." Sam turned to toss his dark clothes into one of the machines.

"'Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth'," I read.

Sam turned to me. "Stop it."

I just continued to read aloud. "'"Stop it," Sam said.".' Guess what you do next." He turned away again, right before I started to read once more. "Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive'." I shook my head. "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." As Sam sighed I looked down at the manuscript again. "You just thought I was a dick."

Liz chuckled lightly.

Turning around to face us again, Sam looked impressed. "The guy's good."

EPOV

I sat on the arm of the armchair in Chuck's living room, while Dean stood next to me and Sam sat on the armchair a few feet away. Chuck walked in, still in the same dressing gown, white shirt and boxers he'd had on before. Moving to stand on the other side of the coffee table, he paced as he looked down at the pages in his hands.

"So..." Sam broke the silence. "You wrote another chapter?"

Chuck finally looked to each of us. "This was all so much easier before you were real."

"We can take it," Dean assured him. "Just spit it out."

Chuck turned to him them. "You especially are not gonna like this."

"I didn't like Hell," Dean noted.

Taking a deep breath, Chuck built up enough courage to tell us why he'd ask us to come here… "It's Lilith. She's coming for Sam."

I tensed. But not for the reasons you probably think… see, hearing Lilith's name like that… I was instantly reminded of what Tristan had said…

"You know, when I was first put on your case, when Lilith said she wanted me to keep an eye on you, to prep you..." That's what he'd said. "I was told to befriend you. Keep you safe. Help you grow. Get you ready for what's to come."

For the last few weeks I'd done everything I could possibly do to suppress the memory of what had happened in the cabin, despite the fact that I should probably face the truth. A demon had been sent to watch over and poison me. Why? I had no idea. But I knew Lilith had something to do with it.

The fact she was coming here, to find Sam, it scared the crap out of me. What if she knew I knew about Tristan? What if she knows Tristan isn't watching me anymore? What if she knows I've stopped taking demon blood? I was pretty sure she wanted me on it. So, would she force me into drinking more? Into drinking hers…?

"Excuse me." I stood and hurried out of the room and out of the house, needing air.

SPOV

We watched as Lizzie hurried out of the room and out of the house, but before I could go after her to make sure she was okay, Dean spoke up, stopping me.

"Is she coming to kill him?"

Looking away from my brother and back to the writer, I sighed. "When?"

"Tonight."

"She's just gonna show up? Here?" Dean asked.

Chuck took a deep breath as he sat down on the couch, slipped his glasses on and looked down at the manuscript. "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'," he finished, looking up at us again.

I let out a short laugh. "You're kidding me, right?"

Dean turned to me. "You think this is funny?"

"You don't? I mean, come on. 'Fiery demonic passion'?"

"It's just a first draft." Chuck looked offended.

Frowning, Dean shook his head, seeming confused about something. "Wait, wait, wait, wait. Lilith is a little girl."

"No, uh, this time she's a 'comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana'," Chuck explained.

"Great. Perfect," Dean sighed. "So, what happens after the... 'fiery demonic' whatever?"

"I don't know, it hasn't come to me yet," Chuck answered.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Dean actually thought this was all going to happen? Come on. "Dean, look, there's nothing to worry about. Lilith and me? In bed?"

Dean looked to me briefly before turning back to Chuck. "How does this whole psychic thing of yours work?"

"You mean my process?"

"Yes, your 'process'."

Chuck shrugged. "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."

"The first time you dreamt about us?" Dean asked.

"It flowed. It just, it kept flowing. It still does. I-I can't stop it, really," Chuck explained.

"You can't seriously believe-"

Dean cut me off, "Humour me." He took a step closer to the coffee table as he went to go on as Chuck held up the manuscript for him. "Look, why don't we, we just..." He took the manuscript and read from it… "'Take a look at these and see what's what.'" Still looking down at the pages, he spoke to Chuck. "You-"

"...knew you were gonna ask for that." Chuck nodded. "Yeah."

EPOV

The front door opened as Sam and Dean walked out and onto the porch. I stood at the bottom of the steps, leaning on the railing. Seeing the brothers, I quickly pushed off the railing and shoved my hands into my pockets, setting my gaze to the ground.

A hand rested on my arm as Dean came to stand in front of me. "You okay?"

I just nodded, not saying a word.

"Hey." He raised his hand to my chin, tilting it so I looked at him. "We're gonna be fine. We're gonna get out of here before Lilith comes, and we're gonna take you home. Okay?"

Once again, I nodded. I didn't want to say anything that might upset or worry either Dean or Sam. They might think I was worried about Lilith coming for Sam- which I was- but what they didn't know was that I was worried about myself as well.

"Come on." He moved to rest a hand on my back, leading me towards Baby.

I turned back to the house for a moment- don't ask me why, I just did. My eyes landed on Chuck as he stood in his doorway, hands tucked into the pockets of his dress gown, eyes full of pity and guilt. It was at that moment that I realised he knew everything…

DPOV

Driving down the road, I glanced at Liz through the rear-view mirror. She was sitting in the back, looking out the window, silent. Sam, on the other hand, was next to me, reading through the manuscript, talking out loud.

