#huntetales update

[huntertales]

Part Two: Like Father, Like Son. (Remember the Titans S08E16)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader are stumped when they investigate a possible zombie case where an amnesiac man, simply known as Shane, dies and then revives himself once a day. After Shane is attacked by the goddess Artemis, the reader and the Winchesters realize he’s not a zombie but instead a God, more specifically, Prometheus. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader. Word Count: 7,048.

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Please Note: This is highly unedited. All mistakes are my own and I’ll fix them probably by tomorrow night. i’m slowly starting to realize this episode is making me write way more than normal. I just wanted this part up lol

You and the boys headed back to the motel to figure out exactly what the stranger named Shane was—and how he was able to bring himself back from the dead. There was a few unorthodox methods a hunter used to make sure the stranger they were about to help really wasn't the monster they were trying to track down, using a cheap trick to get into their good graces. The first one was the most painful; Dean ran a very sharp silver blade over Shane's forearm, drawing up blood from the cut he inflicted. The only kind of response you got was a slightly hissing sound at the prickling feeling, no burning of skin or cries of agony from the burning feeling. That ruled out anything with a weakness of silver.

You sprinkled a little bit of Borax over his hand to make sure he wasn't a leviathan when he was distracted by the wound, no sight of more skin burning meant he wasn't any of the creatures the boys faced against during your year of absence. He was almost in the clear, there was just one more test that mattered the most. Dean wiped the blade clean from the bandanna he pulled out from the back of his slacks and put it over Shane's still bleeding wound.

You handed over the flask filled with holy water and ordered him to drink it, ignoring his remark about your tests. Shane cautiously sniffed the contents inside to see what it was, as if he was worried that you were going to poison him. When he smelt nothing, he took a sip of the liquid, only to find out it tasted like water. Good old holy water. Harmless to humans, like acid for demons. He swallowed it down like it was nothing. No smoking, no choking. You grabbed the flask back from him and screwed the top back on, letting out the slightest bit of relief to see that he might be the slightest bit human...ish.

You still didn't understand how he dodged death. It felt like you and the boys were the only lucky ones who managed to snag a "get out of death" free card a few too many times. That's because you knew a few tricks and had friends in high places. Shane seemed like a regular old Joe, someone who didn't know what was going on himself. Which you knew didn’t help you out.

“All right, so, how long has this dying thing been going on?” Dean asked the man, wanting to get some information to wrap his head around what was going on with him.

“As long as I can remember, but my memory only goes back a few years.” Shane said.

"Wait, so now you have amnesia?" You asked. You brow arched up ever so slightly in surprise at the progression of the things you were learning about this man, what little there was of him it seemed like it. "How do you know your name?"

“My real name isn’t Shane. It was given to me because...I don’t know,” The man shrugged, not sure of a better kind of excuse to explain the missing gaps in his memory. “people had to call me something.”

“Okay. So, then,” Sam slowly asked, “what happened to you?”

“Got pulled off a mountain in Europe. They said that I got caught up in an avalanche. I don’t remember anything from before the rescue. When I realized my condition, I knew I couldn’t be around other people, so I built a little cabin, learned to hunt, kept to myself. Seemed easiest that way.” Shane said, telling you the story about the things that he knew. You crossed your arms over your chest and listened to how things seemed quiet enough for him, until he went on with more details about how death never stopped trying. “Then a couple pot growers grew nervous with me being so near their crop. Shot me— twice. I figured it was time to move on.”

“Right into the grille of that pickup.” Dean said, finishing the rest of the story that lead all of you here to this very moment.

Shane fell silent for a moment after clearing up the situation, and telling you much as he knew to all of you. He realized that dying was a rather messy situation. Even with his body healed from all the injuries, he felt the need to get himself more comfortable knowing that he was going to be sticking around in your custody. "You think maybe I could clean up?"

"Yeah, man. Knock yourself out." Dean said, pointing a finger to the open door leading to the bathroom. You stepped out of his way while flashing a small smile, knowing all of this was a lot for Shane to process. You handed back the flask to Sam who tucked it away into the inside pocket of his suit jacket for safekeeping the next time all of you might need it. "Well, that's definitely something."

"Yeah, but maybe he's not the monster." Sam suspected. "Maybe he's the victim."

"You thinking curse?" You curiously asked.

"Could be looking for a witch, yeah." Sam said. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest from the mention of the creature you took down before your hiatus from the trials and hunting. Because the last time you dealt with one ended so well with things. You really didn’t want to go face to face with another one. But if you had to, so be it. Right now you had more pressing matters to worry about, like the revived amnesiac man in your motel room bathroom. "You know what? He's parked here. He's safe. Maybe it's not a bad idea if we get another room and I bunk with him until we can figure this out."

"All right,” Dean agreed with his brother’s plan, thinking it was the best option you had. Only on one condition. “but you're the one going full-cavity for the hex bag."

You couldn't help yourself when you cracked the smallest of a smile from the burden thrown at Sam to figure out exactly why Shane was unsuspectable to death like a normal person. You stepped over to the younger man and gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder from the suggestion of who might be to blame backfired in his face. He didn't seem the least bit amused like you and his brother were. You headed off back to your own motel room when the discomfort of the heels matched with your dress pants became too much. First things first, you needed to change into some pants that could let you breathe freely. And then it was time to figure out the strange case of Shane and his immunity to dying.

+ + +

Later into the evening you were back in your own motel room lying on the bed with your laptop propped up on your outstretched legs and Dean by your side, occupying himself by watching some TV to pass the time. Sam took the table after Shane fell asleep, deciding to be polite and crash in your room to do some research before wanting to get some shuteye himself. You and Sam were doing your own separate research to find some sort of answer to figure out what was going on here. So far you were find a whole lot of jack squat, but you were determined to get your answer. It was out there somewhere, and if anyone could find it, you could.

While you were scrolling through your latest search that didn't seem like much compared to the rest of the websites you checked out, the information you were reading was enough to keep your attention and forget about the voices coming from the TV you barely could hear. It was when you got to an interesting part of the article you were reading that a noise broke your concentration, and jump slightly out of Dean's embrace he had around your shoulders at the unexpected banging noises that caught you off guard. You heard another noise just a few seconds later, making you realize it was coming from the motel room next to yours. The one Sam was supposed to be sharing with Shane, who was supposed to be fast asleep.

