Jeffrey Dean Morgan woke up to find himself spread out on a bed, covered by a soft worn afghan. He raised his arms and stretched for a moment before sitting up abruptly.
He didn’t own a soft worn afghan. This small cozy looking bedroom wasn’t his trailer, which is where he was pretty darn sure he had fallen asleep. Before he could come to any more stunning conclusions, the door to the bedroom open and a soft lilting voice began chiding him.
“Now John Winchester, isn’t it just like you to come back from the dead just when your boys needed you?”
He blinked at the light shining in the dim room. Had he fallen asleep in the middle of a scene? Jeff frowned, trying to recall his lines, but he was pretty darn sure this wasn’t in the script.
Plus there weren’t any cameras around.
“Loretta?” he recalled the name of the actress. They had only been in one episode together, and despite her presence on Grey’s, it had never been at the same time as he.
She frowned at him. “No, John, it’s me, Missouri. Don’t tell me you don’t remember…” She stepped into the room and sat down on the bed.
Jeff threw off the comforter. “Loretta, this isn’t funny. It’s Jeff. Jeff Morgan.”
Her eyes widened and she gasped. “You’re not John.”
Now she got it. “Where are the cameras? Are we filming? I didn’t think you were in this episode…” He shifted to the edge of the bed and tried to stand.
She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Just hold on there. You’re in no condition to be traipsing around, mister. You took quite a fall, knocking out that Crossroads demon…”
Jeff’s forehead began to throb. He rubbed it with one hand. “Ok, what?”
She patted his arm gently. “I’m picking up some of it, sugar, but you’re going to have to tell me the rest. Who are you and how much do you know about where you are?”
“Loretta, you know who I am. I mean, it was only one episode, and it probably wasn’t that memorable, but…”
A hand over his mouth shut him up quick. “It’s Missouri. Missouri to my friends, Ms, Mosley to the children down the street. However, this Loretta is, it sure ain’t me. Now continue. You’re an actor.”
He nodded and looked down at her hand pointedly. She removed it. “Yes. I played the character John Winchester on the TV show Supernatural. They brought me in to film the last few episodes of season 3, big story arc with Dean’s deal with the Crossroads demon…” he trailed off. “You’re not serious. I haven’t just woken up in, in some made up TV world?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know one thing, Jeffrey, my world ain’t made up. Whatever forces sent you are way did it to save Dean Winchester…”
“Ok, let’s say I believe you.” He waved his hand in the air. Honestly, this was just the kind of practical joke Jared would try. “What the hell happened and how do I get back?”
She shrugged. “All I know is what Sam told me when the boys brought you here. They were at the crossroads, and the demon had come to collect Dean’s soul. A portal opened up in the sky and you appeared, crashing into the demon. Somehow, that killed her. She disappeared and you stayed. Straight up unconscious, but alive.”
The throbbing in his forehead increased. “So I crashed into a demon and killed her? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“If you want my theory,” he shook his head but she continued anyway, “you messed up the timeline she had to collect Dean’s soul. Demons are very particular on their deals. You screw up something like a prearranged time, and the whole thing is broken.”
“So Dean’s safe?” He was only a fictional character, but Jeff felt better knowing that. He had played the guy’s dad, for crying out loud.
She rolled her eyes. “As safe as Dean gets.”
“Ok, fine, why me and not the actual John Winchester? You don’t think,” he stood suddenly, “John’s back in the real world?”
“Lord, Jeff, I have no idea. I don’t rightly know what to do with you.” She stood and led the way out of the room. “Come on now, you could use a drink. And I’ve got something to show you.”
Drink, sure. He hoped she meant something like whiskey and not herbal tea. Jeff wasn’t entirely sure.
Turned out she meant some nice cold lemonade. He hid his disappointment with a long swallow. Maybe there was whiskey somewhere else.
“Come outside for your surprise,” she said, pushing the door open.
He couldn’t figure out what she meant, until he stepped out into her front yard and saw a familiar face.
“Girl!” he shouted, running to her side.
