#“Oh I’m sewing I’m just like that made up guy from that improvised play” < normal thoughts for a normal guy to have :)

[i-may-be-an-emu]

channeling my inner Toby rn :D

Snakehips vest for my cosplay ^ :]

[w-k-smith]

The Deetz-Maitland-Beetlejuice family is coping pretty well with shelter-in-place, until Adam invents an extremely complicated board game that no one else can understand. As more of them stop playing, the more obsessed he gets with perfecting the rules, leaving Lydia worried about what the endpoint might be.

Read here on AO3, or below the cut. All my off-topic ramblings author’s notes are on AO3, though.

 Day 1

No one knew what Adam was up to until it was too late.

The Maitlands loved their hobbies. Barbara often said picking up and putting down new hobbies was their only consistent hobby, and Lydia considered it to be one of the most fun things about them. Every couple of months, Adam and Barbara found something new they wanted to try, and asked a living member of the household to pick up supplies at the craft or hardware store.

The Maitlands would be the first to admit that they often had more enthusiasm than talent, but sometimes one or both of them turned out to be really good at something. They’d knit sweaters for every person, living and dead, in the house for Christmas. Beetlejuice refused to admit how much he loved the pullover his boyfriend and girlfriend made for him, and wore it nonstop for weeks, and only Barbara’s puppy-dog eyes had convinced him to part with it for one afternoon so she could wash it.

So Lydia was curious when Adam gathered an armload of scrap paper and cardboard and disappeared into the attic. She hoped it would be fun, or at least interesting, because she was anxious and bored enough that she was starting to miss school.

Connecticut’s shelter-in-place order had cast a new energy on the house. Lockdown was going fine, with a few bumps. Even with the protection of Beetlejuice’s sandworm-wrangling skills, the ghosts didn’t leave the house much, and were happy for the extra company. Beetlejuice had volunteered to do grocery shopping, but wasn’t one for sticking to a list or following directions, and had come back with eight boxes of Kashi cereal, a kumquat, and fish food. Delia was coping by meditating and doing yoga in the backyard up to six hours a day. She’d banned any discussion of the news in her presence, and Lydia still found her stress-vaping on the porch at three in the morning.

Lydia was annoyed at how well her father was doing. Charles was adept at sewing masks out of scrap fabric, and kept his hands busy by making piles of them during his endless Zoom work meetings. He’d also forced a quiet hours rule for those Zoom meetings after Lydia and Beetlejuice played a game of tag that ended with a broken window.

“Restricting the movements of the people is a symptom of a fascist state,” Lydia told her father.

“Go do your schoolwork,” he said.

“It’s Saturday. And I did it already! How do you think I know so much about fascism?”

He pressed his thumbs between his eyebrows. “I don’t care if you play around with Lawrence all day.” Charles had taken to calling Beetlejuice by his first name, because he had to explain Beetlejuice’s presence whenever Beetlejuice was around when visitors came over, or, these days, whenever Beetlejuice barged into his office while the webcam was on. “This is Lawrence, my oldest,” Charles typically said, quickly and gruffly, and people seemed to assume he meant “my oldest son, who I have from a previous marriage,” rather than “my oldest dead roommate who is my daughter’s best friend and is in a committed relationship with the deceased couple in the attic.” And Charles himself seemed fine with the assumption. It delighted Beetlejuice utterly. “Please just be quiet for a few hours.”

Lydia sighed, and stormed off. “We have to make as much noise as possible today,” she told Beetlejuice when she found him sitting at the top of the stairs.

“Normally, I’d love that, but we have a new problem,” he said. “Adam’s being weird.”

“Everyone in this house is weird,” Lydia reminded him.

“Adam’s destroying the living room.”

Lydia leaned over the banister. Adam had covered the living room floor with scribbled-on pieces of paper, figurines, and little improvised game pieces. He was speaking intensely to Barbara, but her head was tilted to one side, like she did when she was confused.

“What are you doing?” Lydia asked, walking downstairs. Beetlejuice floated behind her.

“I invented a board game!” Adam said.

