A/N: As some who've read my stories might have noticed, I haven't touched on Supernatural except for that silly little soap opera fic. It's strange, considering Supernatural's my favourite show. The reason is, I can't write Supernatural unless it's funny. If I get heavy with those characters, I don't know where I'll end up. I've gotten heavy enough in my Smallville fics - hell, I've killed Clark twice - but Supernatural's different. it's scary. Maybe after the ash has settled on season 5. We'll see...
Anyway, I went back to silly for this. It's Dean and an email questionnaire - nuff said!
Big shout out and props to Darth Wasabi! This was her idea and she rocked it first!
Anyway, it was fun, and I'll keep going with the other characters.
Enjoy, and review if you even giggle...
…a supernatural q&a…
…prologue – dean is bored…
Dean didn't really know why he felt compelled to do it.
It was a combination of factors, he supposed. Ranging from several recent concussions, to boredom, to the feeling that it was all just getting a bit much recently.
The Apocalypse, hunting the Horsemen, the constant threat of an Archangel using him as a play toy… Dean was just sick of it.
He needed some relief. Something to get his mind off things.
Usually, that would send him hunting for the nearest bar in the hope that one of the cute waitresses was either, a) drunk, or… b) dumb enough to swallow, um… a line.
That wasn't an option on this particular afternoon.
Sam had the car. He was currently at the local library researching a spat of bizarre ritual murders. Dean was of the opinion that it wasn't anything supernatural at all – just the locals getting antsy with all the extra 'doom and gloom' going around.
This was the Apocalypse, after all. People were bound to get crazy.
The motel room he was in did have pay-per-view. Unfortunately, Dean had already seen every episode of Casa Erotica they had available. That was the downside to spending your life in slightly differing versions of the same motel. He blamed his father, really. Dean had been hooked on the sexy series from the minute he cottoned on to what credit card fraud was – which is to say, around 12.
That left Sam's computer.
Sam hadn't taken it along, insisting he would use the computers at the library, in the vain hope that Dean would bother to do some research on his own.
Dean flipped the laptop open and hooked up to the internet.
On a whim, he decided to check his email. Sam had signed him up for a free account a couple of years ago. Dean didn't know why, since he never bothered to email anybody.
When the page loaded, Dean was surprised to find that his inbox boasted 313 new messages.
"How the hell…?"
Nobody had this address, apart from a few people – none of whom were likely to send him… Dean peered closer to the screen… invitations to build a virtual aquarium.
Dean shook his head. Some people needed lives. Desperately.
How did they get his email address?
He started scrolling through messages at random, until one caught his eye. It was what Sam had called 'spam', for sure. To Dean, spam was still something you ate. Sam had laughed at the notion, and showed him the kind of spam wafting around the internet these days. Dean didn't want thoughts about ads for penis enlargers and 'something to eat' in the same zip code and had sworn off the internet forever.
When the boredom kicked in.
It was a questionnaire, the type that friends supposedly send each other in the fruitless quest to discover something new about the people in their lives.
It looked stupid.