"Why the hell are we going to some high school, again?" You ask, bored, from the backseat of the Impala, your feet resting against the corner between the passenger seat and the back window.
"Cause a teacher went missing." Dean grunts, eyeing you from over his shoulder. "And get your damn feet off, Baby!" He yells. You huff and roll your eyes as you put your feet down. You push yourself forward, resting your arms against the front seat, your head poking in between Dean and Sam as they both look at you.
"People go missing all the time. Why is this 'our type of thing?'" You air quote, impersonating Dean's voice.
"Cause there's nothing that even remotely suggest there isn't a case." Dean counters.
"Whatever that means." You mutter under your breath as you fall back against your seat, ignoring as Dean casts his narrowed eyes at you.
Two hours later, the three of you are dressed; the boys in their fed suits and you in your pencil skirt and matching blazer, fake badges ready to go as you pull up to the all-girls' school.
The missing teacher was a one Miss Linda Chandler, the school's drama teacher, last seen leaving the auditorium after play practice two days ago.
"Great, drama geeks." Dean had groaned when Sam relayed the information after hanging up with the local police station.
As you walk into the auditorium, you hear someone yelling, "You, idjits! You, idjits. You are idjits!"
The three of you look at each other, totally confused. The only person you've ever heard use the word "idjit" was Bobby, and that idiom died along with him.
"Hey, ass-butt ! Hey ! Ass-butt !" Someone shouts.
"What in the holy...." Dean's appalled voice trails off as you take in the flurry of activity in front of you; people on stage, someone alone, others grouped together. People carrying large set items or are on ladders working on lighting.
"Guys, what the fuck is going on?" You ask them, but they just shake their heads with open mouths as they take in the scene.
That's when you see it; a large banner hanging over the stage with big, back letters that read: "SUPERNATURAL: THE MUSICAL!" Anti-possion symbols on each end.
Suddenly, a small girl wearing a bright red beret over her short, black hair and big black glasses appears in front of you, a huge smile on her face. Another girl, in the same dress and similar attire approaches behind her cautiously.
"Hi! Oh my gosh...Are you guys from the publisher?" She bounces on your toes. Dean leans back, his nose scrunching at her enthusiasm. You frown at her. Way too much pep in her step for your liking.
"I'm Marie." She exclaims. "Writer slash director." She shakes her head pompously, as if she's explaining her position as something much greater than a high school theater director.
With a roll of your eyes you reach into your pocket for your badge, flipping it open as Sam begins to explains your fake identities, stopping when his large hand slaps your own.
"What the hell?" You hiss at him. Sam's lips tighten and he motions to stage, where a girl in drag, wearing a leather jacket and painted on scruff and another girl with Y/H/C wig and an identical green army jacket to what you usually wear are practicing flashing fake badges.
Your eyes go wide and you quickly pocket the badge, glancing over to Dean as he does the same.
"We're looking into the disappearance of Miss Chandler. We know this was the last place she was seen, so we were hoping you could show us around." Dean says with a tight smile, unnerved by everything around him.
"Uhh, sure." Marie seems dejected, and you're not sure if it's the mention of her missing drama teacher, or the fact that you aren't publishers. I can take you and Agent Jones around the stage, and Maeve, my stage manager," Marie indicates the quiet girl behind her. "Can take...the other...Agent Smith up to the sound booth."
Dean stares at the stage where the cast seem to be singing an introduction about the tragedy that threw the Winchesters into this life.
John and Mary, husband and wife
Bringing home a brand new life
His name is Sammy,
I'm big brother, Dean.
The perfect family, or so it seems.
Marie turns on her heel, clearly indicating she wants you to follow. You start first, Dean close behind you as he watches "Dean" sing on stage.
"I'm gonna throw up." You bite your lip, trying not to smile and just keep walking.
—-
After a full backstage tour of the joint, you found nothing unusual. Or at least, nothing actually supernatural.
There was a hell of enough weird to fill the joint two times over though.
Your tour had ended at center stage, Marie still rambling on about her interpretations for the book series Chuck had been writing.
The actors portraying you and Dean were still onstage, leaning against the cardboard Impala.
Your eyebrows furrow as you take in their positions; shoulder to shoulder, "Dean's" fingers lingering on "your" hip, "his" head ducked as they seem to whisper something that the mics weren't catching cause they were off.
Dean sees it too, his body straightening up as he takes in the scene.