“He did. It’s called, um…?” Barbara trailed off.

“It doesn’t have a name yet,” Adam said. “But it’s part Risk, part Monopoly, part Dungeons and Dragons.”

Lydia frowned. “That sounds–”

“Do you want to try it?” he asked, and his eyes were so bright and excited Lydia couldn’t turn him down.

“Let’s all play,” she said. “I’ll get Delia.”

“I’ll get Da-CHARLES,” Beetlejuice said.

Fifteen minutes later, everyone was sitting in the living somewhere that wasn’t covered with paper. Adam gave them all a set of pieces, but they each seemed to have a different assortment, because, as far as Lydia could tell, they were playing against each other. Except where the game was collaborative. Except where they had to group into different factions.

“I’m very confused,” Delia whispered to Lydia.

“I am, too,” Lydia whispered back.

“Why don’t we all ever play the games I make up?” Beetlejuice asked.

Charles didn’t look up from the board. “Because, Lawrence, much like you, most of them are very messy and hard to understand.” The roots of Beetlejuice’s hair started to turn purple. “Ergo, you are not allowed in charge of family game time.”

“Family game time?” Beetlejuice repeated, and the purple faded back to green.

Lydia saw Barbara catch Beetlejuice’s eye and mouth Oh, he loves you right before Adam announced he had an idea for a new challenge play.

 Day 2

One by one, the players dropped out of the game.

Charles was the first to go, because he got an emergency call from the vice-director-of-blah-blah-blah. Beetlejuice kept cheating, was ejected from the game by group consensus, and spent several hours sulking behind the couch.

Delia gave it a valiant try. She put more effort into following along than anyone except Barbara. Her enthusiasm started real, became fake, and ended with her asleep on the floor wrapped up in her caftan.

Lydia stopped playing, but stayed in the living room. She messed around on her phone but kept an eye on the Maitlands, wondering how far the game would go.

Finally, right before midnight, Barbara gave up. “Are you going to be OK on your own for a while?” she asked.

“Sure!” Adam said. “I’ll have this perfected in no time.”

Lydia watched him tape two pieces of poster board together, then went upstairs to go to bed. She hoped he’d be done by morning.

 Day 3

Lydia began to get worried. Adam’s game spread across the living room like a spider’s web, as he added more pieces, more levels, more intricate steps that only he could understand. It still didn’t have a name.

“Ghosts can get obsessed,” Beetlejuice told Lydia. “How do you think some of them keep haunting the same hallways for centuries without imploding from boredom? I’ve never seen a ghost get this wrapped up in a board game, though.”

“Something you haven’t seen?” she said. “That’s concerning.”

 Day 4

Lydia made Barbara and Beetlejuice sit down in the kitchen.

“I need your help,” she told them.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Barbara asked.

“Whose body do you need me to hide?” Beetlejuice asked.

“We have to stop Adam.” Lydia pointed behind her at the living room. “This is madness. And not good madness. You guys have to stop him.”

Barbara nodded. “We have talked to him. But he’s pretty determined about this game. I suppose we could start another conversation…”

“I don’t mean that,” Lydia said. “I meant other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” Barbara asked, frowning. But Beetlejuice was grinning, because of course he was.

“I mean distract him romantically,” Lydia said. “Look, kissing is gross – you’re just mashing your food holes together. But this house is getting desperate. If you alloromantic people can’t use your wiles–”

Beetlejuice choked on nothing. “Wiles?”

“–What’s the point of having them?”

“That’s not appropriate, Lydia,” Barbara sighed.

“I’m offended you assumed I hadn’t tried already,” Beetlejuice said.

“We have to scare him out of it,” Lydia said. She and Beetlejuice stood in the foyer, right outside the living room, watching Adam drift around his enormous board. “Like the hiccups.”

“I’ll do the snake face,” Beetlejuice said. He started to storm in, but Lydia grabbed his sleeve.

“He’s seen the snake face. You do it all the time,” she said.

