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    Don't Call Me Dorothy!

    A new story from me, and it's a Supernatural/Smallville crossover.

    Author: Bally

    Title: Don’t Call Me Dorothy!
    Genre: Mystery/Humour
    Rating: T
    Characters: Dean/Sam/Lois Lane

    Summary: Sam and Dean find themselves in yet another television show as the Trickster continues to toy with them. A scene set within the episode 5x08 (Changing Channels).

    Author’s Notes: I do not own the characters. Shout outs to episode writer Jeremy Carver and director Charles Beeson for providing the framework upon which I’m hanging this tale. This is my first published foray into the world of the Winchesters, and reviews would be most welcome.


    This story is a one shot for Supernatural but it’s also a segue chapter for a much bigger story I’m writing for the Smallville universe. Readers of both stories will be able to treat them as standalone tales, or include this story by following the link (when I get round to publishing it!). I’m catering to those who prefer to stick to their favourite fandom as well as those who are happy to mix and match. It won’t affect your understanding of what is going on if you choose the first option in either case, but I hope you all agree that it’s a better and more interesting experience to opt for the latter. Hopefully there is something for everyone then!

    ---

    https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1332360...ALL-ME-DOROTHY

    ---

    Don't Call Me Dorothy!

    Dean blinked. These abrupt changes of scene could induce vertigo.

    The first thing he noticed was the rain. It had been raining cats and dogs for about a day now and the ground beneath his feet was saturated, soaking the bottom of his jeans and seeping into his socks. His feet felt extremely clammy. Aware that Sam was still beside him, Dean realised they needed to seek shelter immediately. If only they knew where they were. The little they could open their eyes, all that was visible was field upon field of lush grass that had taken on more water than it could handle, or row upon row of corn stalks swaying dangerously, their leaves raised upwards as if to shield their precious bounty from the vicious pelting they were taking. It was still daytime. Maybe.

    “Where the hell are we?” Sam shouted, barely audible above the clatter of giant raindrops hitting the ground. His hair clung to his face and his shirt was soaked through. He pulled it up above his head in a futile attempt to protect himself from the downpour. He was miserable enough and could still feel some discomfort from his punishment for not answering the question on a mad Japanese game show hosted by a sadist. It was fair to say that Sam had it in for the Trickster, and then some. How apt that the show be called Nutcracker! The answer was ‘Ruby’ but what was the question? Why did it matter?

    “I don’t know,” answered Dean with a hint of trepidation, looking for somewhere to take cover, ruing the fact that the Trickster - in dressing the brothers as he had throughout this little game - had left him with nothing but a flimsy jacket over his regular clothes. In his periphery he spotted what looked like a barn, and decided that it was as good a place as any in which to get out of the rain. If this was another TV show, it was definitely set out in the sticks. They couldn’t even call on Castiel for help.

    “Come on, we can take cover there,” Dean pointed out, breaking into a run and forcing Sam to follow. Sam did so gingerly, wincing as he felt the ache his efforts were bringing on. He wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to take a piss when he needed to, and he didn’t want to let on to Dean that his family jewels were still sore. Sam was annoyed that Dean had got out of having his own nuts cracked thanks to the knowledge of basic Japanese he’d gleaned from his love of those infernal anime stories. He also hadn’t been slapped by a hottie doctor either for that matter. Without doubt, Sam had been handed the ****** end of the stick.

    Squinting to keep the rain out of their eyes, the two splashed out of the deluged field and along a dirt road, at the end of which was a large red painted barn on the left. There were stables lining the near side, a window opening on the top floor and a creaking weather vane atop the roof. There was a large hose and reel just in front of a sliding red door. The door was closed. Making for the door, they went to open it when Dean spotted the yellow farmhouse a short distance away on the other side of the dirt road, framed by a white picket fence and an ornate little garden. In this light it was almost like an old sepia photograph. He stopped what he was doing and took in the vista which was again oddly familiar to him, just like the Seattle Mercy Hospital set of Dr Sexy, MD.

    Sam, who’d been trying to force open the heavy barn door, stopped when he realised Dean was no longer pushing with him. “Dean?”

    “Well I’ll be damned!” said Dean to nobody in particular, and all kinds of incredulous.

    “What? What is it? Where are we?” Sam called out again.

    Dean spun to look down the other end of the dirt path, just about able to see the hardwood sign swaying from a beam between two very tall posts. Then he spun back to take in the barn before finally fixing his gaze on the quaint yellow farmhouse that looked like the most cosy and welcoming place on Earth right at this minute. The barn looked like a cold and imposing edifice when set against the charm of the farmhouse. It couldn’t be, could it?

