Title: Killing the Fandom

Chapter: Seven

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was up to something and it had been inevitable since Gwen and Jo had first brushed off the convention as nothing to be seriously concerned about. In fact, in her mind, Gwen had predicted just that action from him, so she wasn’t surprised by his performance at the panel. Jo shouldn’t have been surprised either.

She slouched in her chair and smothered a yawn, very ready for the luncheon to be over so they could go up to the room for awhile. Gwen was tired, hungry again, and needed a break from socializing. They all did.

Jo watched Risa with narrowed eyes, turning in her chair as she grasped Chuck’s arm. “Why did he pick her to show you?”

Dean shrugged. “Only Zachariah knows that.”

“Why not someone else? Why not, I don’t know, why not Lisa? Why pick a woman you hadn’t met?”

“You’re asking me to somehow divine what was going on in that dick’s head? He wanted me to see myself in the worst light possible.”

“But why her?”

Jo wasn’t leaving it alone and Gwen wondered if she’d eventually call Castiel down and ask if he knew why Zachariah had chosen Risa to show Dean.

Sam didn’t appear to hear the exchange, sitting with his arms crossed glaring into space. He really wasn’t having a good time, which was a shame because Gwen was enjoying herself despite being tired.

Dean glanced around like he was looking for the next spot of trouble to start. “Jo, I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine. Pick a reason.”

Risa manhandled a protesting Chuck to his table and shoved him into the chair with a stern finger in his face, yet as soon as her back was turned, he spotted them, grabbed his silverware and glass, and came to their table.

“Hey guys. Um…could I sit with you?”

Gwen looked over her should for Risa and didn’t see her anywhere. “Aren’t you supposed to sit all by your lonesome and on display?”

He grimaced. “Becky made me do this lunch thing. I’d rather sit with people I know than alone.” He set the silverware and glass down in the space between Sam and Dean and sank into the empty chair there. Chuck slouched like Gwen was and leaned over a little to Sam. “Sam? Would you mind changing places with Gwen? You’re taller and will hide me from about half the room.”

“You’re the one published more books and came to this,” Sam pointed out, transferring his stare to Chuck. “You had no idea you’d actually have to be visible? Perceptive much?”

“Sam. Chill. I don’t mind moving.” Besides, it’d give her a better view of Marissa, who’d bullied the table beside them into vacating for her and her friends and was now trying to get Jo’s attention through hisses and waves of her hands that Jo ignored.

“You don’t have to move, Gwen. Chuck can deal with it. It’s his job.” He was anticipating her reply, however, standing and waiting for her to move to his former chair.

“I want to. Then you don’t have to glare at the entire room. You can glare at the wall and ignore everyone.” He wasn’t amused, scowling at her, and she decided he needed a nap as much as she was starting to. Gwen sat in the chair and caught his hand, tugging so he leaned down to her. “Will you lighten up already? Even Dean is okay with free food.” She jerked her chin in his direction. Dean was reading the menu and nodding as he read.

Sam crouched down. “I don’t find this fun, Gwen. I’ll never find this fun. We should be on the way home or to somewhere else that’s not here.”

“You don’t have to stay for lunch. Go to the room and relax. Watch a movie or something.”

“I don’t want to watch a movie alone or go to the room alone. I want all four of us to do what we planned and have a vacation together instead of two of you going to this and dragging us --”

“Don’t be a grumpy butt, Sam,” Jo said across the table, “and use your inside voice. We’ll leave the hotel tomorrow, okay?”

Beside her, Dean shook his head slightly, though Gwen wasn’t sure if it was in response to Jo or something on the menu. Could be either or both.

Sam flicked a glance to Jo and back to Gwen. “Look, I’m down here because you’re here and I want to be where you are, especially now.” He rested a hand on her stomach. “I’ll feel better when we’ve put this behind us, but don’t expect me to pretend to have fun.”

She touched his cheek, rubbed a thumb across his cheekbone. “We’ll do something you want to do soon. Promise. A few more hours. Tomorrow is all yours, okay?”

He nodded. “We’ll see.”

Jo tapped the table with a hand to get Chuck’s attention. “Why did Zachariah show Dean Risa?”