“Ooh, oh, what if I make the furniture come alive, and they all behave like different wild animals, and they all have teeth–”

“That’s not shocking enough. How about that thing where you turn yourself inside out?”

Finger guns. “I like the way you think, scarecrow.”

Beetlejuice strode into the living room, out of Lydia’s line of vision.

“Hey, sexy,” she heard him say. “Having fun – aaagh!” A squelch, splattering sound, a howl through an inside out mouth.

“Hi, BJ,” Adam said, his tone distant. “Can you hand me that deck of cards?”

“There are cards now?” Lydia whispered.

She heard a wet snap as Beetlejuice put himself back together. “Sure. Happy to. This isn’t disappointing at all.”

 Day 5

“Hey, guys?” Adam asked from the other room.

Lydia walked in cautiously. The debris of the game was still strewn all over the living room, so you couldn’t tell if the current round was in progress, or if a tornado had hit a hobby store.

“This is nothing, isn’t it?” Adam said, in a tired, defeated voice.

Lydia nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“I just wanted a distraction,” Adam said. “I know we’re all as safe as we can be in here, I just get so worried.”

“Adam’s back! C’m’ere, hot stuff” Beetlejuice charged down the stairs, tackled Adam onto the sofa, and kissed him on the mouth. “Babs and I thought we’d lost you for good!”

“We didn’t think that,” Barbara said. She squeezed Adam’s shoulders.

“I completely understand, Adam,” Delia said, coming in from the kitchen. Charles was close behind her. “I’ve found diversion to be the best way of coping when life gets upsetting. When I was kicked out of that all-women ska band in the ’90’s, I threw myself into underground poker tournaments, and long story short I was briefly engaged to a prince of what turned out to be a micronation.”

“I’ll clean up the mess,” Adam sighed. Lydia suspected that would be easier said than done, because Beetlejuice was still sitting on Adam’s lap and wasn’t acting like he was planning to move.

“Then let’s do something fun together,” Delia said.

“Monopoly?” Lydia suggested, unable to hide her grin.

A chorus of “Absolutely not!” and “That’s not funny, young lady!” with Beetlejuice adding a mock-offended “Lydia Cordelia Deetz, who raised you?” though that wasn’t even close to her middle name.

“I’m kidding,” she said.

“How about a movie?” Barbara said, scooping up the closest pile of papers.

“Make it something with a lot of sequels,” Charles said. “We’re at home for the long haul, after all.”

“We’ll have to remember all this for the next plague,” Beetlejuice said. Lydia could have asked him why he sounded so sure when he said “next,” but decided it was just better to get some popcorn and ignore it.

[huntertales]

Part Two: Play Your Roles. (Changing Channels S05E08)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes Word Count: 4,919. A/N: Oh booooooy, someone sucks at updating. I'm really sorry you guys had to wait so long! I tried starting this part about ten times, but nothing really felt right. But I hope this was worth the wait. Enjoy!

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

You've never wanted someone's bloody severed head on a spike more than you had at this very moment. Over the past three years the trickster has been a thorn in your side that you tried ignoring after your second visit from him had ended with him slipping through your fingers again, thanks to the younger Winchester. All of this, and the mystery spot incident, could have been avoided if he had just stayed dead from the first fatal meeting ended with him getting stabbed in the chest with the wooden spike you jammed into his chest. But it seemed your attempt at pulling a prank on him only ended with him laughing, because he sent in a doppleganger to do his dirty work. But you weren't that dumb. If he wanted you to play this stupid game, fine. Lucifer could wait just a little longer, and there was no angel or demon to mess with you, the only target you had your sights on was the trickster himself. He might have gotten you and the boys cornered, but you were coming out swinging when he least suspected it. After all, if he wanted you to play a certain role, that was just fine. He just needed to know you liked to improvise on the script.

"Oh, by the way—talking to monsters? Hell of a plan, Sammy." You turned the corner of the hospital you and the boys were still trapped in after the trickster vanished from your sight. Sam walked behind you, and from the tone of your voice, he didn't need to see the expression on your face to realize you were beyond pissed off. He could have saved you the trouble of being ambushed if he just listened to you. But, no. The younger Winchester let out a sigh, knowing he was wrong, but all of you had bigger problems, like trying to figure out your next move. "You know what I'm doing? I'm getting the hell out of here and finding that son of a bitch.”

