~*****~

When we'd gotten the distress call from Chuck, we wasted no time at all. Thankfully, Bobby was happy to watch Mary so I could focus on the job at hand. When we arrived, there were a few things I needed to take a longer look at-- like the multiple '67 Impala's in the parking lot. "Guys, come on!" Sam barked at us. My gaze snapped off of the Impala's and I groaned loudly before running after him. "Chuck! There you are." Sam gasped as we found him pacing outside of the Pineview Motel. My gut wrenched again at the sight of him. I wish he'd do something different. The similarities to my own father were going to drive me insane.

"Guys?" Chuck asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"What's going on?" Dean asked.

"Uh, nothing," Chuck said quickly. "You know, just, um, I was kind of hangin'-- what are you guys doing here?"

"You told us to come," I snapped.

"Uh, no, I didn't," Chuck retorted.

"Yeah, you did. You texted Sam--" I say irritably. "This address, life or death situation. Any of that ringing a bell?"

"No, I-I-I didn't send you a text." Chuck expressed.

"We drove all night." Dean snapped. "I had to leave my daughter to handle this!"

"I'm sorry. I-I-I don't understand what could--" Chuck stops talking as a look of despair crawls on his face. "Oh, no."

"What?" Dean snapped.

"Sam! You made it!" A familiar voice chirped.

Our gazes snapped upward to Becky, who looked just as thrilled to see Sam as ever. Dean and I shared annoyed glances as she bound down the stairs. "Oh, uh... Becky, right?" Sam asked.

"Oh! You remembered!" Becky gasped. "You've been thinking about me."

"I, uh..." Sam trails off, glancing to Dean and I for help. We just held up our hands, shaking our heads.

"It's okay! I can't get you out of my head, either." Becky beamed.

"Did you take my phone?" Chuck asked irritably.

"I just borrowed it from your pants." Becky retorted.

I palmed at my face, sighing loudly. "Becky," Chuck admonished.

"What? They're gonna want to see it." Becky chided.

"See what?" The three of us asked.

"Oh, my god--" Becky gasped as she trailed her eyes between the three of us. "I love it when they talk at the same time!"

"Hey, Chuck! Come on, pal. It's showtime!" A man exclaimed from the steps.

Chuck turned to us with a hesitant expression. "Guys, I'm sorry. For everything."

I held up my hand and grasped onto Sam and Dean's arms. "I don't like where this is going." I mention. "Not one bit."

"Yeah, me neither." Dean grumbles, grasping my hand tightly.

As soon as we stepped in, it was like someone was playing one big prank on us. "Hey, Dean! Lookin' good!" A chubby man expressed as he walked by in a leather jacket.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asks.

He turns to us, brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm Dean, too." He mentioned. "Duh."

My gaze slung over as something appears in peripheral and flinch when it comes into view. It was some dude... dressed as Vanir. "Uh-oh! It's Sam, Dean, and Lottie. I'm in trouble now. Have fun, you three." He swings his plastic scythe at us with a weak growl.

I turn on Becky. "What the hell is going on?"

Dean grasps my face and turns it back to the crowd. There's tons of people dressed as different things we've hunted-- not to mention the merchandise to promote Chuck's books. There's people dressed as Bobby and Ash. Women and men dressed like me. Men and women dressed as Sam and Dean. It was seriously like a big prank. "Becky... what is this." Sam repeats my question.

"It's awesome!" Becky chirps. "A Supernatural Convention! The first ever!" I don't like the image in my head where she explodes into hundreds of bloody chunks that spray the room, clearing the house out. There's people with yellow contacts on. Fake sleeve tattoos. I could've spent the rest of eternity not knowing this existed. Even if it were the first one.

Becky led us into another room where the man from earlier stood on a stage. "Welcome to the first annual Supernatural convention. At 3:45 in the Magnolia Room, we have the panel; Frightened Little Boy: The Secret Life of Dean. At 4:30, there's the homoerotic subtext of Supernatural. Then at 5:30, there's the Obvious and Secret Kinks of Carlotta. Oh, and of course, the big hunt starts at 7:00 P.M. sharp." There's a round of applause from the crowd, and the man just smiles and holds up his hand. "But right now-- right now, I'd like to introduce the man himself. The creator and writer of the Supernatural books. The one, the only... Carver Edlund!"

There's another image in my head of Chuck exploding into a million bloody chunks. And I don't feel too bad about that one. My lips purse and I close my eyes and bow my head in an attempt to stave off the headache. Chuck stammers for a moment before he actually speaks. "Oh, so this isn't nearly as awkward as I--" He clears his throat. "It's dry mouth." He clears his throat again and I finally lift my head, staring irritably at Chuck as he chugs a water bottle. He lowers the bottle after a few awkward moments. "Okay, uh... So, I guess, uh... Questions?" Every hand shot up. "Um... you?" He points to a tall, gangly man.

He shoots up in his seat. "Hey, Mr. Edlund. Uh, big fan. Wow. Okay, I was just wondering-- Where'd you come up with Sam, Dean, and Lottie in the first place?"

Chuck stared at the three of us, and all I could envision was strangling him. "Oh, uh, I, uh... It just... came to me." Every hand went up again. "Okay, uh... Yeah, the, uh... Hook man."

He stood up quickly. "Uh, yeah. Why, in every fight scene, Sam, Dean, and Lottie are having their gun or knife knocked away by the bad guy?" He asks. And now I knew my name sounded strange in Germany. "Why don't they keep it on some kind of bungee?"

My head tilts at the thought. Not a bad idea. "Yeah, I-I-I really don't know." Chuck murmured.

"Yeah, follow up--" The German hook man interrupts him. "Why can't Sam and Dean be telling that Ruby is evil, even when Lottie distrusts her from the beginning? She was clearly manipulating Sam into some kind of moral lapse. It's obvious, Nein?"

"Hey! If you don't like the books, don't read 'em, Fritz!" Becky barks as she storms up to him.

"Okay, okay, just, uh--" Chuck stammers. "It's okay. So, uh, so, next question." Again, the room lit up with hands in the air. He points to another man. "Yeah, you."

"Yeah, at the end of the last book, Dean goes to Hell. So, what happens next?" He asks.

"Oh, w-well, there lies an announcement, a-actually." Chuck stammers. "Um... You're all gonna find out. Thanks to a wealthy Scandinavian investor... We're gonna start publishing again."

There's a roar of applause. My gaze snaps up to Dean in worry.