Title: Killing the Fandom

Chapter: Four

~~~~~~~~~~

“There he is!” Marissa bounced up and down in her chair.

“Who,” Gwen asked. Marissa had been waiting at the bar doorway for Jo to come down, attaching herself to the two of them as soon as they walked in. In a move as devious as Jo herself sometimes was, Marissa had taken a ‘reserved’ table sign from behind the bar and stuck it on one table. She claimed she’d asked for it, but Gwen didn’t quite believe her.

So far, this evening had been a study in absurdism. The whole idea of people reading Chuck’s books, thinking it was fiction, and coming to a convention for it where the real Sam and Dean just happened to be as well tickled her sense of humor. Sam and Dean were hating it, but Gwen was trying to keep an open mind. Jo was already starting to lose her open mind about it as the people here in the bar assumed she was LARPing as herself. It didn’t help that Marissa kept telling people to call Jo ‘Jo’ because she was a serious LARPer. Marissa did indeed have a big mouth.

“David Angle. Route 666? Plays Dean?” Her glance was puzzled. “Your husband LARPs as Sam and you don’t know about the movie? Don’t you like the books? You should read the books, support your husband’s fandom. It’s a really good story arc, though I hear Carver Edlund is going to really flesh it all out over the next few books. This movie, it’s, like, a dream come true for true fans. I’m surprised your husband hasn’t been talking about it.”

“Oh, that David Angle.”

The actor that crossed the room was one of the handsomest men Gwen had seen in a long time and she vaguely remembered seeing him in a couple of those bad movies Dean liked.

“He used to be on Lost,” Marissa confided.

“I never watched that.” She’d never had the time or the interest in the show. Mark and Arlene had both watched it, but she hadn’t. Christian had maintained Mark watched it just for Evangeline Lilly. He’d probably been right.

“Oh. He’s had bit roles on The Vampire Diaries and Grey’s Anatomy and just finished some voice work before landing the role of Dean.” She smiled. “He’s so doable. Look at that strong jaw, the wide shoulders, the firm, muscled arms….”

“He is a ton of pretty,” Gwen agreed. She’d once called Dean’s features delicate for a hunter and David Angle had the right sort of look to play Dean. Maybe she’d pop into David’s panel in the morning and see if Dean got in a fight with him. It was inevitable, in her opinion, that Dean would go to the panel.

“Too bad they couldn’t get Darrin Skosinski, the guy who plays Sam. He’s shooting a movie though, some 80’s slasher movie remake. He wanted to come. I hear he sent a video for us with David.” Marissa sighed. “He’s so approachable. A real guy, you know? Or at least that’s what all the interviewers say about him. David, I mean. Darrin, too, I guess.”

“Sure.” Gwen saw Jo on her way back from the bar holding two drinks the size of fishbowls (both for Jo). She bumped into the actor, scowled and said something to him.

“Did you see his interview? Oh. My. God. He, like, understands the fans and I hear from a friend of a friend who has a friend who’s cousin’s girlfriend’s mother’s best friend saw an advance screening that he has a total, complete understanding of Dean as a character. He, like, gets, him, you know?”

She coughed to smother a laugh. “I’m sure he does.” That clinched it. She was totally going to David’s panel in the morning. It’d be interesting to hear his insight and compare it to what she knew of the real man. Maybe she could convince Jo to go as well.

“So.” Marissa crossed her arms on the table edge and leaned over a little. “What’s your husband’s real name, Gwen?”

Jo joined them and set her drinks down with snockered care. Her cocktails in the room had been large and strong, the consequence being that she no longer gritted her teeth whenever Marissa spoke. “Yeah, Gwen. What’s Sam’s real name?”

A mischievous urge welled up inside her and she chose an alias at random that he used occasionally. “Keith. But don’t call him that when he’s in character. Breaks his concentration.”

Jo shot a questioning glance her way. “You know, just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean he won’t get pissed at you.”

“Of course that’s what it means.” Where was the harm in playing along a little? It wasn’t like any of these people would ever see them again.

“Why? Why won’t he get pissed?” Marissa leaned forward a little. “Did you have trouble getting pregnant and the baby is, like, a miracle?”

Knowing all she knew, miracle was something of the word for it. “Something like that.”

“Gwen.” Jo half laughed and shook her head. “Don’t piss him off right now. Not with all this.”

“What? He won’t stay pissed for long.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I have ways of distracting him.”