"Dean, come on." He shook his head. "'The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars. He scratched absently at the pink flower Band-Aids on his face'."

"So?" I shrugged.

"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."

"What's your point?"

"My point is this," he gestured to the pages in his hands, "all of this, is totally implausible. It's nuts."

"He's been right about everything so far," I noted. "You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?"

Scoffing, Sam read some more to try and prove his point. "Huh. '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'."

"A tarp?" Okay, I had to admit, I found it hard to believe that.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that."

But despite the fact that I couldn't get on board with that, I still wanted to play things safe. "Well, he might be wrong about the details, but doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result."

"So, we're just gonna run?" he asked.

"Dude, we are a long way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith." I didn't understand why he wasn't getting that. We came to a roadblock then. I rolled to a stop as a deputy came to lean over and talk to us. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Bridge is out ahead," the deputy explained.

"We're just trying to get out of town."

He just shook his head. "Yeah, afraid not."

"Is there a detour?"

"Nope."

Oh, come on. "There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?"

"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?"

Instead of answering, the deputy just got straight to the point. "Sorry. Afraid you're gonna have to spend the night in town."

Great.

SPOV

Sitting in a diner, I looked over the menu while Dean read the manuscript and Lizzie fiddled with the salt shaker. I glanced at her every once in a while, my concern growing. She hadn't spoken since we'd left Chuck's…

"Hey, this could be a good thing," Dean started. "I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path."

I looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

"It's a blueprint of what not to do. I mean, if the pages say that we go left-"

"Then we go right," I finished.

He nodded. "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." He shrugged. "So, no fighting. No research for you..."

"No bacon cheeseburger for you," I added.

For a moment, he looked uncomfortable and disappointed, but he quickly played it off with another shrug. "Yeah, no problem. I'll just order something else," he told me right as the waitress came by. "Hi, uh, what's good?" he asked her.

The waitress smiled down at him. "Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country," she noted, making me laugh lightly.

Dean ignored me, grabbing a menu for himself. "Really?"

Seeing that he was going to take a second, I ordered my own food. "I'll just have the cobb salad, please," I told the waitress.

Still looking at the menu, Dean ordered the first thing he saw. "I'll have the... veggie tofu burger. Thanks."

"And what about you sweetheart?" the waitress looked to Lizzie.

"I'm not hungry, thanks," Lizzie mumbled, handing her menu over.

Both Dean and I paused as we looked to Lizzie. She was basically a female version of Dean, which meant she liked food, a lot. Over the years of knowing her I'd never heard or seen her decline the opportunity to eat, unless she was really upset or not feeling well. Even then, it had to be very serious before she'd actually say no to food.

Shrugging, the waitress took the menus and left.

Once we were alone again, Dean leaned closer to Lizzie. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered, her voice flat.

Dean and I shared a look, neither of us believing her. Sighing, I turned back to Lizzie. "You know you can talk to us, right?"

She didn't respond right away. She just sat there reaching over to play with the salt shaker again. I watched her hands, noticing the way they shook lightly. She looked a little pale as well… something was clearly wrong.

"I'm just not feeling too well," was all she mumbled before she looked up at Dean. "You think I could go lie down in the car?"

Nodding, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the keys. "Just… let us know if you need anything."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks." She lightly nodded as she reached for the keys.

We watched as she stood up and walked out, her hands shoved into her leather jacket's pockets. Her head down, hair falling around her, back hunched slightly… she looked nothing like the fun-loving Lizzie we were used to…

Shaking my head, I turned back to Dean, knowing there was nothing we could do to help Lizzie at that moment. We had more pressing things to deal with. "This whole thing's ridiculous."

Frowning, Dean turned his gaze to me. "What? Are you saying Liz is ridiculous? Or are you saying Lilith is ridiculous?"

"The idea of me hooking up with Lilith is," I answered.

He chuckled lightly, clearly not agreeing with me. "Right. 'Cause something like that can never happen."

I started to scowl but stopped myself, not wanting to fight with him. "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 is. This is an opportunity."

"Are you-" Before he could snap, Dean stopped himself and started again. "It frustrates me when you say such reckless things."

"Well, it frustrates me when you'd rather hide than fight."

The waitress came back then, with a smile and our food. "Cobb salad for you." She placed the plate in front of me before turning to Dean. "And the tofu veggie burger for you."

"Thank you." Dean nodded to her. Once she left he leaned forward, talking to me again. "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 argued as he grabbed his burger. I watched him take a bite, waiting to see his response, only to be shocked as his eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, my god. This is delicious. Tofu is amazing!"

Hurrying back, the waitress looked down at Dean apologetically, clearly flustered. "I am so sorry. I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake," she told him before she grabbed his plate and took it away.

So much for getting off the book…

Bamby

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