AN: My latest project, for the month of December I will be posting a new chapter each day. Meaning this story will be 31 chapters in total. For those reading 'Phoenix Rising' don't worry, I will try to get a new chapter up before Christmas. This also marks my first attempt at a Supernatural fanfiction. So please be kind, and review! ~ Ella
When Sarah found Katie there was going to be hell to pay. Serious bodily damage was about to go down when she found the bitch. It was priority numero uno. Well maybe her second priority ... or third. It had been her first priority all of yesterday when her roommate and best friend, had skipped out on her birthday. It might not have been such a big deal to many people – but Sarah, Katie, Lianne and Elaina always went all out for each other's birthdays. Someone would bake a cake, another would bring balloons and streamers, everyone would help pay for cover charges and drinks at which ever club the birthday girl wanted to go to. Since their first year of University, it was tradition – and you don't mess with tradition. It was a sure way to get hit by a pillow.
So Sarah had spent all of yesterday waiting for her best friend, her sister, to show up – and she never did. There was never even a phone call. She had progressed from curious, to worried, to frantic, to pissed. By the time she had come home from the bar, practically carried by Lianne and Elaina, she was furious. She had decided to wear Katie's shoes and necklace as pay back, deciding to hold them hostage until Katie apologized. That would show her!
Unfortunately her anger at Katie had been shoved down the priority list when Sarah opened her eyes the next morning and found herself tied to a chair, wearing the same clothes as the ones she had worn last night. Now her numero uno priority was getting out of this unknown place before what was sure to be some psychotic serial killer decided to return and off her. Luckily Sarah watched a lot of television. She just needed to distract the killer and humanize herself to him, and pray to god that her parents or roommates or someone would phone the police. She figured she had twenty-four hours to get out of this – after that, chances are she would be dead. Or was that only true for children?
Regardless, the ropes chafed her wrists, and her shoulders were stiff from sleeping in the awkward sitting position. In fact, she couldn't even feel her toes. Sarah's auburn bangs fell into her eyes and itched her nose. She tried to blow them away, tilting head back and still her bangs fell into her eyes. Never again was she cutting her bangs! Never!
The room she found herself in was run down. Horrible dark red wallpaper was peeling in places, cobwebs had started to develop in the musty corners and dust floated in the dim sunlight that shone through smudged windows. Yep, definitely a serial killer's lair, it had that dark "I'm about to kill you" look to it that screamed psychotic killer with family problems.
"Seems the princess is awake," a gruff voice said from behind her. Sarah swung her head around so fast she got a kink in her neck. Wheeling into her line of sight was a middle aged man with greying beard and moustache, trucker cap and plaid shirt which was open to the grey t-shirt underneath. He looked exactly like Bobby, the fictional character from Supernatural, which was extremely unsettling. Sarah wanted to be able to get out of this alive and not have difficulty watching one of her favourite television shows.
"About time," a voice said from the doorway in front of her. Right there in front of her stood the replicas of Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles. Holy shit. That was it – Supernatural was officially off the viewing list if these clones turned out to be murdering psychopaths. She just couldn't handle that.
Sarah felt an intense need to say something. Unfortunately when she opened her mouth the only sound to escape was a high-pitched "huh" that got caught in her throat. Large blue eyes darted between the three men. Make it personal, she reminded herself; it's like in Criminal Minds. This is a pack situation, meaning one of them is the weak link and if they feel sorry for me, maybe they will slip up.
"Who are you?" The Jensen-clone asked gruffly.
"S-S-Sarah, Sarah Nadeau," she finally got out. "P-please let me go. I won't tell anyone I swear. I have a little brother, he's fifteen, a bit of a brat but I love him – you know? And my older sister Olivia, she's crazy. Her wedding is, like, in less than two months and I'm her maid of honour and I keep getting phone calls at two in the morning because she's freaking out that she ordered the wrong flowers or colour scheme. So you need to let me go because otherwise she's going to have a panic attack or something. Plus my roommates - they must be worried. We just got our advent calendars, and today was the first day. If I'm not there Elaina will eat my chocolate. Plus my parents, we're so close, we talk every day. It would kill them if anything happened to me. So, why don't you untie me and I'll just say that I was lost or went for a walk. Please just don't hurt me!"