Karaoke was fun, though Gwen didn’t sing. She sat back and watched. Jo sang a rendition of ‘Stand By Your Man’ that was slightly slurred, yet heartfelt. Too bad Dean hadn’t come down. He would’ve appreciated that. Directly after her, David Angle sang ‘I Can’t Fight This Feeling’ on request, a song that had most of the women present swooning by the end. His singing voice was far better than Dean’s ever was. The song became a favorite as soon as he left the microphone, men dressed as Dean attempting to sing it and butchering it.

Nearly forty minutes into the event, David approached their table, a drink in hand, and gestured at the empty seat, the only empty chair in the room, Gwen noticed. “May I join you?”

Marissa squealed.

“Sure.” Gwen removed her feet from the chair and sat up.

Jo took hold of her drinks like she thought he might try to steal them. Perhaps Gwen should cut her off after she finished those.

“I’m Dave,” he said, sitting and scooting the chair in.

Marissa squealed again and covered her mouth with her hands.

With a roll of her eyes, Jo made the introductions. “The squee-er is Marissa, I’m Jo, and that’s Gwen.”

“Hey. Good turnout, yeah? Looks like karaoke is a winner.”

“I guess.” Jo sipped one drink, frowned, then stirred it. “Geez. Ash made a better amaretto stone sour than this and his were for shit.”

Gwen noticed Jo still drank it however, bad or not. “The room is packed.” And most of the women present were glaring at their table, though that wasn’t anything new after Marissa’s sign trick. “I suspect it’s not because of karaoke though.”

Dave glanced around, brows raising, a surprised expression on his face. “You might be right.” He quickly turned his attention to his drink and she had the impression that he was actually shy and trying to keep up an appearance. “Been to many conventions like this?”

“Nope.”

“Me either.” Jo sucked on her straw until all the liquid in her glass was gone. That had to be a record. She’d finished it in less than five minutes.

“Three,” Marissa gasped out.

“You’re the convention pro, then, Marissa.” His smile was ‘melt-you-into-a-puddle’ gorgeous.

Marissa giggled and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Okay.” His smile faded and Dave glanced at Gwen and Jo, looking back at Gwen when Jo ignored him to pour the ice from her first drink into her second. He smiled at Gwen now, glance lowering to her stomach. “How far along are you?”

“Guess,” Jo demanded. “She’s further along than you think.”

He was startled by that demand, lips parting. “Um….”

“You don’t have to guess, Dave. I’m at thirty weeks, almost thirty-one. Close to eight months.”

“You don’t look it. I would have guessed a month less.”

“I know, right?” Jo shook her head. “It’s so unfair. I was twice her size when I was pregnant.”

“Do you know what you’re having yet?”

Gwen stirred her water. “Doctor says a boy.”

“Cool. Have you picked out a name?”

Hands grasped Gwen’s shoulders and then Sam’s voice, tense and hard, said, “She’s married, dude.”

Dave looked up, eyes widening slightly. “I know. I saw the ring. Hi, I’m Dave.” He held out his hand only to draw it back when Sam didn’t take it.

“You’re in my seat, Dave.”

“Sorry. I’ll leave then.”

“You do that.”

Gwen covered Sam’s hands with hers. “Sam, don’t be a jealous caveman. We said he could sit here. Dave, this is Sam, my husband. Sam, this is David Angle. He’s the actor playing Dean in the movie that’s coming out.”

“I know who he is.”

She half turned so she could look up at him. “”I thought you were staying in the room.”

“I’ve got a few things to say to Becky if I can ever find her.”

“She’s not here,” Dave offered. “I thought she would be.” He frowned and stood, holding up a hand to catch someone’s attention. “Rose,” he called out. “Is that you? What are you doing here?” He picked up his drink. “Excuse me. I see someone from home.” He appeared relieved by that. “Gwen, Jo, Marissa,” he paused a second, “Sam…. Nice meeting you.”

“Suck up,” Sam said as he took the seat Dave had vacated.

Marissa hurried to get up. “I’ve got to meet that girl he’s talking to!” She pushed her way through the crowd and was gone.

“Finally, some peace. That girl never stops talking,” Jo said and looked at Sam. “You could’ve been nicer. It’s sort of his job to talk to fans.”

“You’re not fans.”

“No, but Marissa was and you were all ‘go away’.”

“Why are you being like this,” Gwen sat forward and rested her arms on the table. He’d never done this jealous crap before, so why was he starting now?

“Like what?”

“You know like what. Jealous. We were talking and in a public place. You have nothing to be jealous about. He’s not even my type.”

His expression shifted a fraction, annoyance flitting across his features, and he glanced around. “I’m a little on edge, okay? Too many of them around.”

“Them,” she questioned with a lift of her brows.

“Them. Fans. Every time I leave the room, I feel antsy, like I’ve got bugs crawling all over me.”

She covered his hand with hers. “You and Dean really need to relax about all this. Come on, Sam. They don’t know anything and you two being surly is already getting old. When will you ever see any of these people ever again?”