    “Things just got more interesting Sammy!” Dean barely noticed the rain soaking through his jacket and trickling down the back of his neck.

    “That’s great Dean, but enquiring minds wanna know...I don’t know...like where the hell are we!?”

    Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he simply put his hands in his pockets and proceeded to head on over to the farmhouse. Sam let go of the barn door in order to follow his brother, increasing his pace to catch up and try to figure out what Dean seemed to be so excited about. Obviously this was another TV show he had no clue about.

    Entering through the gate, Dean strode up the porch and knocked on the door. There was no answer.

    A bemused Sam was right behind him. “Alright. You obviously know this place from somewhere. Let me guess. Little House on the Prairie? The Waltons? Green Acres?”

    “If I have it right, we are now standing outside the house of one Clark Kent.”

    Sam’s eyebrow shot up. “Wait. Clark Kent as in Clark Kent? With the...?” He motioned with his hand an object flying through the air to make his point.

    “Yep.”

    “H-how do you know this exactly? That’s been around since like the 70s. And since when were you so into all that comic book superhero stuff?”

    Dean shrugged and knocked on the door once more, but again there was no answer. He tried the handle and was surprised that it opened.

    “Huh, how about that?” he said. “Looks like we might have landed up in Smallville. You know, the one about Clark growing up in high school.”

    Dean cautiously entered the house, finding himself in the kitchen he vaguely recognised, all homely decor and natural tones. Unbeknownst to Sam, Dean had been a secret fan of the show for the first couples of years, before all the demon hunting became a full time gig. He’d not really followed the show after those first couple of years so he didn’t know where the story went.

    Sam kept a close eye on Dean’s face as he looked around, and judging by the odd pang of recognition creeping through, he could tell that this show was another of Dean’s ‘guilty pleasures’. Was the Trickster using Dean’s secret TiVo favourites list for ideas of where to maroon the two of them? Maybe he could read Dean’s mind.

    He spoke in hushed tones. “You used to watch that? I thought you said it was sappy Dawson’s Creek crap and that Clark was a wuss.”

    Dean went on the defensive. “It’s not...I wasn’t...hey, how often are we holed up in motels huh? Come on! Your mind wonders and you end up watching whatever’s on the idiot box to pass the time. Besides, Smallville actually wasn’t that bad.”

    “Yeah well, you’d better not be into all that reality TV. And what happens if we bump into Clark Kent huh? What are we supposed to say?” asked Sam.

    “I don’t know. I’m kinda hoping we bump into Lana Lang though. She’s hot!”

    Sam had very little idea of who played whom on the show because he’d made a point of avoiding watching it. All he knew was that Clark Kent and Lex Luthor were buddies and not arch enemies. He carefully stepped into the hallway, seeing the grandfather clock at the far end, and several family photographs framed and laid out on the walls and the side table. All in all, it was a typical family home. He picked one of the photos up. It depicted the young Clark Kent together with his adoptive parents (having not lived under a rock all his life, Sam was completely familiar with the origin story of Kal-el after all). He noted that Clark’s father looked a lot like Bo Duke from Dukes of Hazzard, a show Sam had seen occasionally. Another photo showed Clark alongside what must have been his friends - a stocky African-American boy who was quite a bit shorter than Clark; a bubbly blonde with short hair, sparkling eyes and a beaming smile whom Sam thought was cute; and a brunette girl with very exotic features that he thought made her strikingly pretty - all dressed up for a formal occasion, maybe prom night. Another photo showed Clark laughing while playing with what was obviously the family pet, a shaggy-haired retriever that had leapt up onto him and his companion with its tongue lolling out. The companion was a brown-haired young woman who looked taller than the friends in the first photo. Certainly Clark didn’t tower over her nearly as much. Far from the radiant smiles of his friends though, the young woman looked a bit irritated in that moment. Sam could tell the show had a very pretty cast.

    “Hello!” Dean called out, still looking around the house. Again there was no sound.

    “Let’s get outta here,” Sam suggested.

    “And go where?” opined Dean, pointing to the torrent lashing outside the kitchen window. “Back out there?”

    No sooner had he said that when he was struck by a thought. Perhaps going back out there might just be the right idea. How could they play the game if there were no other players?

    “You know what? You’re right. There’s obviously no-one home. Maybe we should try the barn. Clark was always holed up in there. Maybe he can help.”

    “Oh now you wanna go back out in the rain?”

