A bearded man is sleeping on his couch. Suddenly, he begins to dream about strange things. He sees a motel room sign, and a girl, and the Impala, and Sam and Dean.
Comic Book Store
A young man inside the store is looking at comics. Dean and Sam, wearing long jackets and suits, walk in. The clerk looks up. “Uh - can I help you?” The boys pull out their fake IDs. “Sure hope so. Agents DeYoung and Shaw,” Dean replies. “Just need to ask you a few questions.” “Have you noticed anything strange in the building the last couple of days?” Sam asks. “Like what?” the clerk asks. “Some other tenants reported flickering lights,” Dean suggests. “Uh, I don’t think so. Why?” the clerk asks. “What about noises? Skittering in the walls, kinda like rats?” Sam asks. “And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?” the clerk asks, looking confused. “What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?” Sam goes on. Suddenly the clerk grins. “I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren’t you?” “Excuse me?” Dean says. “You’re fans!” the clerk says. “Fans of what?” Sam asks. “What is LARPing?” Dean asks. “Like you don’t know,” the clerk grins. When they look confused, the clerk says “Like Action Role Playing! And pretty hard core, too.” He looks pointedly at the suits. “Sorry, I got no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean says finally. “You’re asking questions like the building’s haunted. Like those guys from the books - what are they called... Supernatural.” The boys stare. “Two guys, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires...” the clerk explains. “What are their names... Steve and Dirk? Uh... Sal and Dane...” Sam tilts his head. “Sam and Dean?” “That’s it!” “You’re saying this is a book?” Dean asks. “Books. It was a series,” the clerk explains. “Didn’t sell a lot of copies though. Kind of more of an underground cult following.” He stands up suddenly and goes to the Bargain Bin. Dean and Sam follow, looking confused. He looks through it a moment and then pulls out a book. “That’s the first one, I think.” He hands it to Dean. “Supernatural, by Carver Edlund,” Dean reads, then turns the book over. “Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths...” “Gimme that,” Sam says, grabbing it. “We’re gonna need all the copies of Supernatural you got.”
Motel
Dean is laying on his bed, several copies of Supernatural around him. He’s reading “Route 666”. Sam is on his laptop. “This is freakin’ insane,” Dean says. “How does this guy know all this stuff?” “You got me,” Sam says. “Everything is in here. I mean everything,” Dean goes on. “From the racist truck to me having sex... I’m full-frontal in here, dude.” Sam makes a face. “How come we haven’t heard of them before?” Dean wonders, rolling over and getting up. “They’re pretty obscure,” Sam says. “Had almost zero circulation. Uh... started in ’05, publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And the last one, “No Rest For the Wicked”, ends with you going to Hell.” He turns the laptop so Dean can see it. “I reiterate,” Dean says. “Freakin’ insane. Oh check it out, there’s actually fans! There’s not many of them, but still. Did you read this?” “Yup,” Sam says, scratching his head. “Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot,” Dean goes on. “Listen to this, Sympatico says ‘The demon storyline is trite, cliched, and overall craptastic’. Yeah well, screw you, Sympatico. We lived it.” Sam laughs. “Yeah. Well keep reading. It gets better.” Dean grins. “There’s SamGirls and DeanGirls! And what’s a slash fan?” “As in - Sam slash Dean,” Sam says. “Together.” Dean stares at him. “Like together together?” “Yeah,” Sam nods. Dean gapes. “They do know we’re brothers, right?” “Doesn’t seem to matter,” Sam replies. “Aw come on. That - that’s just sick,” Dean says, making a face. He closes the laptop quickly. “We gotta find this Carver Edlund.” “Yeah that might not be so easy,” Sam replies. “No tax records, no known address... looks like Carver Edlund is a pen name.” “Somebody’s gotta know who he is,” Dean says.