“Well, we think you and Jo need to be more on edge about it and do you think I ever thought I’d see Becky again?”

“You can relax and have some fun with it. I am. It’s sort of funny.”

He snorted.

“Let them think you’re playacting. Who cares?”

“I care. Dean cares. It’s all ridiculous, Gwen, and we’ve been in this position before. We’ve been to a stupid convention before.”

“Where is Dean, anyway?” Jo slid her half-finished second drink to the center of the table.

“Still in the room, packing and trying to plot a way out of the hotel where we won’t see any of these idiots and they won’t see us.”

Though they’d dismissed the notion of Teddy being involved, Gwen had the suspicion that he was here somewhere anyway, watching at the least. If he knew they were here, he’d cause deviations in Sam and Dean’s behavior for fun. She was definitely seeing some deviations right now. “Why do we have to leave,” she asked. “We’re only here a couple days.”

“Convention. Books. Becky. Actor. Take your pick.”

“Entire city of things to do away from the hotel,” Jo pointed out. “Come back only to sleep.”

Pain in the ass,” Sam grimaced.

“I know I am.” Jo grinned.

“Not what I meant, but you can be a pain in the ass, Jo.”

“Thanks. I need a stronger drink.” She tapped a finger to the rim of the glass. “This one’s too watery.”

“We picked this hotel because it’s already full of things to do.” A server brought him a beer that he must have ordered at the bar. Sam removed the cap and took a long drink. “You know that, Jo. We wanted a fairly all-inclusive hotel so we didn’t have to go out looking for things to do this time.”

Gwen placed a hand on his. “Sam. Relax.” She grinned. “I won’t let them get you.”

“Not funny,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

Jo also grinned. “She’s right, you know. It’s sort of funny. Look around. You have no less than eleven guys in this room wanting to be you. Some I’m sure are looking at Gwen and thinking quite literally.”

“You’re drunk,” he told her.

“Not yet, but I will be soon. Be a dear brother-in-law and get me another couple fishbowl amaretto stone sours? Tell them to add double the alcohol.”

Sam pushed back his chair and headed for the bar.

Jo shook her head. “He’s too uptight about this.”

“He and Dean both,” Gwen agreed.

“Maybe, we need to show them that there’s nothing to be uptight about.”

“What’s your idea?”

“I think we need to convince them to stay and go to events with us. We’ll be a buffer between them and them,” she gestured about the room, “show them they can stop spazzing out.”

Gwen leaned over and clinked her glass to the glass Jo had shoved in the center of the table. “Sounds like a plan.”

Jo reached for the glass and drained it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean paced, and when he was done pacing, he did it some more, his thoughts churning. Jo thought this was nothing, huh?

He turned to Chuck, who hadn’t dared move once they were alone. Sam had gone off in search of Becky while Jo and Gwen did karaoke. The bare bones of a plan was forming, a plan to demonstrate to Jo and Gwen just what this meant to their lives. However, he needed a little help. Dean smiled. “Chuck. My man.” He spread his arms to punctuate the words.

Chuck started and looked around. “Um…Dean?”

He rested his hands on his hips. “There’s a slight, microscopic chance I might not kill you after all.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.” He didn’t sound relieved. He sounded worried.

“I’m not killing you because you’re going to do something for me.”

“I can’t get Becky thrown out of the con. She’s the planner, the director. Not to mention every fan knows her. She’ll be missed.”

Mmm…getting Becky thrown out…. Dean fantasized about that a moment, then shook his head with reluctance. “Not what I had in mind.” Sitting across from Chuck, he leaned forward. “I want you to get a few things for me.”

“There’s a liquor store right across the street and the mini-bar should be filled.”

“Not what I had in mind either.”

“Oh. If it’s not alcohol, then what?” As he spoke, confusion bled across Chuck’s face. “Are you feelin’ okay, Dean?”

“I’m feeling fine. Get those things for me and make sure you don’t let Jo and Gwen see you.”

“Okay. It’ll take awhile. I have to pull some strings.”

“I’ll be here.”

After Chuck left to go about his errand, Dean spent the time hashing out the details of his plan. It was a good plan, simple and to the point. He thought the fans would do most of the work for him.

Sam returned at nearly one, Gwen beside him and Jo in his arms. Jo was far past snockered and into completely soused. Dean managed to get some painkiller and water down her and returned to the lounge area just as Sam closed the door to the bedroom he and Gwen were in.

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” Sam said, opening a beer and sinking down onto the couch.

“About that.” Dean got himself a beer.

