Content Warning

Greetings and Salutations.
Because my stories have bite, they can contain content that isn't suitable for work or children. Not a lot of truly graphic sex or violence, but there are some questionable or heated posts. F-bombs are not uncommon, so watch your footing.

Saturday, February 2, 2019

Fan Friction - a Supernatural fan fiction

I only started watching Supernatural around season 6 or 7, and I immediately fell in love. I was sick and depressed, and I binged through it in a week while recovering. I loved the humor, the music, the (melo)drama, the use of mythology, and I've watched it ever since.

There have been multiple points since then where I've been in a rough patch of life, and sinking into the world of the Winchesters has helped me out. Giving me that little boost I needed. Reminded me that no matter how small a family is, as long as they're close, they can beat the world.

So, with announcement that there will be a season 15, I decided it was time to dust off the one (and only?) fanfiction I've ever written about Sam and Dean.

I wrote this between seasons 10 and 11, which is probably obvious because of the character and references. This was at another rough point in my life: I'd been diagnosed with diabetes, had just moved to the PNW, was out of work, had written anything in years. The boys had boosted my mood, and I decided that maybe I COULD write something again.

It's not the best, but I think it would work as a filler-type episode. Basic monster-of-the-week. Let me know what you think.

~~~A very special Supernatural special: Fan Friction~~~

“I don't get it,” Dean said as they stepped out of the book store. “How are there new books about us?”

Sam shook his head, reading the back cover of one of the many paperbacks they'd just purchased. “I can't explain it either. Chuck's not around. There are no prophets. No one knows what we've done, yet it's all right here.”

“You don't think it's one of our fangirls?”

“Really doesn't seem possible. This is detailed, exact. Nobody made this up out of thin air.”

Dean stopped, grabbing Sam by the arm. “That doesn't look like a coincidence to you, does it?” he asked, pointing toward the Impala.

Perched on the hood of Baby was a tall woman, dressed all in black, reading a book. As if aware of their scrutiny, she looked up at the brothers and broke into a huge grin. “Took you two long enough. I was getting tired of waiting.”

Dean responded with a charming grin of his own, swaggering closer. “How rude of me. You are?”

Sam came to his side as the woman jumped off the hood of the Impala. “I'm your new writer, Raven.” The brothers exchanged confused glances as she threw herself into Dean's arms.
Raven brought them fresh beers, then retook her seat in the rocking arm chair. Dean watched her every movement with a slight grin, the attraction to her nearly palpable. Sam took a sip from the bottle, then resumed the conversation.

“So, how is being a prophet different from being our...what did you call it?”

“A skald.” She rarely took her gaze from Dean, clearly favoring the older brother. “I weave tales to honor heroes, spreading their glory across the land, strengthening the power of their names.” Raven turned toward Sam. “I get my visions from an old scrying mirror, not from the celestials. Different source, but same idea.”

“And why us?” Dean asked.

She arched an eyebrow as she speared him with a pointed look. “Really? Are you still fighting this whole hero thing?” Dean ducked her gaze, taken aback by her sharp tone. Raven continued speaking.

“You're long past being just hunters. Like in ancient times, you are heroes, those who do what others can't in order to protect their people. There's no denying that you face great evil, that you've grown stronger over the years.

“But as you grow stronger, you'll also draw the ire of stronger things. To keep performing your heroic deeds, you need a skald to spread your names.”

Sam cocked his head, a crooked smile on his face. “Our fans give us strength?”

Raven shrugged. “The power of belief does amazing things.”

“OK, great,” Dean said gruffly. “More fans, more creepy slash fiction, more bad guys. Thanks for all that.”

“No problem.” She giggled.

“So did you want to meet us just to get our autographs?”

Another laugh from the young woman. “Not exactly. I guess that'll make three reasons to see you guys.”

“What are the first two?” Sam asked.

“One, I wanted to meet the men I've been chronicling. Add a real connection to all the images I see. Let me understand the adventures you have.” Raven glanced at the mantle clock before releasing a sigh. “And, two, I need your help.”
 Dean rolled his eyes, sitting at the motel room's dinette table, reading one of the books Raven had given them. “Dude, this is why I never read.”

“I don't think they're half bad,” Sam replied from where he lounged on his bed.

Come on, are you kidding me?” Dean began reading from Paranormal. “'Pam and Diane Remington stepped from the 1968 Dodge Dart. Dressed in identical suit skirts, they strode confidently into the police station. The ninja leprechaun had struck for the last time.'”