You managed to find a doorway that was labeled an exit in neon red letters, but before you could head for it, you were stumbling out of the way when a flash of brunette hair and blue scrubs came right into your vision from the corner of your eye. You got out of the way when Dr. Ellen Piccolo made her move again on Sam, but before he could fall victim to another backhanded slap, he dodged the assault, making her freeze. "Lady," Sam warned her with a frustrated tone, "What the hell?"

Ellen stared at the man with a passionate and fiery gaze, "You are a brillant, brillant—"

"Yeah, a coward. You already said that. But I got news for you." Sam cut the woman off, already knowing where this entire scene was going. He leaned down slightly to her level, wanting to make it crystal clear of what really was going on here. "I'm not a doctor."

"Don't say that. You are the finest cerebrovascular neurosurgeon I have ever met...and I have met plenty." Ellen told him. You looked at her slightly with a funny gaze, wondering what was unfolding right in front of your eyes. Sam tried his hardest not to roll his eyes as she kept going on with her nonsense. "So that girl died on your table. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault.”

Sam nodded his head slowly, "I have no idea what you're saying to me."

"You're afraid." Ellen said. You could see her eyes were becoming glazed over as she stared at the man in front of her, from your guess of the trickster's obnoxious and tasteless sense of humor, very passionate love interest. The more you let this show unravel, the more you felt like you just stepped into a soap opera gone wrong. "You're afraid to operate again, and you're afraid to love again."

You stepped out of the way when Ellen squeezed herself between you and Dean, disregarding the both of you, almost as if she didn't realize you were standing there. You found yourself letting out a quiet laugh as Ellen dramatically walked down the hall, Dean, however, looked at his brother with complete surprise at what had unfolded right in front of his eyes. It seemed he was taken back himself at the level of drama that was unfolding right in front of his eyes. Sam shrugged his shoulders, knowing for a fact he'd never seen that woman before his life until today, and you were right about getting out of here. The three of you only managed to get a few feet before somebody else popped out from an open doorway of what you were presuming was a hospital room. Rolling your eyes in frustration, you stopped in your tracks and looked at the man, but it was Dean who he was speaking to.

"Doctor?" The man standing in the doorway timidly asked. Dean tried his hardest not to walk away, instead, he decided to give the man five seconds of his time to see what he wanted, hoping it would be of importance. Of course, it was just some stupid storyline to go along with the hospital drama."My wife needs that face transplant.”

"Okay." Dean muttered underneath his breath, having enough with this show. He looked at the man with a dead serious expression to tell him the bitter truth of his reality. "You know what, pal? None of this is real, okay? And your wife doesn't need jack squat.”

Dean thought that maybe the man could understand his reality was false, and that he was just living through a scripted TV show that came on once a week for an hour runtime. But it seemed he couldn't get that through his thick skull, as the show kept going, only for a dramatic twist to spice things up. You looked over your shoulder slightly when you heard the man call out again, but this time, he was done talking civilly. You didn't notice the gun he pulled out from his back pocket, and when you did, it was too late.You heard the familiar sound of a gunshot echoing through your ears, and someone's tight grip around your forearm. Quickly looking over at Dean, you realized that this reality the trickster put you in was very real, and the bullet in Dean's back was pumping blood that wasn't a prop. Your eyes widened in shock as you felt yourself being dragged to your knees as Dean found the pain becoming unbearable.

"No, no, no, no!" Sam panicked as dropped himself to his brother's level. He tried to help the man work through the man, and without thinking he shouted on the top of his lungs for help as a small crowd began to form around all of you. "Hey! We need a doctor!"

"Sammy," You got his attention after the younger Winchester frantically looked for help when it was all around you. "You do realize we're in a hospital full of doctors, right?"