“We are leaving in the morning, right?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

Sam leaned his head back with an exasperated sigh. “Dean! Come on!”

“No, wait. Think about this. Jo and Gwen have no idea how creepy and annoying this whole fandom thing can be, right?”

“What are you planning to do and why do I suspect I’m not going to like it?”

Before he could answer, there was a knock on the door. It was Chuck, holding two large envelopes completely stuffed with items, with two t-shirts thrown over one shoulder.

“I got everything you asked for, even the shirts.”

Dean laughed and dumped the packets out on the table. “Excellent. You can live another day, Chuck. Now go get some sleep. We might be needing you tomorrow, too.” He made a motion at the door and Chuck practically ran out.

Sam’s expression was skeptical. “What’s all this?”

“These are the packets of fun. Disneyland for the Supernatural fan.” He laid out programs, tickets, and nametags with the con logo on them, then tossed one shirt at Sam. “Make sure Gwen wears that tomorrow. It should fit.”

He held it up. “It says ‘ESG, Extreme Sam Girl’ on it.”

“She is the ultimate extreme Sam girl, isn’t she? She married you. She’s having your kid. I’d say that counts. Besides, it might whip Becky into a frenzy and she’ll spontaneously combust.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam balled it up and set it beside him. “What’s the other shirt?”

“It’s the one Jo was asking about earlier.” He held it up and waved it. He’d had Chuck get her the ‘I love Dean’ shirt. “She’s not wearing it tomorrow, though. She can’t. She has to dress normally. I’ll slip this into her bag after she gets dressed.”

Sam leaned forward and began looking through items. “Spill. What’s your big idea?”

“We immerse them in our fandom, let them get a real good taste of the pain in the ass this is. Costume contests, theme lunch, workshops, trivia breakfast, lectures….the whole shebang.”

“What are we going to do while they’re doing that?”

“I don’t know about you, but I plan on having panic attacks, many, many panic attacks that end up with me here safely in the suite protected against the crazies.”

“This is gonna backfire.”

“Well, aren’t you Mister Doom and Gloom tonight?”

“Our wives aren’t stupid.”

“No, they aren’t.”

“They’ll figure it out.”

He nodded. “They probably will.”

“Why even do this?”

“Because talking doesn’t seem to get our point across. I think action is in order.” Dean picked up a schedule, squinted at it, and had to hold it at three different arm’s lengths until he found one where he could focus on the tiny print. Maybe Jo was right. Maybe he really did need reading glasses. Getting older was hell. “We’ll head to the breakfast and trivia at eight-thirty. You be surly and mumble about finding Becky a lot. We’ll hit David Angle’s panel at ten. You can slip away on the pretense of looking for Becky --”

“I’m really going to find her and throttle her.”

“Don’t actually catch her until we’re ready to leave. Then, we can bury her body in the desert on the way out of town.” He’d realized as he’d paced earlier that it was unrealistic to actually kill Becky. They’d have to do something about her though, but what? “We’ll go to the author luncheon at eleven thirty, then I’ll have a panic attack….”

He laid it all out for Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam climbed into bed beside Gwen. She’d dropped immediately into a pregnancy coma upon lying down and he pressed against her back, wrapping an arm around her, a little jealous for that ability to sleep at the drop of a hat. He splayed his fingers on her stomach. As he began to drift off, he felt a gentle push against his palm, like their baby was trying to reassure him.

He smiled, making a mental note to apologize to Gwen in the morning for his lapse into jealousy in the bar. He hadn’t really thought the actor was a threat. David Angle was hardly the kind of guy Gwen liked and Sam had known he wasn’t hitting on her. He’d just been trying to be friendly.

While he’d calmed down since Becky had argued with him, he wanted to sit her down and go round after round until she admitted the truth. The challenge he’d noticed as he’d glanced through the program, was that tomorrow was the busiest day of the convention and the busiest day for Becky as the director. It was going to be a problem getting her away from the convention. Maybe they’d wait until evening, when most of the large events were done, and they could bring her here to the room to talk. It’d be best if their talk wasn’t done in a public forum.

Dean was gung-ho about his plan, determined to push Jo into seeing things his way. No amount of telling him this was a bad idea and they should just leave was making him change his mind. It was a disaster in the making, especially if Jo caught on to what he was doing. If she caught Dean at one fake panic attack….

He moved closer to Gwen, put it all from his mind, and let himself sink into sleep,

