so wasn't gonna write a second chappy to this, but then had a lot of people ask for here it is...hopefully it will make people smile!! thanks for reading!! bambers;)

Chapter Two

Sam eyelids fluttered open, at the low sound of Dean chuckling. He blinked several times, and then looked around the darkened room for his brother. Dean sat at the small table near the door, with Sam's laptop propped open, busily typing away. Sam checked the clock and was surprised to see that Dean was still awake after their long night of hunting.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" Sam asked, and his brother jumped a little in surprise. "You aren't reading those fan letters again are you?"

"Naw, waiting for more of them to come in so I can read them all at once."

"Research then?" Sam yawned tiredly, then stretched his aching muscles. Getting out of bed, he plodded over to the table and sat beside his brother.

"Kinda," Dean said, rather evasively.

"What does kinda mean?"

"I googled our names."

"Come again?" Sam asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Oh, come on, Sammy, everyone's done it at least once in their lives."

Sam was about to argue, but figured why bother. "So what did you find?"

Dean turned the screen so Sam could take a better look. "Supernaturalville . . . a whole site dedicated to us, Sammy. How freakin cool is that?

Sam quickly glanced at the screen, surprised to see pictures of Dean and him at the top of the screen along with the Impala and some of the things they hunted. "Still doesn't explain what you were typing."

"They have a chatbox, Sam." Dean gestured toward the screen. "See this girl here, named Kwater, Kel, to her friends, has stalker fantasies about us . . . think she might be hot?" He turned to look at Sam, then returned his attention to the screen. "Cause I kinda like the idea of a hot stalker chasing after us. Hell, I might even let her catch us."

Sam chuckled, and pointed toward the screen. "How about Fredo?"

"Dude, she has a seriously freaky obsession with the thought of us in a laundromat, stripped down to our boxers, washing clothes."


"Don't know." Dean shrugged. "But, she seems to like the idea of it being a hot and steamy night outside, and the air conditioning inside is broken so we'd be all hot and glistening."

"Move over a bit, Dean." Sam pushed himself a bit closer to the screen. "How about her?"

"That's Jude." Dean smiled. "She wants life size shower stickups of us . . . apparently another one of those, can't get enough of us in the shower girls."

Dean lightly smacked Sam on the arm. "Oh, learned what HurtSam and ProtectiveDean meant by the way." He hesitated, a slow grin slipping across his features.

"Well, you gonna tell me."

Pointing toward a few of the names, Dean said, "Apparently, some of these girls are sadistic. They like to see you hurt — A LOT. They also use terms such as SamWhumpage and LimpSam." His gaze trailed downward, and Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Better you than me, dude."

"I'm sure that's not what they meant, Dean."

"Whatever gets you through the night, Sammy." Smirking, Dean returned his attention to the computer. "Seems ProtectiveDean — "

"Yeah, think I can figure that one out by myself," Sam said angrily.

"They also refer to me as HurtDean and even heard seriously PissedOffDean . . . think that means I'm getting ready to kick some demon ass."

"How about that girl?" Sam gestured to the screen, more than ready to change the subject.

"Bambers . . . think she might be a demon, dude," Dean said, his tone turning serious.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, Jude keeps referring to her as evil, and so I skimmed through a couple of the stories she wrote, and I got to admit, Jude might have a point."


"Dude, whole freakin stories about us." Dean clicked on a link and a list of stories came up. "See." He clicked back to the main page, and continued, "Anyway, Bambers seems to have a serious LimpSam thing going on." He glanced down again, and chuckled. "So I'm thinkin demon."

Scowling, Sam punched Dean in the shoulder. "Dude, it so totally doesn't mean what you're implying." He turned to look at the screen once more. "Who's Sexylips? Seems like she has a serious thing for your hot abs, luscious lips, and . . . ." His voice trailed off as he saw Dean smiling. "Oh, my freakin, God . . . you're Sexylips."

"Naw, dude." Dean shook his head, trying to deny it, but his grin deepened.

Sam scrolled down, and read the comments left by Sexylips. "Much hotter than Sam . . . Lips that make me drool on my keyboard . . . his gorgeous green eyes make me go wild with burning desire . . . abs of a god. This is so totally you."

"Just trying to fit in with the crowd, Sammy."

"Yeah, whatever, dude. Let's read more emails." Sam was about to click off the screen, but Dean stopped him.

"Wait, gotta say bye to the girls."

"You're kidding, right?"

