After that awkward incident, you, Sam and Dean walked over to the set area that looked like Bobby's house, pacing around. "See any sign of him?" You asked, glancing around.

"Nope," Sam shook his head. From afar, you could see the director walking over to you three.

"There you three are! Got a minute?" The director asked, stopping you all.

Sam replied, "Actually we're- we're looking for uh-"

"For that extra you tried to kill?" the director finished his sentence, "So, is it money? Is this the kind of act that goes away if we can scare up that coverage on a raise?"

You raised your eyebrows at his offer, considering you already get paid enough in this universe.

"More money?" Dean was shocked as well, "You already pay these three jokers enough as it is."

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

The director smiled, "Cause I'd like to think that over these years, we've grown closer. That you don't think of me as 'director Bob' or 'executive producer Bob Singer' but as 'uncle bob.'"

Your eyes widened, "Wait you're kidding. So the character in the show, Bobby Singer-"

"What kind of douchebag names a character after himself?" Dean interrupted.

"Oh that's not right," Sam muttered as he shook his head.

Bob looked offended but shrugged it off, "Okay let's start again."

We all nodded. "You know, I don't think Virgil would have shagged out of here without getting his mitts on that key."

"Yeah, I agree," I nodded, completely ignoring the fact that the Bob guy was still standing right there.

"Guys," Bob sighed, "You can't come to work on poppers and smuggle kidneys from Mexico and make up your own lines as you go! You can not make up your own lines! Good god, what about your careers?"

"You know what?" Sam spoke up, "Screw our careers."

"What?!?" Bob seemed completely distraught.

"You heard my brother. And that's right, I said 'brother.' And this girl here," Dean wrapped an arm around you, "Is my girlfriend. Cause you know what, Bob? We're not actors! We're hunters. We're the Winchesters. Always have been, always will be. And where we're from, people don't know who we are. But you know what? We mattered in that world. In fact, we even saved a son of a bitch once or twice. And yeah okay, maybe here there's some fans- fans who give a crap about all this nonsense."

"I wouldn't call it nonsense," Bob implied.

"Bob Singer," Dean pointed at him, "If that even is your name, tell me this: what does it all mean?"

"Okay, this is good," Bob smiled nervously, "I mean, we've all had our psychotic breaks, right? I can work with this."

"Guys," Sam interrupted, "Virgil- I think he as the key."

Dean thought for a moment then spoke, "We quit." He turned around, ran and you and Sam followed. Bob stood there in complete shock.

~Time Skip~

"Maybe we can get on the police dispatch system," Sam implied. You all went back to his mansion again to figure out a plan to find Virgil.

"Put out an A.P.B on Virgil. That might work," Dean nodded.

"It's not like we have a lot of time," you shrugged

Suddenly, Genevieve came rushing into the room, bawling in tears, "Oh my god, oh my god!"

"What happened?" Sam asked.

Genevieve glanced specifically at you, as if she felt bad for you for some reason. She finally responded, "Misha! He's been stabbed to death!"

"Where?" you all asked simultaneously.

"Where?" Genevieve furrowed her eyebrows.