Title: Killing the Fandom

Chapter: Six

~~~~~~~~~~

While Sam had no desire to watch Dean’s antics, he did sit on the bench right outside the room, looking over the schedule as he listened with half an ear to the panel. Yesterday, he’d hoped they could just leave, but Dean had a plan. It was guaranteed to piss off Jo, yet Dean was determined to stick to it.

Sam had already derailed it slightly by telling Jo it had been Chuck getting the tickets and things for them -- which it had been. Chuck had done the work. Sam’s reasoning for doing that was that it had been late when Dean had hatched his scheme and he obviously hadn’t been thinking clearly. First, how else had he thought to explain the packets? Someone had had to get them and Chuck was the logical one. Second, the best way to convince Jo of something wasn’t to push her on it, though Dean did have the personal experience part right. Jo learned well from personal experience and might actually be swayed to Dean’s view if there was enough time involved -- and if their fans behaved as badly as Dean was anticipating.

He cringed a little at the phrase ‘their fans’. It was too surreal to realize they had a growing fandom. It wasn’t just a tiny fringe anymore and something about that sent a wave of alarm crashing through him. He’d never thought Chuck would go against their threats and publish more, nor had he thought people would want to make a movie out of one of the worst experiences of their lives. That stupid truck. Sam shook his head and flipped a page in the program, noting a few of the discussions and events scheduled for later.

‘Ellen: mother figure or love interest?’: Come discuss all things Ellen as we dissect what she could mean to our boys.

Love interest? Ellen? He snorted. Love interest for Bobby was more like it, though that wouldn’t come for a long time yet.

‘Jo, Cassie, or Bela: Dean’s ladies’: Which lovely lady could win Dean’s heart for good and why? Lively discussion expected, please bring a sense of humor. No bad-mouthing any character.

He almost wanted to hear some of the arguments at that panel. Jo seemed to have quite a few vocal supporters, if that girl Marissa was right. Or maybe it was just that Marissa seemed like more than one fan herself….

‘Sad little boy: Sam’s destiny’: What did yellow-eyes really do to Sam and what will future books bring? The author will be present to aid the discussion.

Oh geez, really? He’d thought they’d covered that, or was Chuck back to proposing publishing the angel, Ruby, and Lilith storyline? Sam closed his eyes briefly at the thought of all of that being public. Would anyone understand why he’d done what he had? Did he care if they did?

A hard little icy knot seemed to form in his stomach.

He opened his eyes and looked back down at the program.

‘Roadhouse mixer’: Our very own Molly Mary Madigan, vendor, portrays Ellen as we mingle with old friends and new. Ticket price includes Roadhouse t-shirt.

If Molly Mary Madigan was the vendor with curly hair, then he thought she’d make a good Ellen. She had the right sort of look.

‘The women of Supernatural’: The good, the bad, and the deliciously evil. Note: we won’t be discussing love interests, merely the roles women play in furthering the plots.

There were quite a few women to talk about. He wondered if Ava would be one of the ones discussed and what category she’d fall in. All three maybe?

‘John: loving dad or self-centered psychopath?’: Did John truly love his sons or did his capacity for love die with Mary? All opinions considered.

He frowned. Who had come up with these discussions? Of course their dad had loved them. He just hadn’t shown it in conventional or traditional ways. Sam turned to the next page.

‘Bumps and bruises: personal injury in the world of Supernatural’: The feasibility of our boys surviving such injuries as being thrown across the room each book.

Yeah, he often wondered himself how they managed to live sometimes.

‘Timeline: Where each book fits’: We’ll be discussing the books released and those due to be released. There will be a handout.