    “Do you have a better idea? We have to play our roles, but we need to interact with other characters to figure out how we’re gonna get ourselves out of this. Since there’s nobody here, I say we try the barn.”

    “What if we find someone there huh? How do we know who we’re supposed to be?”

    “Well, um, we’ll just see how they react to us and play off that. We can say we’re lost and that our car’s broken down or something, and ask them to drive us into town.”

    “And if that doesn’t work?”

    “We’ll get our asses kicked by Clark Kent.”

    *

    Releasing the barn latch with a hefty shove, the brothers slid the barn door open and dived inside, shaking off the excess rain. It was dimly lit, musty and with a slight chill thanks to the weather. There was the smell of fresh hay and diesel in the air as they moved further inside. Tools and machinery filled the space wherever one looked. Glancing towards the far end, Dean could see a wooden staircase and, following it all the way to the top, it looked as though there were lights on up there too. There was, however, still no sound.

    Sam decided to take a wander around the barn, peering at the bench grinder alongside an old green tractor. The props budget must have pretty high on this show because this was a fully working barn.

    “OK. What now?” he whispered in Dean’s direction.

    Dean had picked up a flashlight from the workbench behind him and was busy shining it around the barn. He stepped over to where Sam was standing. “I say we take a look upstairs. There’s gotta be something for us to work with up there.”

    “Not before you two tell me what you’re doing here.”

    Sam and Dean whirled around, startled to find a tall brunette woman with a ponytail staring back at them. She’d raised an adjustable wrench above her head, ready to strike. Sam squinted to see her in the dim light and noted that she looked a bit like the annoyed woman in one of the photographs earlier. She looked annoyed now. Maybe she was always annoyed.

    “Uh...,” Dean started, and then closed his mouth. He couldn’t think of anything to say. If he was supposed to be a character on the show, now would be a good time to figure out who. He definitely had no idea who this woman was. Maybe she was a new character. Clark was still a high school kid back when he watched the show but, aware he looked way too old to play a high school kid, he guessed that his wasn’t a character who went to high school. Maybe he was a friend of Clark’s. It didn’t matter because the woman answered for him as her eyes widened and she lowered the wrench a tad.

    “Oh my god. Jason?” she uttered, stunned. All that was missing was the dramatic musical cue you usually find with an end-of-scene revelation.

    Dean considered it for a split-second and chose to go along with it and play the role. Apparently he was Jason, whoever Jason was, and clearly not somebody she was expecting to see.

    “That’s right. I am Jason.” He sounded like a bad line reading.

    “What’re you doing?” hissed Sam.

    “Just roll with it,” Dean hissed back.

    “This is stupid!” Sam hissed again, annoyed.

    “Look, just...follow my lead alright,” Dean insisted, still hissing, and very aware that the woman had yet to take her eyes off them both.

    He directed his most winning smile at the woman, but the smile disappeared when she merely intensified her glare back at him, arms crossed. She was still holding the wrench and something told Dean that she could handle herself. There was still no hint of recognition. She was definitely attractive though.

    “This just gets weirder and weirder. Whatcha do? Come back from the dead?” She didn’t pause to notice Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “I can’t think of many people who might survive a direct meteor strike, unless it really is all make-believe.”

    Sam and Dean spoke in unison.

    “What’s all make-believe?”

    “I survived a direct meteor strike?”

    Maybe Jason has powers too, thought Dean. Every week, the show featured a character with powers. The character either got a life lesson from Clark in how to be a Goody Two Shoes, or they turned bad with Clark ending up saving the day and rescuing his friends and family. Every week, they pandered to their youthful audience by also throwing in a whole lot of will-they-won’t-they, secrets-and-lies romantic angst.

    “Well duh! Seriously Jason, or actor-who-plays-Jason or whoever the hell you are, don’t you people follow your own lives? You shacked up with Lana in Paris and then followed her back to Smallville like a lovesick puppy. You were the high school football coach before turning into a psycho nut-job over some stones of power mystical alien mumbo jumbo. That made no sense to me by the way. Then you tried to kill the Kents before the house scored a direct hit in the second meteor shower. Though I still don’t get how you’re standing here because I know it actually happened. I saw the body parts. I remember I almost puked because of the smell!”

    The woman paused her ranting to take a breath, which appeared to have calmed her down. Sam and Dean knew they were dealing with a firebrand. A sexy firebrand at that.

    Dean’s mouth ran away with him and he uttered the first thought that came to his head. “Me and Lana got it on? Wow, things got real good!”