“Um…” He looked at all of them and back to Jo. “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know? You’re the prophet, Chuck. You’re the writer. You wrote all this stuff down. Why her?”

He moved his silverware back and forth and looked down at the table. “He was just trying to make Dean do what he wanted any way he could. You know what he was like. He tried to make you do what he wanted, too.”

“But why her? Why not make up someone?”

“Um…maybe you’d better ask Cas or something because….” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Zachariah left a record of his reasons and Cas could find out.”

Jo snorted. “You’re no help.”

His gaze was apologetic. “Yeah, I know.”

Risa came back once, rolled her eyes, but didn’t attempt to remove Chuck from their table. Lunch was uneventful to start with. Chuck stayed as close to the table as possible and pretended to be deep in conversation with one of them when anyone approached the table. The food came out hot and prompt.

But then an overly enthusiastic feminine voice sounded. “Do the Dean-Jo bit! Please!”

A young woman, not one of Marissa’s group, stood beside Dean, her phone in hand. Gwen guessed she was planning on recording it.

A scowl formed on Dean’s face. That expression was getting old from he and Sam both. He dropped his silverware onto his plate with a loud clatter. “No. We’re not doing the Dean-Jo bit.” He gestured back and forth between them. “This is who we are, not to mention we’re eating, sister. How about I pester you when you’re eating? You like that? Nothing better than trying to take a bite and having someone want you to do the Dean-Jo bit when there isn’t a damn bit to be done. Bother someone else.”

“He really doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s eating, so maybe later,” Jo told her.

The woman blinked and slowly smiled. “Thank you!” She hurried off back to her own table.

Dean gulped in a breath and Gwen saw a trickle of sweat run down his temple. While he’d started the day just fine, it looked to her like a panic attack was imminent. He focused his attention on his plate, picked up his fork and began to push food around without taking a bite.

Jo flagged the nearest server. “Hi. There’s a hefty tip in it for you if you bring me a whiskey --”

“Jo, it’s not even noon,” Gwen told her, glancing at her watch. “You don’t drink before noon. Hell, you usually don’t drink before five.”

“Make that a vodka collins then, light on the vodka and keep them coming. Big tip, remember.”

“Make that two,” Dean said, his voice a bit ragged sounding.

The server nodded and left.

Chuck kept his head down, avoided making any eye contact, and shoveled in his food as though afraid it was going to be snatched away before he could finish it.

Gwen pushed her plate aside and peered at Dean. “Dean?” He was looking pale now under the lights.

“You know,” Sam sat back and crossed his arms, “we could still leave. It is an option.”

Dean looked up. His jaw squared like he was gritting his teeth, and then he was pushing his chair back and leaving the table and the room.

Sam watched him go and sighed.

Jo frowned. “Think he’d mind if I took his drink when it comes and he’s not back?”

Gwen waited for Sam or Jo to get up and go after him and when neither did she asked, “Shouldn’t one of us go after him?”

“Why? He’s just trying to get a reaction out of me, like during the panel. He’s fine, Gwen.” Jo finally gave in to Marissa’s hisses for her and turned in her chair to talk to her.

Sam slowly got up and leaned down to say in Gwen’s ear, “He’s faking it, okay? He’s got this plan to convince Jo and you that this convention is serious and faking attacks is a part of that. He planned it all out last night before we even came back from karaoke.”

It had looked genuine to her. The sweat, the gritted teeth, the way he’d lost interest in his lunch, and how pale he’d gone in seconds. That wasn’t faking it. He was really having a panic attack, though she wasn’t sure what could have set it off. All they’d been doing was having lunch. “I’d figured he had some kind of plan, but go make sure he’s okay.”

“Gwen.”

“Sam, do it. Check on him for me. If he was faking, tell him he was too convincing and I’m really worried.”

He straightened. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Chuck slid down further in his chair. “So, Gwen…. Could you go back to that chair until Sam comes back? Thanks….”

With a roll of her eyes, she moved chairs…and caught sight of someone at the back of the room that she was certainly going to look for later.

