BECCA GRIMACED AT THE PG-13 SCENE PLAYING ON DANIELLE'S SMALL TELEVISION. It was movie night after two long shifts. Popcorn sat between them in a metal bowl, crazy straws sticking out of their cans of soda. Dr. Sexy, M.D. played loudly over the television speakers. "It's so gross," Becca commented, her straw still bitten between her molars. "Normal people don't kiss like that. Sex-crazed hormone demons do."
Danielle barked out a laugh. The over use of tongue did help Becca's point. The wild hand movements did, too, considering they always landed in a less than ideal place. "If an intern got with a doctor here, they'd be crucified," she hummed through a mouthful of chewed up popcorn. The mere idea of hooking up with one of the doctors made her feel dirty. Most of them were married, or divorced with several kids. And while Danny loved kids, she wasn't ready to be a mom -- let alone a step mom.
"And the nurses are treated like doormats!" Becca exclaimed in mild anger. "We do everything for those assholes, and yet we get treated like candy in one of those Halloween bowls that says just take one please!" Danielle couldn't stop her eyes from rolling. She agreed completely, but the dramatics of it all made her feel silly. It was obvious none of the writers of the show went to medical school, or worked in an actual hospital. But it wasn't supposed to be super realistic. It was supposed to be dramatic. It was television after all, and television was made for entertainment.
She reached for her drink, neon green plastic swirling from side to side. "Why did you want to watch this if all you're going to do is complain?" she asked, head turning to land her gaze upon her friend. Becca's nose scrunched up, eyes following the scene closely. Almost as if she was unable to look away. "Someone recommended it today while Mrs. Barton was being induced. And Mrs. Barton swore by it," she answered. "She told me it is the best medical drama she's seen since M*A*S*H."
Danielle barked out a laugh. Trusting an older woman's taste was like playing Russian Roulette. Becca's eyes narrowed into a stern glare. "Alright, laugh it up," she grumbled. Her arms crossed tight over her chest as her mouth fell into a pout. Danny shook her head, but didn't cease her laughter. Before she knew it, Becca was chuckling, too. "Oh, shut up! Just watch the stupid show."
"Yes, ma'am," she replied. She spared her best friend a smile before leaning into her. Her head rested perfectly on her shoulder, and Becca laid her head against Danielle's. The two fell silent as the commercials began to roll. "Never mind. I need another drink." Her hand fell against Danny's thigh, sighing heavy. "God, yes. Preferably something with alcohol in it."
She sat up, allowing Becca to get up from the couch. "Not sure there's an alcohol out there that'll make this show less shit." Danny rolled her eyes. Movie nights probably had to be her favorite time of the week. It was never dull with Becca there and when Courtney made it, it became even better. She wouldn't trade these nights for anything.
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Chapter Twenty Three:
" CHANGING CHANNELS:
PART TWO "
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THE AREA AROUND THE WAREHOUSE WAS EMPTY. The only inhabitants of the parking lot was the Impala and trash. Dean got out first, eyeing the area with curiosity. "There was a murder here... and there's no police cars -- There's nobody." Danielle climbed out of the back, looking up at the tattered building. Even from the outside, it looked simply abandoned. Broken windows, tires and broken boards laying about. "How does that look to you?" Dean asked as he and Sam rounded to the trunk of the car.
"Crappy," Sam answered. Danielle crossed her arms, leaning against the rain slick door of the Impala. "Like a trap," she concluded. Sam reached around the trunk with a stake and flashlight, offering the two to the girl. She took them with a slight smile. The trunk slammed closed, Dean stepping away to take lead. "We stick together, alright?" he reminded the two, his eyes locked with the woman in front of him. She nodded her head.
The trio approached the rusted door leading into the building. It looked like oxidized copper. A large, red number four was printed on the door. Dean took hold of the handle, looking over at the two. He began to count down from three and then pulled open the door. It squealed on its hinges, Sam's boots crunching over the gravel leading into the building. Danielle followed him, Dean coming in behind her.