The boys are at the publisher’s house. There are various posters from the books on the wall. “So you published the Supernatural books?” Sam asks. “Yeah, yeah. These books... you know, they never really got the attention they deserved,” she says, crossing to her bookshelf, which is full of them all. “All everybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. You know, Dr. Sexy MD. Please.” “Right, well we’re hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series,” Sam replies. “Yeah! I mean yeah, if we got a little bit of good press, then maybe we could start publishing again!” she says enthusiastically. “No no no, God no,” Dean says. “I mean why would you wanna do that? It’s such a complete series. What with Dean going to Hell and all.” “Oh my God, that was one of my favourite ones, because Dean was so strong, and sad, and brave... and Sam - I mean the best parts are when they cry,” she says. The boys stare. “You know, like in Heart - when Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in Home, when Dean had to call John... and ask him for help...” Dean mouths “What the...?” at Sam. The publisher sighs, getting choked up, and turns away. “Gosh, if only real men were so open, and in touch with their feelings.” “Real men?” Dean repeats. “Oh - I mean... no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?” she says. Sam smiles awkwardly. “Well right now I’m crying on the inside,” Dean says. She tilts her head. “Was that supposed to be funny?” “Lady, this whole thing is funny,” Dean says. She looks at him. “How do I know you two are legit, hmm?” “Ohh, trust me. We’re legit,” Dean says as the boys move closer to her desk. “Well I don’t want any smart-ass article making fun of my boys,” she says firmly. “No no no, never,” Sam says quickly. “We are actually... big fans.” She nods. “Hmm. You read the books.” “Cover to cover,” Dean says. “What’s the year and model of the car?” she asks. “It’s a 1967 Chevy Impala,” Dean replies instantly. “What’s May 2nd?” she asks. “That’s my - that’s uh - Sam’s birthday,” Sam says. “January 24th is Dean’s,” Dean adds, shrugging. “Sam’s score on the LSAT?” she asks. “One... seventy four?” Sam says. “Dean’s favourite song,” she says. “It’s a tie,” Dean says with a smile. “Between Zep’s Ramblin’ On and Travelin’ River Side Blues.” She smiles and laughs a little. “Okay. Okay! What do you wanna know?” “What’s Carver Edlund’s real name?” Sam asks. “Oh. Oh no, no, I can’t -“ she begins. “We just wanna talk to him,” Sam says quickly. “You know, get the Supernatural story in his own words.” “He’s very private,” she says firmly. “Please,” Sam says. “Like I said, we are big, big fans.” He unbuttons his shirt and shows her his devil’s trap tattoo. She looks surprised, then looks at Dean. He rolls his eyes and shows her his too. She smiles. “Awesome!” She stands up and pulls down her pants. “You know what? I got one too.” The boys stare. “Wow. You are a fan,” Dean says. “Okay,” she grins and writes down Carver Edlund’s real name for them. The boys steal wide-eyed looks at each other. “His name’s Chuck Shirley, and he’s a genius, so don’t piss him off,” she warns.
The bearded man from earlier, who is indeed Chuck Shirley, is walking around in his house wearing a bathrobe and boxers. A printer is printing. He sits down and picks up the paper that came out. “Sam and Dean approach the rundown...” He reads, then stops and makes a correction. “Approach the ramshackle house... with trepidation.”
Oustide, the boys get out of the Impala and head toward’s Chuck’s old house.
“Did they really want to learn the secrets that lay beyond that door?” Chuck reads on. “Sam and Dean traded soulful looks.”
The boys look at each other, then Dean looks at the bell.
“Then, with determination, Dean pushed the doorbell, with forceful determination,” Chuck reads on, then tosses the paper aside and takes off his glasses. The doorbell rings.
Chuck opens the door. “You Chuck Shirley?” Dean asks. “The Chuck Shirley who wrote the Supernatural books?” Sam adds. “Maybe. Why?” Chuck asks. “I’m Dean, this is Sam. The Dean and Sam you’ve been writing about,” Dean says. Chuck smirks, and closes the door in their faces. Dean rings the doorbell again. Chuck opens the door. “Look. I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really I do. It’s always nice to hear from the fans. But for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life.” He starts to close the door again. Dean stops him. “See here’s the thing. We have a life. You’ve been using it to write your books.” He shoves open the door the rest of the way and the boys walk in. Chuck backs up quickly. “Now wait a minute, this isn’t funny!” “Damn straight it’s not funny!” Dean snaps. “Look, we just wanna know how you’re doing it,” Sam says calmly. “I’m not doing anything,” Chuck says frantically. “Are you a hunter?” Dean asks. “What? No! I’m a writer,” Chuck says. “Then how do you know so much about demons? And tulpas and changelings?” Dean asks, walking forward. Chuck falls back on the couch in an effort to get away. “Is this some kind of Misery thing? Oh it is, isn’t it? It’s a Misery thing!” “No, it’s not a Misery thing, believe me, we are not fans!” Dean says angrily. “Then what do you want?” Chuck asks. “I’m Sam,” Sam says again. “And that’s Dean.” “Sam and Dean are fictional characters! I made them up! They’re not real!” Chuck says.
Outside, Dean opens the trunk of the Impala, revealing their arsenal. “Are those real guns?” Chuck asks. “Yup. This is real rocksalt, these are real fake IDs...” Dean points. Chuck laughs. “Wow. I gotta hand it to you guys, you really are my number one fans. That’s awesome.” He begins to back away. “I think I got some posters in the house...” “Chuck, stop!” Dean says. “Please, don’t hurt me,” he says desperately. “How much do you know? Do you know about the angels?” Sam asks. “Or Lillith breaking seals?” “Wait a minute, how do you know about that?” Chuck begins. “Question is how do you?” Dean interrupts. “Because I wrote it,” Chuck says. “You kept writing?” Sam asks. “Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt. But those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right? Did that - did Phil put you up to this?” The boys look at each other. “Well, nice to meet you. I’m Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam,” Dean says. Chuck looks surprised. “The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down.” The boys look at each other again.