He closed the booklet, mentally going back over Dean’s plan. Gwen was going to be the difficult one because, at this juncture, she wasn’t even a blip in the plotlines in the books. She wouldn’t be introduced for a long time, well after where Chuck was in the stories of their lives. No one would even know about any Campbell relatives for awhile yet or that Sam and Dean’s mother Mary had been raised in a hunting family. Readers were all still under the impression John was the only hunter and possibly the one raised in it.

Sam was resigned to being here the entire weekend. As much as he hated having to deal with all of this again, he would because Dean wanted him here and because Gwen was definitely enjoying herself. She was all smiles and bright eyes as she took in their fandom.

He winced as Dean asked a particularly nosy question and wondered how soon until the actor got fed up and sicced his bodyguard on Dean.

Becky’s voice came from around the corner and Sam remained still, waiting for her to see him, wondering if she’d turn and run or brave coming up to him. She rounded the corner, cell phone in one hand, clipboard in the other, carrying on what he realized were three conversations at the same time. Two people, a man and woman, were behind her. She spoke to them and into her phone.

“If the keycard doesn’t work, try Riley’s. If that doesn’t work, go to the front desk for a new one. They promised us the entire block of rooms. It’s in our contract. If they won’t give you a new card, Alice, call me back. I’ll set them straight.” She ended the call. “No, Mandy, you can’t set up your presentation as Toby is talking. Cooperate. You have to share the room. Mark, the costume contest is for real costumes like, say, wendigos or werewolves, not for anyone dressed as hunters. I’m sorry, that’s the rules. You could add a category, but how do you plan to judge it? Think about it. How can you say one flannel, tee, jeans, and work boots is better than another?”

She stopped so suddenly the two people behind her ran into her, her gaze fixing on one of the entrances to the casino. “Michael Shay, you get out of that casino right now. I can see you, mister. You’re supposed to be on security detail right now helping Angle’s bodyguard.”

The young man in the doorway pretended he didn’t hear her, cupping a hand to one ear with a confused expression that was fake, since Sam was certain she could be heard over the microphoned voices in the next room.

“Don’t you ignore me, Mike. Mike. Michael!”

He ran.

Becky took off after him, her heels clacking on the tile floor. The man followed her while the woman took off in the opposite direction muttering about schedules and set-up times.

It was a novel experience to have Becky walk right by him and not see him. Sort of refreshing. Sam slowly sat back against the wall, relaxing in tiny increments. He returned to thinking about Gwen and how she’d react to Dean’s plan. With her sense of humor and sunny nature, he’d be surprised if she was swayed to change her point of view.

He heard Jo’s voice, a reply, then cheering. Getting up, he went to the doorway and peered in just as Dean came out the doorway. “Tough nut to crack?”

“That guy is too even-tempered,” Dean grumbled. “Is he on drugs?”

A video began to play. “Hey, guys. Darrin here.” He was a goofy looking guy in Sam’s opinion. His hair was longer than Dave’s (true to life) and his grin was like a little kid’s, pleased and excited. “Man, I wish I could be there with you all. Hope the convention is going well and you’re all having a wonderful time. I want to tell you, Dave and I had a blast making this film and your support means a lot to us. Now, we’ve got a special treat for you. We’ve got a clip ready for you to see. Enjoy.”

A scene began to play, then went into a trailer that had Dean muttering, “Damn. If I hadn’t lived it, I’d want to see it.”

“Trailers always make movies look better than they are.” In Sam’s opinion, the movie didn’t look good at all. It looked like a waste of two hours, especially since they’d lived through it once already.