The door slammed shut behind them and the sight before them confused them. They were now in a hospital, a lively hospital with music playing overhead. Danielle looked toward Dean for an explanation when she realized that he was no longer in his own clothes. "Oh, my God," she whispered. Dean glanced back, eyes widening. "What the hell? You're in scrubs."
Sam pulled at his doctor's coat before noticing the difference between the three. "I'm a nurse," she whispered. Danielle's scrubs were a light pink color, similar to the scrubs she wore at her old job. Her palms slid over the smooth fabric before she pulled away. Two women approached, hooded eyes taking in the three. "Doctor," one greeted, smiling at Sam. "Doctor," the other echoed, her eyes taking in Dean.
Danielle crossed her arms, glaring after the two exceedingly beautiful women. Dean, confused, turned back to the door that had led them here. He pushed it open only to find two people making out. "What is going on?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged his shoulders. He looked just as confused. "Should we ask someone?" Danielle suggested. The two men shrugged. This hadn't ever happened to them before.
Slowly, the trio began to step further into the building. There were people everywhere. Nurses, doctors, patients. A brunette spotted them and stood straight before approaching. "Doctor," she greeted Sam before landing a harsh slap to his cheek. Danielle gasped, hands moving to cover her mouth in shock. "Ow!" Sam exclaimed, stunned by the reaction. Her eyes narrowed at him. "Seriously?"
"What?" he replied. Her breathing was dramatic and choppy. Her eyes softened visibly. "Seriously, you're brilliant, you know that? And a coward. You're a brilliant coward." Danielle and Dean shared a look. "Uh, what are you talking about?" Sam asked. She landed another slap against Sam's cheek, his head jostling to the side. His expression became more annoyed than confused now. "As if you don't know," she spat.
She spun on her white shoes and began stomping off. Dean suddenly appeared to be having a revelation. "I don't believe this," he huffed. Sam and Danielle both turned to him, brows raised expectantly. "What?" they asked in unison. Dean looked like a school girl with a crush, watching her walk away. "That was Dr. Piccolo," he stated as if it was obvious. "Dr. Ellen Piccolo. The sexy-yet-earnest doctor at..."
"Watch it," Danielle spoke up, not amused by his choice of words. He didn't seem to hear her as he walked after her, looking around them. Upon noticing the name of the building, he turned toward the two and gestured to it. "...Seattle Mercy Hospital." Danielle stood back, chewing on his words. Her head spun as she took in the atmosphere around them, the people and the décor. Something did feel familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "Uh, Dean... What the hell are you talking about?" Sam asked.
"The doctor getups. The-- The-- The sexy interns. The "Seriouslys". It all makes sense," Dean replied. It was then that it clicked in her head. Her mouth slipped open into an 'o' shape. "You have got to be kidding me," she huffed out. Dean's eyes sparkled. "We're in Dr. Sexy, M.D."
Sam's face contorted into a look of genuine surprise. The idea of being stuck in a television series had never crossed any of their minds. It was impossible, or so they had thought.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
"Dude, what the hell?"
"I don't know," Sam sighed. Danielle stood off to the side, arms wound around herself. She had forgotten just how comfortable scrubs were. She wondered what their maternity looked like. "No, seriously. What the hell?" Dean asked again. She made a small noise of annoyance at the eldest Winchester. "We're just as lost as you are," she snapped. "Obviously." His eyes narrowed at the woman.
He huffed. "Got any theories?" he asked. "One theory. Any theory." Sam sighed. His shoulders lifted into a slight shrug. "Uh, the Trickster trapped us in TV land," he stated. Danielle frowned. It sounded impossible. Dean scoffed. "That's your theory? That's stupid."
"He could be right, though," Danielle argued. Sam pointed at the brunette, as if to tell his brother I could be right. "TV land isn't just TV land. There's actors a-and lights and crew members. You know? This looks real." Her cheeks inflated. She shook her head at the man. With all of the crazy things they experienced daily, how could this be the most unbelievable theory. "It can't be," Sam whispered. "I mean, how can this possibly be real?"