In Chuck’s house, he begins drinking. He turns around and sighs. “Oh, you’re still there.” Dean and Sam are standing at his desk. “Yup,” Dean says. “You’re not a hallucination,” Chuck says. “Nope,” Dean says. “Well, there’s only one explanation,” Chuck says. “Obviously I’m a god.” “You’re not a god,” Sam says. “How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life?” Chuck says. “Yeah, no I’m definitely a god. A cruel, cruel capricious god. The things I put you through! The phsyical beatings alone!” “We’re still in one piece,” Dean replies. “I killed your father. I burned your mother alive... and then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica.” “Chuck,” Sam begins. “All for what?” Chuck goes on. “All for the sake of literary simitry. I toyed with your lives! Your emotions... for entertainment.” “You didn’t toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn’t create us,” Dean says. “Did you really have to live through the bugs?” Chuck asks, ignoring him. “Yeah,” Dean says. “What about the ghost ship?” Chuck goes on. “Yes. That too,” Dean replies. “I am so sorry,” Chuck says. “I mean horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing... If I would’ve known it was real, I woulda done another pass.” “Chuck, you’re not a god,” Dean says loudly. “We think you’re probably just psychic,” Sam adds. “No. If I was psychic, do you think I’d be writing?” Chuck says, sitting down. “Writing’s hard!” Dean makes a face of disbelief. “It seems that somehow you’re just focused on our lives,” Sam says. “Yeah, like laser-focused,” Dean adds. “Are you working on anything right now?” “Holy crap,” Chuck says. “What?” Dean asks. Chuck picks up some papers. “The latest book... it’s kinda weird.” “Weird how?” Sam asks. “It’s very... Vonnegut.” “Slaugherhouse-Five Vonnegut or Cat’s Cradle Vonnegut?” Dean asks, leaning forward. “What?” Sam says. “What?” Dean says, looking at him. Chuck explains that he wrote himself into his latest book. “I wrote myself. In my house. Confronted by my characters,” he finishes. The boys look at each other.
Laundromat
Dean is sitting down while Sam is sorting their laundry. “I’m sitting in a laundromat reading about myself sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself - my head hurts,” Dean says, holding the new papers Chuck has written. “There’s gotta be something this guy’s not telling us,” Sam says, gathering up their laundry. “’Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine’,” Dean reads. “’He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether or not he was telling the truth’.” Sam stands up from where he’s just put his laundry into the machine. “Stop it!” he says loudly. “’Stop it! Sam said’,” Dean reads. “Guess what you do next?” Sam twitches a little, then turns back to the machine. “’Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive’,” Dean reads on. “I mean I don’t know he’s doing it, but this guy is doing it! I can’t see your face, but those are definitely your brooding and pensive shoulders.” Sam sighs. “You just thought I was a dick,” Dean reads. Sam looks at him and shrugs. “Guy’s good.” Dean looks a little upset.
Chuck’s house
Chuck is sleeping. He suddenly jerks, and starts seeing things. He sees Sam, in a motel, with a blond woman. Sam climbs on top of her and they lay back. She has white eyes. Chuck jerks awake.