His dog, Bisou, was tied to a stake in the front yard, wagging her tail eagerly at the sight of him. He buried his fingers in her hair and bumped noses with her. “I don’t think we’re in Vancouver anymore, Bisou.”
“The boys found her when they went to move you. She insisted on coming,” he could heard the smile in Missouri’s voice.
“You mean she whined and wouldn’t leave my side until they took her too. That’s my girl.” He rubbed behind her ears fondly.
Their reunion was interrupted by a flash of flame and a wicked cackle. A woman appeared in the front yard, dressed all in black with long blond hair. “At last, John Winchester! You’re mine!”
Jeff looked around. “Uh, are you talking to me?”
The girl’s eyes flashed black. Jeff blinked. Now, that was a neat effect. He’d seen it done on screen a million times, but usually had the experience of having to wait until the actor went to put in their contacts. This was instantaneous. “I’ll let you live if you give me what belongs to me.”
“Ok, did you all go to obscure school? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Back away from her honey, she’s a demon.” Missouri hissed from behind him. “I got wards up in the house.”
Jeff wasn’t about to leave his dog, however. Bisou began to growl, a low belly growl and the hair rose on the back of her neck. “Yeah, I figured. Just tell me what you want?”
“When you killed my sister, you claimed what she was after, Dean’s soul and her ruby red eyes. I want both.”
“What the hell…”
The girl rushed forward, hands curved in a clawed shape and going for his eyes. Before he could even duck, there was a flash of lightning and the girl backed away, her handed blistered.
“You’ve got no place here, demon!” Missouri shouted.
“I’ll be back for you John Winchester, and your dog too!”
***
Missouri had gasped when he turned around to face her again. With a sinking suspicion, Jeff let Bisou off her lead, then ran into the house. Missouri had a mirror in her hallway. When he gazed at his reflection, his eyes were a bright shade of ruby red.
Jeff blinked a few times. They didn't feel like the yellow contacts he had worn when his character was supposed to have been possessed. Tentatively, he reached a hand up and touched his eyeball.
"Ow!"
"Now that was sensible," Missouri said from behind him. He turned to find her holding a pair of sunglasses. "It's like I said, child, you've taken what belonged to the Crossroads demon. Now every demon out of hell is going to be looking for you."
"Fantastic," he grabbed the sunglasses. "What do I do now?"
"You have to find your boys, and don't try telling me they're not your boys." His mouth snapped shut at the command. "They still think you're their daddy come back to life. Plus Sam and Dean Winchester are you best chance of surviving this world. You can't act your way out of this, Jeffrey."
She was right, Jeff thought. "How do I find them?"
Missouri gestured out the front door. "Town this size? Car like theirs? How do you think? Follow the Black Impala!"
With those words of wisdom, Jeff was shown the door, Bisou by his side. At least he had her presence to comfort him. He scratched her ears gently, trying to think. "Follow the Black Impala," he murmured, "Follow the Black Impala..." Easier said than done. He started to walk down the street, then noticed a few kids playing in a playground not too far off. If there was anything going on, kids would know. Plus, children were a sucker for dogs. He made sure his sunglasses were on tight. "Let's go, girl."
He described the car for the group of kids. Most of them shrugged, but one little girl stepped up. "I saw a big car like that go by the library."
Jeff knelt to ruffled her hair. "Thanks, munchkin. I'll check it out."
"Bye!" she and the other kids waved at him as he kept walking along the road.
The Impala was no longer in front of the library. Following a hunch he went inside anyway, telling Bisou to wait outside. They'd probably notice a dog of her size in the library.
It didn't take him long to find Sam Winchester, sequestered at a table surrounded by mounds of books and papers. He stood and watched Sam for a moment, knowing for a certainty that he was truly in another world. He'd never seen Jared sit so still before. He walked closer and cleared this throat.
Sam looked up, his eyes widening when he saw Jeff standing there. "Dad!" he jumped up and had his arms around Jeff before Jeff could say anything in response.
Jeff pushed him away gently. "Easy tiger." He cleared his throat. "I'm not your daddy."
Sam sat down hard. "Oh, god, I always thought it, but it's another thing to hear you say it..."