"How can ghosts be real?" Danielle asked. "Or demons, or djinns, or Gods that can turn into your deepest desires?" She spun around to meet the two's eyes. Both men fell silent at her question. "I know this is weird, okay? But if we could just focus and stay on track–"
Dean's face changed completely. From a look of uncertainty to a look of disbelief, of adoration. Sam and Danielle shared a look before returning their eyes to the eldest Winchester. "Oh, boy," he exhaled, the breathlessness of his tone sending a shiver down Danielle's spine. Sam looked even more confused by his brother's reaction. "What?"
"It's him," Dean said. His face contorting into pure adoration, and perhaps a bit of arousal. Danielle looked over her shoulder and immediately spotted just who he was talking about. "Who?" Sam asked. "The Trickster?" Dean shook his head. His lips curled into a lopsided smile. Eyes sparkled. "Him," he reiterated, and finally Sam looked. A tall, broad man approached. His hands stuffed into his coat pockets. His hair reached his shoulders, face stubbled with a clean beard. Danielle couldn't help but swallow at the sight of him.
"It's him. It's Dr. Sexy," Dean informed Sam. A smile crossed the doctor's face as he locked eyes with the nurse. She returned the smile shyly, cheeks flushed. His steps were quick as he approached, a hand sliding across the small of her back. "Nurse," he greeted her sweetly, his tone sultry and smooth. She bit down on her tongue, choosing to greet him with a nod of her head. He turned to Dean next. "Doctor."
He resembled a teenage girl. Giddiness clear within his green eyes. "Doctor," he replied. Dr. Sexy grinned, turning his head toward Sam. "Doctor." Sam nodded, but the character didn't seem satisfied. Sam's eyes met Danielle's and before he could react, Dean was elbowing him in the side. A sharp breath escaped the tallest of the four, his lips pressing into a tight line. Reluctantly, he replied, "Doctor." Dr. Sexy eyed Sam, silently.
"You want to give me one good reason why you defied my direct order to do the experimental face transplant on Mrs. Beale?" he asked, turning his eyes onto Dean. Dean looked giddy under his gaze. Lips curled into a soft smile. That smiled slowly fading as he absorbed Dr. Sexy's words. He looked between Sam and Danielle, his eyes asking for help, but neither of them could save him now. He was being tied into the plot. "One reason?" Dr. Sexy hummed, waiting for that reason.
He smiled awkwardly. "Sure," he chuckled, nervously. His eyes dropped to the floor for a moment. Danielle watched silently as his expression changed. Dean looked back at the doctor, realization dawning over his features like a sunset. His jaw tensed. In one swift motion, he had the character thrusted into the wall. Both Sam and Danielle jumped at the action, eyes wide. "Dean—" She started, eyes frantically making sure no one would approach. It was almost as if they didn't exist.
"You're not Dr. Sexy," Dean stated matter-of-factly. His face only inches away from who they had presumed to be a fictional character. The doctor exhaled, eyes narrowed. "You're crazy," he retorted in that silky voice. Danielle bit her lip. She wasn't sure who to focus on now, or who was more attractive to her. Dean being assertive or Dr. Sexy being... well, sexy. "Really?" Dean replied, confidence oozing with the two syllable word. "'Cause I swore part of what makes Dr. Sexy sexy is the fact that he wears cowboy boots... not tennis shoes."
Sam snorted from behind Dean. "Yeah. You're not a fan," he mumbled, amused. Dean swallowed. He'd been caught. "It's a guilty pleasure," he defended himself. Danielle smiles. "We all have them." Dr. Sexy was silent as the three conversed. For a moment, it almost seemed like he was enjoying himself. Then he turned toward one of the nurses next to the nurse's station. "Call security," he ordered and Danielle sighed.