While you and the boys might have been in one of the safest places to get shot in, that didn't mean the script of this reality would let Dean get treatment from a medically trained profession. You stood outside of the operating room with your lips pouted out to match the tightly furrowed brow on as you crossed over your chest in frustration. Dean was luckily being taken care of for the surgery they needed to complete, and while he might have been numbed up and lying face down, he was wide awake for the surgery—and Sam was his doctor. You tried your hardest to squeeze yourself into the operating room but you were quickly thrown out by a few of the female nurses after they claimed you were just an intern.

So you were forced to wait on the other side of the glass, watching Sam's every little move he made. When you saw appear from the corner of your eye, you slowly turned your head to see that it was Ellen standing right next to you. She stared on at the younger Winchester with almost a proud gaze, thinking it was brave of him to conquer his fear of losing another patient by trying to help save the life of his older brother. You found yourself rolling your eyes so far in the back of your head, only the whites of your eyes showed before it started to hurt.

"B.P. is eighty over fifty...and dropping."

If you were having a rough time here, Sam felt like someone had thrown him to the wolves. He was surrounded by nurses who were talking medical that even he didn't understand and handing him tools that he didn't know how to use. Sam wasn't a stranger to bullet wounds, he'd faced plenty in his time of hunting, and patched up a few himself. But all he needed was some hard whiskey, a switchblade and a sewing needle to get the job done. The female nurse at his right side wouldn't stop trying to give him a scalpel, even though his hands were clearly filled with some gauze as he tried to stop Dean's wound from bleeding so much. The nurse tried again to get him to grab the scalpel, nervously swallowing, her gave her a small smile and shook his head.

"Sam, do something." Dean hissed at his little brother, knowing his life was on the line. It wasn't exactly perfect timing for the other man to get stage fright when he was nearly bleeding to death. Oh, and the bullet lodged in his back wasn't all that great either. "Come on."

"I don't know how to use any of this crap." Sam admitted, making sure to keep his voice no louder than a whisper.

"Figure it out!" Dean wasn't in the mood to hear the man's excuses. These kind of hospital dramas could go either way. He could survive and make a miraculous recovery after the doctor figured out a genius plan that no other could think of. Or the doctor could freeze up, having flashbacks of his previously failed attempts at saving a life, only adding another one to the list. It was a storyline for an episode during the second season for Dr. Sexy. Dean, however, didn't want to find out which role the trickster had for him. "Sam! Come on. I'm waiting."

"Okay, um, I need a...penknife, some dental floss, a sewing needle, and a fifth of whiskey." Sam found the instructions coming out from his mouth just a few seconds later after he allowed himself to emerge into the role. You were happy to see there was progress being made, but you found yourself slowly finding a strange shift in the mood of the scene. The two nurses standing at the man's side gave one another a look, and while their mouths were covered, it wasn't hard to see the passion, or maybe it was lust, growing in their eyes at how Sam was taking control of the situation. Sam, however, was losing his patience with everyone. "Stat!"

In just the matter of minutes Sam got what he needed to operate and got to work. You watched as the man took out the bullet, dropping it out as it made a soft clanking noise against the metal table next to him that only he could hear. And just a few minutes later, he was stitching up Dean's wounds, announcing to his brother that he'd make a full recovery. Sam turned to tell you the good news, but he found his gaze lingering over to Ellen, who been watching him the entire time. She stared at him with a soft smile as her hands rested in the pockets of her lab coat. It wasn't hard to see her cheeks were stained with tears after she began crying at how easy the man gotten over his fear of operating once more. To make matters worse, when she made eye contact with him, her smile grew as she mouthed "I love you" to him and pressed her palm against the glass. Sam found himself getting weirded out as she stared lovingly at him.

While Sam tried brushing off the incident as nothing, he slowly dragged his attention away from the woman, and to you. But you weren't helping one bit. You stood just a foot away from her, only adding more drama to the scene. Your fingers traced a heart figure in the air and winked at him. Only that wasn't enough. Sam gave you his infamous bitch face as you pressed your palms against the glass and dramatically mouthing "I love you" as Ellen had did. You found yourself breaking the stare as you began laughing from the deadly glare Sam was giving you from the operating room. You and the boys had completed your first role, little did you know this was the beginning of what the trickster had planned.