Sam sat up, flipping back a page before he began reading. “'Diane gave Kazreal a meaningful stare, the silence in the room building as the tension grew to a head. “I can't do this without you,” Kaz whispered, stepping closer to her ward. “I know you don't want to either.”

''Kaz, you're all I've got. You and Pam...I need you both.” Diane bit her lip, hesitating only briefly before laying hands on the angel's forearms.'”

Dean dropped his book, brows drawn sharply together. “You think these are good? This goes way past a little subtext.”

“It's just harmless fun. Marie ran with her play, and people seem to be eating them up.”

“Which isn't stopping her from sending a tulpah against Raven.” The older Winchester ran a hand across his head, ruffling his hair. “What could have gotten into that girl?”

“Jealousy does awful things. I'm sure we can get her all straightened out. Marie wouldn't really want to hurt anyone over a story she loves so much.”

Dean quirked one eyebrow, his tone gruff. “I really hope you're right. I don't want to have to hurt a girl.”

Sam nodded sadly, no appropriate words coming to him.
 Marie opened her dorm room door, gaze quickly traveling up to the Winchesters. “Sam! Dean! I can't believe you're here. What's going on?”
Hello, Marie,” Sam said. “We need to talk to you about the Supernatural books.”

The grin fell from her face, replaced by a look of guilt. “You know about them?”

Dean nodded. “The Paranormal books too. Why don't you let us in?”

The young woman stepped aside, gesturing for them to come inside. “My roommate's out for class, so we'll be alone for a while.” She closed the door, then crossed to her desk and slumped into the chair. “I guess you guys didn't like them?”

“Marie,” Sam started, drawling her name and pausing as he sat on one of the beds. “It's not about whether we like them or not. I mean, it's amazing that you're being published at all. Your dream has come true.”

She scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “My dream was to write about the Winchesters. The publishers said they liked my ideas, but then said I couldn't use them. They gave the franchise to that Raven chick.” Marie gritted her teeth, her voice rising in pitch. “She writes about sexy elves falling in love, or dragons looking like humans, but never about the struggle of family against the world.”

The brothers shared a beleaguered look while Marie regained her composure. After a moment, Sam spoke again. “The publishers have their reasons for picking her. None of which are against you personally.”

“But she has no passion for the craft!” Marie cried. “She just panders-”

“Raven is writing the truth,” Dean interrupted, voice a growl. He locked gazes with Marie and softened his tone. “She's just picking up where Chuck left off, and someone could tell the difference. Now, you wanna explain why you feel the need to attack her for that?”

The silence hung heavy as Marie stared at her lap, formulating an answer. “It was kind of Jenny's idea. She suggested that if Raven were out of the way, the Remingtons could be Winchesters again. Especially if she stopped writing because of something spooky.”

“Marie, that is one of the silliest plans I've ever heard. Why should she be scared off by your little tulpah?” Dean continued to stare down at the college student.

“Well, I've actually dealt with this kind of stuff. I lived through it. She's just another self-published romance writer who lucked into a publishing deal.” Her indignation rang off the walls.

Dean scoffed and turned away, muttering under his breath. Sam took his turn to speak. “It's just harassing her cat, breaking a few dishes. Raven isn't going to scare easily. If you keep trying, you will eventually go dark, go too far. You need to stop. Break the sigil holding this thought form.”

She sighed, then ran her hands through her hair. “You're right, of course. You guys would never want me to do something like this.” She stood up, shoulders drawn back proudly. “Can you forgive me?”

Sam smiled, rising from the bed. “Of course. But do you think Raven can?”

Marie moved toward her closet, saying, “We'll just have to see.” Opening the door, she let out a small cry. “It's gone!”

“What is?” Dean approached quickly, staring at the altar inside.

“The knife we used as the focus.” Marie turned sad eyes to Sam. “Jenny must have taken it.”

“Well, that's just great,” Dean snarled. “Where would she have taken it?”

Marie looked ashamed. “To deal with Raven.”
Dean slammed the car into park, grumbling with frustration. “How hare-brained can you two have been? Magic and tulpahs over some damn books.” They all exited Baby and trotted across the lawn to Raven's door.

They're not just books,” Marie stated. “They're practically life.”

Sam cocked his head at his brother. “She has a point. This is our life on the pages.”

Dean grabbed the door handle and barked his response. “That doesn't justify attempted murder.” Several loud bangs sounded from the house, and he rushed through the door into the fray. The scene in the living room gave him and the others pause.

Raven sat cross-legged in her arm chair, petting her cat with a bored look upon her face. The rest of the furniture was overturned and ripped, broken pieces scattered around the room. Feathers and paper swirled in little whirlwinds, and paintings rattled on the walls.