Sam clicked on his emails, and smiled. "Ahhh . . . Kayla who grew up in a small town, loves ghost stories, and is a Sammygirl all the way. Loves my sexy six-pack abs . . . got that, Sexylips. My sexy abs!"

"You forgot to mention she finds me just as delicious."

"But, she says she wants more Sam shower scenes, loves to see me dripping wet, with my towel riding low over my waist."

Dean pushed Sam's hand out of the way and clicked on the next one. "Seems Genevieve, who is an avid Deangirl, has a serious desire to see us get caught in a holdup on one of the shows."

"Why the hell would she want to see that?"

"Well, apparently, she wants the bad guys to steal all of our clothes, leaving us in just boxers."

"Seriously, dude, what is about these girls and boxers?"

"Well, from what Jude, Kel, Fredo, and Bambers say, boxers are totally sexy. Although, I think one of them wondered if we ever went commando." Grinning, they both turned and looked at each other for a moment. "Yeah, not even gonna go there, dude, gotta leave a little to the imagination."

Dean clicked on the next one. "Lam wants to see me take a shower outside, on some deserted highway, in the cold."

"Why in the cold?"

"I don't know . . . something about taut muscles and stiff nipples."

"Ah, that would do it."

Sam reached over Dean and hit on the next one. "Kori is on the fence and can't decide who she thinks is hotter, me or you." Sam drew in a deep breath, and slowly released it, then continued. "She suggests we have a contest to determine who has the hottest body. She has volunteered to be the judge, but says the judging would have to very hands on if she was to truly determine a winner."

"Could be fun."

Scrolling to the next one, Dean opened it. "This ones from Meh from Denmark . . . dude, more foreign girls . . . how hot is that." He glanced at Sam and his smile widened. "Seems Meh is a water nymph . . . wants us to come and take a swim with her. Swimsuits not necessary. Awww . . . dude, she wants to share her towel." Dean quirked a brow, biting at his lower lip. "How far to Denmark?"

"Dude, you don't fly, remember."

"Boats, Sammy. There's always boats."

"True, I'll look into it."

Sam opened the next one, and raised a quizzical brow. "Huh."

"What is it?" Dean asked half-heartedly, his mind still on Denmark.

"Apparently, Alanah, is writing a novel and would like your insight, Dean."

"Really. See, Sammy, all our hard work fighting demons is finally paying off. A book about us, pretty freakin cool."

"Well, it's not exactly about the Supernatural, Dean."

"Then what?"

"Well, apparently it entails you and a sexy dark-haired lover . . . she gave the name of the hotel she's staying at for research purposes . . . wants to make sure she gets all the details correct."

"Always loved doing research."

Sam shook his head, staring at Dean. "You so totally have never loved doing research."

"Just needed the right incentive, Sammy." He glanced at the screen, searching for the name of the hotel, but Sam clicked on the next email.

"Tilisha can't decide which she likes better, your thick beautiful body or my lean yet muscular frame, but has come to the conclusion, she would like to see us running through the forest chasing after a wendigo in nothing but boxers."

"Dude, where would we keep our weapons?"

"Dunno, apparently Tilisha is a HurtSam, HurtDean girl."

Dean pushed Sam out of the way and hit the button, and read the next email. "Maggie is a bartender and a real pool shark." Dean grinned. "My kind of girl."

"Huh, Dean, she wants to challenge you to a game of strip pool. Winner takes all."

"Could be interesting . . . save that one, Sammy."

Sam clicked on the last email. "This one is from Maria Noel, Dean."

"What does she say?"

"Says she loves your car."

"Smart girl." Dean nodded approvingly.

"Says she wants us to devote a whole show to washing it."

"A whole show?"

"Yeah, says watching us with shirts off, in the hot summer sun, all soapy and glistening would really make her day."

"So not washing my car with you, dude."

"Yeah, never gonna happen."

Dean yawned, then stood and stretched. "Think I'm gonna get to bed. What about you?"

"Naw, not tired. Gonna research our next job for a bit."

"Okay, don't stay up too long."

"I won't."

Dean strode to the bed, and flopped down onto it.

Sam glanced up from the computer screen, and made sure his brother was in bed. After a few seconds, he lowered his head, clicked on the Supernaturalville website, and registered himself under the name, SuperSexySam.

Scrolling down to the chatbox, he wrote, Damn, Sam is so freakin sexy . . . just love to watch him flex his pecs.

"Say goodnight to Fredo, Kel, Jude, and Bambers for me, Sammy." Dean chuckled, and rolled over to go to sleep.