A Very Supernatural Journey Chapter 4
A Birthday Story Written for Enkidu07, in appreciation for the work she and Onyx Moonbeam do and for the community they built
Co-Written by Woman of Letters, mainegirlwrites, theymp and wynefred
This chapter written by theymp
Previous Chapters: [1] [2] [3]
Chapter 4: Testing the Waters
Wrapped up in a strong pair of arms that she'd had more than a few daydreams about in the past, Rachelle was at last able to bring herself under control by taking several deep, calming breaths.
This so doesn't make any sense, she thought, but for the moment she was happy to just go with it.
Feeling a little too shy to let her hands wander any lower, Rachelle instead gave Dean a final squeeze for good measure, blushing guiltily as he gave a manfully-muffled groan of pain. From knowledge gained through her first aid training, and the way he was holding himself, she suspected he might have a fair number of bruised, if not cracked, ribs.
Rachelle stepped back reluctantly from Dean's warm embrace while casting a longing glance over at Sam. She gave herself a mental telling off with a heavy sigh; she really needed to get herself together and concentrate on the events at hand.
Giving herself a little shake, she cleared her throat, trying to put on her best professional, sane face. Then she had a horrible, self-conscious thought and looked up and down the street with suspicion.
"Did Meredith put you up to this? This isn't one of those mean, hidden camera shows is it?"
Dean raised one quizzical eyebrow.
Oh no, she recognized that look.
"I'm not crazy," she shouted, wincing at the way she sounded.
"No, no, of course you're not," Dean soothed, not quite sounding as sincere as she would have liked. He cleared his throat, "Christo," he coughed.
Rachelle glared at him; at this rate she was rapidly becoming a Sam-girl. "I'm not a demon," she growled.
"I think she's telling the truth, Dean," Sam interjected earnestly.
Rachelle smiled at him in gratitude. Yes, he's definitely becoming my favorite. Gosh, he's so... big.
Dean didn't seem too happy with her attention being diverted to his brother. At first she thought it was due to the leering look he'd given her when they'd first collided, but now she realized that live and in the flesh he was so much more protective of his brother than the show suggested, if that was even possible.
Dean placed what initially seemed to be a comforting hand on her arm until she discovered it was just a ruse to steer her round so that he stood between her and his brother.
"Okay, so do we know you from somewhere?" he asked.
"Not exactly. See, there's this television show and you and Sam are in it," Rachelle explained, cringing equally at the forceful grip Dean held on her arm, and how unlikely it all sounded. She wondered about the advisability of telling them that they were fictional characters in a television program, but she decided she had nothing to lose since they already seemed to think she was crazy.
Heck, maybe I am, she thought.
"Hmm, right," Dean laughed in a voice thick with sarcasm.
"Okay, then how about this - I know that you and your brother Sam are hunters and that you've been trying to track down the demon that killed your mother."
Both men's relaxed and friendly manner changed in an instant and they now looked at her with hostile, narrowed eyes. She wasn't used to someone staring at her with such intensity. It was actually quite frightening, and it was at that point she realized that these weren't cosseted actors playing television characters; they were desperate men that risked their lives daily and killed things for a living.
It was only then that she thought about one of the more recent episodes she'd re-watched with Meredith, and it occurred to her why they might be so sensitive.
"I'm very sorry about your father," she said softly.
Dean rocked back on his heels and looked at her with a stunned expression on his face.
Behind him, Sam swallowed audibly and went to place a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder, but it only met with empty air. Sam returned his hand to his pocket, glumly staring at his shoes.
"How..?" Dean whispered, in a voice suddenly hoarse.
"I told you, I watched it," she answered, "Like I saw how you smashed up the Impala, your baby."
Sam looked at her, "You know Bobby, too?"
Dean turned and glared at him in irritation. Sam blushed when he realized he'd named the closest person they now had left to a father.
"Yes, and I've seen how you're scared of clowns," she teased, pointing at Sam.
Sam just looked a little embarrassed, before tilting his jaw up in a 'so what of it?' expression. But it was Dean's reaction that astounded her; his face blanched, he shifted uneasily from one foot to another, and his eyes filled with a look of absolute terror. He cast a quick glance from Rachelle and back to his brother, before licking his lips in a nervous tick that Rachelle had always associated more with interviews she'd seen of the actor, Jensen.
Her stomach turned at the pleading look he gave her, and her mind went back to an underlying theme of the last couple of episodes she'd watched with Meredith.