+ + +

Everything sort of happened faster than you could process. First you were standing outside of the Settle Mercy Hospital hallway in comfortable scrubs and sneakers, and then all of a sudden, your senses were being pounded with loud noises and indistinct voices you couldn't understand. You felt there was a breeze against your skin, but as you tried to take in a breath, you found yourself coughing as your smell and sight being blocked by smoke. You shut your eyes for a moment as you tried to wave away the smoke from wherever it came from. While you were beginning to suspect the trickster had thrown you into another show, what you were about to see would be the least of your guesses. Everything around you was colorful and too bright for your eyes to handle from the stage lights straight ahead. You squinted your eyes slightly to see that you were on a stage and with an audience just ahead, but it was hard to see nothing more than shadowy figures without distinct faces. However, you did see two familiar faces, only they were in a pretty strange predicament. Just...not as bad as yours.

"What the..." You furrowed your brow as you looked around for a moment, knowing right away from the setup of this place that you and the boys had landed yourselves on the set of a game show. And while the boys were the players, you must have been Vanna White, minus the swanky dresses. Your hands quickly pressed themselves against your bare midriff, heat creeping into your cheeks at the skin you weren't used to showing.  "What the hell am I wearing?!"

You noticed right away the outfit wasn't the least bit modest; from the itty bitty skirt that hit just above your knee and a top that worked more like a bra, not to mention a hideously bright white thigh high boots that pulled this outfit all together. Only for the added touch, you slowly touched the top of your head to feel that you were wearing some plastic headband. Your lips stretched into a frown when you realized they had devil horns on them. The rosy pink color on your cheeks began to darken when you heard someone softly whistle, and of course, Dean found the sight of you embarrassed and barely clothed amusing. You gave him a dirty look before averting your gaze, trying your hardest to find a way out of here, but the plan only stayed in action for a few seconds before the show continued on.

You quickly turned your head to the right of you when out of nowhere a man came strolling through a pair of double sliding doors that happened to be right next to you. He spoke with charisma and energy as he headed onto the stage with a bright smile. While the crowed loved him, you couldn't understand a single word he was saying, because if you had to guess correctly at the outfits and crazy setup of the place, the next challenge was a Japanese game show.

"Let's play 'Nutcracker'!" The announce shouted with a grin, making the audience go wild with applause. You slightly winced at what was happening here as you examined the strange contraptions that the boys were in. Maybe you were starting to second guess at how you were handling this new show. The man pulled out a few cards from his pocket of his very metallic looking suit. You still couldn't understand a single word he was saying, until, he spoke a very familiar man's name. "Sam Winchester..." Sam was caught off guard and stared at you and his brother like a deer in headlights. The man couldn't understand the question that was being asked of him in Japanese. "What was the name of the demon who chose you over your own brother?"

"What? Uh...What am I supposed to say?" Sam found himself baffled for a right answer. Normally he was good at these kind of things. You and him would sometimes watch games like Jeopardy and try to answer questions faster than the appointments. But this was far from what he was used to. He looked at you and his brother for help, but neither one of you had a clue of what was going on. And the ticking time wasn't helping your anxiety of what might happen when it turned to zero. "Uh, I-I don't—I don't understand, uh, japanese." The host did just that, asking a simple question Sam should have known, only if he could understand what he really was saying.The younger Winchester let out a chuckle, "Is he screwing with me? I-I-I can't speak japane—"

But it was too late. The time on the clock ran out an alarm buzzed, making it known Sam had lost this round. The host shook his head in disappointment as he looked down at his cards. "The answer is...Ruby." He read off the paper, but neither one of you could still understand him, until he spoke a very familiar name. You furrowed your brow as Sam looked confused, wondering why a dead demon's name was brought up. "I'm sorry, Sam Winchester."

"Sorry?" Sam asked, a bit baffled at the early apology. "Sorry for what?"