You furrowed your brow in confusion from the noises you were hearing, pushing your laptop off to the bed and swinging your legs around so you were sitting on the side. Dean turned off the TV and immediately jumped to his feet, grabbing the knife he had stashed underneath his pillow for emergencies like this. Sam shut his own laptop and slowly stood up when the noises went on and growing even louder. You lingered behind in your own motel room when the boys decided to check things out and figure out what was making all the noises.

You made sure not to be a sitting duck if things went south, you grabbed Dean’s pistol from the duffel bag and made sure it was loaded like always and ready for whoever might come your way. Maybe Shane accidentally stumbled his way through the motel room, it was pretty dark at this time of night. But you had a feeling that wasn’t the real reason. It never was that simple when you were on hunts like this. You always had to be cautious with danger lurking all around.

Dean opened up the door to the motel room to stumble upon a sight he wasn’t expecting; a woman dressed all in black fighting with Shane, who seemed to have some moves from what the man could see in the darkness. He decided to take his shot against the stranger, welding up the knife after he saw she had one of her own that she was trying to use against Shane. Dean was no amateur when it came to fighting, but he only lasted a few seconds, not even able to throw a few punches before he lost his footing after the woman tripped him, making him fall right on his back. Sam headed into the room to try and intervene, but it seemed what him and his brother were going up against wasn't human.

You remained by the window with the curtain drew back sightly what was going on in the next room over. So far all you were hearing was more noises and banging sounds, no clue as to how things were progressing. You remained vigilant with the gun by your side and finger on the trigger, ready to do what you needed in order to keep yourself and the boys safe. When you peered out closer to the window when you heard the noises grow louder, you noticed something go flying out the door, making you curious as to what it was. When you peered closer to the window, you looked down at the sidewalk to see something lying on the floor. It took you only a second to realize what it was, or should you say who.

“Sammy!” You called out the younger man’s name in a panicked voice when you saw it was him who was lying on the concrete after being thrown out by some kind of force. You headed over to him, crouching down to make sure he was all right. Besides the unexpected twist in events, he seemed all right, enough for the both of you to figure out who the hell Shane was fighting.

You followed behind Sam when he headed back to the motel room to see Shane was fighting the woman again, matching with her rather impressive fighting skills that were no match against someone like him. You watched as the both of them ducked it out, blocking each thrown punch and kick, Shane dodging the knife she had when she attempted to use it against him. Shane somehow managed to grab the knife and twist her arm in an angle that made her cry out from pain, sending her to stumble forward. And in some swift and smooth motion, Shane threw the woman against the wall, pointing the knife against her throat, having a question for her all of you had been thinking yourselves.

“Who are you?” Shane demanded to know.

The woman didn’t flinch from the feeling of the blade against her cheek, or break her eye contact with Shane while she stared at him. It was four against one. But she wasn’t sticking around long enough to see were things could go. She slowly wrapped her fingers around Shane’s wrist, telling him exactly who she was. “Now I’m your worst enemy.”

And just like that, all of you watched as she moved her grasp to the knife, letting herself and the weapon disappear into a puff of smoke. You stepped inside the room now that the coast was clear, your mind was suddenly running with too many questions that demanded to be answered from what you just witnessed. The only one you managed to get out was, “Who the hell was that?”

Shane seemed baffled much as you were from what just went down. He felt himself too out of breath to answer your question, he inhaled a few deep ones before admitting the only truth he knew for sure. “She—She said she knew me.”

“Yeah, how?” Sam questioned the man, shutting the motel room door to give you all privacy.

"I don't know, but I could have sworn that she was upset I didn't know her back." Shane said. He found himself finding the ability to breathe getting hard to do so, you furrowed your brow slightly when you saw him leaning against the wall before grabbing his left arm, like it hurt. You guessed it was from the fight that he was just in, but the way he was behaving was starting to make you concerned it was something more.

“This is a lot more than a curse, man. You’ve got, like, some tiger blood.” Dean said, impressed at the fighting skills the man seemed he didn’t know he had. “Where did you learn that kung fu?”

Shane couldn't answer the question when he felt himself falling to his knees at the sudden stabbing pain in his chest, the grip around his arm went directly to where his heart was. You had a feeling he wasn't having a panic attack from the way he was pressing a hand against his chest and the feeling he was enduring at the moment.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" Sam asked the man in a concerned tone of voice from the way he was suddenly acting that was starting to make you wonder if something else was going on.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just need a minute.” Shane mumbled, managing to take a deep breath in some kind of attempt to help ease the sudden chest pain that came out of nowhere. “I’ve never been in a fight in my whole life.”

You would beg to differ from the impressive moves you saw the guy do, things that you highly doubt a normal person would be capable of. Shane suddenly let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a gasp, and like someone was restricting his airflow. Your eyes grew wide at the sight you were seeing, and how you could make it stop before things could get worse for him. But it didn't seem like you had much time when Shane let out a few more strangled breaths before falling to the ground.

“Is he having a heart attack?” Dean asked, as if it wasn’t clear enough.

“Do we call 911?” Sam wondered, you rolled your eyes at his suggestion.

“And tell them what?” You asked him. “That the dead guy he stole from the morgue is alive and having a coronary?”

What was there really to do? You and the boys watched as Shane slowly withered on the floor from the excruciating pain he must have been feeling. You hoped this death was the most quick out of the ones that he suffered through before, watching as in the matter of minutes he slowly stopped moving. You checked his pulse after slightly nudging him with your foot, coming to the conclusion he was in fact dead...Again.

+ + +  

Coming back from the dead took some time, at least, that’s what it was like for you when you kicked the bucket after the countless time it happened to you. The boys moved Shane’s body from the floor to the bed wanting to make his resurrection at least more comfortable from the few times he endured before. There wasn't much for any of you to do while you waited around for something to happen with Shane's body. You just stared at his lifeless corpse, waiting for some kind of movement to see his body was healing himself. Or whatever was happening to the poor bastard.

Heart attacks strike at random times with no warning, mostly to older folks with clogged arteries. Why did it happen to someone who seemed healthy? Maybe being shot at, hit by a car and then a bear triggered it. Shane didn't have a clue what was going on with him, neither did you or the boys. Morning came around and still no sign of life from Shane after you checked his pulse once again to see if there was any changes. You hated when things got like this, even more confusing with questions you couldn't answer. All you could do was let out a sigh of frustration.

“I feel like I’m sitting Shiva.” Dean mumbled, growing antsy himself from the lack of progress in the past few hours with absolute no change.