Sarah took a large gulping breathe, in her terror she had been able to say all that in one breathe. Jared-clone, Jensen-clone and Bobby-clone, seemed to just blink at her for a moment, before looking at each other like she was the crazy one. Some sort of silent debate seemed to be going on between the three of them.
"How do we know you aren't just pretending?" Jared-clone asked arms folded across extremely muscular chest, Sarah could not help but notice.
"Why would I pretend about my family?" Sarah asked, completely bewildered. "That makes no sense."
"Enough of this," the Jensen-clone grumbled, grabbed a bucket from the door and tossed the contents at her. For one split second, Sarah thought it was acid or fire-ants or something equally horrifying. However, when the first icy splash hit her, Sarah was relieved and confused to find out it was just water.
"What the hell?" She demanded. "Seriously, are you planning to freeze me to death? You are officially the worst serial killers ever!"
"Serial killers?" Jared-clone asked.
The Jensen-clone merely pulled out a silver knife from his socks.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god, look I'm sorry. I'm sure you are extremely talented killers. Please, when I was nine I took violin lessons, but quite halfway through the lesson because I thought the instructor was mean. I used to steal cookies from the cookie jar and blame my brother. Oh god, please don't kill me!" Sarah frantically pulled at the ropes holding her to the torture chair. She tried to be calm, but she couldn't stop the tears which started to flow. Thoughts of her family started to drift through her mind. She just wanted to go home.
"I'm not going to kill you," Jensen-clone said, roughly grabbing her shaking hands and prying them open. With the knife he quickly (and a little too efficiently for Sarah's liking) cut her palm.
Trying to blink away her tears, Sarah could not stop the shivers racking her body. It was December, the house was draughty and she was soaked to the bone. The men gathered in the next room and huddled together, probably determining how to kill her. She suddenly wished she had paid attention in elementary school when they had "pioneer days" and had bothered learning how to make knots – because the more she struggled against the restraints the more the ropes cut into her wrists.
"Listen, we're going to untie you, but you still need to answer a few questions," Jared-clone said, as if she was slow or something. Slowly nodding to show that she understood, Sarah could not help the flinch that shook her body when he pulled out a mother of a blade. What was up with all the knives?
Jared-clone freed her wrists first, which she was not surprised to see had been rubbed raw against the rough rope, and then he freed her feet. Sarah just barely resisted the urge to kick him in the face and try to bolt for it. There is no way she would get past the two other men standing guard.
"First off," Jared-clone spoke again, "we are not serial killers."
"Who are you?" Sarah asked, trying to mask the horror she was feeling.
"My name is Sam, and that's my brother Dean. That's Bobby," 'Sam' said, pointing to each of them in turn.
Sarah just looked at the clones. For a moment no one spoke.
"Bullshit," Sarah said vehemently, her hands curling into fists. "I get that you may look like Sam and Dean Winchester – but if you are going to come up with lame fake names, maybe you should take a leaf out of your favourite characters' book and stick with the rock aliases."
"How'd you know our last name?" 'Dean' asked. "We never said what it was."
All three men were now on high alert. They looked ready to attack her if she said one word wrong.
"Don't you think I'm going to scarred enough from this experience, without you guys actually pretending to be some of my favourite characters?" Sarah complained. "Why don't I just call you Bob, Joe and Trucker Dude?"
"Fictional characters?" Bob, aka Sam, said slowly, as if piecing something together. "You read Supernatural don't you?"
"For the love of ..." Joe, aka Dean, grumbled. "Stupid Chuck and his books ..."