It seemed you were going to understand how the show got its name after Sam took an unwanted demonstration. Your eyes widened in absolute shock when you watched as one of the contraptions keeping the boys in place went swinging up, and right in the area which wasn't the pleasant to feel a force against. You winced as Sam felt maximum pain in his lower region, worse than what he was used to feeling. His face turned red as he tried his hardest to brush off the pain like it was nothing. But the small grunts he let out as he folded over made you realize he’d gotten more than just a swift kick. You found your gaze lingering away from the poor man in pain, for the other woman dressed like you decided it would be a good time to lure the audience's attention for a product placement. You took the chance to sneak over and see if Sam was all right.

"Sam," You tried your hardest to bend down to his region, but with your outfit that barely covered anything. You only ended up standing straight and giving him a sympathetic expression, knowing he was still trying to brush off the last effects of the pain. "You okay there, buddy?"

"Peachy." Sam managed to say between clenched teeth. You could see that he was beginning to get better when he turned his head slightly to look at you better from the corner of his eye. His face scrunched up in discomfort at what he noticed you wearing. "Nice outfit, by the way."

"Shut up." You muttered to him, trying your hardest to pull down your skirt to keep from any unwanted flashes coming out by accident. But it seemed you were about to have far worse problems. You looked over at the double doors that you had been previously standing next to when you heard banging coming from the other side. Rolling your eyes, you thought this was part of the game. "Now what?"

Yet it seemed you counted off a good friend of yours for a special guest appearance. As the doors slid open, you realized the day might have just been saved by the familiar Cas himself. He headed out to the stage, but he seemed unsure of what was going on here and the theatrics the host put on when he caught sight of the angel. "Is this another trick?" Sam whispered to you and Dean.

"It's me." Cas said, reassuring the younger man. He furrowed his brow at the sight of the boys, but it was another story for the expression on his face when he caught sight of you. Rolling your eyes, quickly put up your hand, not wanting to discuss this right now. All you wanted to do was go home and pretend this entire situation never happened. "Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Us?" You asked him with confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." Cas answered. "You've been missing for days."

"Get us the hell out of here, then." Sam hissed at the angel, having had enough of this.

Cas didn't need to be told twice. You watched as he took just a few steps forward giving you hope that all of you might get of here alive, but just like that, he quickly disappeared from your sight. "No, no, no, no." The host stepped away from the other woman as he slowly shook his head and began walking forward to the three of you. "Mr. Trickster does not like pretty boy angels."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure Mr. Trickster wouldn't like my foot up his ass." You muttered underneath your breath, mocking the man.

The host laughed off your threat as he pulled out his index cards again from his suit jacket, deciding it was time to continue on with the game. He spoke a few words in japanese again that you couldn't understand before going to another question. "Dean Winchester..." The man looked a little bit frightened when it was his turn to play. And it didn't help that the host was still speaking in a foreign language he barely understood. "Would your mother and still be alive if your brother was never born? Countdown!"

"What do I do? What do I do, Y/N?" Dean questioned you with a panicked tone. You gave him a very baffled look as you shrugged your shoulders. In all honesty, you had no idea what was going on anymore. "I don't want to get hit in the nuts."

"I know, uh, uh...." Sam came to his brother's rescue, but the slight pause as he tried to figure out the right answer wasn't a good move when you notice the clock was ticking down, and fast. When you hissed the man's name, he finally spoke again. "I played a doctor. In--In 'Dr. Sexy.' I played a doctor. I operated. So, I played the role the trickster wanted me to play. M-maybe we just have to go along with it." Dean looked at his brother, not sure what he meant by that. "With the game. I mean, we're on a game show, right? So, just answer the question."

"In japanese? I don't know japanese!" Dean hissed at his little brother, the only remark he'd gotten back when you looked at the clock was for him to try. You felt your body stiffen when you noticed the clock strike back down to zero, but instead of hearing the alarm, Dean moved quickly, hitting the red button right in front of him. The entire room fell silent, and as the man wasn't sure how this would work, he opened his mouth and spoke—all in fluent japanese. "The answer is....yes?"