“Well, that’s not—nevermind. We need to think.” Sam said, deciding not to waste his breath on correcting his brother on how to properly use the saying. Instead, using the time to brainstorm out loud. “Guys, what do we know of that has Jason Bourne fighting skills, dies a lot, and has a history with violent women?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and began to try and wrack your brain of the knowledge you knew about the supernatural, along with any possibilities of things you came across in the past. You found your eyes wandering over to someone who crossed your mind, and it seemed you weren't the only one when you and Dean happened to tell his younger brother the person the both of you thought of. It was in fact the younger Winchester. He fit the profile to a T, after all. "You?"

Sam's face dropped at hearing your guess that he wasn't the least bit amused with, you shrugged your shoulders from the lack of proper answers you could give him. You were stumped about this much as he was about what was going on to Shane, and how he was jumping in and out of death. Your brainstorming session was momentarily put on pause for the time being when your attention was drawn to the motel room door, after someone knocked on it. You furrowed your brow slightly at who was here so early in the morning.

Dean stood up from the bed and headed over to the window,  slowly drawing back the curtain to see who was standing outside on the steps. He saw a woman with her hands in her jacket pockets, waiting for someone to answer while she looked around the parking lot. She might look normal, but nothing was it seemed to the naked eye. He headed over to the door and pressed his gun against the door as a step of precaution before opening it enough only to let half of his body show. You were tempted to reach for your own weapon if things were to go down like how they had hours ago.

“May I help you?” Dean asked the stranger.

“Agent Boham?” The woman addressed him by the name he gave to the police department.

Dean stared at the woman for a second as to why she would know such a thing, cautious about the possibility she might be working with said people. After all, they were sort of one short of a body. "And you are?"

"This is gonna sound really strange, but I'm looking for a corpse that went missing today. The coroner said that you were the last one to see it." She said. Dean watched as she pulled a rolled up newspaper that was tucked underneath her arm, showing him the same news article you had that lead him here. Proving she wasn't a cop looking for the body, but someone who seemed to personally know him. "I'm Haley."

"Uh," Dean opened up the door wider to introduce you and his brother when the both of you headed over to see who he was talking to. You peeked out from Sam's large frame, spotting the woman...and a little boy by her side. You greeted him with a friendly smile, and a slightly cautious expression as to why she was here in the first place no early in the morning and asking questions that made you suspicious of her. "This is Agent Jones and Agent Clyde."

"Why are you looking into our John Doe?" Sam questioned the woman for her reason of being here, and as to why she brought a child along to see a dead body.

"Well, his name is Shane. At least, that's what I called him." Haley explained herself to all of you, and dropping a bombshell you weren't expecting. Your gaze fell to the little boy next to her side again when you realized who he was. "I'm the mother of his son.”

Haley was no threat to all of you, as a matter of fact, she was the only person you had with a connection to the man. Dean swiftly tucked away his gun into the back of his jeans and opened the door wider, crouching down to her son that had to be no more older than seven or eight. He gave him a smile and placed up his hand, trying to ease the situation with a high five. "Hey. Why don't you slap some skin, huh?"

Her son didn't seem to be in a friendly mood towards a couple of new faces he had never seen before, probably confused and a little bit scared at what was going on. "He's shy." Haley said, wrapping an arm tighter around her son's shoulder when he pressed himself closer against her side. "It's okay, Oliver."

Haley comforted her child before moving her gaze upwards again, and into the motel room she could see clearly into now that the door was wide open at this point. Her eyes locked on a body of a lifeless man she'd been tirelessly searching for. Dean realized the mistake he made from the expression that crossed her made, and knowing how it wasn't helping Oliver feel more comfortable at the sight of a dead body. "Oh, you weren't supposed to see—"

"It's okay." Haley mumbled as some kind of reassurance. Her focus was kept on the man when she squeezed by Dean and into the motel room, looking over her shoulder to give instructions to her son to make sure he stayed out of trouble. "Stay with the nice FBI agents, Oliver."

You looked over your shoulder to see Haley approach Shane's lifeless body, a sight that no child should see. Dean stood back up to try and block the sight from Olver as an attempt to make him feel more safe. You tried to take a crack at making him feel more comfortable around you. You crouched down the best that you could so you were at eye level with him and gave the kid a big, warm smile. You outstretched your hand for him to shake, only he left you hanging. He didn't do anything but stand there, you retracted your hand back to your side, deciding it was best to talk to him in a calm and comforting voice.

"Hi, Oliver. My name is Y/N. This is Dean, and that guy is Sam." You introduced yourself and the boys to Oliver, pointing at each of them for him to remember who was who. "The grown ups need to talk about some stuff that you probably won't care about. In the meantime, why don't we do something fun? Do you like to swing?" Oliver nodded his head slowly, making you smile at his response. "Me too. Why don't you let me grab my jacket and we can do that."

You pushed yourself back up to your feet and quickly grabbed your jacket from the seat, slipping it on and heading outside to meet Oliver again. You outstretched your hand once again for him to take it, and suprislnyl , he did. You gave him another smile and headed over to the swing-set that happened to be only a small distance around from the motels, giving Oliver something to do while his mother confirmed it was the same man she had been searching for years.

Oliver took a seat on one of the swings and you pushed him for a few minutes, trying to make small talk with him about how everything was going to be okay or if he wanted to go higher. He didn't say a single word in the few minutes that you were with him, making your heart ache for what he must be going through at the moment. So confused, and a little bit scared at the things he was hearing. One of the worst things about this job was when kids got involved, even if they were just around to hear the grown ups talk about things that went bump in the night. They should be able to maintain that slightest bit of innocence before the real world ruined it.

You continued pushing Oliver on the swing for another few minutes before you saw Haley and the boys step out from the motel room and headed over to the picnic table to talk among themselves. You told Oliver that you needed to speak to his mother and you'd be back soon, he didn't respond with a single word. You let out a sigh and headed over to the table, taking a seat next to Haley to hear her side of the story about how she got herself into this situation.

"When I was younger, I had friends that wanted to climb this mountain in Europe, and I thought it sounded exciting...so I joined them." Haley said, telling you the story about how she met a man with no name and the fateful night that caused her to fall pregnant with his child.

"The avalanche?" You asked, having a feeling you knew how the two met.

"He—He told you?" Haley sounded surprised at the bit of information you and the boys knew, hopeful there was more to share. "What else did he say?"