“True. You find Becky?”

“She walked by in full boss lady mode, ended up running after one of her staff members that was shirking his duties. She didn’t see me.”

“Bet that felt good.” He shrugged his brows.

“It did.” He waved the program. “Did you realize this is bigger than the last one we were at? They’ve got an entire block of rooms and something they’re calling a ‘con suite’. Thought I might check that out, see what it is.”

“How much bigger,” he asked, a wary gleam in his eyes.

Sam held out the program, opened to the last two pages. “See the highlighted rooms on the map? There’s fifteen of them plus the two rooms you’ve been in this morning.”

He took a noisy breath through his nose and said in a tight voice, “That’s more than I anticipated. Last convention was really small.”

It had been tiny compared to this one, a handful of people. The room Dean had left had to have close to eighty or ninety people in it and that wasn’t counting the people at events in other rooms or the ones who hadn’t come down yet. “Uh-huh. The packed room you were just in didn’t give you any clues?”

“I had the light in my eyes. Besides, I bet half the women are here just because they wanted to meet him, not because they’re fans of the books.”

“Dean, it’s not too late to stop this and go home. We can be out of here by noon, take the long way home, and see some of those sights we’re always saying we want to see on the way.” He knew Dean wouldn’t go for it, but it was worth a shot to suggest it.

Dean thought about that, studying the program, and finally shook his head. “No. We see this through.” He closed the program, handing it back to Sam.

“You want to piss off Jo? Because that’s where all this is headed and you know it.” Folding the program, he put it in his pocket.

“Of course I don’t want to piss her off, but I need her to understand me on this -- for me and for Jack.”

“For Jack?” What did Jack have to do with this here?

“Think about it, Sam. If Chuck keeps publishing, where’s he going to get?” He jabbed a finger at the floor. “Right here. Me with a wife and son. You with a wife and baby on the way. We’ll have all of this,” he gestured around them, “front and center. Our kids will have to deal with this, Sam, and I damn well don’t want Jack to have to fight off his own ‘Becky’. You know there’ll be at least one out there. I don’t know about you, but I need my wife with me on stopping that train wreck long before it happens. I need Jo to become mama bear and tell Chuck he’s going to stop publishing or else. You seen her when she’s protecting Jack?” He whistled long and low. “Scary. I need her with me and I’d think you’d want Gwen with you on it, too. You want your kid dealing with this?”

While he hadn’t considered the long-range effect rippling to their kids, Dean was right. It would affect them if Chuck published everything he had. One movie could be written off as coincidence for the names and subject matter, but if more and more people looked at the books, and the movie was a big enough hit that a sequel was made, the odds were that people they knew would run across it all. Anonymity would really be lost.

But…could public interest even keep up long enough for Chuck to publish it all? Surely interest would wane after a few more months?

“Keep in mind, Sam, Star Trek had a short run and a small, but vocal, devoted group of fans. It took them about twenty years to revive it and they did. Look around.” He swirled a finger in the air. “Small, vocal, devoted. Don’t tell me this doesn’t worry you.”

When Dean put it like that…. “Okay. I guess I have to find Becky then.”

Dean nodded. “Team Winchester for the win.” He held up a fist.

Sam sighed, rolled his eyes, and bumped his fist to Dean’s. “What are you, ten?”

“You know you love me. Now, go get her…but not in the sexual way those words usually mean.”

He’d check out the con suite, then wander back for lunch. First, however, he needed to make sure Gwen had everything she needed.