The entire place fell into an eerie silence. You were worried at how hard it was to read the host, his expression was serious, making you wonder if Dean had accidentally gotten the answer wrong. But you found yourself letting out a heavy sigh of relief at the news you heard next. "Dean Winchester--'Nutcracker' champion!"

"So that's it." You forced yourself to smile even more and began clapping in the direction of the crowd of faceless shadows as the host demonstrated for you to do so after he dramatically threw his cards up in the air. "We play our roles, we survive."

"Yeah." Dean agreed, but he found a slight flaw in your thinking. The trickster said that all of you would win this game if all of you survived for twenty four hours. But according to Cas, it'd already been a few days. "Play our roles for how long?"

You forced your smile to grow wider at the thought, "Good question,"

+ + +

The change of scenery was quite different from the last position you were thrown into. You were outside on a sunny morning with your view of the lake and you were standing barefoot on a dock. While you were in more comfortable clothing this time in yoga pants and a tank top, you tried your hardest not to let the discomfort of this little commercial the trickster decided to throw in for giggles. You inhaled a deep breath as you balanced yourself enough to outstretch your left leg and position your right arm out in front of you to create the perfect pose. Looking straight ahead, you tried your hardest to make yourself say the four words, despite how uncomfortable it made you feel. Your lips stretched into a tight smile, and between clenched teeth, you forced yourself to say it.

"I've got genital herpes." You announced to nobody there.

An older man sat in his living room with his wife beside him, both of them shared a small smile before announcing a little secret that he'd been keeping from the world. "I have genital herpes."

Sam and Dean were off playing a round of basketball somewhere else with a few other guys they've never seen before in their life. But the younger Winchester played along, he easily got himself a shot as he watched the ball go into the hoop before it dropped to the pavement. Letting it bounce over to another player, Sam turned around in his spot, and while he knew what to say, the man wouldn't do it. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. You're the one who opened your big, fat mouth and told us to play our roles." You hissed at him from your position on the dock. "Say it or I'm gonna kick you in your balls again."

"Okay, okay." Sam mumbled, throwing his hands up in a defensive position for a split second before they settled back down to his hips. He didn't want to go through the excruciating pain  again, and knowing your temper, you would stay true to your threats. He let out a sigh, and after spending a few moments silent, he got himself to say the words. "I've got genital herpes."

'This is so stupid." You muttered underneath your breath. Now you were sitting down on the ground with your legs crossed over one another and your hands in a praying position against your chest. Still, you played along, saying your next line. "I tried to be responsible."

The old man glanced over at his wife, she gave him a look, almost like she was pissed at him, but she gave him a tight smile. Maybe he cheated on her with a younger woman, that's why he got an STD, for being an irresponsible dirty old man. "Did I try." He admitted.

"Now I take twice-daily Herpexia to reduce my chances of passing it on." Sam said, making himself continue on, despite the embarrassment he was feeling at this very moment.

You changed your position again, now this time, you were standing with the sunlight hitting the water, making just the right shadow across your body as you outstretched your arms. Rolling your eyes, you made sure to give the proper advice to anybody watching this. "Ask your doctor about using Herpexia."

“Patients should always consult with a physician before Herpexia. Possible side effects include headache, diarrhea, permanent erectile dysfunction, and thoughts of suicide."

"I am doing all I can to slightly lessen the spread of—of...genital herpes." Sam forced out his last line for this stupid commercial. But he began to realize that pulling all his teeth out would seem less painful than what he was being put through. “And that's a good thing.”

Sam let out a sigh of relief when he said his final line, and with that, he turned away from whoever he was supposed to be talking to and headed back to the game with his brother. You, however, still found yourself stranded on the dock as you now sat on the ground with your legs stretched out. All though you couldn't see where he could be, for added measure, you reached up and gave the trickster a middle finger and mouthed a not so nice word directed at him. And for that, he decided to turn up the torture just a few notches, just to teach you a little lesson on how much control he really had over all of you.