Title: Killing the Fandom

Chapter: Two

~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a surprise to receive an email from the official Carver Edlund website that new books were being released, especially since Becky knew Sam and Dean had threatened Chuck with death if he did. In an effort to further the fandom (because she had no grudge against Chuck’s writing, just against him as a man because he was an idiot for dumping her), she’d run right out and bought several copies of each release, giving them as gifts to everyone she knew. She’d encouraged other fans to do so as well and told everyone she met in the bookstores that Dead Man’s Blood was way better than all that sparkling vampire crap.

Which it was. Vampires didn’t sparkle. Vampire were monsters, not heroes. They were vicious creatures. In fact, she’d been a one-woman publicity wave, hounding all the local bookstores until they’d started carrying the books.

Becky liked to think that she was partly responsible for making Supernatural the next breakout series that it was turning into. This convention to re-launch the series (though the last books had been coming out over a span of two years) was a dream come true for her. She was completely in charge of the convention, with the illustrious title of ‘convention planner’, and it was all because of Chuck. He’d told everyone that she, Becky Rosen, had to be in charge because she knew the franchise better than anyone. He’d known she’d do it right.

Of course, that didn’t mean they were getting back together. She shouldn’t assume he was regretting letting her go even though it could, maybe, be a little true. Right?

And she was getting paid to put it together! Paid! How awesome was that? Maybe if they kept having these and the fandom kept growing, they could be as big as…as…as…Star Trek! After all, Star Trek had started small. Supernatural was, too. Maybe the movie would do well and they’d make more of the books into movies and turn it into a tv series!

Quickly, she stifled her pleased grin and glanced down at her clipboard. “The room is ready for Mr. Angle? He should be arriving within the next,” she checked her watch, “fifteen minutes.”

“It is, Ms. Rosen.”

‘Ms. Rosen.’ She never got tired of being called that! “And the complimentary gift basket from the convention committee has been placed in his room?” She’d personally put together that basket in appreciation for him actually showing up, double-checking with the head of his fan club on preferred snacks and candy (cinnamon almonds, vanilla yogurt covered raisins, Jelly Belly jellybeans, Kitchen Cooked potato chips that had been hard to find, and Mountain Dew). It was one thing to get him on the guest list, another entirely for him to put in an appearance. She knew he was coming. His bodyguard had called to tell her they’d landed at the airport, were right on schedule, and planned to attend drinks and karaoke at ten. How cool was that?

“Yes.”

“Good.” She had four guys she’d roped into security detail waiting to greet him and felt everything was under control. If only she could keep the sign-in table staffed. The volunteers all had a habit of getting up and wandering off when they felt like it, not to mention Chuck kept disappearing from his table when he was supposed to be signing autographs. How many times did one man have to pee? Did he have a bladder infection or something? Why wouldn’t he just stay put? Why did he keep leaving his table?

With another check of her watch, she hurried to the entrance, arriving just as David Angle and his bodyguard came through the door. The actor, ‘just call me Dave’, was hardly what she’d expected, almost the complete opposite of Dean: soft-spoken, cheerful, and good-natured about the way one guard gushed about liking his work. Not that Dean couldn’t be any of those things. She was sure he could if he had to. Dave was naturally those things, which made it so obvious what a good actor he was that he could portray Dean and be opposite him entirely!

When he was checked in, she asked, “Do you need anything, Dave,” thrilled that she was calling a real actor by name, like they could be friends or something.

He smiled and shouldered his bag. “I think I’m set, Becky, thanks. See you at karaoke?”

He has nice eyes, she reflected. Green, with tiny specks of gold. Pretty, kind eyes…. “Oh no, I don’t do karaoke.” But she would if someone invited her to. She’d totally go if he asked her to. Or if anyone asked her to.

“You should come anyway. Have a drink and watch. I’m sure it’ll be a blast.”

“I’ll think about it.” Maybe she’d go. Maybe they could sit together. Maybe they’d have a drink together. Maybe…. “There’s a packet of information in your room. My number is in it. Let me know if you need anything. I mean that. Anything at all.”

“Sure.” He headed off towards the elevator and Becky decided to do a turn of the casino before heading back to the author table to check on Chuck.

She strolled through the room, noting a few friends at various tables and, as she was about to leave, she saw something that made her feel like her breath had been sucked away.