~~~~~~~~~~

Becky paced in her room, occasionally casting glares at her old laptop computer. She’d started off just fine. Her plot and characterization had been going well, but just as she’d started to make real progress, her thoughts had turned to Sam and the woman with him here at the hotel.

His wife.

His pregnant wife.

A rush of shame sent a hot flush across her skin and she stepped over to the table, closing the lid of the laptop with a bit more force than she’d intended.

Sam had a wife.

He had one and she hated to admit it. A part of her felt like she was dying to even think of admitting it, though realistically she’d known she wasn’t his type of woman. She wasn’t the sort to thrive in that life. Sure, it’d be thrilling for awhile, but to live it for the rest of her life? Becky thought about all that had happened to Sam and wondered on the things that had happened that she didn’t know about. Living his kind of life every day, all day would sort of…suck.

She sighed. Knowing it was all true was both a blessing and curse really. The blessing was in understanding that the kind of heroes Sam and Dean were actually existed. The curse was also in the knowing. Not only did they exist, but the things they hunted did as well and it wasn’t a glamorous life at all. When Chuck wrote about them being tortured, it had happened. They’d felt the pain and everything that went with it.

Had Chuck written about this? Was he even now writing that Becky Rosen had ignored Sam Winchester’s wife? Was he writing that Sam was hurt by that?

She sat on the end of the bed. She had hurt him, had seen it on his face every time she’d insisted his wife didn’t exist and then again when she’d insisted the baby couldn’t exist.

He’d looked happy before she’d interrupted them. Becky recalled that touch to the woman’s -- Gwen’s -- back. It had been gentle, caressing, and loving. He seriously cared for the woman, like in a ‘love for Jess’ way, and Becky had pretty much spit on that.

Embarrassment for her own behavior welled up. Here she’d been trying to be mature and adult and she’d acted like an idiot teenager. Apparently, she hadn’t managed to leave those days behind.

What did she do now? She’d hurt Sam with her refusal to notice Gwen there and she’d undoubtedly hurt Gwen, too, though Gwen hadn’t seemed hurt. By now, she suspected Dean would be wanting her head on a pike and, if Jo and Gwen were good friends, Jo might as well. She’d alienated all of them, which was so not what she’d ever wanted.

Logically, she knew there was a lot more to Sam’s life than what Chuck wrote. Writing everything would be boring. It was possible for him to have a wife and baby on the way. It could happen.

She sighed, grudgingly admitting the truth to herself.

It had happened. Sam Winchester was married to a pretty woman named Gwen and they were having a baby. She had to apologize -- to both Sam and Gwen.

But apologizing meant admitting out loud that Sam, while ideal, was truly unattainable. He was out of reach. Still, if he was genuinely happy, then shouldn’t she be happy for him? As his number one fan, shouldn’t she be glad he’d found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with; the woman he wanted to have his children? Shouldn’t she be happy that he was going to have the joy of being a father? If Sam Winchester could find love in a bleak and dreary existence, then wasn’t it worth her fandom being killed? Didn’t he deserve happiness in however long he had left?

She wiped away tears. Tomorrow, she’d find them and apologize.

Morning came far too early, though, and she’d missed all of the evening events she was supposed to have attended. She woke with a tension headache and the realization that this was the busiest day of the con for her. How could she find them when she had to be running from event to event making sure it all ran smoothly?