~*****~

I step into the comic store warily. I'd argued with Sam about these guys before coming in-- I was still on the fence they'd help, since I was a woman. "Can I help you?" The clerk asks.

"Sure hope so. Agents DeYoung, Shaw, and Smith." Dean introduces. "Just need to ask you a few questions.

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

"Like what?"

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

"I don't think so. Why?"

"What about noises? Any skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?"

"And the FBI is investigating rodent problems?" The clerk asks.

"What about cold spots?" I press. "Feel any sudden drops in temperature?"

The clerk suddenly beams. "I knew it!" My brows furrow. "You guys are LARPing, aren't you!"

"Excuse me?" Dean asks.

"You're fans." The clerk retorts.

"Fans of what?" Sam asks.

"What is LARPING?" I ask.

"Like you don't know." The clerk beams. I share a confused look with the others. "Live-Action-Role-Playing. And pretty hardcore, too."

"I'm... sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about." Dean shrugs.

"You're asking questions like the building's haunted." The clerk states. "Like those guys from the books. What are they called?" He trails off. "Supernatural." We continue to stare. "Two guys and a hot babe, use fake I.D.s with rock Aliases, hunt down Ghosts, Demons, Vampires. What are their names? Uh... Steven, Dirk, and Charlotte? Sal, Dane, and Carly?"

"Sam, Dean, and Carlotta?" I ask tentatively.

"That's it!" The clerk beams.

"You're saying this is a book?" I ask nervously.

"Books. It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground-cult following." The clerk explains. He gets up and goes through his books.

"What the fuck," I whisper mostly to myself.

"Ah, here, that's the first one, I think." The clerk says as he produces a book from the bargain bin.

Dean stares down at it. "Supernatural, by Carver Edlund."

"Carver Edlund?" I echo. The name sparks something in the back of my head, but it disappears as quickly as it came.

"Along a lonely California Highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths." Dean continues to read.

"Give me that," I snatch it from him and crack it open. I flip through it and silently seethe. "We're gonna need all the copies of Supernatural you've got." I order firmly.

~*****~

I'm pretty sure I'm shaking as I read through the books we'd gotten. "This is freakin' insane." Dean comments. "How does this guy know all this?"

"You got me." Sam hums.

"Everything is in here-- I mean, everything. From the racist truck to-- to me and Lottie having sex--" Dean retorts.

"We're full frontal in here!" I hiss. "How come we haven't heard of them before?"

"They're pretty obscure," Sam answers. "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-- ends with you going to Hell and Lottie swearing she was gonna break you out."

"I reiterate--" Dean sighs. "Freakin' insane. Check it out. There's actually fans. Not many, but still did you read this? Although, for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this-- Simpatico says, the demon storyline is trite, cliched, and overall craptastic. Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it."

"Yeah, well, keep on reading." Sam snorts. "It gets better."

Dean chuckles. "There are Sam girls, Dean girls, Lottie babes, and-- what's a slash fan?" Dean asks.

"As in... Sam/Dean. Together." Sam explains painfully.

"Like... together, together?" Dean asks hesitantly. I begin to howl with laughter.

"Yeah." Sam grunts irritably.

"They do know we're brothers, right? Hell, there's actually sex between Lottie and I in almost every book." Dean retorts.

"That doesn't seem to matter." Sam sighs.

"Oh, come on. That... That's just sick." Dean groans. He snaps the laptop shut. "We got to find this Carver Edlund."

"Yeah, that might not be so easy." Sam mentions.

"Why not?" Dean asks.

"No tax records, no known addresses. Looks like Carver Edlund is a pen name." Sam explains.

"Somebody's got to know who he is." Dean mentions.

"Why don't we find out who published the Supernatural series," I mention after I stop laughing. "They might know."

~*****~

"So you published the Supernatural Books?" Sam asks.

The woman sighs. "Yep. Yeah. Gosh. These books... You know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to ready anymore is that romance crap. I mean, yeah, there's a little romance, but it's mostly horror." She sighs. "You know Dr. Sexy, M.D.?" She scoffs. "Please."

"Well, we're hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series." Sam explains.

"Yeah! Yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press, then m-maybe we could start publishing again." She says excitedly.

"No, no, no. God, no." Dean quickly says. "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."

"Oh, my god! That was one of my favorites," The publisher sighs. "Because Dean was so... strong... and sad and brave. Carlotta had such drive and love for Dean, she was willing to do anything to get him back, 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 and Carlotta he really loved. And in Home, when Dean had to call John and ask him for help. And in My Time of Dying, when Carlotta bears her soul to Dean about the baby while he's in a coma." She sniffles lightly. "Gosh. If only real people were so open and in-- in touch with their feelings."

"Real people?" I ask.

The publisher smiled. "I mean, no offence. How often do you cry like that, huh?"

"Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside," Dean comments.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" The publisher asks.

"Lady this whole thing is funny," Dean chuckles.

"How do I know you three are legit?" She asks suddenly.

"Oh, trust me. We, uh, we're legit." Dean states.

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

"No, no. Never!" Sam says immediately.

"We're actually big fans," I mention almost enthusiastically.

She hummed. "You've read the books?"

"Cover to cover." I retort.

"What's the year and model of the car?" The woman suddenly asks.

"What are you, gatekeeping?" I snap irritably. "A sixty-seven Chevy Impala."

"What's May Second?" She asks.

"Sam's birthday." I hum as I lean forward and press my palms on the table. "January Twenty Fourth is Dean's birthday. Carlotta's is April Fourth."

"Sam's score on the LSAT?"

"One... seventy-four?" Sam answers when I look back at him.

"Dean's favorite song?"

"It's a tie." Dean says. "Between Zep's Ramble On and Traveling Riverside Blues."

"Of course, the same could be said for I Can't Fight This Feeling, since he's such a sucker for Carlotta." I mention impishly.

The publisher beams and stands up. "Okay. Okay. What do you want to know?"

"What's Carver Edlund's real name?" I ask.

"Oh, no. No. Sorry, I can't do that." The publisher says, her smile slipping.

"We just want to talk to him." I say quickly. "You know, get the Supernatural story in his own words."

"He's very private. Like Salinger." The Publisher retorts sheepishly.

"Please. Like I said-- we are, um... big..." Sam fumbles with his shirt and tugs down his collar, revealing his anti-possession tattoo. "Big fans..."

Dean grimaces and tugs down his own collar, revealing his matching one. I slip my sleeve up just enough to show mine. "Awesome." The publisher flushes as she speaks. "You know what?" I blink rapidly as she hikes up her skirt and shows off her own tattoo right on her ass cheek. "I got one, too."

"Wow, you are a fan." Dean comments in a dreamy tone.

The publisher giggles happily and scrawls down the name. "His name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off."

~*****~

We press the doorbell and wait a few moments before the door opens. I gaze at the man in shocked awe as the others speak. I don't really pay attention. Not when I'm gazing at a literal copy of my own father. He shuts the door after a moment, and I blink rapidly to dispel the tears in my lashes. Dean knocks on the door again. "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."

Dean stops the door from shutting. "See here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books." Dean snaps as he pushes inside.

"Now, wait a minute, now this isn't funny!" Chuck mentions as he backs up. I gaze around, trying, for just a moment, to see if there were any pictures that were familiar to me.

"Damn straight it's not funny." Dean snaps.

"Look, we just want to know how you're doing it." Sam expresses.

"I'm not doing anything." Chuck stammers.

"You a hunter?" Dean asks.

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

"Then how do you know so much about demons and tulpas and changelings?" Dean snaps.

"Is this some kind of Misery thing?" Chuck asks as he tumbles onto his couch. "Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a Misery thing!"

"It's not a Misery thing. Believe me, we are not fans!" Dean snaps.

"Well, then what do you want?!" Chuck cries.

"I'm Sam. That's Dean. And that's Carlotta." Sam explains.

"Sam, Dean, and Carlotta are fictional characters!" Chuck expresses. "I made them up! They're not real!"

Dean glances back at me and I just shrug. We take him to the Impala and pop the hood.

"Are those real guns?" Chuck asks nervously.

"Yup. And this is real rock salt. And these are real Fake I.D.s." Dean tugs out each item to explain.

Chuck chuckles. "Well, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans. That's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some posters in the house." Chuck says nervously.

"Chuck, stop!" Dean snaps.

"Please, don't hurt me," Chuck says quickly.

"Chuck, how much do you know?" I ask softly. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"Wait a minute, how do you know about that?" Chuck asks.

"The question is, how do you?" Dean asks.

"'Cause I wrote it." Chuck retorts.

"You kept writing?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt." Chuck shrugs. "But those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right? Did that-- Did Phil put you up to this?" Chuck asks.

"Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam, and this is Carlotta Bellway, my fiancée. I got a daughter, and her name is Mary Sandra Winchester." Dean introduces us.

Chuck glances between us nervously. "The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down."

Chuck stumbles to his house, and Sam follows. Dean goes to follow, but I hang back. "You okay?" Dean asks me.

I nod and gaze after Chuck for a moment. "I swear, I'm not projecting, or thinking things wrong, but for a moment, I swear to God, Chuck looked just like my dad..." I explain. "But like... younger."

Dean hums and wraps his arm around my waist. "You kept going on and on about like seven people in the world who are supposed to look exactly like each other. Maybe this is one of those things." Dean comments as we enter the house.

"Probably." I sigh. I can't help but glance over and watch Chuck. Maybe I was over thinking things.