Not something. Someone.

Was that Sam? Sam Winchester? The real Sam?

She looked all around the room and back at the man. It looked like Sam.

Becky’s heartbeat quickened in anticipation of seeing him again. While she’d had a few boyfriends since Chuck (one had been part of a cute group calling themselves the Ghostfacers and had seemed for awhile like a decent prospect), none of them made her feel like she was going to pass out the way Sam did.

She stepped closer, trying to ascertain if it was really him. A few times, she’d mistaken other men for him and was trying to be a bit more careful, especially since she was a mature career woman now.

Who ever would have thought that Becky Rosen could make a career out of planning conventions? It was going to work out this time, she was sure of it. So far, everyone was loving the convention and she still couldn’t believe she’d managed to get David Angle (call me Dave) to come. Too bad Darrin Skosinski hadn’t been able to come. That would’ve really helped her cache as a planner, but she’d take David Angle. Apparently, he was at that point in his career where he was doing any and all publicity he could.

Sam, or the man she thought was him, was standing beside a slim woman with long dark hair. The woman’s short black dress was backless. Leaning down, he turned his head and said something to her.

Becky let out a delighted squeal and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. It was him! Sam Winchester was in the casino!

With quick glances left and right, she forced herself to stop bouncing. Mature career woman, Becky, she told herself. Be mature. You’re older now and he’ll appreciate the show of maturity.

She imagined him turning and seeing her. He’d smile, pleased to see her, and would remember her instantly. He’d come to her, tell her how it was fate they’d met again and how he’d been thinking of her all these years since they’d last met. He’d grasp her arms, draw her to him and….

She fanned one hand at her face.

Calm down, Becky. Just relax and be yourself.

He and the woman laughed, the woman looking up at him. Becky could see that she was pretty and reminded her a little of Sigourney Weaver in her younger days.

No, no, no, she thought. Be descriptive. It’s lazy to compare someone to a well-known face. She’s a brunette, with a strong jaw, a wide, charming grin, and dark eyes….

Though she really couldn’t see what color her eyes were yet. She wasn’t close enough. The woman was totally at ease with him, her expression loving, even flirtatious, and Becky frowned. The spark of jealousy fanned into flame inside her. Who the hell was this woman and why was she making eyes at Sam?

Sam placed his left hand on the woman’s bare back. Becky’s frown deepened. Was that…? No. It couldn’t be. It was. That was a wedding band on his finger. She could see the shine of the gold from where she stood. She watched his fingers caress that bare skin, then raise a little to tangle in her long dark hair, both familiar, affectionate gestures. He knew this woman and knew her well. That gesture, from back to hair, looked like something he’d done a million times.

She felt cold then, while her face felt unbelievably flushed, like she was witnessing some sort of private moment between the two. “Sam,” she called out, half hoping she was imagining it and the man wasn’t him after all. If it was him, maybe the ring was for a case? He was pretending to be married, that was it.

He and the woman both turned at her call and her mouth dropped open. The woman was pregnant, her belly curving out. Sam’s hand rested a moment on that belly, like a protective gesture. It was a little irritating to see that, even pregnant, she looked better in that tiny dress than Becky ever would.

“Becky?” His brows rose. “Is that you?”

“You remember me?” She hadn’t meant it to sound like a question and was elated that he did remember her. Well, at least one part of her fantasy came true.

“You’re not easy to forget,” was his dry response and he put his arm around the woman beside him, his hand curving at her waist. Or rather where her waist would be if she wasn’t pregnant. “Gwen, honey, this is Becky. Becky, this is Gwen. My wife.”

The words had such finality to them. Wife. His wife. Sam’s wife. Sam had a wife. When did Sam get a wife? Becky swallowed hard. No. That wasn’t right. Sam Winchester wasn’t married any more than Dean Winchester was and what was with the baby bump? Why did this woman have a baby bump? Sam wasn’t going to be a father. He couldn’t be. He was still in love with Jess, wasn’t he? And since when did he call any woman ‘honey’?

Gwen took a step forward and held out a hand. “Hi, Becky.”

“No.” She ignored Gwen’s outstretched hand. Why did Gwen have to seem nice? “Married?”

“Married,” Sam confirmed in a gentle, yet firm tone.