"Just that he doesn't remember how he got there." Sam said, telling her possibly Shane’s first and only memory he could recollect from this cycle of living and dying through the years.

"My friends were gone, and when I found him, his clothes were torn off, his eyes were frozen solid, but he was still alive." Haley said. "I just knew there was something off about him, the way that...he would—"

"Die everyday?" Dean finished the woman's sentence, having a feeling where she was trying to g with this story. Haley fell silent for a moment at how you seemed to catch onto the pattern. You seen it a few times and heard about his previous incidences about Shane's odd habits and the universe's fun toying with his life over and over again.

"Yeah. I thought it was from exposure or shock. Maybe he was unconscious. We were both in bad shape. And I couldn't have made it down the mountain if it weren't for him." Haley continued on, the smallest smile spreading across her lips at the memory of the time. Despite it being hell and torture, something came of it. A connection forged in a near life experience. For her, at least. "And when we got to the bottom, we...realized that it had become something else, and we spent the night together, and while were, you know...He had a heart attack."

Your eyebrows shot up at the twist in the story you weren't expecting, Dean sounded takenback himself from the mumbled response. "Awkward."

"So, I called 911, and they couldn't save him." Haley went on. “And I had to go down to I.D. the body..."

“He popped up again." Sam said. "Alive."

"I freaked out. And I ran. And nine months later, I had Oliver." Haley looked over her shoulder and to her son, who was still swinging by himself, but at a much slower pace than when you had been with him. You noticed his head was hanging low, making you feel even worse for some reason. There was a part of you that was telling you there was something wrong with him, but you couldn't put a finger on it. The more you observed him, the more the worry for him grew and his well being. "I hired a private investigator. I really tried to find him, but when they gave up, I gave up. Until a couple of months ago."

"Now, what made you look again?" You asked her out of curiosity.

"The worst thing." Haley said, her voice cracking slightly.

The way she responded to your question made you wonder what she was talking about, and why she grew emotional all of a sudden. You were tempted to try and get more information out of her, but before you could even get a single word out, your attention was drawn somewhere else. One of the doors to the motel room opened up and stepped out Shane, who was looking for alive than he had from the last time you saw him. He stood on the small porch area that overlooked the parking lot, as if he was trying to figure out where you and the boys went. He noticed all of you were sitting not too far away, but it was the sight of a face that he remembered from when he spoke it, and in a rather surprised voice after all these years.

Haley pushed herself up to her feet and began walking over to the man when he began to do the same. She called for her son to join her side, deciding it was time to act on the reason why the both of them were here in the first place. She held Oliver close to her side and gave Shane a smile from what she was about to say. “I thought it was time you two meet. This is Oliver.”

It didn’t take very much effort for the dots to start connecting in Shane’s mind from what why Haley was introducing her to this seven year old, or why Oliver looked an awful lot like him. The night they shared together didn't just end with her finding out about his condition, it caused them to have a child together.

You found yourself standing outside for a little longer than you anticipated just to watch the sight of Shane personally meet his son for the very first time, and reunite with the woman who helped save his life from years of misery and from hers being cut so short after losing the friends that brought here there in the first place. She would have died on the mountain, he would have suffered countless freezing cold deaths. Even though they knew each other for a short time, there was no denying you saw something between them that never faded from that night. Shane pushed his son on the swing while Haley was close by. A bonge forged from tragedy.

You heard the motel door open, breaking your concentration on the family to see that it was Dean bearing gifts in the form of a ceramic mug filled with what little caffeine you were allowed to have and a bottle of your prenatal vitamins you almost forgot to take. You gave him a smile and mumbled a thank you from remembering and swallowed down the pill, giving you one less thing to worry about today. He joined you at your spot next to the porch staircase to silently observe the parents that were playing with their son, at least, to an outsider's perspective.

It was weird to think that it might you and Dean in the near future. Hopefully the whole “Dad coming back from the dead” thing wouldn’t be attached to their growing up. That was years in the making, you still needed to have the child to worry about things like that.

When you heard the motel door room open and shut for a second time, you looked over your shoulder to see it was Sam heading down to join you and his brother after spending some time doing more research. “Did you find anything?” You asked him, taking another sip of your drink.

"Well...looks like we were right about the whole curse thing.” Sam said. “From what I can tell, we're looking at a titan."

"A titan?" You repeated after the man, sounding a little confused as to what that was. "I'm a little rusty on my Greek mythology, but isn't that like, a God?"

"More like a proto-God, like the Gods before the Gods." Sam explained to the both of you. "They ruled over Greece before Zeus and the rest of the Olympian Gods overthrew them."

“Okay, so who is this guy?” Dean asked his brother.

"Best as I can tell? Prometheus." Sam said.

“Wait, are you serious? Didn't he like..." You trailed off when you tried to remember what you did know about the figure that sounded familiar to you. "Didn't he go against someone? Steal fire or something?"

"Yep. He 'Ocean's Eleven'd' Mount Olympus and stole the flames from Olympia." Sam told you a little about the man and his brave act. Dean presumed it was all for kicks, but in fact, it was for a greater cause. "For us, actually. Zeus decided to revoke humanity's ability to make fire so we couldn't cook, couldn't stay warm, couldn't see in the dark.”

“Sounds like a monster’s paradise.” Dean remarked. “And this guy made it right for us?”

“Yeah. And in return,” Sam went on about the good deed that didn’t go unpunished for dear old Prometheus. “Zeus decided to strap him to that mountain and make him relive death every day.”

"Damn. Every day for how long? No wonder the guy's hard drive is fried." Dean said. Reliving the same day over and over again was mental torture enough, but to have the same death could make anyone go insane. It explained why Shane didn't remember who he really was. "Did you figure out who Xena-wannabe was?"

“I’m guessing Artemis, Zeus’ daughter. She’s been known to carry around weapons like that dagger.” Sam said. “They’re nasty. They’ll kill immortals dead.”

“All right. Well, we’ve never battled a God curse before.” Dean said. “Hope we can break it.”

It wasn't your first time going up against a God, but you never had the chance to break a curse that was struck down before the dawn of humankind. You studied up a little more to get yourself familiar with Prometheus, who had a rather traumatizing life. His punishment for death wasn't battling the frozen temperatures, but having a bird peck and rip out his liver, only for it to grow back again the same day. For the same, gruesome experience to happen over and over again. Now that you knew who Shane really was, it was time to come clean with the truth.