    He took a step towards the woman - an ill-advised move.

    The woman took up a defensive martial arts stance, wrench still in hand. “Whoa, back up there, Mr Walking-Dead. I’m a black belt and I’m having what you might call a very bad day, so you’re about this close to me kicking your ass if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here.”

    Dean hesitatingly backed up while Sam, looking genuinely worried, had backed right up against the wall behind him. This was not going well.

    “I...uh...don’t know why we’re here. I was hoping maybe someone could help shed some light on that. Maybe you know something. Who are you?”

    “Lois. Lois Lane. Although in this very real nightmare I’m supposed to be Erica something,” the woman sighed, Smallville’s very own Lois Lane.

    “Lois? As in the reporter Lois? Daily Planet? Su-...uh, Clark’s girlfriend?”

    “That sounds so weird. I don’t even know what I am anymore,” Lois answered bitterly. “I woke up this morning thinking I could just get back to work and forget about all the craziness of the past few weeks. But nooooo! I wind up in some parallel dimension where my whole life is played out in high def and I get judged by random strangers on the internet who know more about my life than I do. Some of them hate me just for being here. Go figure.”

    Lois’ shoulders slouched and she put the wrench down on the workbench beside her. She looked thoroughly fed up and miserable.

    Sam had had barely an input in the conversation thus far before Dean piped in again, believing that they were in no danger. After all, Lois Lane was definitely one of the good guys in the Superman saga. She was Kal-el’s gal, his biggest champion and a force of nature in her own right. Dean adopted what he believed to be a sympathetic tone in keeping with the show’s more quiet dramatic moments. Playing the role.

    “I’m sure it’s just a temporary glitch in the Matrix. I know that Clark used to get really hung up on Lana but between you and me, I thought he and Chloe would have been great together. The fact though is that everybody knows Lois Lane is his gal. Clark and Lois. Lois and Clark. It’s like the law of the universe or something.”

    “Yeah, I noticed the whole world sees it that way,” she sighed. She’d begun to believe it for real until the events of very recently. “But...wait, why are you telling me this? Is this some kind of trick?”

    “How do you mean?”

    “Well, are you really Jason or are you the guy who played him? I don’t remember the name. It was something weird like Justin Pickles.”

    “Justin Pickles. That should be your stage name,” Sam offered with a smirk.

    “And as for you,” Lois continued, directing her gaze back at Sam, quickly wiping the smirk off his face. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. I can see you’re tall, you have dark hair and you’re wearing a flannel shirt. You must be the stunt double.”

    “Played him? Played him how?” asked Dean, trying to ignore Sam.

    “Stunt double?” asked Sam, trying to ignore Dean.

    “Good one!” Lois laughed sarcastically. “OK actor guy. What’s going on? Why is my life being beamed to over a hundred different countries, showing me as the klutz who can’t see what’s right in front of her face? It’s a little insulting if you ask me!”

    Sam’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Was he hearing this right? If he was, then ‘Lois’ was in the same predicament that they were. “Are you saying you’re on a TV show but you’re not supposed to be?”

    “That’s exactly what I’m saying! Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look. According to the internet, I’m supposed to be Lois, ace reporter for the Daily Planet with the world’s greatest hero on speed-dial while I whisper sweet nothings to the clumsy dork who ‘stole my heart’!” She used air quotes for that last part, rolling her eyes. “Instead, I’m Lois, the Daily Planet basement dweller who has the hots for tall, dark and handsome without ever catching on that he’s the mysterious Red-Blue Blur.”

    “Red-Blue Blur. That sounds as lame as Justin Pickles.”

    “I came up with that,” Lois glowered at Sam. Red-faced, he shrunk back to the wall. For whatever reason, he felt so intimidated by her presence that he could feel himself shrivel up. After being slapped and then having his nuts cracked, he figured he might as well add emasculation to the list. What was next for him, a sex change?

    Dean tried to steer the conversation back on track. “Uh...Lois, where does Jason fit into all this? Does he know Clark? Was he a superhero too?”

    Lois gave Dean a strange look. “You really don’t know do you? What happened? Amnesia? A common occurrence around this neck of the woods. Comes with the water. A way for Clark to hide his secret. How convenient.”

    “I guess you might say we’re having an even worse day than you.”

    “I’ve seen the clips. Jason...you...he...whoever...got killed off at the end of season 4. I went off to Europe after the meteor shower but I never once heard your name come up after I’d returned. It’s like Lana completely forgot that you two were serious for a while. Some continuity, huh? And now I’m standing here trying to figure out what the hell is going on and still not getting any answers.”