Gwen pulled her hand back. She didn’t seem offended that Becky hadn’t taken it, just curious about her. Becky had the impression that Gwen was studying her and figuring out whether or not she was some sort of threat, because any wife of Sam’s had to be a hunter. Had to be. The life he led….

“No,” she repeated, shoving aside that train of thought (because it led to acceptance of that which she refused to accept) and trying to figure it out when this had happened. How had it happened? Sam wasn’t supposed to be married. Nor was his wife supposed to be pregnant. It certainly wasn’t in the books.

“Yes.”

“No.” Her eyes widened.

“Becky. Yes.” His tone was stern.

“It’s not in the books.”

“There’s more to my life than those books.”

“Books,” Gwen asked, looking up at Sam.

“The ‘Supernatural’ ones. Chuck.”

“Oh, those. Right.” While she said it like she knew about them, Becky got the idea that perhaps she didn’t know all about them.

“Sam Winchester isn’t married,” Becky said, not wanting to believe it was true.

Sam sighed. “He is now and has been for over a year.”

Over a year? “It’s not in the books.”

“Actually…it is, just not in the ones that have been published. It’s in the latest manuscripts. You can ask Chuck. He can tell you. Dean and I saw the manuscripts not too long ago.”

“It’s not published, therefore, she doesn’t exist.”

“Of course she exists,” Sam said with an irritated frown. “She’s standing right beside me.”

“No. Uh-uh. Doesn’t exist.”

“Becky.”

Gwen’s lips twitched, but she didn’t say anything, amusement beginning to dance in her eyes, eyes that were dark like Becky had thought they’d be, eyes that showed clearly that she’d been through a few battles of her own and could take whatever was thrown their way. She had her own scars.

That amusement and realization upset Becky and she shook her head several times, stomping a foot. “No. She can’t exist and who is she anyway? How did you meet? How did this happen? It’s not in the books!”