Jeff frowned, mentally rewound his words, then shook his head hard. "No! No, that's not what I mean. I mean, I'm sure John Winchester is your real daddy. But I'm not John Winchester."
"Right." Sam drawled.
Jeff took a breath. "It's a bit of a long story. See, I woke up at Missouri's house not that long ago and before that, I was just an actor. I mean, you, Dean, the Impala, those are all part of a TV show where I played your Dad."
Sam rubbed his forehead. "I'm pre-coffee. I don't have the brain to deal with this right now..."
"You have to believe me, I'm not John Winchester." Jeff sighed deeply. "And there's more. Remember how I single handedly took out the demon that was after Dean? Well, she kinda left me a present." He whipped off his sunglasses.
And was totally not prepared for Sam to shout "Christo!" and throw holy water on him. Jeff wiped his dripping face. "Well, now that wasn't at all helpful."
Sam snorted. "The Holy Water didn't work when you were possessed by the Yellow Eyed Demon."
"Well, I never understood that plot device," Jeff scratched at his head. "Made no sense, really. Anyway, Jare...I mean, Sam. Really, all I want is to go home. Missouri is the one who seems to think that by killing the Crossroads Demon, I took her claim to Dean's soul." He looked around the library. "Where is Dean anyway?"
"Where is he usually? Looking for love in all the wrong places." Sam shrugged. "He's at a bar. Celebrating not dying last night."
"I think we need to get him."
"I'm not disagreeing. Just, put your sunglasses back on."
Oh, right. Jeff slipped them back over his nose. Sam packed up his laptop and other materials quickly, following Jeff out of the library. "By the way, Sam, I hope you remember Bisou..." Bisou ran right over to them, barking happily at Sam.
"Is...is she a hell hound?" Sam asked thickly.
Kid probably thought Jeff was a demon. Well, Jeff really couldn't prove otherwise. Sam was probably just keeping up a good front to keep Jeff from taking Dean's soul. Those two were so wound up in each other. Huh, Jeff thought, a bit like Jen and Jared at that. "Nah, she's part Rottie. Never did figure out what the rest of her was."
"So she could be a hell hound."
"In theory."
"In theory communism works."
"Well there you go then."
Jeff grinned at Sam's frown. Sam grumbled, "If I only had the brain to deal with this..."
"Let's go grab Dean..."
"Fine."
***
They found the Impala parked in the lot of a pretty shady looking bar not too far from the library. Jeff was just glad it was in walking distance.
"You, ah, you might want me to talk to him first," Sam said as Jeff was about to open the door. "Explain the whole 'actor from another universe' thing." Sam made quote symbols with his fingers as he spoke.
"Sure," Jeff held the door open for him and Bisou. His girl pranced right in and in a place this shady, he figured no one would care.
It took a moment to spot Dean camped out at a table, surrounded by a group of beautiful young women. Jeff wondered why they were all in the bar in the middle of the day, but he didn't ask.
"Sammy!" Dean held up a huge beer mug as they got closer. He squinted and looked at Jeff. "Dad?" his lip trembled.
Oh, god, Jeff thought, he couldn't resist the lip tremble when Jensen did it. It was ten times worse on the actual Dean.
"Uh, Dean," Sam slid into a seat. "We need to talk. Would you mind, uh ladies?" The girls left their perches around Dean and drifted to other parts of the bar.
"No talking," Dean said, putting down his mug. "I'm out of beer."
Jeff sighed. If some more alcohol would lubricate Dean's lips, he'd get the whiskey himself. It looked like he was finally going to get that drink he had wanted himself after all. "I'll get us some drinks."
"Make it water!" Sam shouted as Jeff walked towards the bar.
"Water, Sammy? You want me to rust." Dean burped.
Yeah, Dean was going to be a huge help. Jeff took his time at the bar, ordering a shot for himself which he sipped at slowly. He wanted to give Sam enough time to break the news. Then he picked up the two bottles of beer and brought them to the table.
He had just slid into the seat next to Dean when Jeff noticed the gun Dean had pointed at him.
