Supernatural Convention Turns Supernatural

Confrontation Scares Me

A cool breeze had covered my body in goosebumps. I shivered, not really waking up fully until I realized I shouldn't have felt a breeze. I definitely should not hear birds chirping. It sounded and felt like I was outside, which I shouldn't be. I should be in the hotel I stayed in for the convention.

My eyes flew open and I saw I was in the middle of nowhere, and I was indeed outside. 'What the fuck is happening?' I ask myself. Deciding not to panic yet, I brush the dirt off of me after I stand up, and I start walking. I don't know where I'm going but I'm not just going to sit and do nothing.

I really, really hate walking with a passion. I am so damn lazy normally that the amount of walking I have done is making me want to murder someone. I thought about checking the time and pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time: 7:38 a.m.

I felt around in my pockets for my headphones as well, wanting to listen to music. It sucked that I didn't have my bag because now I don't have my anxiety meds. Or any for that matter. Plugging my headphones in and popping them in my ears, I blasted one of my favorite playlists. It had random songs from all kinds of different genres, so my brain thought it would be genius to title it "Random."

Eventually, I came across a place that felt extremely familiar. Like, way too familiar, somewhere I've seen only on TV. And just as I was thinking there was no way, it was confirmed by the giant sign in front of me: Singer's Autoyard.

I stood there, still as can be, for an ungodly amount of time. Just to laugh in my face, I heard the unmistakable engine of a 1967 Chevy Impala, the sound every Supernatural fan knew. Dummy me decided to stand there, not even hiding from sight as I saw the Impala mozy down the road.

I could not believe what was going on. It was impossible. There was no way for this to be real. Right? I was way too lost in my thoughts to comprehend the sound of the Impala turning off and Sam and Dean talking super loudly. What brought me out of my head was the feeling of hands grasping my arms and pulling me very harshly towards the house of Bobby Singer.

I was shoved into a chair and felt my face get drenched in liquid, most likely holy water. I felt a knife pierce my skin as they cut my hand to test for any kind of monster they knew about then. I was shaking again, kind of like when I met Rob, Richard, and Matt yesterday. Bobby must've noticed because he knelt down in front of me and started asking some questions about what I was doing there and what happened before I showed up there.

I told him, albeit hesitantly, exactly what I remembered: going to a Supernatural Convention, going back to the hotel and taking anxiety meds, laying down and falling asleep. Then waking up here. They didn't exactly believe me, which is one hundred percent understandable. So I told something only they would know of each of them.

"Okay, Bobby, and I'm so sorry to bring this up, your last conversation with your wife, Karen, was about being hesitant to have kids, as your dad was abusive. Dean, you always, and I mean always, lose when you play rock paper scissors with Sam. And, uh, Sam, Jess was not your fault. I know a stranger telling you this means absolutely nothing, and I know it feels like it's your fault. It's a sucky feeling, and it is absolutely not your fault," I spew this out in a matter of, at most, one minute.

I have a habit of talking fast when I get anxious. Bobby, Sam, and Dean must've been shocked at everything I knew, but ultimately decided to trust me for now. They moved on to talking about Meg and John. I kept quiet because I wasn't about to join in on a conversation that did not include me at all and, frankly, wasn't any of my business.

That is, until the door was kicked to pieces by Meg. Bobby and Dean stood in front of me, I guess because I was a bystander in their life. Or maybe because I knew information about the future and therefore I was valuable to them and others if they found out about me.