Chuck jittered beside me as we waited for the door of the crappy motel room to open. Ever since I met this crazy author of the television series I was about to be the star of, I knew he was a little off center, a little jumpy, but standing here in front of this green door that had seen better days, he seemed right about to jump clear out of his skin.
"Who is it?" the person on the other side called.
"It's me." There was an audible sigh and the door swung open.
"What now Chuck?" the voice asked as the door was opening and then the man on the other side saw me, and his whole demeanor changed. It went from being laid back, and annoyed to rigid and cautious in less time than it took most to blink. In my day I'd seen several actors that were able to change in and out of character quickly, but I'd never seen any actor, no matter the caliber, change that quickly. "Who the hell are you?" the man asked.
"Aaron Sumpter." I stated before I realized it. The man's voice was commanding and had an edge of danger in it.
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" He asked. I wanted to laugh. I was a well sought out actor, and this prick didn't know who the hell I was. What are we doing here anyway? Why was the crazy author bringing me to this obvious jerk?
"He's an actor."
"An actor? What?" There was a pause and then realization sparked. He grabbed Chuck by the shoulder drug him inside all the while Chuck making pain noises.
"What the hell are you doing bringing some pretty boy actor to my door?"
"He's from the show."
"The one you and Sam said was okay to do." Chuck said nervously.
"Oh. The one that Sam got me to agree to while I was drunk. Whatever. That doesn't answer why you brought the pretty boy here."
"I want him to get first hand experience."
"You and Sam."
"Chuck…" the other man said with a sigh.
"Just for the day."
"No! I don't want some stranger spying on me. That's creepy. Bad enough I've got angels and demons and whatever else on my back and watching me like a hawk. I don't need some pretty boy following me around taking notes on how I walk and talk. No."
I had heard enough. I pushed through the door and gave Chuck an accusatory look. "Wait. This guy. This is the guy that is the inspiration for the books."
"Inspiration hell! That is my life he's been writing about."
"Oh, so not only is he a prick but he's delusional too."
"Buddy, if I were you I'd keep my freaking mouth shut before all of those pretty veneers get knocked out of your mouth."
"Great, prick, delusional, and violent. Let's get the hell out of here." Chuck didn't move, he looked at me for a minute and then back at the other, considering something.
"He's not delusional Aaron. He's the real deal. He's the real Dean Winchester. Hunter."
"Oh come on Chuck. You can't believe that this douch actually goes out and kills ghosts."
"I've seen him do it. Him and his brother."
"Oh come on. It's fiction." Now this was way too much for me. I'm an actor, fiction is my business, but this, this stuff that was written, no way in the world could it possibly be accurate. No way in hell could the stuff that I'd read about happen to anyone and they still be standing.
"No, pretty boy, it's not fiction, it's me and m'brother's life."
"Where is Sam?" Chuck asked.
"We're in California because a Stanford friend called and wanted to see Sam. Every now and then we do that."
"I never knew that."
"Angels don't care about our "non-scripted" lives." Then he turned and looked at me. Those green eyes sliced right through me, he was looking deeper, deeper than I'd ever been looked at before, I think he could actually see my soul. "So, you think that you are going to play…"
"Dean." I said quickly fighting the urge to back up as he moved closer to me. He gave a small laugh and ran a hand down his face.
"You think you can play me?" he turned to Chuck. "They think some pretty boy actor who probably hasn't done a hard day's work in his whole life, can play me?"
"He looks like you."
"No he doesn't. He looks like an actor." Disgustedly he flipped my longish blonde hair. "Yeah, I'd like to have that kind of hair when I'm in the middle of a sewer with a flashlight looking for a shapeshifter." Then he looked down at my feet. "Or wearing expensive leather boots, those are all for show and wouldn't get you ten feet running full throttle in a forest."
"Wardrobe will fix it." I said dumbly. Dean laughed at me again and sighed.
"Wardrobe will fix it. Sure. I wish it was that easy. Oh that's right. My life will be your fiction. Whatever. Get the hell out of my real life. I've got to live it so you can have a script to work with."
Chuck looked defeated and he indicated that we should leave. I turned and looked at Dean's back and said. "If it is all true, then why don't you prove it to me?"
"Take me on one of these supposed hunts."
"I don't' have time to take pretty boy actors out and show them how to ghank a ghost, or monster. I've got an apocalypse to stop. Just go back to LA, let the wardrobe people put you in clothes that are more expensive than my car, and pretend to run through the forest, in your safe little environment, where you know you won't ever die. Go. Go back to that life pretty boy." Something about this man ruffled my feathers and made me want to be defiant and confrontational.
"I want to go."
"No." We stood there starring at each other, his eyes boring holes into mine, and I was hoping that I was affecting a similar stare, one that at least would prove to him that I was serious, and didn't betray my intimidation and fear.
"If you are telling me the truth then there shouldn't be a problem."
"What's going on?" a voice asked from the door. Dean's eyes went up and his face relaxed a minute bit. "Chuck?"
"Sam….ummmm…..meet Aaron Sumpter."
"Yeah. He's going to play Dean."
"He wants to go on a hunt with us Sammy. Wants me to prove that our lives are what we say they are." Sammy laughed.
"Dude, you don't want that. Go back to Hollywood."
"If this crap is real, then I want to go with you guys."
"I wanted him to see what he was getting into. I wanted him….to do you guys justice. I thought you two deserved at least that much."
I watched as Sammy and Dean looked at each other over my head. "I guess we could take that small hunt upstate."
"We don't have time for that Sammy."
Sammy shrugged. "We could make the time. I mean, it is hurting people, and that's what we do." Dean sighed, and I realized right then that he was going to cave in and do what the bigger man wanted. It was amazing. The complete change when Sammy entered the room was astounding, he became lighter and more reasonable.
"I suppose you're right Sammy." He looked at me pointedly. "Get your shit together. We're going to be at this for a couple of days." And with that Dean turned and went into the bathroom and slammed the door.
"Thanks Sammy." I said with a smile, and the bigger man gave me the same daggers that his older brother had given me moments before his entrance.
"He is the only person who calls me Sammy." He said threateningly and I was suddenly as scared of this man as I was the other. Maybe I didn't know what I was getting into.