While Haley and Oliver continued to play outside, you turned the laptop around that Sam had been reading just a little while ago to show Shane what the younger man found. There were a few paintings of Prometheus chained down to a mountain and taking his punishment, something that he’d been during for quite some time now. Now it was time to explain what Shane was looking at was in fact him, even if he couldn’t recollect on the memory. “This is an eagle chowing down on your intestines, you don’t remember that?”

Shane shook his head no, you let out a sigh from how this was going. "Okay, look," Sam said, deciding there was no time anymore to beat around the bush. He was blunt with the man, telling him the truth up front. "I hate to break it to you, but you are Prometheus."

"Well, then, the best thing for me to do is to get as far away from them as I can." Shane said. It seemed he was taking the whole being a God pretty well, but you found yourself unsteady about what he thought the right thing to do was.

"Wait. I'm sorry." You said, raising a hand slightly in the air to stop him from saying another word. You felt the ends of your lips tweak, knowing Shane had accidentally hit a nerve in you from a situation you had endured not too long ago. "You just discovered that you have a seven-year-old son, and you want to walk away?"

"And I'm a God. And this God and his daughter are hunting me." Shane said, giving you all the reasons he thought was going to lead his family into danger. "What other choice do I have?"

“Okay.” Sam spoke up, shutting the laptop and taking control of the conversation before things could stray from what needed to be discussed. "We're gonna help you, but we need a plan first, and we can't come up with one here."

“Where are we going?” Shane asked.

“Someplace safe.” Dean ressured the man.

The one place where you had been calling home for over a month now, where no supernatural creature could get itself into, no matter how hard they tried. The Men of Letters bunker. You just needed to round everyone up and hit the road soon as possible. You were thinking that the danger wasn't going to begin until you started to poke the beast known as Zeus, but it seemed you had another problem you had to worry about. You thought Haley and Oliver were peacefully playing outside without much of a problem, but it seemed that was true for only so long.

When the motel door swung open without warning and Haley carried her unconscious son, you jumped straight up at the sight of his head wound that looked nasty. A sense of panic came over you from what was going on, your mind jumping to the fact that he needed to seek medical treatment—and fast. You took out your phone, asking Haley if you should call for an ambulance. Her response took you by surprise when she told you not to do so. She didn't seem like a neglectful parent, which meant one thing.

"He's dying, isn't he?" Shane asked, having a feeling he knew what was going on with his son.

"I was going to tell you," Haley said. "I just wanted you to have a chance to adjust."

"Wait a second," Sam said to Shane. "He has your curse?"

Haley had no clue what all of you were talking about, this curse that sounded like something bad. And it was. You felt your heart drop into your stomach from the sight you were enduring at this very second. Oliver wasn’t suffering from a head injury, he was dying in front of your very eyes. Whatever kind of punishment Zeus put on Prometheus had went down to his offspring. You felt your slowly rest over your stomach, knowing you knew a little something about family curses. You might have gotten rid of yours, but there was always that fear your kids were going to inherit the bad genes. Your personality traits you wanted to weed out into your offspring. It seemed Oliver got his father's eyes, and punishment from the looks of it.

+ + +

You and the boys were back in Lebanon by the next morning with Shane and Haley, along with a still unresponsive Oliver. You didn't waste any time with a history of the place or a tour, you found the nearest room closest to the opening of the bunker and dedicated it as a spot for the kid to recuperate. You opened up the door and stepped inside, following everyone else. Shane carried his son into the room and put him down on the bed that you had conveniently tied up during your break from hunting. It wasn't much, but it'd do for now until you figured out how to solve this problem.

"This curse was put on you." Dean said. "Why the kid?"

“You keep saying ‘curse.’ What curse?” Haley asked for what felt to be the thousandth time, not sure how much she could handle this conversation she wasn’t apart of.

“How long has this been happening?” You asked her.

"Oh, well, I—since he turned seven a few months ago." Haley said. "It started with the dying, and then he stopped talking."

“Wait, seven?” Sam repeated what he heard from the woman. You gave him a slightly confused look as to why he reacted so surprised. Because it meant Oliver was about to descend into a life he shouldn’t suffer. “Age seven marks one of the first Greek rites of manhood.”  

"So, what? Are you saying the curse is hardwired into his programming?" Dean wondered. "How do you know that?"

"Look at me. I'm sorry that I ran out on you all those years ago. I was scared. I didn't understand what was going on. But we have a child, and whatever you have, he has. I need to know how to stop it." Haley couldn't take being out of sync with the conversation that was about her child, who she raised on her own for the past seven years. She needed to hear the truth, even if it didn't make sense. She deserved to know. "What curse?"

[Next Part]

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[huntertales]

Part Four: Don't Tell Me What To Do. (Changing Channels S05E08)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes Word Count: 4898. A/N: And that's a wrap! This episode has to be one of my personal favorites to write. It took me forever, but we're finally done. I hope you guys have enjoyed this one, too! And if you have any suggestions for the next episode (The Real Ghostbusters) make sure to let me know. And if not, enjoy the last part!

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The next morning came quickly after getting a restful night knowing one of the very few monsters that slipped away was dead once more. This time, for good. You had retired to your room soon after arriving back to the motel, saying something about how you needed some personal time to enjoy this much needed victory. It took much longer than you had wanted, but after three years and a few encounters, the trickster was nothing more than ash and bone after you burned his body for precaution. Dean had been up since his brother woke him about an hour ago after being a little too loud getting ready. Since this hunt was officially wrapped up, it was time to pack it all up and find another case. But there was something bothering Dean as he brushed his teeth at the bathroom sink. He tried calling Cas' phone to see if he was all right, yet all he gotten was the very awkward voicemail you had helped the angel set up. Sure, Cas was a silent creature who liked to pop up whenever he felt it was necessary. Dean thought it wouldn't have hurt for the angel to fly his feathery ass around here to let it be known he was just fine.

“I’m worried, man. What that S.O.B. did to Cas.” Dean tapped his toothbrush against the sink to get off any excess water before putting it back into the flimsy case. “You know, where is he?” He waited to hear his little brother’s response, but all he heard was silence. Dean tried calling out the man’s name to get his attention away from whatever it was, but all he gotten again was nothing. Furrowing his brow, he stepped out from the bathroom to see there was nobody in the room with him. “Sammy?”