“Get out of my dad’s body, you son of a bitch.”
Jeff looked over at Sam, “Did you explain things to him?”
Sam shrugged and turned to Dean, “Come on, Dean, have a heart. This guy saved your life.”
“You know me better than that, Sammy, I don’t have a heart.”
“Except when it comes to Sammy,” Jeff muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Look,” Sam broke into the staring contest. “You saved Dean’s life. We’re both grateful for that. We’re just not comfortable that you’re in our dad’s body…”
“Um, that’s not technically true…”
“But if what Missouri said is true and you now own Dean’s soul, that still might not let him off the hook.” Sam kept going.
“So what do we do?” Jeff asked, “I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be here.”
“Bobby,” Dean said, slamming back his bottle of beer.
Sam tilted his head. “Bobby is the expert on demonology.”
“So, what are we waiting for? Let’s head to Bobby’s.”
“Dean’s wasted. Let’s get some coffee first and then get on the road.”
***
Sam’s suggestion of coffee sounded good. The whiskey had burned while going down and Jeff found that it hadn’t make things any better. He was still trapped in a place that was only a TV show to his mind, and no closer to finding a way home. When all else failed, a cup of coffee would do.
The Starbucks wasn’t crowded. They ordered, but Dean, who was still a bit tipsy, wouldn’t leave the barrista alone.
“So, making coffee, that a rewarding career choice? Mixing milk and froth and other pansy ass shit with brown water?”
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you not to curse in the store.”
Dean looked around and spread his arm. “Why the fuck not? Do you see any little kids here? Any munchkins I don’t know about?”
Jeff winced. He’s got his coffee in his hand, plain ordinary boring coffee. They wouldn’t even still be here if they weren’t waiting for Sam’s extra double mocha latte.
The barrista narrowed his eyes, looked down at the cup of coffee in his hands, then wound up like a pitcher and chucked the whole thing at Dean. Dean ducked pretty quickly, but not fast enough to avoid a splattering of creamy coffee.
“What the hell!” Jeff shouted. The barrista turned to him and the guys eyes went black. Oh, crap. Demon.
Jeff tossed his own cup of coffee at the guy and it hit him square in the face.
“Run!” Sam shouted, and they moved lickety split back to the Impala.
“I should have known I wasn’t getting any coffee today,” Sam grumbled from the driver’s seat.
“You can lick it off me,” Dean grumbled, rubbing the liquid off his forehead.
For a minute, Sam looked tempted.
***
The drive to Bobby’s seemed to take forever. On the show, Jeff thought darkly, these road trips often lasted the length of a commercial break, or a stanza of a song, anything to shorten the passage of time. In short, it was nothing like the actual act of driving from Kansas to South Dakota in a car with uncomfortable seats, no air conditioning and no seat belts.
To top it off, Jeff thought he was getting carsick. The only one who seemed to not mind the arrangement was Bisou, who happily stuck her head out the window and all but grinned at the passing cars. Well, at least his girl was happy.
Jeff wondered what Bobby was going to be like. He and Jim, the guy who played Bobby, never had any actual scenes together. So no telling how the man was going to act at seeing him. He straightened up as they got closer to their destination. “You guys sure about this? I seem to recall Bobby not being too fond of John or demons.”
“You know Bobby,” Dean said. “He’ll greet us with his usual combination of devils’ traps, holy water, and shotguns.”
“Oh my,” Jeff muttered.
Turned out Dean was mostly right. Bobby had both shotgun and holy water at hand. He all but roared at the boys, “Sam and Dean Winchester, you did NOT just bring a demon to my home without telling me first!”
“He’s not a demon,” Sam pointed at Jeff with his thumb. “He’s an actor.”
“Oh, well now that’s a horse of a different color,” Bobby rolled his eyes. “Drink.”
Jeff downed the shot of holy water. He grinned and handed the glass back to the other man. Bobby didn’t look satisfied. Jeff thought his red eyes probably had something to do with that.
Bobby only softened when Bisou came sniffing at him. She sat up and held out her paw. He sighed and patted her on the head. “Well, no Rottie I know would suffer a demon.”