~~~~~~~~~~

The panel hadn’t gone the way Dean had thought it would. David Angle hadn’t reacted with much annoyance and Dean wondered where he’d gotten that sort of patience. He sat on the bench while the room emptied out and a team began setting up a photography station across the room. They had about twenty minutes before the picture opportunity would begin. Already people were beginning to line-up.

Jo walked over to him with her lips pursed and crossed her arms. She tapped one foot slowly.

He stood. “What?”

“You were a dick in there.”

Gwen stepped beside her. “You sort of were,” she agreed and jerked a thumb across the room at the table and equipment being set up. “I’ll get in line for the photo op. Tickets?”

“I’ll be right there,” Jo told her, handing her one envelope. “You harassed him for no reason, Dean.”

“I had a reason.”

“Yeah? What was it? Because he didn’t deserve that. He’s not like them, Dean. Do you not see that? He’s doing his job by being here. This is a publicity thing for him.”

“He’s a fan of the books himself.”

“Is that a completely bad thing?”

“Yes.”

“How?” She waited for an answer. “Okay, some of these people are over the top, like that Becky girl, but for the most part, these people are normal people who like the books and like to talk about them. You act like you’ve never gone all fan boy yourself over something and you totally have. I’ve seen it.”

“Jo --”

“No. You need to apologize to him for that in there. I mean it. It was uncalled for. It’s one thing to try to embarrass me or harass someone while on a case. It’s another to do it to a guy just doing his job.” She glanced at Gwen in line. “I get that this is your life they’re reading about and talking about --”

“Ooohh,” came Marissa’s voice. “Watch this! They’re totally AU-ing a scenario right now! This is so exciting!”

To their left was a group of six that included Marissa and the two girls who’d stopped Jo earlier for her autograph. They fell silent, an eagerness on their faces that Dean found more than a little disturbing.

“ -- but can you lighten up?” She whirled to face Marissa. “Marissa. What? What do you want? What now?”

“Can I ask what sort of scene you’re working on?”

Jo blinked twice and looked at Dean. “We’ll finish this later,” Jo promised with a tiny shake of her head. “Maybe at lunch.” She stalked away, towards where Gwen waited in line. Marissa and friends trailed along after her.

Dean crossed his arms and stepped back into the room, leaning against the wall to watch the event about to begin. Jo was right, actually. He’d been harassing Dave; assumed he was part of this. He’d done to Dave something like what Becky did to Sam only without out the creepy crushing. As he stood watching Dave take his place in front of a backdrop, he was able to start drawing parallels between he and Sam and Dave. Then, he started to sympathize with him.

Dean didn’t want to sympathize, but once he started, it was damn hard to stop.

He saw a girl tug Dave down and plant a kiss on his lips and winced as another girl tried to climb up Dave, wrapping her arms and legs around him. His bodyguard stepped in to physically remove her and Dean was slightly surprised to see Sam appear and move in to help extract the girl. He’d thought Sam had already left. As she was carried off, she called out, “I’m your number one fan, Dave!”

Sam returned and said, “Going to find Becky now,” as if the incident had reminded him of that task.

It had certainly reminded Dean of it.

As the photo op went on, Dean began to see a side of Dave that he didn’t think Dave knew he was showing. The two intense fan encounters put a long pause in the event, Dave stepping back behind the backdrop to compose himself. From where Dean stood, he could see Dave’s lips moving and head shaking. He could see him taking exaggerated deep breaths. The realization that David Angle, actor, was struggling not to run away screaming (as was Dean’s own inclination at times) floored him and he began to see him in a new light -- one not as a part of the craziness, but rather someone who’d been sucked into it, too, just like Jo had told him.

If he took all that to the role of Dean, then dear God, the man was totally going to do him justice on the big screen!

He watched Jo and Gwen get their picture, one of the tickets Chuck had included in the packages. They flanked Dave, the photographer giving instructions that had them all moving back and forth. He felt the tiniest bit like there really was some humor in this after all. The real Jo and Gwen, dressed as themselves, standing beside the fake Dean who thought Jo was dressed as the character Jo in the books but it was actually Jo herself standing beside him…. A smile at that thought tugged at his lips and he quashed it quickly.

This was not amusing. It wasn’t.

But…it sort of was to see Jo smack dab in the middle of this like she wasn’t herself, only she really was. Thinking about it this time made his head hurt as much as it had the first time he and Sam had been confronted with the books.

Gwen left Jo at the table filling out something and sauntered over. “I saw an almost smile there.” She uncapped her water bottle, took a sip, and recapped it.

“No, you didn’t,” he argued, though his heart wasn’t in arguing at the moment.

“Did, too. Careful, Dean. You watch us here long enough, you might realize this little convention isn’t such a world-ender after all.” She looked him over. “How are you feeling? Panicky yet?”

She knew. He got the sudden feeling that she knew what they were up to. Her tone was too innocent for her not to know. Sam must have spilled the beans. Is that where Sam had gone instead of going off on that planned hunt for Becky? Had he pulled Gwen aside and told her? Dean glanced away. The power she had over Sam with a flash of her now considerable cleavage…fully equaled the power Jo had over him should she choose to use it. He actually couldn’t blame Sam for caving and telling her. She didn’t look mad though, which was a good thing. “Fine so far. Why? Is Dr. Gwen keeping an eye on me?”