What did John whisper to him? That's why he's so nervous, he obviously still hasn't told Sam yet.
Her heart softened towards him again as she remembered being on the verge of tears at the start of the episode with the clown, when Dean had lied to his brother by claiming John had had no last words. She'd swooned and sighed with Meredith over the terrible burden of guilt and grief Dean must have been laboring under.
She gave Dean a small smile of sympathy that she hoped he would silently understand.
Before she could help herself an awful thought rose unbidden in her mind and she looked back over at Sam, in horror. For just the briefest of moments it looked like Sam was wreathed in thick black smoke and when he smiled at her in confusion at her expression, his mouth seemed stained with blood. She blinked and he was back to normal.
It must have been a trick of the light, she tried to reassure herself.
She'd only just remembered that she'd spent that long night talking with Meredith until dawn trying to figure out what John must have said. Meredith had been convinced it was about Sam. "And look at his face," she'd said, pointing at Dean's anguished expression on the television screen, "Whatever it is... it's bad, and Sam is all he really cares about."
"I just need to show you this," said Dean, bringing her back to the present, as he reached one hand into his inside jacket pocket. Before Rachelle could react he'd grabbed her arm with his other hand. She struggled to pull away only to find Sam blocking her exit. She jerked in surprise as Dean tipped something wet over her arm, before running the cold silver flask, that had contained the liquid, down the inside of her forearm.
For a moment everyone, including Rachelle, stood frozen in place as they stared at her arm, "Not. A. Demon," she repeated through gritted teeth, throwing off Sam's hands from her shoulder. For a moment, when she noticed how his center of gravity was off, she was tempted with the thought of throwing him to the ground, but in the end after looking at his eyes she decided it would be a little bit too much like kicking an overgrown puppy. Plus Meredith would never forgive her.
"After all the weird and wonderful things you've seen, why can't you just accept that I know who you are?" she asked, shaking her head, "If it helps, think of me as another Missouri."
"Well, I never fancied buyin' that crazy ol' broad a drink," Dean smirked, handing Sam a small wad of bills, "Hey Sammy, why don'tcha find a Starbucks or somethin' and get us all some of that syrupy girl-coffee you like so much."
Sam gave his patented bitch-face, but did as he was told, although not before giving Rachelle a glower that made it perfectly clear that if any harm came to Dean while he was away he would raise Heaven and Hell to track her down.
Rachelle gulped in fear; she'd never really noticed before that underneath his soft and friendly exterior it was actually Sam who at his core was the scariest Winchester.
Dean waited patiently while his brother stalked off in search of overpriced and overly-milky, caffeinated beverages. Once Sam was out-of-sight he dropped his relaxed persona.
"Okay, you know something, so spill it," he spat angrily.
Seeing the fear and hesitation in his eyes again, Rachelle couldn't find it in herself to be angry with him.
"Look, I know your dad told you something. But I don't know what it is - although I'm pretty sure it's to do with Sam - and whatever it is I'm guessing it's probably bad... But please, believe it or not, I am on your side and I won't tell Sam that you know... whatever it is."
That's gotta go down in the history books as one of the strangest conversations ever, she thought, while looking at him hopefully.
Dean stared at her full-on for a long, long time, before finally letting out a breath, seeming to sag slightly with relief.
"Thank you," he said in a voice that was barely a whisper and with a look so vulnerable that Rachelle just wished that this time she could hug him better.
The moment passed as Sam arrived back bearing coffee and muffins and Rachelle could almost see the barriers come crashing down behind Dean's eyes as he re-assumed the 'protective older brother' mask.
"So I was thinking," Sam said, aware of an awkward silence, but not quite able to figure out the reasons for it, "If you say you know us from a TV show, do you have any evidence we could see as proof?"
"Sure, loads back at the house. Why didn't I think of that? Meredith and I are huge fans," she laughed.
"Sam? Really? We've got a crime scene going cold and now you want to watch TV?"
"Look, Dean, she's obviously involved somehow. I've got a gut feeling about this," Sam said quietly to his brother so that Rachelle couldn't overhear.
"Yeah, well, so long you trust my gut next time it gets a feeling," Dean grouched, already thinking about lunch, as he waved for his brother to lead on.
Feeling absurdly proud to be in their company, Rachelle led them back to the home she shared with her best friend, only to see the door open and Meredith herself emerge.