Dean's long arm reaches out and taps Marie on her shoulder, shutting her up from whatever rambling monologue she had been rattling off.
"Why are they standing so close together?" Two of his fingers point to your
character actors.
Marie looks at the two.
"Hum...Reasons." She says with a nonchalant shrug.
"What the hell does that mean?" You snap, really starting to not like this girl's "I'm an artist" attitude and obscure answers to almost every question you've thrown at her today.
"You know they're just friends, right?" Dean interjects. Your eyes shoot down to your nude heels, and your lips turn in on each other. Your happy Dean is looking at Marie and can't see the look of dejection in your eyes.
Every since you met the Winchesters almost seven years ago, the oldest of the brothers had captured your heart.
It wasn't exactly love at first site. The opposite actually. You use to loath Dean Winchester. From the arrogant smirks, the constant flirting to anything with boobs, and the fact that he always thought he was right drove you up a wall. So much so you but a bullet in his shoulder once.
By accident, of course, but you both knew it wasn't.
But somewhere between the constant fighting and late nights over booze, something started to shift,
You started to see more behind those green eyes. Dean Winchester was much more of a man you had given him credit for, and all the things you hated about him were just defense mechanisms on his part to deflect whatever pain and guilt he felt from not being good enough for his father, or not saving everyone he could have saved on a hunt, or disappointing Sam.
Dean Winchester was a better man than most, but god forbid if anyone knew it.
Once you started to figure him out, you softened up to him (not that you ever let on). He was funny, genuinely funny, and even if his jokes were lame, he said them with enough confidence that he could make them sound funny.
And boy could he love; Dean had a bigger heart than most, and it got him in trouble a lot, leaving lots of room to be hurt by not living up to the impossible standards he set for himself, but he always meant well, and he didn't have a true bad bone in his body, despite what he thought.
You weren't entirely sure when it happened, but one morning in the bunker, Dean strolled in in his robe, grabbing his coffee as he grumbled "good morning" as he took a seat across from you, his eyes droopy and hair ruffled from sleep. You smiled up at him, shaking your head as you thought, god, I love him.
The words rang though your head and your hand holding your spoon froze in mid-air while your mouth hung open, your eyes wide with fear and confusion. You had no idea where that came from. You had no intention of thinking it, which freaked you out even more.
Dean looked at you confused, his coffee mug at his lips as he had taken in your frozen form. He had called your name, asking if you were alright, brining you back down to earth and meeting his green eyes. You didn't say anything, just dropped your spoon, milk splashing out onto the table, and high-tailed it out of the kitchen as fast as you could.
"Well, you can't spell subtext without....ya know... s-e-x." Marie's voice brings you back as she stares at the two actresses with a shrug.
Your hand slaps your forehead, hiding your ferocious blush that is burning your face from Marie's suggestion. Talking about sex doesn't bother you. Hell, you probably talk about it more than you should. But talking about sex...with Dean, that you couldn't handle.
Dean casts a glace at you, his shoulders falling and lips forming a hard line at your response.
Dean clears his throat, whistling to "your" actors and getting their attention.
"Why don't you takes some substeps back there, ladies?" He waves his hand at them with a firm nod. They look to Marie, who, with a dejected sigh, signals for them to move apart, and they take a step away from each other.
"I'm gonna go find Sam." Dean brushes past you, not even looking back as he runs offstage.
—-
After Dean left, Marie continues her tour of the authorium with you grudgingly at her side. She's pointed out the changing rooms, the props, things that had nothing to do with the case and you couldn't care less about.
As you wander down the empty halls, you roll your eyes as Marie continues some story about her childhood violin teacher who was suppose to play for the President but broke a thumb and her career was runined.
"Why the hell would you want to put on a play about Supernatural?" You interrupt her pointless story. "There's so many better books out there. One's with endings that don't include space robots, ninjas, or Dean turning into a woman." Though when Marie first told you her interpretation of how the series should end, you snorted that the thought of Dean with flowy blonde hair and big tits. You had wished Dean was with you when she revealed her ending. HIs face would have been priceless.
Marie looks at you with disgust, her lips snarling up and nose pinching.
"Have you read those books?" She asks in astonishment, and you roll your eyes. She had no idea.
"Two brothers constantly fighting against the greatest evils man has ever known. Sacrificing everything for the greater good while constantly risking their lives to save one another!" Her voice rises in each word, as if she's telling some epic story. "How could you not love those books?" The way she speaks give you an idea that she's had to explain herself more than once.