The boys are sitting in Chuck’s living room. He’s pacing. “So you wrote another chapter?” Sam asks. “This was all so much easier before you were real,” Chuck comments, holding some papers. “We can take it, just spit it out,” Dean replies. “You especially are not gonna like this,” Chuck says to Dean. “I didn’t like Hell,” Dean says. “It’s Lillith,” Chuck says finally. “She’s coming for Sam.” The boys look at each other. “Coming to kill him?” Dean asks. “When?” Sam moves forward. “Tonight,” Chuck says. “She’s just gonna show up? Here?” Dean asks. “Uh, let’s see uh...” Chuck sits down and puts on his glasses. “’Lillith patted the bed seductively’,” he reads. Dean looks surprised. “’Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery, demonic passion’,” Chuck finishes. Sam bursts out laughing, and they both look at him. “You’re kidding me, right?” Sam asks when neither of them laugh. “You think this is funny?” Dean asks. “You don’t? I mean come on! Fiery, demonic passion?” “It’s just a first draft,” Chuck says slightly defensively. “Wait wait wait. Lillith is a little girl,” Dean says. “No, this time she’s a ‘comely dental hygienist’,” Chuck reads. “From Bloomington, Indiana.” “Great. Perfect,” Dean says sarcastically. “So what happens after the fiery, demonic... whatever?” “I dunno. It hasn’t come to me yet,” Chuck says. “Dean, look - there’s nothing to worry about,” Sam cuts in. “Lillith and me? In bed?” Dean looks at him for a moment, then turns back to Chuck. “How does this whole psychic thing of yours work?” “You mean my process?” Chuck says. “Yes, your process.” Dean looks annoyed. “Well, it usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so I drink until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream.” “The first time you dreamt about us?” Dean asks. “It flowed. It just kept flowing,” Chuck says, rubbing his head. Sam looks highly amused. “It still does. I can’t stop it, really,” Chuck goes on. “You can’t seriously believe...” Sam begins, smiling. “Humour me,” Dean says, cutting him off. “Look, why don’t we, we just...” He stands up, and looks at Chuck, who is holding out the new chapter to him. Dean takes them, looking surprised. “Take a look at these, and see what’s what,” he finishes. Sam shakes his head. “You -“ begins Dean. “Knew you were gonna ask for that, yeah,” Chuck nods.
On the road
“Dean, come on!” Sam says. Dean is driving, Sam is reading the chapter. “’The mini van accident wasn’t that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars. He scratched absently at the pink flower band-aids on his face’,” Sam reads on. Dean smiles. “So?” “So I’ve seen you gushing blood! You’d use duct tape and bar rags before you’d put on a pink flower band-aid,” Sam argues. “What’s your point?” Dean asks. “My point is this - all of this - is totally implausible. It’s nuts,” Sam replies. “He’s been right about everything so far!” Dean argues back. Sam looks back at the paper and laughs. “’Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow’.” “A tarp?” Dean repeats disbelievingly. “Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that.” “Well he might be wrong about the details, but it doesn’t mean he’s wrong about the end result,” Dean admits. “So we’re just gonna run?” Sam asks. “Dude, we are a long way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lillith,” Dean says firmly. Sam looks away.
The road is suddenly blocked by several police cars. “Hold up!” one of the cops calls. Dean stops the Impala. “What seems to be the problem?” Dean asks as the cop approaches the window. “Bridge is out ahead,” the cop says. “We’re just trying to get outta town,” Dean replies. “Yeah, ‘fraid not,” the cop says. “Is there a detour?” Dean asks. “Nope,” the cop replies. “There’s not a sideroad that takes us to the highway?” Dean asks incredulously. “To get to the highway, you have to cross that river,” the cop says. “To cross the river, you have to take that bridge.” “How deep’s the river?” Dean asks. “Sorry. ‘Fraid you boys are gonna have to spend the night in town,” the cop replies.
Diner
The boys are getting ready to order, Sam is looking at the menu. “Hey, this could be a good thing,” Dean suddenly says, looking up at Sam. He’s holding the chapter still. “I mean if this is what puts us on the path to Lillith, then all we gotta do is get off the path.” Sam looks at him. “How do you mean?” “Well it’s a blueprint of what not to do,” Dean explains. “I mean if the pages say that we go left...” “Then we go right,” Sam finishes, looking thoughtful now. “Exactly! We get off the book. We never make it to the end. It’s opposite day. It says that we get into a fight, so - no fighting.” Sam nods easily. “No research for you,” Dean adds. “No bacon cheeseburger for you,” Sam puts in, smirking. Dean looks at him quickly. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll just order something else.” The waitress walks up. “Hi - what’s good?” Dean asks. “Well if you like burgers, Oprah’s girlfriend said that we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country,” she says with a smile. Sam laughs. “I’ll just have the cob salad, please.” Dean makes a face at him. “I’ll have the veggie tofu burger,” he says finally. The waitress leaves. “This whole thing is ridiculous,” Sam says when she’s gone. “Lillith is ridiculous?” Dean asks. “The idea of me hooking up with her is,” Sam insists. Dean smiles humourlessly. “Right! Cause something like that could never happen.” Sam desperately wants to argue, but he stops himself. “Dean, for the first time, we have warning that Lillith is close.” Dean looks up. “So?” “So, we’ve got the jump on her. If we know when she’s coming, we know where... this is an opportunity.” “Are you -?” Dean begins loudly, then stops and gathers himself. “It frustrates me when you say such reckless things.” “Well it frustrates me when you’d rather hide than fight,” Sam snaps. Dean stares at him for a long moment, and then the waitress arrives with their food, then leaves. Dean picks up his veggie burger. “It’s not hiding. It’s being smart,” he says quietly. “It’s picking your battles. This is a battle that we are not ready to fight.” He takes a big bite of his burger, then looks shocked. “Oh my God! This is delicious!” He gapes at Sam. “Tofu is amazing!” Just then the waitress walks up. “I am so sorry! I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake.” She takes it away. The boys look at each other.