Dean shot her a look that said really? She didn't think that she had to explain herself. After all, he had thought the same before this very moment. "Yeah, go ahead, pal. See, we know what you are." Danny noticed the security guard approaching. His hand moving to his holster where his baton rested at his hip. She was about to alert Sam, warn him, when everything froze around them. Everything except them and Dr. Sexy.
The image of Dr. Sexy fizzled to reveal a completely different person. A blonde man with dimples as deep as canyons. "You guys are getting better," he complimented the hunters, not at all fazed by the fact they had figured him out. Well, Dean had figured him out. Dean couldn't help but smirk. "Get us the hell out of here," he demanded. The Trickster raised his eyebrows, looking between the three. His confidence was apparent. "Or what?" he replied with a feigned look of wonder. "Don't see your wooden stakes, big guy." His hand grasped Dean's arm tight, pushing his grip off of him. Dean gasped at the pain that settled into his skin.
"That was you on the police scanner, right?" Sam asked. "This is a trick." Danny's arms crossed over her chest. She had called it from the very beginning, it seemed. A trap, she had said. But did they stop to think that maybe she was right? No. "Hello-o-o? Trickster?" The man motioned to his face, a grin crawling across her features. She snorted at his playful antics. "Come on! I heard you two yahoos were in town. How could I resist?" His eyes floated toward Danielle for a moment. "And you got a new friend. How nice." He waved his fingers at her, and the brunette found herself blushing under his gaze.
Dean didn't seem to like the way he was looking at her, or his teasing. He took another step toward the Trickster, his face hard. "Where the hell are we?" he asked, tearing the god's attention away. He grinned. His dimples prominent in his cheeks. "You like it? It's all homemade." He turned toward the wall Dean had previously pressed him against and knocked on it. "My own sets, my own actors." He motioned toward the frozen individuals in the hallway. "Call it my own little idiot box."
"How do we get out of here?" Danielle asked. He grinned, hands moving to his hips. He looked to her, then Dean, then Sam. "That, my darling, is the sixty four dollar question." Sam's shoulders sagged. "Whatever. We just– We need to talk to you. We need your help." If the man before them was surprised, he didn't show it. His lips pursed as he hummed, sizing Sam up. His lips made a smacking sound as he parted them. "Let me guess. You two muttonheads — and my lady — broke the world, and you want me to sweep up your mess?"
"I was not in on the breaking," Danielle chimed in. She had to make that very clear. Both Sam and Dean shot her annoyed looks. Her shoulders lifted into a half shrug. "Please," Sam continued. "Just five minutes. Hear us out." The man before them shrugged. "Sure. Tell you what. Survive the next twenty four hours, we'll talk." Her face fell. She glanced toward Sam. Dean's face remained hard as he stared at the Trickster. He obviously was not happy with coming face to face with the man who had killed him so many times before. "Survive what?" he asked, his voice hard.
The trickster smirked. "The game," he responded as if the answer was painfully obvious. The trio of hunters still didn't seem to understand. "What game?" Dean continued, growing more and more agitated the longer he stalled. Danielle felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. The Trickster sighed, softly. His head tilted to the side. "You're in it."
"How do we play?" she asked.
"Oh, you're already playing it," he replied with a grin. Dean sniffed. His muscles tense. "What are the rules?" His line had been crossed. He was ready to kick the god's butt and send him directly to Hell. Sam's plan be damned. The Trickster wiggled his brows at the man before he disappeared in a spout of TV static. As soon as he disappeared, the extras began to move once more. "Oh, son of a bitch," Dean cursed. Danielle's eyes rolled. Now what were they supposed to do?
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Thanks to Dean, the trio could navigate through the hospital quite easily. He wouldn't admit it, but he'd watch the show enough to have the whole building layout memorized. She walked on one side of him, Sam on the other, as they tried to find a way out. "Oh, by the way — talking with monsters? Hell of a plan," Dean commented, his harsh tone directed toward Sam. Danielle rolled her eyes in annoyance.