    Dean and Sam sneaked a glance at one another. Lois - or crazy-woman-who-thinks-she’s-Lois - had been looking at them with such intensity that it even unnerved Dean a little. Sam was like a little boy lost. The fact she thought she was an unwitting player on a TV show struck a chord with the brothers.

    “Whatever you think I am, believe me, I’m not,” said Dean. “I don’t know the first thing about this Jason. I last watched this thing years ago so I don’t know the full story. They still make it?”

    “This nightmare is up to season 8.”

    “Eight years! Wow! More gas in the tank than I realised.”

    “You really aren’t actors then?”

    “Oh believe me, ain’t no way anything’s gonna get me up on stage. I’ll stick to my day job, thank you very much.”

    “Alright, I’ll buy your story, provided you tell me who you are.”

    “Right, well uh...I’m Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sam. We track down the supernatural - demons, spirits, that sort of thing. We got into a sitch with one of them so he’s decided to toy with us by trapping in this bizarro TV world, making us pop up in different shows where we have to blend in and play the part. He calls himself the Trickster and-“

    “Wait!” Lois interrupted, unimpressed. “Demons, spirits, tricksters, TV shows. Before you go on, do I need alcohol? Call me a raging sceptic, but I’m having some trouble buying what you’re selling.”

    “Yeah, I’ll admit that some days our lives sound like a steaming pile of crapola with us as the clean-up guys, but trust me on this one. We’ve been forced to play surgeons in a medical drama, and contestants on a crazy Japanese game show already. Now we’ve been dropped in the middle of a comic book.”

    “How do I know this isn’t just some sort of prank?” Lois glanced around, hoping to spot one of those candid cameras hidden somewhere in the barn. Nothing. It still looked just like the Kent barn.

    “Everywhere we’ve ended up, we never see the cameras or the director. It’s like we’re dealing with these characters for real. Look around! Do you see any cameras or directors? I’m pretty sure they’d have a sound guy and someone supervising the script. This looks nothing like a TV set. You said you saw some stuff that actually happened. Were there any cameras around filming it all?”

    Lois conceded that Dean may have a point. “Well, no, but-“

    “Exactly! We’ve all had this dumped on us by our douchebag master of puppets.”

    “Then I don’t understand. I’ve lived through everything I saw. I have no doubt it’s all real, that it wasn’t some giant prank that no-one told me about. I always knew this town was weird but this just about takes the cake.”

    Sam regained a fraction of his masculinity and rejoined the discussion. He’d been listening eagerly to everything Lois was saying, poring over the permutations in his head only to find that the current situation was a real anomaly. “We think we know why we’ve ended up here, but what I don’t get is how you got caught up in this. Anyone you may have pissed off recently? That might do it.”

    “Please!” Lois scoffed. “I piss people off for a living. Although now that you mention it, there was that one flight attendant this morning who’d made it his mission to make sure I had the worst flight possible. Seriously, who straps in when they don’t need to? And he was stingy with the coffee. And I swear he spilled some on me on purpose. He might be a dick but I don’t think he’s this Trickster guy.”

    “Actually, that’s why I was hoping to run into Clark. I figure we could use his help to fix this,” Dean suggested, hopeful that the last son of Krypton could do his super thing and save the day. In this world, that was the answer to everything.

    “Smallville? He took off with his friend Rocky to zip to the future or something to prevent all this from happening.”

    “Damn it!” Dean muttered under his breath, the excitement that had begun to bubble within due to the possibility of meeting Clark just disappearing suddenly.

    “You sound awfully disappointed Dean,” Sam pointed out. “Another guilty pleasure I’ll bet.”

    “Shut up!”

    Sam shook his head, amused that Dean could be such a fangirl at times.

    “Mind if we wait? I’m pretty sure we need to run this by him.”

    The barn door suddenly slid open and a rain-soaked Clark walked in. His hair clung to his face and he wore an expression of extreme irritation. He headed straight up the staircase and into his loft. Dean stared at Clark’s rapidly retreating form, totally star-struck. He even gripped Sam’s arm for good measure.

    “Careful Dean. He might catch you blushing.”

    That snapped Dean out of the moment. He released Sam and coughed, trying to appear all ‘manly’ and adjusting his jacket collar.

    “Clark! Did you find out who’s behind this?” Lois called out as she followed him up the stairs, surprised that he hadn’t seen her. Sam and Dean followed behind until they were all in the loft. This was again a very familiar sight for Dean. Countless moments from the show were set right in this cluttered space. He could see the old couch, the desk, the books, and the telescope perched by the window.