"And not to mention, having a bad-a.s.s.," she spells out. Catholic school. "Female character, who lives, and who can put Dean in his place, kill demons and still have perfect hair while doing so." You perk up at her words. "Y/N is everything I wish I could be. She's my alter-ego, my ultimate fictional girl crush." You roll your shoulders back and raise your chin as her words rush through you, feeling much better after the awkward interaction on stage.
"Plus I ship Y/S/N. Hard." She squeals.
You stop in your tracks, your head shaking, not comprehending the word that just came out of her mouth.
"Y/S/N?" You ask with high eyebrows and a look of total disbelief. You had heard of "shipping" before. It was a pairing of characters you liked and wanted to get together, or were together, and people had some unnatural love for the fiction couple. But you never heard of this.
"Yeah, it's their celeb name, like Brangelina." She says like it's totally oblivious, and keeps walking.
You quickly follow in step behind her, thanking whoever was looking down on you (if anyone even was) that Dean was with Sam.
By the time you've caught up to Marie, she's already back into her violin story, and you clear your throat, interrupting her again.
"So," you try to say as casually as you can. "Why do you, ship," the word sounds funny coming from your mouth. "Y/S/N?"
Her eyes light up at your question, and you hope you're not going to regret asking.
"Oh, my, Sam!" You frown at her exclamation. This girl was nuts. "They're totally perfect for each other. She takes no crap from him, he always looks out for her. Plus, she's really the only one who is anywhere near perfect for him. Lisa was too normal. Great and all, but boring. Y/N is unpredictable; able to kill vamps without any backup, drink shot for shot with Dean, and she doesn't need him, but she's just better with him. He brings her down to earth when she starts to get out of control, and she makes him feel less unsure about all that guilt he constantly carries inside."
Holy crap. You were expecting an because they'd be SO cute together. But Marie could probably write you an entire thesis on why she ships Y/S/N.
And, was any of that even true? Did Dean bring you down to Earth? I mean, he was always there when you needed him, whether you were pissed or hurting, but you never considered him being your anchor. You had been alone your whole life you tried to not let yourself rely on anyone, but that never stopped Dean from always being there. And you for him. You brought him a beer after a bad hunt and just sat with him in silence, hummed "Hey Jude" under your breath when you knew he was sinking further into whatever despair had been weighing on him that week, and threw food at him when he refused to smile, just to get him to lighten up again. Did that really help him?
"Plus, the whole, 'I love you but won't say anything,'" she air quotes, her lips puckering. "Is so cute. Makes for great sexual tension. Which is why I had to make Y/S/N cannon in my play. It's only a matter of time before they actually become a couple. I mean, how could anyone ignore the chemistry between the two of them."
With that, Marie is finished on her rant of Y/S/N, and carries on her with tour, her words falling on deaf ears as all you can think about is how you and Dean seem to expertly ignore the chemistry that is apparently there between the two of you.
—-
After a thorough search of the place, the three of you found no EMF or hexbags. None of the props were even remotely hincky, and other than the Charlie Kaufman feel of it all, you had nothing.
It turned out that this thing that wasn't a thing that suggested it was your thing, really wasn't a thing after all.
The three of you were all packed up and ready to go when Sam got a phone call from the local sheriff he had been working with. Turns out, it may be your thing.
One of the students disappeared after play practice last night, and after doing some deeper recon, you discovered that both Miss Chandler and Maggie, the latest MIA, had both been trying to stop the play.
Marie had seen Maggie get taken, and she was your only insight into what may have taken the two.
"I saw a scarecrow. It looked just like the one from our show...but...alive." She had explained to you over a shaky cup of coffee. "It wrapped her in vines, and took her behind the dumpster. And then, there were both just... gone."
That's when you explained to her and Maeve that Supernatural wasn't just a story, it was real. Angels, demons, the whole shebang. You explained who each of you were and a look of horror crossed Marie's face as she looked between you and Dean.
With a red face, Marie just sat quietly, her eyes constantly on you and Dean as Maeve explained some local legend about a scarecrow, but with her own twist, leading you to believe you were hunting a tulpa, but after some research on Sam's part, you learned it wasn't a tulpa, but Calliope, the goddess of epic poetry. Marie was excited at first, in total awe that the goddess of epic poetry would bother with her crappy fanfiction play, but turned pale when Sam explained how Calliope ate the author once the play was over.