Teddy the Trickster.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was a bad idea. Dean realized that only minutes after the luncheon began in earnest. He was sitting next to Chuck, on the side of the table the was in the direct line of sight to most of the room. People were staring at him. Maybe not at him, but it felt like they were watching him and this wasn’t like the last convention they’d ended up at. This was a lot of people. He tried to concentrate on eating, yet as the minutes passed, he thought he could actually feel eyes on him.

He hated that sensation. Someone was watching him, staring at him, but when he looked up, he couldn’t figure out who it was.

Dean tried to eat, but all he could think of was a future time when his son would be in the same position, having stumbled upon these people. He didn’t want Jack to have to deal with this. He didn’t want Jack to have his own creepy Becky stalking him.

Sweat began to pool in the small of his back an under his arms, and he felt it trickling down his face. His shirt felt damp against his skin, the room blazing hot and everything in sharp focus.

He wasn’t going to have to fake an attack, at least not right now.

The same panicky sensation came over him that he’d felt before, the need to get up and move tugging at him and after the girl left, he couldn’t stop himself. He had to get out of there. He could hear his own breaths, a wheezing in his ears.

He left the room, moving down the hallway, searching for any place that didn’t have convention goers, finally finding a section of hallway where he could pace until he could breathe normally again.

“Dean?”

Sam was behind him and he turned. “Can’t breathe, Sammy.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Can’t take a breath. I’m…..” Dean turned away, putting his hands on the wall and half bending, head lowering. His breaths kept getting louder and louder.

Sam’s body blocked sight of the hallway. “You’re having a real one.” He sounded surprised by that.

Dean nodded and gasped with extreme sarcasm, “You think?”

“What set it off?”

“I don’t know! I was thinking about this and Jack and there it was.” He found himself pushed towards the stairs, Sam shoving him none too gently. “What are you doing?”

“Outside. Go.”

Once they were outside, the sensation began to ease and he leaned against the wall of the hotel. The breeze felt wonderful, cooling him down, and slowly, his breathing eased. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. Can we forget this stupid plan and leave? You had the start of a real panic attack, Dean. That’s not good. Gwen’s concerned. She sent me after you.”

“We’re not leaving.” He was feeling better. He was. “It won’t happen again. Go back in. I’ll be in in a minute.”

“Won’t happen…. Dean. You have a history of these and we still aren’t sure what’ll set one off. You’re not fine and you’re flirting with disaster by even thinking about faking one.”

It took a good ten minutes of arguing before Sam would go back inside. Dean took another moment to compose himself, but didn’t head towards the luncheon. Instead, he ventured into the bar. The room was mostly empty.

Dave was there he saw and he wasn’t surrounded by a group of giggling women. He had an empty plate and half full beer bottle in front of him. His bodyguard was at a table by the door.

He sat at the bar just down from him and ordered a beer, remembering the expression he’d seen on Dave’s face after that fan had tried to climb up him. It seemed they had a couple things in common right off the bat. He waited until the bartender brought his beer. “Hey.”

Dave glanced his way, did a double take, and half turned. “Hey. You’re the guy from the panel.”

“About earlier --”

“No problem.” Dave tapped his beer bottle on the bar. It was the same brand Dean preferred. “I’ve met a few passionate fans before.”

“I’m not exactly a fan.”

He snorted. “No, really? You know, you should wait until the movie comes out before complaining about my portrayal in some way. Or complaining about any of it. It’s sort of like the Trek reboot. Chris warned me to expect this.”

“Chris Pine?”

“Yeah. We worked on a movie together a few years back.

“He warned you about this.” Dean pointed a finger and tapped it on the bar.

“He was up for the role, too, but they decided he was too old. We talked a little about fandoms.”

“The character…. Dean. He’s… You could say he’s very…close to me.”

Dave shrugged. “Sure, man. Whatever. Just so you know, I fought for the character. The director wanted to make him all wussy and I’ve read the books. I did my homework. One thing Dean isn’t is wussy. He may be complicated, with issues up the wazoo, and have a hidden emotional streak, but that doesn’t make him wussy. Dean gets things done.”

“Damn straight.” They drank in silence a moment. Dean glanced at him. Maybe David Angle really could pull him off on the big screen. “I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“The guy playing Sam. What’s he like?”

