In My Dreams |Dean Winchester|

2. The Monster At the End of This Book

We get out of the Impala. I knew Chuck was typing away waiting for us. He didn't know it yet but we were actually coming. We stop at the door. We all share a look and shrug. Dean reaches up and pushes the doorbell. It rings. Chuck opens the door and peaks out. "You Chuck Shurley?" Dean asks. "The Chuck Shurley who wrote the "Supernatural" books?" Sam asks. "Maybe. Why?" Chuck asks. "I'm Dean. This is Sam. The Dean and Sam you've been writing about." Dean says. Chuck quickly closes the door. Dean rings the doorbell again annoyed. "Look, uh... I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life." Chuck says and goes to close the door again. Dean stops him. "See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books." Dean says, pushing his way in. "Dean!" I exclaim following them in.

"Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny." Chuck says backing up, hands raised. "Damn straight, it's not funny." Dean says, crossing his arms. "Look, we just want to know how you're doing it." Sam says. "I'm not doing anything." Chuck says. "Are you a hunter?" Dean asks. "What? No. I'm a writer." Chuck says. "Then how do you know so much about demons? And Tulpas, and changelings?" Dean asks, advancing on Chuck. Chuck falls onto the couch. "Is this some kind of "Misery" thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a "Misery" thing!" Chuck cries out. "No, it's not a "Misery" thing. Believe me, we are not fans!" Dean says angrily. "Well, then, what do you want?!" Chuck exclaims. "I'm Sam. And that's Dean." Sam says. "Sam and Dean are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!" Chuck cries. We take him outside. They show him the trunk arsenal. Chuck's jaw drops.

"Are those real guns?" He asks. "Yup. This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs." Dean says. "Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans. That's, that's awesome. So, I... I think I've got some posters in the house." He stutters nervously backing up. "Chuck, stop." I say. "Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt me." He says. "How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?" Sam asks. "Wait a minute. How do you know about that?" Chuck asks. "The question is how do you?" Dean asks. "Because I wrote it?" Chuck questions confused. "You kept writing?" Sam asks. "Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right? Did that... Did Phil put you up to this?" He laughs. "Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam. And this is Parker James." Dean says. "The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down. And Parker... I just wrote her in..." He stutters. We all go back inside. Chuck sits down and pours himself a drink. He gulps it down and puts it in the sink. He turns around.

"Oh! Oh, you're still there." He groans. "Yup." Dean says. "You're not a hallucination." Chuck sighs. "Nope." I say. "Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously I'm a god." Chuck says. I try not to laugh. He is God. But they don't know that. "You're not a god." Sam says. "How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through... The physical beatings alone. And Parker. I literally had the angels pluck you from your world and bring you here to fulfill your destiny." He says sincerely. Dean puts a hand on my shoulder and I look down. "So that's what happened." I mumble. "Yeah, we're still in one piece. We'll get you home." Dean says. "I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica." Chuck rambles.

"Chuck." Sam says. "All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment." He says, clearly upset now. "You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us." Dean says. "Did you really have to live through the bugs?" Chuck asks. "Yeah." Dean nods. "What about the ghost ship?" He asks. "Yes, that too." Dean says. "I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing... if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass." Chuck rambles. "Chuck, You're not a god!" Dean exclaims. "We think you're probably just psychic." Sam says. "No. If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard." Chuck says. "It seems that somehow, you're just... focused on our lives." Sam says. "Yeah, like laser-focused. Are you working on anything right now?" Dean asks. "Holy Crap." Chuck says. "What?" I ask. "The, uh, latest book? It's, uh, it's kind of weird." Chuck says as he picks up some pages. "Weird how?" Sam asks. "It's very Vonnegut." Chuck says.

""Slaughterhouse-Five" Vonnegut or "Cat's Cradle" Vonnegut?" Dean asks. "What?" Sam asks surprised. "What?" Dean asks defensively. "It's, uh, "Kilgore Trout" Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote, myself, at my house... confronted by my characters." He says sitting down covering his face. It sit next to him. "Hey Chuck, it's ok. Calm down." I say rubbing his shoulder. "She's nice. I like her." Chuck looks at the boys. "We're gonna go. Do you mind if we read the recent pages?" I ask. "Take them. It's your life. I'm sorry about you missing your sister's wedding." He says squeezing my hand. "Thanks." I say. He nods. We grab the pages and leave. We stop at the laundromat to wash our clothes. Sam was putting the close in while Dean was reading, me over his shoulder. "You can get closer sweetheart." Dean looks back at me with a slight smirk. I smack his arm. He chuckles.

"I'm sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself. My head hurts." He says looking back at the papers. "There's got to be something this guy's not telling us." Sam says as he tosses his darks into the washer. ""Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth."" Dean reads. "Stop it." Sam says. ""'Stop it,' Sam said." Guess what you do next." Dean continues. ""Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive."" I read. "I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your "brooding and pensive" shoulders." Dean chuckles. Sam sighs obviously annoyed. "You just thought I was a dick." Dean says. "The guy's good." Sam shrugs.

We get a hotel room for the night. And no couch. Great. "I'll take the floor." Dean says. "No. I'm not gonna make you sleep down there." I say. "And I'm not gonna make a woman sleep on the floor." He says. "Then it's settled. You'll sleep together." Sam chuckles. I blush. Dean does as well. I go get ready for bed. Dean had found me a bunch of clothes at the laundromat. I wouldn't condone stealing any other time but I had nothing and they had no money. I walk back out in shorts and a tank top. Dean looks at me. He was already in bed. He was in a t-shirt and boxers over the cover. I walk over and crawl under the covers. He stands and gets in the bed. Sam turns the lights out. I lay with my back to Dean. I had scars on my thighs. They really made me self conscious to wear these. But it was warm in here and sharing a bed made it worse. Dean looks over at me. I look back at him. "I know we just met but please don't hurt yourself again. If you are a part of some higher destiny like Chuck said it means you're here for a reason." He whispers.

"I wish I could feel like I belonged." I whisper. I was always an outcast growing up. Even in my own family. "Maybe you belong here. With me and Sam." He whispers. "But my family..." I start. "We could be your family." He whispers. "I want you to stay and I know Sam does." He says. "I want to stay. So badly. But what about everyone I knew?" I ask. "I don't know." He sighs. "Please just think about it." He begs. I nod. I snuggle into the covers. It was comfortable. As I feel myself falling asleep I feel Dean sling an arm around my waist. I smile. Maybe I did belong here. Maybe I could be happy with him and Sam. I slowly fall asleep to his breathing.