Toreador Motel
The boys pull into a motel called the “Toreador”. “Dude, this place charges by the hour,” Sam says as they pull into the parking lot. “Yeah well the book says that Lillith finds you at the Red Motel. It’s opposite day, remember?”
Inside, Dean pulls out some small black bags and starts putting them around the room. “What are you doing?” Sam asks. “The hexbags will Lillith-proof the room,” Dean replies. “So, what I’m just supposed to hold up here all night?” Sam asks irritably. “That’s exactly what you’re gonna do, okay? And no research,” Dean points at him. “In fact, I don’t care what you do. Use the Magic Fingers, watch Casa Erotica on Pay Per View.” He puts down the last hexbag, and stops at Sam’s bag. He pulls out the laptop. “Oh, dude come on!” Sam argues. “Just call it a little insurance,” Dean says calmly, tucking the laptop under his arm. “What are you gonna do?” Sam asks. “Well the pages say that I spend all day riding around in the Impala. So I’m gonna go park her,” Dean says. He goes to leave. “Behave yourself, would you? No homework. Watch some porn.” He smirks, and leaves.
Outside, as he’s driving away, part of the “Toreador” sign flickers and goes out, so that the ‘TO’, “A” and “OR” are gone. It now says “Red Motel”.
Dean parks the Impala and locks the doors, then heads across the road. As he’s walking, he hears something and looks back, only to see a couple of guys trying to break into the Impala. “Hey!” he yells, and starts across the road furiously. A moment later, he is hit by a mini van, and passes out on the ground.
Motel
There’s a knock at the door, and Sam opens it to find Chuck outside. “You wanted to see me?” he says. “Yeah,” Sam nods. “Thanks for coming.” “Sure,” Chuck nods, walking in. “Uh, I was just wondering how much you know. About me,” Sam asks. “What do you mean?” Chuck asks. “Have you seen visions of me? When I’m not with Dean?” Sam goes on. “Oh. You wanna know if I know about the demon blood,” Chuck realizes. Sam looks a little surprised, then looks down. “You didn’t tell Dean?” “I didn’t even write it into the books,” Chuck admits. “I was afraid it would make you look unsympathetic.” “Unsympathetic?” Sam repeats incredulously. “Yeah, come on, Sam. I mean, sucking blood?” Chuck says. “You gotta know that’s wrong.” Sam looks away, then sits down. “It scares the hell outta me. I mean, I feel it inside of me. I wish to God I could stop.” “But you keep going back,” Chuck says. “What choice have I got?” Sam asks. “If it helps me kill Lillith, and stop the apocalypse...” “I thought that was Dean’s job,” Chuck comments. “That’s what the angels say, right?” “Dean’s not... he’s not Dean lately,” Sam says. “Ever since he got outta Hell... he needs help.” “So you gotta carry the weight?” Chuck asks. “Well he’s looked out for me my whole life,” Sam replies. “I can’t return the favour?” “Yeah sure you can,” Chuck says quickly. “I mean, if that’s what this is.” He sits down across from Sam. “What else would it be?” Sam asks, a slight note of warning coming across in his voice. “I dunno... maybe the demon blood makes you feel stronger?” Chuck suggests. “More in control...” Sam’s face changes. “No. That’s not true.” Chuck leans forward. “I’m sorry, Sam. I know it’s a terrible burden. Feeling that it all rests on your shoulders.” “Does it?” Sam asks. “All rest on my shoulders?” “That seems to be where the story’s headed,” Chuck admits. Sam sighs. “Am I strong enough to stop Lillith tonight?” “I don’t know,” Chuck says. “I haven’t seen that far yet.”
Dean opens his eyes. “Oh thank God. Just take it easy, you’re gonna be okay,” a woman’s voice says. Dean can see some blurry shapes above him, silver stars. “Stars,” he mutters. “What was that?” the woman asks. Dean lifts his head. “I’m so sorry, I just didn’t see you! Are you okay?” she asks. She’s a middle-aged woman, wearing silver star earrings. Dean looks at the minivan that’s beside him. He sits up, wincing. “And sorry about... you know. My daughter’s going through a doctor phase,” the woman says, smiling. “What are you talking about?” Dean asks. “You’re all better now,” says her little daughter, smiling. Dean has flower band-aids on one side of his face. He sees the Impala. Her back window is smashed. “Oh no,” Dean says, and gets up. He sighs angrily, and then goes around to see if anything was stolen. He catches sight of his reflection in the window, and sees the band-aids.