Dean looked around the motel room to see if he could find his brother, but to his surprise, he was all alone. He thought that his little brother might have been in your room this morning, probably talking about research or something else the both of you liked to ramble on about. But when he checked on your room, things were only getting weirder when he realized you were gone, too. Dean kept himself level headed as he thought of a few different scenarios of why you and his brother were gone. Maybe you got breakfast without him. Dean tried calling your cell phone, but all he got was voicemail from the both of you. He left each of you a message in hope someone would pick up the damn phone.

Thinking he might know a few spots of where you or Sam could be, Dean headed for the parking lot where the Impala had been quietly waiting since last night. Slipping into the car by himself, he tried one more time to make a call. “Y/N, it's me. Where the hell did you and Sam go? Call me back.” He shut his phone again, letting out a frustrated sigh as he reached into his pockets to put his phone away in exchange for his car keys. While he was about to get the Impala running, someone’s voice caught him off guard.

“Dean?”

It was his brother. The oldest Winchester found himself looking around in the car, wondering if he had been sitting in the backseat for some reason, but again, the man couldn't find him anywhere. He sat back straight in his seat again. “Sam. Where are you?”

“I don't know.” Sam admitted. Dean slowly looked down at the dashboard clock to see the noise was coming right in front of him, but much lower than he was anticipating to see. His entire cassette player was gone, replaced by a machine that looked straight out of...a show that Dean could recall from the early eighties. Sam soon figured out about how he was talking as the red colors on the dashboard match the timing too perfectly. “Oh, crap. I don’t think we killed the trickster.”

"Ya think? Well, if you're....this," Dean gestured his hands around the interior of the Impala as he shifted around, slightly growing uncomfortable at the thought of what was happening here. "Then where the hell is Y/N?" Right when he asked the question, his cell phone went off. Dean fetched it from his pocket and stared at the screen for a moment, only to realize who was calling had been the exact same person he was talking about. "Y/N. You okay?"

"...Define okay." Your voice came out crystal clear from the other line like nothing was wrong, but it only took a few moments before you realized what was happening to yourself. You said something, but you found yourself letting out what sounded like an involuntary giggle from feeling Dean's breath hit the end of the receiver. "Dean, that tickle—Oh, crap.”

It seemed the three of you weren't off the hook just yet, the trickster had an old move up his sleeve and one more show to live through. Dean might have remained human for this one, but it seemed Sam was in for a much needed makeover by being turned into the Impala. As for you, the trickster decided it would be funny to turn you into a literal object—Dean's cell phone. "Okay, so stake didn't work." Dean sat at the wheel of the Impala like normal as he drove down the road with his cell phone, or you, on the dashboard with the volume on speaker so everyone could hear each other. "So, what? This another trick?"

"I don't know. Maybe the stake didn't work because it's not a trickster." You said, seeming to believe that your earlier encounters gave you a clue to who the trickster really was. Dean seemed interested in your theory, asking what you meant by that. "I mean, you heard Cas. He said this thing was too powerful to be a trickster.”

"Yeah,"  Dean agreed with what you were saying, "And did you notice the way he looked at Cas? Almost like he knew him."

"And how pissed he got when you brought up Michael and Lucifer." Sam added.

"Guys," Your voice took over the silence in the car, "I think I know what we're dealing with."

It took you a while to piece together all of the information until you figured out exactly what you were dealing with. Cas wasn't your first angel you ever met. But you didn't know his name just yet. All signs seemed to have been pointing to your theory. It would make sense of why he wanted you and Dean in Hell so badly, without that, the apocalypse wouldn't be in full swing as Sam would be clean of the demon blood addiction. All of you headed to the woods for more of a private setting to make sure this was right. Even still being thrown into another TV show, civilians might frown upon what they would assume as some satanic ritual. Dean parked the Impala and headed for the trunk to find the right supplies needed, while he thought it was completely fine, his brother didn't.

"Dean?" Sam spoke up from inside the Impala, his brother annoying called out what, wondering what the man wanted. "That, um, feels really uncomfortable."

The older Winchester rolled his eyes and slammed the trunk shut, causing his little brother to let out a noise from the pain. While both of them were unsure if this was going to work, you reassured them that this would work. Dean headed for the front of the Impala and looked around at the empty sight of trees and miles of a dusty road with nobody in sight. Not yet, at least. "All right, you son of a bitch!" Dean shouted at the top of his lungs, using an attempt at praying that he had learned was quite useful over the past few years of dealing with angels. You had to stand in the middle of nowhere and shout on the top of your lungs, while Dean felt like an idiot, he always got results. "We'll do it!"

"Should I honk?" Sam asked, Dean rolled his eyes.

It took a few moments for someone to appear, but just like you had predicted, a very familiar face had come out from the woodwork. While one step was done, there was still another that needed to be tested for your presumption to be right. "Sam, get a load of the rims on you." The trickster complimented the younger man as he took a few steps forward to the Impala. Sam, of course, responded with a snarky command. "Okay, boys, ready to go quietly?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not so fast.” Dean stopped the trickster from doing anything..” Nobody's going anywhere until Sam and Y/N have opposable thumbs."

"What's the difference? Satan's gonna ride his ass one way or another." The trickster thought he was being funny, but it only caused Dean to look at the man with a threatening glare. He pulled a lot of stunts over the past several days that reprocessed consequences. But the trickster rolled his eyes, deciding to play along this time, and with the snap of his fingers, everything returned normal once more. The driver's side door was pushed open fas your feet swung out, Sam followed suit in your actions not a second later. You and Sam were back to your normal selves, human, and dressed in the attire you had picked out this morning. The both of you walked over to where Dean was standing, leaving a few feet as a distance from the trickster. "Happy?"

"Mmm. Not yet." You said, knowing there was one thing that you had been itching to do since you first got here in TV hell, along with the stunts he pulled over the past few years. Taking a step forward to him, you gave no warning when you quickly swung your arm up and gave a punch that was directly aimed at the trickster’s face. Pain settled in not even a second later when you did the damage, you tried brushing it off as you waved your bruising hand slightly. But you seemed satisfied enough to see that the man standing in front of you had a bleeding lip. “Now I am.”

"She's beauty, she's grace," Dean muttered underneath his breath with a smirk as he watched the trickster reach up a hand to wipe away the spec of blood from his bottom lip. "She'll punch you in the face."

"Don’t worry. There's more where that came from." You reassured the trickster as you wiggled around your fingers, happy to know that nothing was broken. "Now, tell me one thing. Why didn't the stake kill you?"

