The Devil Within

Conventions Aren't Nightmares Just for the Fictional Characters

"This is Hell," Dean growled, glaring at the empty stage.

"I thought you already went?" you snickered, watching a Bobby cosplayer take his seat.

"I'd rather go back than sit through this," Dean responded, earning a snort out of Sam.

"Then why don't you leave if this is bothering you so much?" you asked, raising a brow at Dean. "No one's stopping you and it would be safer to not be near someone with Archangelic protection."

"Why are you here?" Sam asked.

"Oh, so you guys do want to be here, if not to torture yourselves," you stated, chuckling. "I'm here because Chuck asked me for moral support. It's his first time on stage."

"It's our first time being surrounded by people who know everything about us," Sam argued. "This is all really new."

You gave both Sam and Dean a look and scoffed. "There are sixty published Supernatural books and you guys constantly talk to people. You make up different stories so you can get the information that you need and so families can have a small sense of closure. Meanwhile, Chuck," you said, pointing to the empty stage, "is an introvert with a computer and the Lord's name looming over his head. He doesn't exactly have the luxury or social skills to lie just like that." To emphasize your point, snapped your fingers. "Now, I'll ask again. Why don't you two just leave?"

"...Because we're here now," Dean answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Might as well see what this crap is all about."

"Instead of 'stopping the Apocolypse'?" You questioned, looking back at the stage. "I wish you two luck with that."

"Hey," Dean said, glaring at you. "We're going to solve this angel crap-"

"Angel crap," you laughed. "You two honestly think that you can stop the Devil and the Protector of the Innocent? No one had any idea that they even existed until a few months ago." You shook your head as you realized the absolute weight of Sam and Dean's situation. "What exactly do you have now that can combat Lucifer?"

"We have hope," Dean grumbled.

You scoffed. "Hope isn't what's kept me alive all these years," you whispered, watching the event manager walk onto the stage.

"Welcome to the first annual Supernatural Convention," the event manager said, reading off of his clipboard. "At three-forty-five, in the magnolia room, we have the panel Frightened Little Boy: The Secret Life of Dean. And at four-thirty there is the homoerotic subtext of Supernatural." You snickered and glanced at Sam and Dean. Their reactions were a combination of confusion and disgust. You thought it was funny and so did Raphael. The amusement you were feeling through the Blessing was odd but welcoming. "Oh! And, of course, the Big Hunt starts at seven pm sharp." That's when the room erupted into applause. Becky was jumping up and down as she clapped and you applauded just to fuck with the boys standing next to you. "Okay, but right now-" the event manager raised a hand to get the room to calm down. "Right now I'd like to introduce the man himself. The creator and the writer of the Supernatural books. The one, the only, Carver Edlund!"

The room cheered as Chuck made his way on stage. He faked nervousness as he walked up to the mic and raised his hand as a wave. Chuck spotted you, Sam, Dean, and Becky in the back and sighed. Sam and Dean looked anything but happy while Becky was excited as ever. You, on the other hand, looked relaxed and indifferent to the situation. There was an encouraging smile on your face and Chuck could tell that you were getting a kick out of Sam and Dean's reactions. Chuck found it odd and decided that he was going to try and figure out what made you tick while you were close to him. Maybe he'll invite you for coffee once a week to catch up on what the other is doing? He'll figure it out later. Right now, Chuck needed to keep playing the role of an introverted author.