“Can you help us, Bobby?” Sam asked, after explaining the situation. “I want to know what’s going on…”
“And find out what’s up with, you know, my soul now.” Dean put in.
“And get me home,” Jeff added.
Bobby frowned. “Hmm. Maybe. There’s a talk of a wizard out in San Francisco that claims to be able to travel between dimensions.”
“A wizard,” Dean deadpanned, “like Harry Potter?”
Bobby looked over to Sam. “Stop being such a bad influence on your brother.”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “Can we get on the road? Preferably before the demon chick tries to claw my eyes out again?”
Bobby turned his sharp eyes back on Jeff. “Demon chick?”
“Yeah, she showed up at Missouri’s when I was trying to find these two. She wants the red eyes and Dean’s soul. She sounded kinda familiar.” Jeff frowned, trying to recall where he had heard that voice. “Kinda like Nicki’s character. Oh, what was the name of that chick…Marge? Maggie…Meg!”
“Meg!” Sam and Dean exclaimed. “Not again.”
Bobby swore under his breath and ran a hand over his beard. Puffed up like that, it almost looked like a mane around his head. “Ok, let’s go see this wizard. It’s our best bet.”
“You coming with, Bobby?” Dean seemed surprised.
“Third time’s the charm.” Bobby shrugged. “And I’m certainly not leaving it up to you two and this…actor.”
“Thanks. Really.” Jeff sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment. He hoped they all had the courage to see this thing through. And that this wizard could get him home. This place was too weird.
***
The trip to San Francisco was uneventful for the most part, except for a long boring stretch of road where all five of them (including Bisou) suddenly became very sleepy. Jeff leaned his head against the glass, lulled by the purring vibration of the car. The Impala began to drift and nearly collided with the guardrail.
A sharp ringing had them all startled awake and Dean jerked the car to safety immediately. Sam answered the phone and held it away from his ear as Missouri’s shrill voice demanded that they pay attention, there were demons after them for God’s sake.
After that Dean pulled over and they painted wards all along the car before they continued down the highway.
***
Dean wanted to ride on a trolley car after they left the Impala in a paid garage. Jeff just slipped on his sunglasses and followed along, smirking at the bickering between Dean, Sam and Bobby.
"I mean, why would a wizard have his base of operations be a nightclub?" Sam grumbled as they walked. "I mean, it doesn't make any sense."
Bobby looked affronted, as if Sam was dissing his intel. "Why? Where else would a wizard have his base of operations?'
"Hogwarts?" Dean piped up.
Sam yelped as Bobby slugged him. "I told you to stop corrupting your brother."
"Is that it?" Jeff asked, pointing to the glittering building in the distance. A brightly lit marquee advertised "The Emerald Palace" in startling green letters. Most disconcerting was the line of people that stretched outside, along the street and nearly around the block. And it was still early in the afternoon.
Bobby sighed. "Let's get in line."
"Popular place," Jeff mused. He leaned against a building, pushing up his glasses as he looked up. A skywriter plane was busy decorating the blue sky, puffy clouds of smoke spelling out "Ladies Night, $2 beer..." before it cut off. The plane bobbled for a moment and looked like it was about to fall out of the sky. It righted itself quickly enough and began spelling out a new message. "Surrender Jeffrey."
"Ah, crap." Jeff swore.
"I think they know you're not Dad, now." Sam saw the message too.
Bobby tore off his hat and clenched it in consternation. "And they know we're here. Damn it!"
"We gotta get in that club," Dean frowned. "Screw this waiting in line bullshit, let's go."
"Dean how are you ..." Sam started to say. "How did you fit a shot gun under your jacket?"
Dean ignored him and already strode up to the head of the line. Jeff ran to catch up, Sam beside him and Bobby coming up the rear, Bisou barking as they ran.
"Hey, man, don't cut the line..."
"You got a problem with that?" Dean swung around his gun.
"No, no, that's ok..."
They were stopped at the entrance, however, where a man in sequins and a feather boa said, "Oh, hell no."