Her resolve to be a mature career woman melted away as she began to argue with Sam Winchester over whether or not the woman beside him existed.

~~~~~~~~~~

It had been awhile since they’d had a relaxing vacation. The last one Sam and Gwen had had was their honeymoon. He couldn’t think of the last true vacation Dean and Jo had had. Her reunion was supposed to be like one and had definitely been work and not play. He hoped they were having a good time outside their room in addition to the good time it appeared they’d had in their room.

Sam lingered at dinner with Gwen, enjoying the chance to sit and talk without having to do anything or be anywhere. They finished off the meal with coffee and a shared dessert -- decaf for Gwen, caffeinated coffee for Sam and a simple piece of cheesecake with strawberries. It amazed him sometimes that they could always find things to talk about.

After dinner, they took a stroll outside, then returned back to the casino, not playing this time, merely observing. Sam looked down at Gwen, enjoying how beautiful and radiant she was. There was a slight flush on her cheeks from their walk and a sparkle of pleasure in her eyes. Being pregnant suited her and she had confided that she loved being pregnant. She was enjoying the entire process. Sam leaned down. “You’re beautiful,” he told her. “Have I said that today?”

He felt almost like he had when they’d first started dating. A little nervous, a little uncertain, and not quite believing that she was his. Occasionally, he even wondered what she saw in him.

“Sweet talker. You’re already getting laid, you know. No need to pour on the flattery.”

He laughed and she grinned and laughed in return. He touched her back, slid his fingers along the silky skin and then curled some of her hair about one finger. He was about to suggest that they cancel meeting Jo and Dean and go back to the room for some together time when a strangely familiar and slightly grating voice punched through his good mood.

They turned together, Sam recognizing the person behind them in a second.

No. No, this wasn’t happening. It was Becky.

What was she doing here?

Sam wanted to protect Gwen and their baby from her, from all of what Becky being here possibly meant. He’d never really told Gwen all about the books and fandom, just a brief overview like it was nothing. That had been an error now, he saw. He should have disclosed everything like Dean had to Jo and warned her about his number one fan Becky.

He tried to be calm, remembering what she was like, and be polite. He introduced Gwen to her, using an endearment to communicate to Gwen the seriousness of the situation. He soon found his blood pressure rising. He could feel it happening, that slide into anger, a sensation he’d never wanted to feel ever again. By contrast, Gwen looked as cool as could be. How could she be calm while Becky insisted she didn’t exist and that she wasn’t pregnant? She both existed and was pregnant and Becky had just ignored her altogether after that first glance.

How dare Becky ignore his wife! Who did Becky think she was anyway?

A determination to get Becky to acknowledge Gwen slid through him. It would happen. He’d make it happen if he had to throttle her to get it to happen. As he argued, back and forth and back and forth over and over, he noticed people approaching, some wearing what looked like costumes.

Costumes.

No. No, no, oh no. The last time he’d seen costumes like that…. This was the worst possible scenario. They had to wrap this up, find Dean and Jo, and leave the hotel as soon as possible.

He squeezed his hands into fists and took a deep, calming breath. “She exists,” he told Becky. “She’s pregnant and she exists.”

“What’s going on,” one person asked.

“AU scenario,” someone else guessed.

“She doesn’t,” Becky insisted.

“She’s right here on my right. Look at her, Becky. My wife is here and she’s almost eight months pregnant. Eight months.”

“Definitely AU scenario,” another person said with a knowing tone. “Pretend Sam, married with a pregnant wife.”

“Which opens an interesting discussion,” another person began. “How did Sam get to the point of wanting a wife, let alone a child? After losing Jess….”

He tried to ignore the conversation and focus on making Becky admit that Gwen was there, alive and pregnant, aware that they were beginning to draw a crowd and that was hardly what he wanted.

But he couldn’t stop arguing with her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marissa wouldn’t leave her alone.

Jo gritted her teeth and once more peered around the room, hoping to see Chuck approaching. How long did it take to pee? Had he snuck out of the hotel or something?

“Where did you get your jacket?” Marissa reached out and touched Jo’s arm, yet seemed oblivious to the physical rebuke of Jo smacking her hand away. “It’s like so cool and perfect. I adore your shirt, too.”

Dean had gone back to flipping through the books and muttering to himself while they waited. Jo kept an eye on him. He was working himself up into a huge panic attack and she wasn’t sure how to stop it aside from physically dragging him from the hotel.

“Do you shop at thrift stores? I tried going to Goodwill, but the clothes all had this smell to them, you know? Like mothballs, fabric softener, and body odor. It was gross.”

She wondered if Sam and Gwen had run into any of this yet and checked her phone. No messages or missed calls, though she did have a couple spam emails waiting in her inbox.

“I love how in-character you are, Jo. What’s your real name? Can I call you that or --”

“Jo is fine,” she told her. “I prefer it.”

“Wow, you are so cool! Are you an actress? You’d be a good actress the way you never break character. Most people I know break character all the time, but you’re like an artist, a real, true artist.” She gestured to Dean. “Is that your boyfriend in real life?”

“Husband.” Raising her left hand, she flashed her wedding band and engagement ring.

“Beautiful ring,” Marissa gushed. “It’s awesome you’re like in the same fandom and all. I have a friend who’s into Star Wars and her husband is into Battlestar Galactica. They never get to coordinate costumes or anything.”

“Really.”

