Changing Channels

10

Sam and Dean were no longer in a sitcom, but more of what looked to be a cop show. (Y/n) was also, again, no longer with the brothers.

"Oh, come on," Dean whined, turning away at the sight of whatever sat beyond the caution tape.

A cop approached the two. "What do you think?"

"What do I think? I think go screw yourself, that's what I think," Dean shot coldly, making the cop frown.

Sam smiled politely at the cop in an apology. "Uh, would you give us a moment, please? Thanks." The cop nodded slowly and crouched back under the police tape, walking to the crime scene. "You have to calm down, Dean."

"'Calm down'?" Dean repeated. "I am wearing sunglasses at night!" He snapped back, removing them from his face. "You know who does that? No-talent douche bags! I hate this game. I hate that we're in a procedural cop show. And you want to know why? Because I hate procedural cop shows! There's like 300 of them on television, they're all the freakin' same! It's 'Ooh, a plane crashed.' Oh, shut up!"

Sam smacked his shoulder. "Hey," Dean grumbled a 'what' as the younger Winchester pointed at the cop who had walked over to them. He had a red sucker in his hand. "Check out sweet tooth over there."

"Think that's him?" Dean asked, suddenly done with his hatred over their situation.

"Just, uh, follow my lead." Together, they put on their sunglasses while two cops lifted the police tape to let them through.

The cop from before removed the sucker from his mouth. "You, uh, you okay?" He asked Dean, then put it back in.

"Yeah," Dean replied gravely, looking away from the body. "What do we got?"

"Well," the cop once again removed the sucker from his mouth then crouched down to the body. "Aside from the ligature marks around his neck, he has what appears to be a roll of quarters jammed down his throat." Dean crouched down as well to examine the body, having taken his sunglasses off before doing so.

Sam lifted his sunglasses from his face slowly. "Well, I say... jackpot." He answered gravely, making the cop chuckle a little. He then put his sunglasses back on.

"Also, there was a stab wound to the lower abdomen there." The cop gestured to the wound with his sucker.

Dean picked up a sharpened stick and lifted the bloodied part of the shirt. "Well, I say..." he put his sunglasses on again. "No guts... no glory..." The cop chuckled again.

"Get that guy a..." Sam took off his sunglasses again, before putting them right back on. "Tums."

"Gutter ball," Dean added, distracting the cop as he chuckled.

"That's a good one, guys-" he turned around but gasped when Dean shoved the sharp end of the stick from before through his heart.

A man laughed lightly behind them while the brothers waited for the illusion to fade. The trickster's face emerged from another cop's.

"You got the wrong guy, idiot!"

"Did we?" Dean asked as Sam jabbed a sharp stick of wood through the real trickster's heart.

The scene around them faded into the warehouse. They were back with their regular clothes, and the trickster was dead on the floor.

"We should've asked him about (Y/n), Dean." Sam breathed, looking down at the corpse. "She's not here."

Dean sighed with a nod. That would've been helpful. "Maybe he let her go, and she's back at the motel?" The younger brother nodded. That was currently their best guess.

-

Dean spat out the remains of his toothpaste into the sink. "I'm worried, man." He looked up at the mirror. "About what that S.O.B. did to Cas and (Y/n)- and where they are..." He left the bathroom and looked around the motel room. "Sam? Where are you?"

Once finished in the motel, Dean tried his brother's cell while walking to the car. "It's Sam. Leave a message."

"Sam, it's me. Where the hell did you go?" He slid into the driver's seat of Baby with a grunt then ended the call.

"Dean?" Sam's voice echoed through the impala, sounding like his voicemail tone.

Dean turned around, looking for the source of his brother's voice. "Sam? Where are you?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. That made Dean look down at his console, where the entire radio set would be, multiple buttons, and a screen was seen. "Oh, crap. I don't think we killed the trickster."

-

When (Y/n) opened her eyes, she was more than shocked to see herself in her motel room. A feeling in the bottom of her gut told her that this wasn't one of Gabriel's illusions. No, those were too obvious to her either way.

A note caught her eye, however. On the nightstand, a bright yellow notepad with messy writing stood out. This isn't part of the game. You're back in the real world. I apologize for earlier. Your brothers will probably be out soon. ~Gabe

"Son of a bitch," (Y/n) groaned and threw the covers off her body. She was hitching a ride back to the warehouse before her brothers would do something stupid.