Sarah just looked at the two of them, then at Trucker Dude, aka Bobby ... in his wheelchair. Bobby was only in a wheelchair during season five, but that was ridiculous. There was no way she was in a television show. Feeling the need to be completely honest, Sarah shook her head.
"I've never read a Supernatural book," she said. "They don't exist."
"What do you mean, don't exist?" Bobby asked in his gruff voice. Now that she thought about it – they even sounded like their characters. But ... it was impossible.
"I mean, I watch the television show called Supernatural, about two brothers Sam and Dean Winchester who travel around the countryside driving the Impala, sometimes referred to by fans as the Metallicar and they kick supernatural ass," Sarah said. "Chuck and his 'prophetic' (Sarah added air quotes for good measure) books were just the television writers way of acknowledging their fans."
"We have a television show?" Dean asked, looking ready to flip out. He was ten million times more terrifying in person. They all were. No, these men were terrifying – they were not actually Sam, Dean and Bobby and she was not in TV land.
"No, you don't have a television show, idiot, because you are not Dean Winchester. Do you honestly think that an angel gripped you from perdition?" Sarah asked. It figured that she would be kidnapped by crazy people. The men seemed speechless. "You know what, you're right, you are Dean. I'm sure you sold your soul to bring little Sammy back from the dead, went to hell, broke a seal, was raised from the dead by a trench coat wearing angel and are now trying to find a way out of being Michael's little bitch, also known as a vessel. So, why don't you all enjoy your fucked up fantasy world, while I return to reality."
While she had them stunned, Sarah stood up on wobbly legs. Ignoring the pins and needles that were shooting up and down her legs, she stopped mid-step when something caught her eye. The ceiling was a horrible piss-yellow colour, and drawn up there was the devil's trap. Stepping away from underneath it, Sarah suddenly realised that not only were the people the same as on television, but the room was. It was like she was on the set, if the set had no cameras, and besides, that was impossible she had gone to sleep in Halifax! That was the opposite side of the country from Vancouver.
"Where am I?" She asked.
"Sioux Falls, South Dakota," Sam said, almost out of instinct. "How do you know all that?"
"South Dakota? No, no, no, no, no. No. No," Sarah denied, rubbing her bare arms. "That's impossible. You are crazy. Last night, I was in Halifax! How'd you smuggle me across the border?"
"Whoa there, we did not kidnap you," Dean said. "You are the one who just houdini'd your way in here."
Sarah did not know what to say to that. Was she really in South Dakota? Or was it part of their wacko fantasy? Sarah shivered, her little black dress was still soaked and she could not seem to get warm.
"Why don't you go upstairs, third door to the right, in the closet there should be some clothes you can wear," Bobby offered.
"Bobby!" Dean protested.
"Well, she ain't no demon or shifter, so maybe we should step back for one bleeding second and figure out what's going on!" Bobby shot both boys a stern look, seeing if there would be disagreements. Neither of the boys said anything, though they both looked unsure about letting Sarah wander through the house by herself.
"Thank you Bobby," Sarah said, her ingrained manners coming through.
As she was at the door, she could not help but turn around. "Sam," Sarah paused, not sure how to phrase her question. "How do you feel?"
"What?" Sam asked, looking bewildered.
"How do you feel? Emotionally?"
Dean looked at Sarah suspiciously.
"Fine. Confused?" Sam said. "Why?"
"Just checking something," Sarah said as she left the room. Great, if all this was right – then she was somewhere in season five. Sam hadn't been turned into Robo-Sam yet. Dean hadn't lived with Lisa and Ben. Castiel was still an angel in the midst of falling. Bobby was still in his wheelchair. She knew it was crazy to believe, but as she walked through Bobby's house, it seemed harder to dismiss what was in front of her very eyes.
If all this was true, Sarah needed to survive long enough to get home. Shouldn't be too hard, there was only the apocalypse going on.
AN: Hope you enjoyed Day One. Only thirty more to go! RR ~ Ella