"We need to see the wizard," Jeff said desperately. They were running out of time. Demons could be anywhere, anyone. And all that stood between them and Jeff was Dean and his shotgun, which was probably filled with rocksalt anyway. They were so screwed.
The man looked Jeff over from top to bottom, a slow steady glance that made Jeff want to hide. "In those outfits? You're embarrassing yourselves. And that," he pointed to Bisou, “that's a dog."
Jeff had an idea. "Fashion accessory," he patted Bisou on the head. "Like Paris Hilton's dog. It's the new thing. Bigger is better."
The stranger raised an eyebrow. Yeah, no way was he buying Jeff's bullshit.
Sam stepped forward. "Can't you make an exception?" He pointed towards Jeff, then the sky. "He's Jeffrey." Then, the coup de grace, Sam let loose the full force of his puppy dog eyes.
But it looked like it wouldn't be needed. "The demon's Jeffrey?"
"Well he's not Patrick Stewart's Jeffrey," Dean muttered.
"Steven Weber," Sam corrected.
"Dude, you actually watched that movie?"
Jeff cleared his throat. "Can you help us? You obviously know what's going on..."
The man let out a breath. "I'll take you to the wizard. But no way in hell are you getting in my club looking like that."
Jeff looked down at his checked flannel shirt. "What do you suggest?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
The bouncer, who called himself Eddie, let them to a nearby salon. He was on a first name basis with the owner and told him to give them the works. Jeff wasn't entirely sure he liked the sound of that, especially when they tried to remove his sunglasses to put eyeliner on him.
"Uh, you might not want to do that..." Jeff finally sighed and took them off. His stylist oohed and asked if they were natural. Then went off to find complementary clothing.
Jeff felt like he'd fallen into another world. Again.
Bobby grumbled the entire time, but stopped when the stylist told him to have some courage. Nothing got to him like an affront to his bravery.
Finally, they were done. Dean didn't look much different. His hair had a shade more gel in it and he too suffered from the eyeliner-happy stylist. Sam's clothing was tighter and shiner than usual, but the blue shirt made his eyes sparkle. Jeff hid his grin when he saw Bobby emerge from the back room. The guy cleaned up pretty darn well, clothed in dress pants and a sharp looking jacket. He wouldn't let them trim his beard or put any makeup on his face, but they had removed the ever-present baseball cap.
Jeff grinned. "You look good, Singer."
Bobby just grunted.
Even Bisou had been updated with a pink rhinestone collar. It looked good on her. Jeff didn't stop to wonder where they found one of those.
"Can we go see the wizard now?" Dean whined.
Eddie grinned from the door. "Sure thing, sweetcheeks. Let's go."
***
Eddie led them into the club through a side door, bypassing any more outraged members of the crowd. He nodded to several workers, whose colorful outfits made Jeff and his party seemed underdressed. Eddie stopped at a door and turned to them. “At this point, ya’ll are on your own. Follow the hallway to the end and go through the archway. Maybe the wizard will see you, maybe he won’t.”
Then he left them standing there.
Dean reached for the door handle. “Well, let’s go.”
They crept down the hallway, no one making a sound. The door closed sharply behind them, causing them all to jump. Jeff’s heart pounded in his throat as they reached the archway. “This is it,” he hissed.
“Maybe I should wait outside,” Bobby murmured, “You know I don’t really have anything to offer…”
“Bobby Singer, do you have a thing about wizards?” Dean asked.
“Come forward!” a deep voice emerged from the other side of the archway.
Jeff led the way, Bisou by his side as always. They could barely see what lay on the other side of the archway. The large room was filled with smoke with brightly colored lights reflecting off the mirrored walls. In the center along the opposite wall stood a platform. They could see a figure on the stage, but it was nothing more than shadows.
Jeff cleared his throat. “Are you the wizard?”
“I am, and I know exactly who you are, Jeffrey Dean Morgan!”
Bisou barked into the darkness. Jeff grabbed onto her collar. He was dimly aware of Dean pulling out his shotgun and cocking it. “Well, if you know, then you can get me home of course?”
“And tell me about my soul,” Dean piped in.