"Just... what do we do now?" Sam asked, not wanting to entertain his brother's bickering. Dean scoffed. "You know what I'm doing? Leaving."
"And how are you going to do that?" Danielle asked, brushing past a nurse in floral scrubs. She glanced back toward Dean when another doctor ran straight into her. Hands gripped at her biceps. "My apologies," his smooth voice spoke from in front of her. Irritated, Dean grabbed the doctor and pulled him back. "Watch where you're going, pal," he warned him. Danielle almost laughed at the look on Dean's face. Was it jealousy? Perhaps.
Sam wanted to laugh, as well. It sat at the tip of his tongue before he noticed the nurse from before. Her hand raised to slap him again, but he was quick to stop her. "Lady... what the hell?" The doctor slipped past Danielle, his stare almost longing as she moved closer to Dean. "You are a brilliant, brilliant—"
"Yeah, a coward. You already said that," he interrupted her impatiently. "But I got news for you. I am not a doctor." Her face fell at his words. A look of sympathy heavy in her dark eyes. Danielle and Dean shared a look. It was almost like they were watching the show themselves. A soft gasp left her parted lips. "Don't say that." Her words came out breathless. Sam rolled his eyes, already done with the television world they inhabited. "You are the finest cerebrovascular neurosurgeon I have ever met... and I have met plenty."
"Probably slept with plenty," Danielle muttered under her breath. Dean's lips curled into a grin at her comment. "So that girl died on your table. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. Sometimes people just die." Sam paused. He searched her face for something. For any inkling of what the hell she was talking about. He licked his lips before replying, "I have no idea what you're saying to me."
She scoffed, dramatically. "You're afraid. You're afraid to operate again, and you're afraid to love." Her voice grew wet with emotion, tears sparkling in her eyes. Danielle and Dean both rolled their eyes at the dramatics of it all. Sam sighed. "Let's get the hell out of here," he huffed. The trio continued down the hallway as they searched for the exit.
"Nine o'clock," Danielle mumbled, just as a man began to move from a patient's room. His voice rang out, halting the three. His eyes landed on Dean, who looked incredibly annoyed. "My wife needs that face transplant," he stated. Dean stared at him for a moment, blinking. "Okay. You know what, pal? None of this is real, okay?"
Danielle's eyes widened. "And your wife doesn't need jack squat. Okay?" She sucked in a breath as Dean continued his way. Sam quick to follow. Her eyes trailed over the husband's face before she followed, too. That sinking feeling returning. "Hey, doctor," the man called out once more. And then it happened.
A gun shot rang out. Dean's body flinched at the impact, crimson spilling from a wound in his back. Danny's eyes widened. "Oh, my God," she gasped. His face grew red. A hand moved to grab Sam's arm. "Real. It's real," he said, knees buckling. Danny followed him to the floor, hands moving swiftly to stop the bleeding. "No, no, this isn't real," she argued, panicked.
"No, hold on. Hey! Hey, we need a doctor!" Sam shouted down the hall. Danny's eyes were beginning to blur with tears. "Hold still. I've got you." She's never treated a gun shot wound before. After all, she was a labor and delivery nurse. But she knew what to do when a crisis happens. And she knew that she had to stop the bleeding as fast as she could. "Don't move," she whispered. A single tear falling from her eye.
from rumi . . .
it has been seven months since
i updated this but here we are !
a new chapter for you guys to enjoy.
i haven't watched supernatural in a long
time. and, honestly, after the ending was
spoiled for me, i really didn't want to
continue. the ending felt unsatisfying,
and i wanted to remember the show the
way it was in the earlier seasons. you know?
but i can't fight my love for the show. and
my love for these brothers. it's a huge part
of me, even though i don't talk about it
much anymore.
i'm so sorry it takes me so long to write
this out, but i'm not giving up. as long
as people are interested, i'm going to try
and finish this bad boy.
thank you guys for reading!
feedback is greatly appreciated!