"I am the trickster." He said, trying to think if that the same excuse you'd been hearing was going to pass yet again.

"But maybe you're not." You said, calling out his bluff for the last time. Sam reached inside his pocket and pulled out a lighter, by flicking only once, he dropped it to the ground and let the holy oil that Cas had used previously to trap Raphael, a very pissed off archangel that you didn't want to think about right now. Besides, you had another one right in your grip, you watched as the ring of tire imprisoned what you were going to be calling the trickster one last time. "Maybe you've always been an angel."

"An angel?" The trickster laughed off your accusation, deflecting from it with a joke, like you were the crazy one for thinking he could be that powerful. And if there was such thing as one. "Somebody slip a mickey in your coffee, sugar?”

"I'll tell you what. You jump out of the holy fire, we'll call it our mistake." You made a deal with him, wondering if he was going to prove you all of you wrong. But all you had gotten was silence as he began smiling, still thinking this was a joke. "Doesn't feel good now that you're cornered, sugar?”

The laughing only presumed for another few seconds, all before his face turned into a dead serious stare. In the blink of an eye, you were back at the warehouse where you and the boys started, back into your own reality. And he was still there, trapped in the holy fire. "Well played, Y/N. Well played. I always knew you were the brains of this little gang." You raised your brow when he gave you a round of applause for connecting the dots. "Where'd you get the holy oil?"

"Oh, you could say we pulled it out of Sam's ass." Dean couldn't help himself but say, deciding to be literal in the sense. You tried your hardest not to smile as Sam glanced over at his brother, not all at amused at his brother's remark.

The angel threw his hands up in defeat, deciding he couldn't deny his true self anymore. "Where did I screw up?"

"You didn't." Sam said. "But nobody gets the jump on Cas like you did."

"Mostly, it was the way you talked about armageddon." You said, having a bit of deja vu yourself of how a topic could make someone so angry. All of you had lost your temper when dealing with the stresses of this new challenge, and it was only fair when you played a crucial role in the mix. It only roused your suspicion that he could be, too. But it seemed the angel didn't have a clue of what you were talking about from the curious look he was giving you. "Well, call it personal experience. Nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family."

"So, which one are you?" Sam asked, wanting to put a real name to a face. "Grumpy, Sneezy or Douchey?"

He was hesitant to give you all his true name, but considering he couldn't run anymore, you knew he had no more options but to wrap himself back into his family's drama that he'd been trying to avoid for much longer than the three of you have been alive. "Gabriel. They call me Gabriel."

“Wait. You’re telling us you’re the archangel, Gabriel?” You found yourself being thrown through a loop at seeing another one of them in the flesh. After dealing with Raphael and having Lucifer play mind tricks with you over the past several months, the next one that would have come out of the shadows would have been Michael to set all of you straight. But it seemed you had the pleasure of meeting their brother on several occasions without even realizing. "Aren't you supposed to be Heaven's messenger boy? The famous angel also who told the Virgin Mary she was expecting?"

"I'm impressed, Y/N." Gabriel seemed that he felt comfortable keeping his old persona up once left time to make a joke, your lips stretched into a slight frown at how he was trying to deflect from the conversation. "I thought someone like you would burn to a crisp if you tried touching the bible."

"Well, I'm just full of surprises." You said with a growing smile as you crossed your arms over your chest, not letting his remarks against what you were bother you. "So, tell me this. How does an archangel become a trickster?"

"Call it my own private witness protection program." Gabriel answered you, all though it didn't provide much information of how he became. You raised a brow, making him further explain himself to the three of you. "I skipped out of Heaven, got a face transplant, carved out my own little corner out of the world...till you and your two muscle heads screwed it up."

"And what did Daddy say when you ran off and joined the pagans?" Dean asked.

"Daddy doesn't say anything about anything." Gabriel responded with a bit of snark in his tone.

"Then what happened?" Sam asked. "Why'd you ditch?"

"Well, do you blame him?" Dean glanced over at his little brother, thinking he had the wiggle room into trying himself at making remarks at the archangel. "I mean, his brothers are heavyweight douche-nozzles."

"Shut your cake hole. You don't know anything about my family." Gabriel snapped at the older Winchester, making it seem you hit a very sensitive nerve in the angel from his response. "I loved my father, my brothers—loved them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it, okay?! So I left. And now it's happening all over again."

"Then help us stop it." You said with a hardening tone.

Gabriel looked over at you, and slowly, you could see the ends of his lips stretched into a small smile. He stared at you with the type of expression that seemed half amused at your attempts of still trying to believe, all while, there was nothing but defeat in your future. "It can't be stopped."

"You want to see the end of the world?" Dean questioned the angel.

"I want it to be over! I have to sit back and watch my brothers kill each other, thanks to you two! Heaven, Hell—I don't care who wins!" Gabriel argued with the three of you, trying to show his pent up rage at what was going on here and how useless he was. But all he was sounding to you was a small child having a temper tantrum. "I just want it to be over!"

"Well, it doesn't have to be like that." Sam said, trying to reason with him once more. "There has to be some way to—to pull the plug."

Gabriel responded with a laugh as he shook his head at how the three of you were still choosing to remain ignorant on this subject he knew too well about. "Oh, you do not know my family. Why you guys call the apocalypse I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this—because this isn't about war. It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other. You think you'd be able to relate."

He presumed the dots would start connecting in the boys’ brains, but all he was greeted with was a few very confused looks. You were the only one who had gotten the too obvious of a similar pattern.Gabriel clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and let out a low whistle. “You sorry sons of bitches. Why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael—the big brother, loyal to an absent father.” It was too obvious of a description about Dean, but Sammy wasn't that far along the trail to follow in his brother's footsteps. "And Lucifer—the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan. You were born to this, boys. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in Heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other.”

Dean remained silent for a moment, and like his brother, chose to remain ignorant on the very black and white situation he had been hearing over from too many people. “And what exactly are you saying?”

"Why do you think I've always taken an interest in you three? Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you." Gabriel said, laying down the truth nobody had been wanting to hear. "We knew Lucifer wasn't gonna listen when Dad gave him a way out. He was too stubborn. He always liked to do things his own way. That's why he had to go the long way to get himself free and got everyone tangled into this mess. It's always been about you three. Always."