“Yeah, we need to know,” Sam added. He was at Dean’s side, clutching a wicked looking knife in one hand.
“I can do all these things,” the deep voice continued. “But none for free. You must do me a favor first.”
“What do you want?” Bobby asked warily.
“A demon hunts you. Bring me the chalice she uses to contact Hell. Then I will answer your questions.”
The lights in the room cut out completely.
***
“Does this seem familiar to any of you?” Jeff asked as they left the club, walking back to where they had garaged the Impala.
“Nope,” Dean said.
“Not me,” Sam agreed.
“Not a whit,” said Bobby.
Jeff looked over at Bisou, but she remained silent. “Do you think we can do it?”
Dean gave him a look. “A little thing like stealing a possibly cursed artifact from a demon with connections to hell? Yeah, not a problem. It’s our kind of thing.”
Of course it was.
Jeff was about to ask exactly how Dean expected to go about doing that when a deep rumbling noise broke into their conversation. He turned to see where it was coming from and stepped back at the sight of dozen of men on motorcycles charging down the street.
“Hells Angels,” Bobby breathed.
“Run!” Dean shouted.
They dove out of the way, towards the place where the Impala was garaged. Jeff was at the back of the line, realizing Bisou was nowhere near him. He whirled around at the sound of her yelping. One of the bikers had grabbed her off the ground.
“Bisou!” he shouted, running to help her.
Something clocked him on the back of the head and all turned to darkness.
***
Jeff woke up later in what looked to be an old warehouse. He was curled up on a cold concrete floor. The room was scattered with boxes, a metal table, some steel shelving, and a janitor’s bucket filled with soapy water, a mop discarded to the side of it. Whatever happened here strew things around pretty good.
“Nice to see you awake,” a grating voice caught his attention.
She stood on the other side of the room, in front of a funky altar that looked darn familiar. Oh yeah, he was in that episode. “Wish I could say the same, demon-chick.” Jeff pushed himself to his feet. If he was going to go down, it was gonna be fighting.
“Spare me the lame insults. You’re going to give me what I want. My sister’s ruby eyes and Dean Winchester’s soul.”
“Now why would I do a thing like that?” Jeff drawled.
“Because I have your little dog.”
A door opened behind her, revealing two of the Hells Angel bikers carrying Bisou between them. She struggled and barked when she saw Jeff.
He could feel the blood draining from his face. “Don’t hurt her.”
The demon grinned. “Then you’ll consent to giving me the powers you’ve stolen?”
He swallowed. “How do I do that?”
“How do we seal bargains? With a kiss.”
Jeff grimaced. “Fine,” he leaned forward, cringing.
Her mouth curved in a twisted grin as she reached up to meet him halfway. Before their lips could meet, however, there was a charge of something in the air and she was propelled across the room, knocking the two bikers over. Bisou fell to the ground and scrambled to her feet.
“Run, girl, run!” he shouted, diving for the door.
Bisou ran outside. Jeff was slammed against the opposite wall before he could follow, the demon stretching her arm out with the telekinetic attack. “Your little pet got away. Big deal. Now I know that I have to kill you before I can take my sister’s gifts.”
Jeff struggled against her hold, it felt like someone was holding onto his wrists and ankles, keeping him bound to the wall. He had a moment’s thought about how it felt completely different than he had expected. He didn’t have to fake struggling against invisible bondage.
“You are such a bitch!”
Before she could retaliate, the door swung open again, revealing Sam and Dean. They took out the bikers quickly, sending both burly men unconscious.
Jeff slid to the ground, the demon forgetting about him as she focused on the real Winchesters. He watched as Dean got one good punch in before the demon hurled him against the wall. Sam stood in place, fixing a narrowed gaze on his face. He was trying to use his powers, Jeff realized. He remembered something about that in the latest script.
He wished he could remember if Sam ever figured them out or not. Jeff couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. In the corner of his eye he spotted the Janitor’s bucket. Quickly, he dragged himself over there. Well, he thought, it worked once before, why not now? He blessed the soapy water, stood up and grasped the bucket in both hands.