Dean is driving along the road, a tarp over the back window, flapping in the breeze.
Chuck’s house
Chuck unlocks his door and heads in, carrying some cans of beer and a bottle of liquor. Once inside, he rounds the corner to see Dean, sitting in a chair and watching him. “Dean,” he says. “I take it you knew I’d be here,” Dean says. “You look terrible,” Chuck says. “That’s cause I just got hit by a minivan, Chuck,” Dean snaps. “Oh,” Chuck says. “That it?” Dean leans forward. “Every damn thing you write about me comes true, that’s all you have to say is ‘oh’?” “Please don’t yell at me,” Chuck says, putting down his drinks. Dean stands up. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling us?” “What wouldn’t I be telling you?” Chuck asks, backing up as Dean advances. “How you know what you know, for starters!” Dean says loudly. “I don’t know how I know, I just do,” Chuck says desperately. “That’s not good enough,” Dean says, and shoves Chuck against the wall. “How the Hell are you doing this?” “Dean, let him go!” says a voice, and Dean whips around immediately to see Castiel standing behind him. “This man is to be protected,” Castiel says. “Why?” Dean asks. “He’s a prophet of the Lord,” Castiel replies.
“You - you’re Castiel,” Chuck says. “Aren’t you?” “It’s an honour to meet you, Chuck,” Castiel replies. “I admire your work.” He crosses to the table and picks up “Scarecrow”. “Whoa whoa whoa,” Dean says. “What, this guy, a prophet? Come on! He’s practically a penthouse forum writer!” Chuck is busily opening up a bottle of liquor. “Did you know about this?” Dean asks loudly. “I uh - I might have dreamt about it,” Chuck replies. “And you didn’t tell us?” Dean says. “It was too preposterous,” Chuck says. “Not to mention arrogant! I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That’s like M. Night level douchiness.” “This is the guy who decides our fate?” Dean says to Castiel. “He isn’t deciding anything,” Castiel replies, still looking at the book. “He’s a mouthpiece. A conduit for the inspired word.” “The word? The word of God?” Dean asks. “What, like the New New Testament?” “One day, these books will be known as the Winchester Gospel,” Castiel replies, closing “Scarecrow”. “You gotta be kidding me,” Dean and Chuck say together. “I am not - kidding you,” Castiel says, looking up. Chuck swallows. “If you’ll both please excuse me one minute...” He hurries past them and up the stairs. Dean looks back at Castiel. “Him? Really?” “You shoulda seen Luke,” Castiel replies. Dean shakes his head and walks past him. “Why’d he get tapped?” “I don’t know how prophets are chosen,” Castiel says. “The order comes from high up on the celestial chain of command.” “How high?” Dean asks. “Very,” Castiel replies. “Well whatever. How do we get around this?” Dean asks. “Around... what?” Castiel asks. “This Sam-Lillith love connection! How do we stop it from happening?” Dean goes on. “What the prophet has written can’t be unwritten,” Castiel says, looking away for a moment. “As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass.”
Dean pulls up to the motel and gets outof the car. He notices that the sign reads “Red Motel”, and narrows his eyes.
Inside, he heads for his pack. “Come on, we’re getting out of here,” he says. “What? Where?” Sam asks. “Anywhere! Outta this motel, outta this town, I don’t care if we gotta swim, we are getting out,” Dean says firmly, then suddenly notices something. “Dude, where are all the hexbags?” “I burned them,” Sam admits. “You what?” Dean says. “Look, if Lillith is coming, which is a big ‘if’...” Sam begins. “No no no, it’s more than an if,” Dean cuts in. “Chuck is not a psychic. He’s a prophet.” “What?” Sam says. “Chuck showed up, and apparently Chuck is writing the gospel of us,” Dean says. “Okay,” Sam says. “Okay,” repeats Dean. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Sam sighs. “No.” Dean throws down his pack. “Lillith is gonna slaughter you.” Sam shrugs. “Maybe she will. Maybe she won’t.” “What, you think you can take her?” Dean asks incredulously. “There’s only one way to find out, Dean, and I say bring her on,” Sam says. “Sam!” Dean begins. “You think I’ll do it, don’t you? You think I’ll go darkside,” Sam says. “Yes, okay? Yes!” Dean says loudly. “The way you’ve been acting lately, the things you’ve been doing? Oh I know. How you ripped Alastair apart like it was nothing - like you were swatting a fly.” Sam sighs and looks down. “Cas told me, okay?” Dean says. “What else did he tell you?” Sam asks. “Nothing I don’t already know,” Dean replies. “That you’ve been using your psychic crap and that you’ve been getting stronger - we just don’t know why, and we don’t know how.” “It’s not what you think,” Sam begins. “Then what is it, Sam? Cause I am at a total loss!” Dean yells. Sam is silent. Dean nods and turns away, packing his stuff and walking by Sam. He stops. “Are you coming or not?” Sam turns to face him. “No.” Dean watches him for a long moment, and then turns away again, ready to leave. Suddenly he throws down his pack on the chair, and leaves the room.