“Maybe. Let’s go in and get early seats at a table.”

“We should wait for Sam.”

“He’s off hunting the white whale. I don’t expect him back too soon.”

“White whale? You’re calling Becky a whale?”

She shook her head. “Not literally. It’s just that I’d think she’d be highly visible today and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of her all morning. So…white whale. Like a myth.”

“I’ve read the book,” he replied in a slightly defensive tone. He had, too. Not just the Cliff’s Notes. So Sam hadn’t told her Becky had walked right by him?

Gwen’s gaze was thoughtful. “You constantly surprise me.”

“Why? That I read it?”

“No. That you always feel the need to be defensive about those things. Nothing wrong with having read a classic, but you act like it’s something to be embarrassed about. Lighten up, Batman. Even Christian once admitted to reading Shakespeare and liking it and I think you’re a better man than he ever was. Smarter, too. You thought to get a protection tattoo and he never did.”

“I didn’t know I was being defensive.”

Her smile was slow and amused. “Liar.” She looped an arm through his. “Come on. I’ve got to get my feet up and you can keep me company until Jo can get away from her fan club.”

A quick glance showed that she was right. Jo had been cornered again by Marissa and her friends.

He let Gwen lead him towards the room they’d had breakfast in. It’d still be awhile before the luncheon.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The con suite was on the second floor. Sam simply followed the paper signs from the elevator. Some person had tried to show a sense of humor by putting a paper sign on the door reading ‘Roadhouse’. Beneath it, someone else had scrawled ‘If this is the Roadhouse, then where’s the booze?’

He stepped inside. The con suite was actually a small suite of a lounge, kitchenette, and two bedrooms that were outfitted as conference rooms instead of bedrooms. In the lounge area, were three plush loveseats in a ‘u’ formation in front of a tv that was currently on. The two people on the loveseats didn’t even look up when he walked in.

One bedroom was empty of anything save the table and chairs. In the second, the table was overflowing with snack foods. He saw doughnuts, bags and cans of chips and pretzels, bags of cookies and every sort of snack cake on the market. At one end was a stack of soda can boxes. Sam perused the table, noting that they had Jo’s favorite cheese popcorn and even had cases of single serving snack pies. Reaching out, he snagged an apple one to take back to Dean and a cherry one to share with Gwen later. He didn’t grab one for Jo, as she wouldn’t eat it anyway. She preferred bakery pies to the commercially processed snack pies.

He returned to the lounge and kitchenette. On the counter was a bowl of crackers, a tray of ice with a vegetable tray sitting on it, and a bowl of bite size Slim Jims. The carrots and broccoli were gone from the vegetable tray, only cauliflower, grape tomatoes, and pepper slices remaining. There was a table knife on the counter with what looked like peanut butter on it, though he saw no sign of peanut butter or even bread.

A woman entered the suite, slim and dark haired, carrying a large paper sack in her arms. Sam put her about Dean’s age. She set the bag down, huffed out a breath, and smiled at him. “Hi. I’m Risa.”

“Sam.” Why was the name Risa familiar to him? Did he know a Risa?

Amusement slid about her dark eyes. “Of course you are.” She began unpacking the bag, setting out three large loaves of bread and the biggest jar of peanut butter Sam had ever seen. “Can you believe someone made off with the peanut butter and bread?”

“They were hungry?”

“It was for everyone. Geez, it was even the good bread.”

“Good bread?” There was a difference?

“Yeah. The three buck a loaf or more stuff that makes a decent sandwich as opposed to the cheap sandwich stuff I got this time.” She gestured at the loaves. “I didn’t pay three bucks for them. I hit a sale. These loaves?” She picked one up. “Got them at the day old place. If people can’t behave, they don’t get good stuff.”

“Maybe you should have gotten them there to begin with.”