With no other choice but to keep the play going if you wanted any chance of killing Calliope, the three of you spread out backstage, you and Dean stage left, and Sam stage right as you kept your eyes peeled for the scarecrow-disguised goddess.
Before the play had started, Dean had given the girls a pep talk that included Rent lyrics (which you only knew when you overheard Maeve ask Marie if he had done so), and had included the very confusing suggestion to your actors that,
"I want you to stand as close as she wants you to, and I want you to put as much sub and add text, as you possibly can." Prompting Marie to give you a look.
As the play started, and the lights were dimmed, Dean leaned over to you, whispering, "Why the hell has Marie been staring at us all night?
Your breath catches and your heart drums so loud and can't hear the musical over the beating in your ears.
Give you a monster, fine, no problem. Talk about anything even remotely close to feelings, watch you flounder.
"Just some stupid," you gulp. "Fanfiction idea she has." You shuffle your feet, trying to look indifferent.
A small crease forms between his eyebrows.
"Is this about our actors and their 'subtext?'" He questions, his lips awfully close to your ear.
You nibble on your lip—something very much not like you, and Dean notices immediately—but you know Dean well enough to know he won't leave it alone until he has his explanation.
"Yeah. She uh, ships us." You laugh, sounding nonchalant. He mouths the word ship, totally lost. "Like relationship. She thinks we should be a couple."
Dean's eyebrows raise and his mouth forms a little "o" at your words, his tongue running over his suddenly dry lips.
"Crazy, right?" You nudge him in the arm with your elbow, trying to make it sound like the funniest thing in the world.
He doesn't respond, just stares back out to the stage and does everything in his power to keep from looking at you.
—-
After saving Sammy, killing Calliope (which resulted in the crowd getting sprayed in purple gunk), and Dean taking a bow—though it was much more of a curtsey—center stage, you stood backstage with Marie and Maeve, them gushing over you with thanks for saving them and the show.
"Seriously, I would be dead, literally, without you guys." Marie threw herself into the arms of Sam, his hands going up and eyes going wide as he awkwardly patted the teenage girl on the back.
You chuckled behind you hand, Dean shaking his hand as Sam gently pushed Marie away.
"Not bad," you turn to Dean. "Guess I owe you an apology since our 'thing that wasn't a thing that suggested it was your thing really wasn't a thing after all.'" He rolls his eyes at you as he shoves his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah, yeah." He brushes you off with a smile as you look up at him, his green eyes shining in the reflection of the stage lights, and your heart beats a little faster.
"Chemistry." Marie starts coughing. "Chem-is-try." She coughs again. You throw your head back and groan.
"Can we please get out of this place?" You beg Dean, a sad smile now on his face.
"Let's go."
—-
After the auditorium had emptied out, and the purple gunk cleared, Marie sat on the edge of the stage, looking around in amazement that she had actually pulled her play off.
"Marie!" Maeve shouted from the top of the aisle, running down at full speed to meet her friend.
"Yeah?"
"That seat you reserved for the publisher was claimed!" Marie's eyes go wide and she begins to squeal.
"I guess he couldn't stick around after the play, but he left this for you!" Maeve jumps up and down, handing her friend the gift.
On top of the wrapped rectangle is a note. Simple lettering that says:
Not Bad. –C.
Marie tears apart the wrapping, finding a book in her grasp. But not just any book: an unpublished edition of the next novel in the series of Supernatural.
"Oh. My. CHUCK!" She screams, flipping through the pages, desperately trying to take in as many words as she can.
That's when she's see's it, a passage that stops her heart:
"I can't keep doing this anymore, Y/N. I can't just sit around and pretend everything's okay between us, because it's not. And it hasn't been for a long time. You wanna go, then you go. But don't you dare sit there and tell me it's all okay!" Dean shouts, his jaw clenched as his hands shake at his side.
Y/N pushes out of her chair, her chin raised high as she walks across the library, her feet only stopping when her toes touch his.
"It's not okay." Y/N whispers before throwing herself forward into Dean's arms, her lips and crashing on his.
Dean doesn't even need a moment to collect himself; one hand already in her hair, and the other holding desperately onto her waist.
Their kiss is searing, years of unspoken love finally unleashed and running wild.
"I KNEW IT!"