Outside, he slams on the pop machine, eyebrows lowered, angry and hurt. Nothing comes out of the machine. Finally, he steps back. “Well, I feel stupid doing this, but... I am fresh out of options. So please. I need some help.” He looks up at the sky. “I’m praying, okay? Now come on! Please.” He closes his eyes. “Prayer is a sign of faith,” Castiel says, appearing behind Dean. “This is a good thing, Dean.” He walks closer. “So does that mean you’ll help me?” Dean asks. “I’m not sure what I can do,” Castiel replies. “Drag Sam out of here now, before Lillith shows up!” Dean begs. “It’s a prophecy,” Castiel says. “I can’t interfere.” Dean stares at him. “You have tested me, and thrown me every which way. And I have never asked for anything.” His voice is shaking a little. “Not a damn thing. Now I’m asking. I need your help. Please.” Castiel shakes his head regretfully. “What you’re asking, it’s not within my power to do.” “Why, cause it’s divine prophecy?” Dean says angrily. “Yes!” Castiel replies. “So what, we’re just supposed to sit around and wait for it to happen?” Dean snaps. “I’m sorry,” Castiel says. Dean’s face falls. “Screw you. You are your mission. Your God. If you don’t help me now, then when the time comes and you need me? Don’t bother knocking.” He glares at Castiel, then walks past him. “Dean,” Castiel says quietly. “Dean!” “What?” Dean snaps angrily. Castiel turns around to face him. “You must understand why I can’t intercede. Prophets are very special, they’re protected.” “I get that,” Dean says angrily. “If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all - an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They’re absolute. They’re Heaven’s most terrifying weapon.” Castiel watches Dean. “And these archangels, they’re tied to prophets?” Dean asks. “Yes,” Castiel replies. Dean walks closer. “So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon...” “Then the most fearsome wrath of Heaven would rain down on that demon,” Castiel replies. “Just so you understand... why I can’t help.” The vaguest smile is curling his mouth. He looks away, then looks back at Dean. Dean looks at him, gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks, Cas.” “Good luck,” Castiel says.
Chuck’s house
Dean bursts into Chuck’s house, he is sitting on his couch drinking. “What are you doing here? I didn’t write this!” he says in surprise. “I need you to come with me,” Dean says, pulling him up. “What? Where?” Chuck asks. “To the motel where Sam is,” Dean says. “That’s where Lillith is,” Chuck says. “Yeah exactly, I need you to stop her,” Dean replies, pulling his arm. “Are you insane? Lillith? I know what she’s capable of, Dean. I wrote her,” Chuck says. “Alright listen to me. You have an archangel tethered to you. Okay? All you gotta do is show up, and boom! Lillith gets smoked.” “I - I haven’t seen that yet,” Chuck stammers. “The story...” “Chuck, you’re the only shot that I’ve got left,” Dean pleads. “But... I’m just a writer,” Chuck tries. “This isn’t a story anymore, man!” Dean says loudly. “This is real! And you’re in it! Now I need you to get off your ass, and fight.” Chuck looks thoughtful, and walks past Dean. “Come on, Chuck,” Dean says quietly. Chuck turns to face him. “No friggin’ way.” He takes a drink. Dean’s face hardens. “Okay, well then how ‘bout this - I’ve got a gun in my pocket? And if you don’t come with me, I’ll blow your brains out.” “I thought you said I was protected by an archangel,” Chuck says, smirking. Dean nods. “Well, interesting exercise. Let’s see who the quicker draw is.”