“But you guys do and that’s so sweet! You know, you’re so in-character, people are really referring to you as Jo and Dean.”

Interesting feat since they’d barely seen anyone. She thought perhaps it was Marissa who was going to do that.

“My boyfriend thinks I’m nuts. He doesn’t get the whole LARP thing.”

“Poor guy.”

“I know. He won’t even read the books. Which one is your favorite? I mean the ones with Jo. I like No Exit. Her first real hunt, but Born Under a Bad Sign is a close second because you get the real sense that she’s just getting by and is all disillusioned and ready to call it quits and go home. Also that she really knew Dean wasn’t going to call her even though he promised he would. She knew him and that’s, like, proof to me that they’re meant to be.”

Poor Marissa was going to be disappointed if Chuck published the part where she and Ellen died. At that time, it certainly hadn’t looked like there was any ‘meant to be’ going to happen.

“Don’t you agree? They’re totally meant to be. Jo, like, understands Dean the way no other woman can. She grew up in the life and lived the life and knows about it.”

Jo tuned her out for awhile and when she saw Chuck returning, she interrupted whatever Marissa was saying. “I have to go.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll find you later!” Marissa turned and left the room.

Chuck approached, his steps slowing when he saw them. “Um…. Dean, Jo.” He glanced around and came closer. “What…what’re you doing here?”

“I’m going to kill you, Chuck,” Dean promised, shoving books back on the rack in the wrong places.

“Becky didn’t text you or call you this time, did she? I made her promise not to bother you. I stressed the importance of letting you live your lives in peace.”

“Oh no. No calls, no texts. It would’ve been nice to get either since then Sam and I, and our wives, could’ve postponed our vacation here, to this hotel, for another week. You see my wife standing here, Chuck? Gwen is here, too. You know, Gwen who’s pregnant? With Sam’s baby? Becky is running around. Sam’s obsessive fan Becky who won’t take kindly to learning he’s got a wife and baby on the way. I see a problem with that, don’t you? And as it stands, we’re staying on the eighteenth floor of the hotel the ‘Supernatural’ convention is going on in. Why is there a convention, Chuck? Answer me that. Why is there another convention with fruitcakes running around dressed as us and a vendor table with licensed merchandise? Licensed merchandise?” Dean’s breaths were getting more and more wheezy as he spoke and Jo moved to stand beside him.

She thought maybe it was a good thing most of the people had cleared out of the room, probably in search of late dinners.

Chuck raised his hands. “Don’t be mad, Dean.”

“I’m having a heart attack,” Dean gasped out. “This is a heart attack. I’m having a heart attack, are you happy? It’s a heart attack!”

Jo smoothed a hand along his back. “It’s not a heart attack, sweetheart. It’s a panic attack,” she corrected. He should know what one felt like by now.

He gulped in a breath. “Like that’s so much better.”

“Actually it is. Breathe.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“In. Out. In. Out.”

“That’s not breathing, that’s….” He continued gulping and blowing out the air he’d gulped in. “That’s describing sex.”

“Not if you’re going for publication, it’s not,” Chuck said.

“Killing you,” Dean choked out.

“They offered me an obscene amount of money and I…sort of needed it.”

“You always need money. I told you last time. Sam told you.”

“Yeah, I know….” His shoulders shifted guiltily. “I mean really obscene, Dean. I couldn’t turn it down again.”

“And why are there women dressed as Jo? And Ellen? Wanna tell me that?” He already knew. He’d about had an apoplectic fit at finding out.

“I…may have published a few books set in the middle of the published series.”

“May have?” Dean made a spasmodic gesture at the rack by the table. “May have? Everybody Loves a Clown? Where readers meet Ellen and Jo and Jo punches Dean. No Exit? Where Jo runs off after Dean and Sam on a hunt and discovers what pee your pants terror really is. Born Under a Bad Sign? Where Meg freakin’ possesses Sam, goes after Jo and then Dean promises to call Jo and never does? Do you know how long it took me to live down not calling her? My wife is scarred, Chuck.”

Not really. She’d forgiven Dean for not calling, had worked through the issues she and her mom had, and actually remembered punching Dean with some sort of fondness. What a way to begin a relationship, a punch that had been mirrored when he and Sam had kidnapped her while she had no real memories of them. But it was all in the past now. Jo crossed her arms. She was amused by this whole fandom thing more than anything at present.

Except for Marissa. Marissa was annoying.

While Dean had muttered on and on about the books and skimmed them, Jo had talked to the girl at the table -- Maggie Martin -- until Marissa had shown up. She’d gushed about how the fandom was taking off and gathering more interest from real authors. Funny how no one considered Chuck a real author when he’d published an entire series of books. Jo’d thought that publishing was what made an author an author.

“Fans are liking the Roadhouse storyline,” Chuck said with a shrug. “That was a complete surprise to me. I mean, honestly and no offense to you, Jo, but Jo as a character was a little immature and snotty.”

“No offense taken,” she told him. “I cringe at my own behavior from back then.”

“When I think about it, they might like it because they’re glad for any story right now. See, it’s all about the back story, Dean.”

“I’ll…make…you…a back story!” The threat didn’t make any sense. “We told you no new stories.”

“Technically, those aren’t actually new. I’m just publishing the ones I’d set aside. It’s okay. He said it was.”

It sounded so reasonable, but Dean wasn’t in the mood for reasonable. Jo glanced to their left and saw Sam and Gwen coming towards them, the glare on Sam’s face murderous, while Gwen looked mildly amused.

Jo crossed her arms and waited for the real fireworks to start. A part of Jo almost wished she had some popcorn to munch on. This promised to be somewhat entertaining.