Standing two feet in front of the author was a small brunette woman brandishing a knife. The wind tore her hair and clothes, making her look as disheveled as her surroundings. She took another swing with the blade and shrieked, “Why can't I hurt you?”

“Jenny, stop!” Marie yelled, reaching for her friend. “Don't do this.”

The young woman in question turned wild eyes on the newcomers, knuckles white on the knife handle. “I'm doing this for you. Can't you understand?” A pair of tears fell from wild eyes as she turned back to the seated author. “I'm just clearing the trash from your way.”

Sam stepped forward, hands raised to show he was harmless. “Jenny?” She glanced at him, jaw set and knife still pointed at Raven. “Jenny, you know this isn't right. We all know you're not a killer, that you don't really want to hurt anyone. Why not give me the knife and walk away from this mess?”

The wind gusted, knocking several knick knacks from the mantle. Raven sighed softly, but kept her eyes on Jenny. Dean slowly moved sideways, letting Sam keep the college girl's attention, planning to disarm her by force if necessary. Marie clutched her hands under her chin, stunned by the depths of her friend's madness.

“No!” Jenny growled, narrowing her eyes at Sam. Another gust of wind surrounded the girl, then she gestured with the knife. A wave of force grabbed the Winchesters, forcing them to their knees. Raven cocked one eyebrow as she watched, curious, but otherwise remained still.

Marie shrieked, untouched by the tulpah. “Jenny, stop, please. This isn't what we wanted.”

The brunette turned fully to face the young woman. “You wanted to write about the Winchesters. Supernatural means everything to you, to us, and this random writer gets picked over you. All your hard work means nothing because of her.” Jenny waved the knife in Raven's direction, but kept her attention on Marie.

Marie drew her shoulders back and took a step forward, demonstrating the strength she'd shown when they'd first met her. “My hard work isn't meaningless because Raven is writing. She's keeping Supernatural alive, helping bring in new readers. Those readers can't get enough, and they turn to my Paranormal books to fill that craving. If anything, she's helping me, validating my work. We should be thanking her for adding to the canon, not hating her for sharing a love for the Winchesters.” She reached for her friend. “Let's go home.”

The wind died, and some of the tension drained from Jenny's shoulders. “You're really not mad at her anymore?”

Marie gave Raven a shy smile. “I'm not. I never should have been. Anyone who gives us more Sam and Dean is doing a good thing.” Raven gave a huge smile in return.

Jenny dropped her knife, suddenly crying. The brothers rose as the tulpah's power faded, but they only watched as Marie rushed to embrace her friend. It was clear they weren't needed here.

Raven rose from her chair, setting her cat down. “I'm glad that's all over. And now everyone can help clean up the mess.” Her eyes twinkled as she smiled.
Sam closed the Impala door on Marie and Jenny, then joined his brother on Raven's lawn. The woman stood close to Dean, arms crossed and hip cocked, her gaze more than just friendly. A quick glance showed a mutual look of interest on the older Winchester's face.

“Thanks for all that,” Raven said. “Don't worry about it showing up in print, though. The whole thing is a bit too silly for anyone to read about.”

“I'm curious,” Sam asked, tearing Raven's attention off his brother. “Why couldn't Jenny or the tulpah do anything to you?”

She pulled a silver medallion from under her shirt, the antique metal dull from age. “I call it bardic immunity. So long as I don't get involved with the story, I can't be touched. It's almost like the universe doesn't like storytellers getting killed off.”

Dean frowned. “Can't get involved? So what would you call this?”

She quirked one corner of her mouth in a wry smile. “This was about you two and Marie. She and Jenny wold have acted the same no matter who the writer was. I merely observed the story as it played out.”

“That sounds like a narrow distinction,” Sam said. “Like you still could have been hurt.”

Raven shrugged, eyes on Dean once more. “I knew you'd save me.” He smiled in response, nearly blushing at the praise. “Now, get those girls back home,” the author said after a pause, stepping back from the brothers.

“When can we see you again?” Dean asked, clearly not ready to leave.

“I have no idea. I can't see the future.” Dean's shoulders slumped. “And keep in mind, I can't get involved in the story, so don't call me looking for spoilers.” She ran a hand through her hair, then darted forward to kiss Dean on the cheek. “But maybe if you need some old legends or to hear an old story, give me a ring.” Before either Winchester could respond, she turned toward her house.

“I think I could get used to having a skald.” Dean then smiled knowingly and nudged Sam with an elbow. “I wouldn't mind having her as a Mary Sue. Could even help her with some more hand's on research. Maybe she could write a happy ending ever after.” Sam rolled his eyes, rendered speechless by his brother. He could tell it was going to be a long ride to drop off the girls.