“Hey bitch!” he called out.
She whirled away from the staring contest she was having with Sam. Jeff tossed the contents of the bucket at her, water splashing everywhere. Smoke began to emanate from her figure, the demon screaming in agony. “Who would have a thought an actor like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness!"
“Now, Bobby!” Dean called out.
Bobby stood in the doorway, a thick leather book on one hand. He started to chant in Latin. Just as he finished, a thick cloud of black smoke emerged from the woman’s mouth and she collapsed to the ground.
It was over.
“Well,” Jeff said, “What the hell took you so long?”
***
The demon had conveniently left the chalice on her funky altar. And the Hells Angels turned out to not be so bad after all. Dean took them out for a round of beer and that was that.
Jeff wasn’t looking forward to meeting with the wizard again. No way did he want to go through the whole makeover thing again. Fortunately neither did any of his companions. Dean and Sam both collected shotguns from the back of the Impala and forced their way back into the Emerald Palace.
The smoke was still thick in the wizard’s room as they busted in.
“We’ve got what you wanted,” Jeff waved the chalice around. “Now you can hold up your part of the bargain.”
“That was, that was awfully fast,” the wizard’s voice came from the darkness. “I’m hardly prepared to answer you today…”
“Listen, asshole, we did what you wanted, the demon bitch is back in Hell. I think we deserve some respect,” Dean growled into the room. “Stop jerking us around!”
As he was speaking, Bisou bounded into the room, barking at something. She nosed the curtain along the stage.
“Stop that! Pay no attention to the…ah…”
The voice cut off as Jeff tugged the curtain open. “Oh my god. Kripke?”
“Who the hell is this?” Bobby asked.
“You know this guy?” Dean said.
“He’s the executive producer,” Jeff answered, still not believing his eyes.
“Oh, well, sure that explains everything!” Sam threw up his hands.
“Eric, how the hell?” Jeff was lost for words.
Eric shrugged and looked a bit sheepish. “Where do you think I got the idea for Supernatural?”
“Then you can get me home?” Jeff asked. “Me and Bisou? And fix the eye thing.”
“And hello! Remember my eternal soul?” Dean tried to get their attention.
Eric ignored Dean and looked straight at Jeff. “You know how to get home Jeff. It’s been with you this entire time.”
Jeff blinked. “You mean I just cross my eyes three times and say ‘there’s no place like home’?”
Before Eric could respond, Jeff started to feel dizzy. He rubbed his head, trying to focus. Everything began to swirl like a strange video effect. Jeff staggered, unable to keep his balance, he was falling, falling…
Jeff looked up into three familiar faces. “Dean? Sam? Kripke?”
“Dude, how hard did you hit your head?” ‘Sam’ asked, kneeling next to him.
“Jeff, the camera’s not rolling now,” ‘Dean’ said, a smile on his face.
Jeff pushed himself up. It wasn’t Sam and Dean at all. He had left the real Winchester’s back behind in that other world. He touched the back of his head gingerly and winced. Or had he?
“Guys, I had the most screwed up dream.”
“Let me guess. He was there, I was there,” Jensen said with a laugh.
“Well, not you exactly. Sam, Dean and Bobby. And some Hells Angels and a demon…”
“Just sit tight for a sec, Jeff,” Eric stood up. “The paramedic is on her way.”
Jeff looked around the set. Everyone was back to work, moving equipment and cameras out of the way. He was home, exactly where he had wanted to go.
He couldn’t help but feel a jolt of disappointment.
“Man, I didn’t even get to finish the story,” he grumbled, ignoring Jared and Jensen’s confused looks.
A sharp bark broke into the silence. That’s right, they had let him bring Bisou on set so she could play with Jared’s dogs. His girl ran over to him, licking his face. She could always tell when something was wrong. Jeff hooked his fingers in her collar, then froze. The collar was pink and dotted with rhinestones.
Someone had to be screwing with him. Jared was known to do things like that on occasion. Still, he thought with a half smile, it was nice to think of the real Winchesters out there, doing their thing. Yeah, real nice.
end