    “Yes and no,” Clark mumbled.

    She looked at him expectantly. “Well?”

    Clark finally noticed that Lois wasn’t alone. There were two strange men now standing in his loft too. When he saw their faces, a glimmer of a smirk formed on his features.

    “Tell me you know how to get us out of this bind. I’m getting serious caffeine withdrawal symptoms here, and I know I don’t get paid enough to deal with all this stress.”

    Clark continued to ignore Lois, firmly focussed on the brothers instead. That only incited the ire of Lois even further. She wasn’t one for having her patience tested.

    “Hey! Did this Rocky guy find the answers?”

    “I don’t know,” Clark replied. He seemed very disinterested in finding answers to their predicament, aimlessly wandering about the loft.

    “Oh? So where did you head off to?” Lois carried on enquiring, arms folded once more.

    “Here and there. It doesn’t matter.”

    Lois was visibly annoyed now. She stepped over to Clark and shoved him on the shoulder to get his attention. He took a step back, surprised by the ferocity of the blow.

    “Ow! What was that for?”

    “Oh don’t act like that hurt, Smallville. We both know you relax when I hit you so I don’t end up hurting myself.”

    “Well it did!”

    “How can that hurt you Clark?” asked Dean, moving nearer to join the conversation. “You’re the Man of Steel!” he gushed.

    Lois squinted at Clark, sensing something was off about him. He didn’t notice that Dean knew all about him and his abilities, something that should have been a red flag since Jason had never learned that Clark was an intergalactic traveller. He’d suspected something was off about Clark hence why he’d threatened the Kents on that fateful day, but after that, Jason had been treated as if he didn’t exist. Clark also wasn’t showing his tell-tale signs of amnesia. There was no confusion or fear showing in his eyes. Instead, he was looking at her like he had no idea who she was. In addition, there was a trace of arrogance and mirth in his voice totally at odds with the Clark she knew so well. Oh he could tease her and give as good as he got, she knew that, but the seriousness of their situation wasn’t one where he’d look to turn the tables on her. Was this the Trickster that Dean and Sam had talked about?

    Lois decided to test her theory. Go big or go home.

    “If you really are Clark, then this is gonna hurt like a *****!”

    Without warning, she pulled her left fist back. She was going to spark him clean out. Dean and Sam were rapt observers.

    Then just like on the set of Dr Sexy, MD, all activity ceased, leaving the other players in suspended animation while Clark, Sam and Dean were still able to move at will. Lois’ left hand was coiled back and ready to deliver the recipient into the next universe. Her face was scrunched into the epitome of rage, eyes burning with fury and the veins by her temples on the verge of popping.

    The tall form of Clark morphed into the average height of the Trickster as he decided to finally address his unwilling subjects.

    “Oopsie! I didn’t have this in mind but it’s a nice little segue don’t you think? Something to keep you on your toes. You boys are finally starting to catch on but you’re not playing the game. What say we up the ante?”

    Sam was unimpressed. “You know you could have waited a few seconds more. I’d have paid good money to see her ring your bell.”

    “Yeah, I’m gonna say ‘no’” replied the Trickster, stepping clear of Lois and her fist.

    “I’ve just about had enough of this. I’m done playing your games. What do you want from us?” Dean shouted, ready to square up to his foe once more.

    “Play the part, as your brother so aptly put it. Do you think you’re up to the task, champ?” the Trickster mocked.

    Dean bristled that the Trickster was happy to continue exerting his control, and that made him square his shoulders and threaten some physical violence. It would be oh so satisfying. “You son of a *****! If the part involves me drop-kicking your ass through that open window, then I’m game if you are.”

    “Aww, is Dorothy getting upset?”

    “Screw you. Besides, we’re already in Kansas, dumbass!”

    The Trickster simply grinned with another twinkle in his eye. Another change of scene was in the offing. “In that case, allow me to take you to the Land of Oz. Cut!”

    “Wait!”

    A burst of static, and Sam, Dean and the Trickster had vanished.

    The still life painting gave way to motion picture once more as the previously inanimate Lois and her fist continued their previous trajectory, swinging at fresh air so hard she stumbled and collapsed onto the couch with a yelp. “What the hell...!”

    For the Winchester brothers, playtime wasn’t over yet.

    ---
    FIN.










    Last edited by Bally; 06-28-2019 at 02:54 PM.

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