Maybe it was a bit selfish of you to pretend at what you were hearing had been some lie that people were telling you to mess with your head. Over your past several years it's been like that. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between the truth and a lie. And all though you knew that what Gabriel was saying had to be the truth, you still remained stubborn at changing your mind. "No," You shook your head. "That's not gonna happen."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. But it is." Gabriel was trying to be nice, but you weren't falling for it anymore. You narrowed your eyes slightly on him and continued to remain guarded. The both of you haven't had the best forming relationship over the past few years. He'd made your life a living hell, you tried to kill him a handful of times. Here he was showing you his true self and trying to be a friend, but you wouldn't listen to a word he was saying. "Guys, I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow. But this is real. And it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's got to be." Your continued response was silence as the boys shared an uneasy stare to one another. All of you were sinking down the rabbit hole of the realization that this fight wasn't going to end in a victorious win like before. "So, guys...now what? Stare at each other for the rest of eternity?"

"Well, first of all, you're gonna bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him." Dean said, switching the conversation to more important matters. Gabriel seemed only amused at the command, thinking he still had power here over the three of you. All though you might not know how to kill an angel just yet, you knew very well they could bleed like everything else. "Or we're gonna dunk you in some holy oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel."

Gabriel didn't seem happy at the threat, but from the looks on your faces, there was no denying all of you would keep to your promise. You watched as he lifted his arm, and with the snap of his fingers, Cas reappeared right behind you. You looked over your shoulder slightly to see that the angel was back, he was still a little bruised, but he was alive. "Cas, you okay?" You asked him with concern, knowing his appearance raised a few red flags for you.

"How precious. A half demon and an angel looking out for each other." Gabriel commented at the sight he was seeing, and his smile of amusement only seemed to grow when you looked over at him with a glare when she still continued talking. "It wasn't that long you two were the talk of the town, always fighting like cats and dogs. But I guess being in the presence of my little brother's little mutt has that tendency of making even the most loyal angels go rouge."

"Wow, I haven't heard that insult before. I'm truly hurt." You said to the archangel, pretending to be offended as you placed your hands against your chest. "At least I'm not a spineless coward who runs away from his family when things get a little too much for him to handle."

"Ouch. We got a feisty one here. I always like a girl with a mouth on her. You sure know how to pick 'em, Dean-o. And by the way, how's the search for Daddy going, boys?" Gabriel curiously asked. The silence and avoided eye contact was enough to know that all of you weren't getting far as you wanted. God was out there, but he didn't want to be disturb with his children's problem. He wasn't been here since he put all of you in this miserable situation. "Let me guess. Awful."

You crossed your arms over your chest and let out a quiet chuckle, only the slightest bit amused at the remarks. While this had been fun of seeing who Gabriel really was, you had more important things to do, like an apocalypse to stop and a Devil to kill. "Okay, we're out of here." You said as you began taking a few steps back. “Let’s go, boys.”

You turned around in your spot and headed for the entrance first, wanting out of here more than anything. All though you might have met another archangel with a bit of history, he was the same, wanting nothing but the same results as everyone else. "Okay. Hey, guys? So—So, what? Huh?" Gabriel called out to the four of you, expecting help from the position you were leaving him in with the fire still burning. “You’re just gonn—You’re gonna leave me here forever?”

"Oh, what? You're telling me you don't like being trapped? Don't worry, we won't. 'Cause we don't screw with people the way you do." You called out to the archangel, now standing at the doorway, you had to shout for him to hear you. "And by the way...this isn't about some prizefight between your brothers or some destinity that can't be stopped! This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family! Suck it up, buttercup and grow a pair!” You let out a breath when you found yourself becoming overwhelmed with anger at how he was reacting. But you were going to keep your promise at setting him free. You saw there was a fire alarm, and by simply breaking the glass, you reached up and switched down the lever for the sprinklers above to switch on, putting out the fire. "Don't say I never did anything for you. I mean, I might be half a demon, but I'm still human."

You gave Gabriel a friendly smile and a wave before you were out the door, not caring for the glare that was starting to stretch across his face at getting soaked to the bone, or maybe it was repeating calling him a coward. Either way, you didn't care. You headed out of the warehouse and to the beloved Impala that was parked exactly where you had left it when you arrived. No time seemed to have passed in the real world after being away in the hell that you were thrown into. The boys followed behind as Cas quietly trailed, seeming a bit unsure of how he should handle leaving one of his own brothers behind. Dean fetched out his keys from his pocket as Sam headed for the passenger side of the car. While you wanted to forget everything that happened, Sam was being a thinker, like how he always was after rough hunts.

"All that stuff he was spouting in there—you think he was telling the truth?" Sam asked.

“I think he believes it.” Dean said, heading for the driver’s side. He started getting the key into the lock, but he stopped himself, knowing all of you were still back at square one. You didn't have the colt, God was still nowhere to be found, and the only archangel that could have been of service hated your guts all while trying to avoid getting his hands dirty. Things weren't looking all that good, but you refused to give up hope for a happy ending. "I'll tell you one thing. Right about now, I wish I was back on a TV show."

Sam chuckled at the thought of being thrown back into the torture, but despite that, he agreed with his older brother. "Yeah. Me, too."

“Why? TV shows aren't that great. Characters are killed off all the time, crappy writing...Well, come to think of it. Maybe our lives are like a TV show." You remarked, raising your brow slightly. The boys chuckled slightly as all of you slipped inside the Impala, Cas disappeared from your sight not long after departing from the building himself. "Who knows. Maybe Chuck can write us a happy ending. We do have those 'Supernatural' books at our disposal."

"I don't even wanna think about them." Dean muttered underneath his breath. "Now that gives me nightmares."

You and the boys had very interesting lives, there was no denying that. Both of the brothers sharing a destiny to be vessels for a pair of archangels as you were born out of a plan for Lucifer to try and understand humanity, only that had gotten completely wrong, resulting you to be born as a hybrid of half demon and half human. Yet, despite all of that, it wasn't the weirdest thing you had come across in the past year. You had met a man named Chuck Shirley who was a prophet of the Lord, resulting in him having terrifyingly clear visions of you and the boys. And from there resulted in the book series he called "Supernatural." Twenty-four books that detailed everything over the first three years of you hunting, all the way to the bloody end of you and Dean going to Hell.

All though you had been secretly reading them on your laptop after finding a PDF file of the works for free, you were thankful the books had stopped when they did. And it would be better if you never had to think about them ever again. Because unlike TV shows, books provided more of an insight to the characters were internally thinking, and you didn't exactly want to know what was going through the boys' head last year. You knew it would only make things worse.