“Probably.” She opened the fridge and snorted. “Of course, now the jelly is gone, too.” Risa shut the fridge. “So if you’re Sam, where’s your Dean? Or do you have a Bobby, Ash, John, Bela, Ellen or Jo instead?”

He leaned against the counter. “I have Dean, Jo, and my wife with me.”

She studied him. “Your wife is…?”

“Gwen.”

“Not playing along then?” She busied herself with cleaning up the counter.

“Gwen’s pregnant.” She was playing along, though, enjoying the convention like it was all one big joke.

“And there are no pregnant hunters in the books.” Risa glanced at him. “Who cares? If she likes a character, she should have fun with it. Not like people haven’t been doing AU scenarios the past day. That’s the big thing this con. I heard Becky got into an argument with someone over an AU scenario last night even.”

That had been him, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “Coming was sort of spur of the moment.”

“Ahh.” She finished cleaning, grabbed a soda from one cooler on the floor, and opened it. “Hey, help yourself to food or soda. That’s what it’s here for.”

“I’m good, thanks.” He began to wonder if the two on the loveseats were asleep because neither had moved since he’d come in the suite. “Are you con staff?”

She laughed. “Me? Hell, no. I’m Becky’s neighbor. She asked me to come today as a favor, make sure the food stays replenished. She’s slightly short-staffed.” Risa shot a glance at her watch. “I have to leave soon for the author lunch, make sure Carver Edlund is where he’s supposed to be. He has a tendency to disappear for hours at a time and it’s driving Becky nuts. She sort of made me his handler today.”

“You a fan of the books, then?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I read them only for Becky. She started a Supernatural book club in our building,” she explained with a quirked brow. “There’s only five of us that go, but she tries so hard to keep it interesting that I keep going to support her. She’s a good kid, you know? Heart’s in the right place, even if she’s a little too enthusiastic at times. I wish I’d had that much enthusiasm for a book series at her age. I was still in school studying my butt off, though.”

“What do you do?”

“Lawyer.”

He raised a hand, thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “I was that close to going to law school myself.”

“Very cool. Like…Sam. In the books.”

“Uh…yeah.”

They talked until it was time to leave for lunch. Sam walked with her down to the room where the luncheon was. Dean, Jo, and Gwen were already at a table close to the lone table at the front of the room. Sam assumed it was where Chuck was going to sit, as it only had one place setting.

Dean stood from his chair, a surprised expression crossing his face. “Risa.”

Jo’s brows rose and she crossed her arms.

Risa extended a hand. “Dean, right?”

He shook her hand. “Right. How --”

She turned to Jo. “You must be Jo and,” her glance flicked to Gwen, “Sam’s wife, Gwen.”

Gwen’s amused smile widened into a grin. “Sam’s told you about us.”

“He did. Pleasure to meet you all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure our author actually sits at the table he’s supposed to.”

When she’d gone, Jo looked at Dean. “Um…honey? How do you know her?”

“Uh…I told you about her.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

Jo shook her head. “No. I don’t remember her.”

“The vision of the end our good buddy Zach gave me?”

That was where Sam knew the name from. Dean had eventually told him about Zachariah’s vision.

“He wasn’t my good buddy.” There was a flicker of distaste in her eyes. “She’s a real person then?”

“Apparently.”

“Hmm….” Jo turned in her chair to watch Risa talking to Chuck.

Sam sat down beside Gwen and set a hand on her stomach. She covered his hand with her own. After a second, he felt a movement beneath his palm. “How are you and baby doing?”

“Aside from having to pee every twenty minutes so far, we’re still peachy.” She studied him. “Any luck finding Becky?”

“No.”

“I’m sure you’ll find her. She can’t have disappeared. What’s the hurry? We have all day today and tomorrow to grab her.”

He sighed and sat back in his chair. “Are you sure you want to stay?”

Gwen grabbed his hand, threading their fingers together. “Yup.”

Another sigh, this one longer, slipped free and he waited for whatever this next hour would bring.