Motel
There’s a knock at the door. Sam opens it quickly, expecting to see Lillith. There is no one there. He shuts the door and turns around. A blond woman is standing behind him. “Hello, Sam.” “I’ve been waiting for you,” Sam says. Her eyes go white. “Where’s the knife, Sam?” “On the nightstand. By the bed,” Sam replies. She walks towards the bed, then stops at the edge of a carpet and lifts it up. The edge of a devil’s trap can be seen. She burns away a part of it with her finger. She stands to face him. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that.” “How ‘bout this?” Sam says, and raises his hand. Lillith’s hair blows in a sudden wind, but nothing else happens. Sam lowers his hand. “You’re strong,” she says. “But you’re not that strong. Not yet.” “So why don’t you throw me around then?” Sam snaps. “Because I can’t. And you know it,” she replies. “You’re immune to my... charms. Seems we’re at a stalemate.” She comes closer again. “Why are you here?” Sam asks. “To talk,” she says, circling him. “Yeah, well. I’m not interested,” Sam replies. “Mmmm... even if I’m offering to stand down?” she says, coming to face him again. “From the seals... the apocalypse... all of it.” “You expect me to believe that?” Sam says. “Honestly? No. You were always the smart one. But it’s the truth. You can end it, Sam. Right here, right now. I’ll stop breaking seals, Lucifer keeps rotting in his cage... all you have to do is agree to my terms.” “Why would you back down?” Sam asks. “Why now?” She turns away. “Turns out I don’t survive this war. Killed off, right before the good part starts.” “What do you want?” Sam asks. She shrugs. “For it to go back to the way it was. Before I had angels to deal with, twenty four seven. The good old days, when it was all baby blood, all the time.” “And what do you want in return?” Sam asks. “Your head on a stick. Dean’s, too. Call it a consolation prize,” she says, walking up to him again. “So what do you say, Sam? Self-sacrifice is the Winchester way, isn’t it?” “You really think I’m stupid enough to fall for this?” Sam asks. “I make a deal, I have to follow through. Those are the rules, and you know it,” Lillith replies. “Are you really so arrogant that you would put your life before the lives of six billion innocent people? Maybe it’s all that demon blood pumping through your pipes. Man after my own heart...” Sam glares at her suddenly. “You think I’m like you? I’m nothing like you.” “Then prove it,” she says. “Going once, going twice...” “Fine!” Sam says suddenly. “Swell,” she smiles. “By the way, a contract with me will take more than a kiss. A lot more.” She sits on the bed. “Don’t worry. The dental hygienist in here? She wants it bad.” She pats the bed next to her. Sam approaches her. She puts her legs up on the bed, and runs her hand up Sam’s leg. Her eyes go white. Sam climbs onto the bed on top of her, but suddenly grabs the knife and tries to stab her. She grabs his wrist and flips him over so he’s underneath, just as the door bursts open and Chuck and Dean come in. “I am the prophet Chuck!” Chuck says quickly. “You’ve got to be joking!” Lillith says, getting up. The walls start shaking suddenly. “Oh this is no joke,” Dean says. “You see Chuck here has got an archangel on his shoulders.” The room is suddenly flooded with bright light. “You got about ten seconds before this room is full of wrath!” Dean yells over the shaking. “And you’re a piece of charcoal. Sure you wanna tangle with that?” Lillith glares around at Sam for a moment, and then black smoke comes flooding out of her mouth and goes out the window. The shaking stops, and the light disappears. Dean and Chuck approach slowly, but the girl lies still.
On the road
“So a deal, huh?” Dean says as they drive. “That’s what she said,” Sam says. “Call the whole thing off?” Dean says. “Angels, seals, Lucifer rising, the whole nine?” “That was the gist of it,” Sam replies. “Huh,” Dean says. “What?” Sam asks. “You didn’t think once about taking it?” Dean asks. “Are you kidding me?” Sam asks. Dean looks at him. “You’ve just spent all day trying to talk me off the Lillith track,” Sam says. “Well I’m just saying,” Dean says. “She’d have found some way to weasel out of it,” Sam says firmly. “And all it would’ve cost us was our lives.” “Yeah I guess you’re right,” Dean says. “Anyway, that’s not the point,” Sam says. “What’s the point?” Dean asks. “Point is, she’s scared,” Sam says. “I could see it. Lillith is running.” “Running from what?” Dean asks. “Dunno. She was telling the truth about one thing. She’s not gonna survive the apocalypse. I’ll make sure of that,” Sam says. Dean looks away.
Chuck’s house
Chuck is sleeping, and he suddenly jumps, seeing something in his dreams. He wakes up with a jump. “Did you see it?” a voice asks. “Who are you?” Chuck asks. “I’m Zachariah,” the angel says, standing in his living room. “You may know me from your work.” “What do you want?” Chuck asks. “Did you see it?” Zachariah asks again. Chuck nods. “Is it true? Is all of that really going to happen?” “Have you been wrong so far?” Zachariah reminds him. “I gotta warn Sam and Dean!” Chuck says, getting up. “I wouldn’t advise it,” Zachariah says calmly. “People shouldn’t know too much about their own destiny.” Chuck looks away and takes a few steps. “You try, and I’ll stop you,” Zachariah says. Chuck looks at him, and then walks in a different direction. “Where are you going?” Zachariah asks. “To go kill myself,” Chuck snaps. “Don’t be melodramatic, Chuck,” Zachariah says, turning. “We’d only bring you back to life.” “What am I supposed to do?” Chuck asks, defeated. “What you always do. Write,” Zachariah replies.
