Song Remains the Same

Chapter 72: Pardon My French

"There is no such thing as fiction. Just non-fiction written in the wrong parallel universe."
- Unknown

Crash! The Winchesters collided with the solid glass of Bobby's window and flew through it out into the stormy night... so imagine Dean's confusion when instead of wet muddy ground he landed on a lumpy mattress and instead of riotous rain and thunder he heard someone shout out, "Cut!" followed by a smattering of applause.

Dean was already shoving himself up to an unsteady crouch on the balance-defying mattress—in front of them, a small sea of people sat in chairs watching and nodding in approval. What the hell? Where are we? Weird computery-looking equipment littered the area directly ahead—coils of electronic wires, sound equipment, weird carts stacked with camera looking things. Dude... what the hell?

Suddenly a guy thumped Dean on the ass. "Real good solid fall," the guy said as if proud. "Way to go." Um, excuse me?

"Jared, Jensen!" An old, fat white man with a bald head and a squawking voice raised a coffee cup at them from his perch behind some sound mixers ahead. "Outstanding! That was just great."

Who? Dean was totally lost. What was just great? And why you touching my ass? Suddenly, right beside his ear, a guy in a hoodie with an ear piece held up a clapboard like in the movies. "'Supernatural' scene one echo, take one. Tail slate. Marker!" He clacked the thing down, jarring Dean anew. Dude, what the hell?!

He looked over at Sam, trying to see if his brother had any clue what had just happened to them—and then realized, wait... where's the other one? Sam got the same look on his face at the exact same instant as they both realized.

"A-Alex?" Dean asked aloud, looking behind them and around them in cautious alarm. A ringing bell sounded over the set as the brothers gaped around in search of their mysteriously missing sister.

"Where'd—where'd she go?" Sam asked in a low voice. He looked ready to attack at a moment's notice, but no one in the immediate vicinity was paying much attention to them or seemed to be posing any sort of threat.

"Did—did Balthazar not throw her in here with us?" Dean asked. Wherever 'here' was. Dude... what the HELL!

"I... I dunno." Sam was at a loss and confused. "She was right beside me."

Dean turned in a full circle as he backed off of the mattress, starting to feel sick and panicked at the loss of their sister. "Alex?" He asked in a low voice. Maybe she was just out of sight or had been thrown further than them. His voice raised as he tried to catch sight of her somewhere, anywhere. "Alex!"

A kid with a stoned expression, dark unwashed hair, and several-day stubble turned to them and looked like he misheard. "Um... yeah? What's up?" He was holding a clipboard and had some huge headphones around his neck.

Dean balked, suspicious. "Who the hell are you?"

The guy made a face. "Alex...? Bigsby?"

Dean scowled, annoyed. "Wrong Alex."

The Bigsby guy rolled his eyes lightly, muttered something like "fucking Ackles," and walked off.

What was this place? People in regular clothing milled around—the sounds of construction and hammering were audible from somewhere nearby. The ceiling was high as crap which made Dean think they were in some kind of warehouse. Lighting rigs, fans, ladders, and half-built walls were scattered all around. There were huge camera looking rigs, tracks, and even weirder than all of that was some kind of creepy replica of Bobby's study. Inside the study (which looked exact), two dudes with camera equipment were lounging around like they owned the place.