“Darrin? Nice guy. Fun to be around. We had a pretty good time on set. The prank war we had going….”

They talked, discovering common interests and common problems. Dean decided he sort of liked the guy. He tuned back in to what Dave was saying.

“ -- mystery, you know?”

“I hear you,” Dean said. “Women. I thought I was never going to get in my wife’s pants when we were dating. She had that self-respect thing going on. Plus, we kept getting interrupted. Had this friend Cas that stopped by at the wrong moment a couple times and Sam interrupted by accident --”

“Come on.” he half grinned. “Your names are really Sam and Dean?”

“Cross my heart, Dave. Born with ‘em.”

“And your wife is Jo?”

“Joanna. Yup. Prefers Jo.”

“Wild coincidence.” He didn’t sound like he quite believed him. “You know, I haven’t actually gone out with Rose, but she’s damn cute. Always working when I’m not. I go in the shop with a book and drink more fancy coffee than I should just to see her. I look at her in that shop, with her apron tied low….” He whistled. “Hot little body and the way she looks at me? I’d jump her right there if we were alone.” Dave sighed. “We’re never alone. And now, there’s this girl keeps showing up. Maria? Miranda?”

“Marissa?”

“Yeah, her. I just start to ask Rose if she wants to get a drink or food or something and Marissa shows up like she has radar that knows when I’m making headway.”

“I know the feeling.”

Behind them came the sound a of a throat clearing and Dean glanced back. Dave’s bodyguard stood there. “Time to sign.”

“I’ve got to go, Dean,” Dave said, finishing his beer and setting the bottle down. “Autograph time and another photo op.”

“You and Goliath come on up to the suite when you’re done.”

“We’ll be there. Probably close to three-thirty. Text me if plans change.”

“Will do.” Goliath wasn’t the bodyguard’s name, but since he was bigger than Sam, the nickname fit. Dean headed to the room, feeling much calmer than he had earlier.

~~~~~~~~~~

After telling Gwen that Dean had had a real attack yet claimed he was fine, to which she quirked a brow in mute comment, he wandered the convention, trying to see what Gwen was seeing. He just didn’t think of this as funny. Their lives weren’t something to be gawked at and that was what these people were doing. He’d felt that way before and felt that way now.

Pulling the program from his pocket, he glanced through it again, but didn’t see anything he was interested in going to. Frankly, he was bored. At least the last one had ended up as a job. Plus, there was no sign of Becky still other than that first time in the hall that morning.

Sam returned to the room. Gwen, Jo and Dean had all beat him up there. Jo was talking about how annoying Marissa was and Dean was flipping through channels on the tv.

Gwen tugged him into their room and closed the door. “Come here.” She motioned him to her bag. “I’ve got something for you.”

“What?”

“I was saving this for later, but I think you can use it now.”

“What is it?” He sat on the end of the bed and watched her root around in her bag.

“I know this was supposed to be a vacation and all, but under normal circumstances you and I’d be hitting this point anyway….” With a satisfied smile, she drew out two folders. “I may have found a couple possible cases before we left. Cursed object from Artie Holt’s business dealings has apparently surfaced in a magic act here and four beheadings in the past month, the heads missing.” She handed him the folders.

“That could be something.” That could really be something, he decided, glancing through the file on the beheadings.

“I agree. All the info is in the folders. You can check them out the rest of the day, see if there’s anything we need to investigate in either one. It’ll keep you busy while we’re finishing up here and you don’t have to stay here all bored and mopey.”

He smiled. “You found a couple cases for me.”

“Of course. Possible ones. Little ones. Nothing big.” She shrugged. “I’d go with you, but I need to rest awhile and I really want to check out the women of the series discussion in an hour.”

Sam embraced her, resting his cheek against her breasts. Her hands slid through his hair. He’d feel better if they left, but that wasn’t going to happen, so maybe it was best if he took these folders and occupied himself with work. “So much for the vacation.”

“Like we ever actually have real vacations anyway.”

“True. You lying down for a bit before the discussion?”

“I should. Join me?”

He laid down with her, woke up when her timer went off half an hour later, and gave her a kiss before she left. Sam took the folders into the main room and began to work.