"Oh, hi Rachelle. I'm just off to lectures," Meredith explained, looking at Sam and Dean with open curiosity.
Rachelle gave a huge grin in response, "Look who I bumped into!" she couldn't help but squeal in excitement.
A chill feeling of dread washed over her at her friend's politely blank expression.
"I'm sorry, have we met?" Meredith asked.
Rachelle was stunned; she couldn't believe it, if anything her friend was an even bigger Supernatural fan than she was.
"Hi, I'm Sam, and this here's Dean. We're old friends of... Rachelle," Sam answered, stepping in to fill yet another awkward silence, while Dean gave a tight, non-committal smile in greeting.
"Oh well, nice to meet you too. Sorry, I'm already late, must dash, bye!" called Meredith before rushing off down the street.
Feeling like she'd lost her mind, while knowing what she wasn't going to find, Rachelle led the Winchesters into her house. As she'd feared and somehow expected, all the Supernatural-related items she and Meredith had previously owned were conspicuous by their absence.
She even checked her computer. "Oh no, not the fanfic too," she groaned.
"Fanfic?" Sam asked curiously.
Rachelle tried to control her blushing as she waved the question away. She thought she might tell them about the fanfic later if she really had to, although she'd definitely omit any mention of Wincest.
Rachelle felt deflated, while Dean looked bored by the proceedings, but Sam had an almost cunning expression on his face.
"You mentioned seeing that I was scared of clowns," Sam prompted, "Was that in one of these TV shows you've seen recently?"
Rachelle nodded, expecting Sam to disbelieve her, but instead he launched into a long series of detailed questions regarding what she had seen in other episodes, and her more recent recollections. He quickly discovered her connection to the case the brothers were currently investigating and the events leading up to Laura's death. It was an interesting insight into the law student training, which he'd obviously received in his time at Stanford, that Rachelle wasn't used to seeing in the show.
The brothers had shared a significant look, long experience having taught them that there was no such thing as coincidence, especially in relation to one of their cases. Bumping into Rachelle had certainly been an act of fate.
"So? What do you think?" Dean asked Sam, and Rachelle was touched to see the way he deferred to what was so obviously the younger Winchester's area of specialty.
"Well, I was hoping Rachelle here might have some future knowledge of cases we haven't worked yet, but it seems pretty current, although it's interesting that she only seems to know about the more noteworthy ones. I guess the last case wouldn't have made great TV," he explained.
You're telling me," winced Dean, pacing up and down in Rachelle's living room and rubbing his side as his ribs twinged in discomfort.
"From your description of the changes around you, the differences in your apartment and your friend's memories, I think it's pretty clear that this vortex you keep seeing has somehow pulled you into a parallel universe. You know, there's a lot of conjecture around this in the latest quantum string entanglement theory..."
"Yes, yes, thank you, Einstein. If we could just stick to the facts, ma'am," interrupted Dean in a mocking, but affectionate tone, "Water seems to be a pretty common theme here, you think this all could be connected?"
Sam shrugged, but looked impressed at his brother's deduction, "Could be," he nodded.
"Right, let's get ourselves back over to the site of the last death then," Dean sighed, holding his side again.
"Okay, I'm coming with you," ordered Rachelle, making it clear from her e"xpression that she would brook no disagreement. "But first I'm taping up those ribs for you."
Dean's face scrunched up in a terrible scowl and he huffed in irritation, not used to being told what to do by a civilian. Just as Rachelle braced herself to withstand an angry tirade, Sam gently tugged his brother to one side.
As a trainee psychologist she was fascinated by the incredible display of non-verbal communication that took place in front of her.
Dean somehow managed to frown even more and shot her a venomous glance to which Sam gave a loose-limbed shrug and raised his eyebrows. They obviously don't trust me, she thought, but I think Sam'll give me the benefit of the doubt.
Dean pouted and Sam responded with an open handed gesture of placation. Dean paused, until Sam gave a sad puppy-dog pleading expression, before finally releasing a huge sigh and rolling his eyes. Oh, it's like watching a master at work.
Sam grinned in triumph, "Okay," he agreed.
"Yeah, well, it's on your head," Dean mumbled.
As Rachelle led a now shirtless Dean into her bathroom in search of bandages, she still couldn't quite believe the reality of her situation.
If there's no Supernatural on TV then what on earth do people do on a Thursday night?
Read Chapter 5: Wading In