This Can Not Be Real. Right?

I clicked my tongue, "So since you know about the black goo guys Cas has walked into the city water supply and vamoose," I stated from my chain position.

"Yeah pretty much," Sam nodded then moved his hair behind his ear.

"So when do we go back to Bobbys?"

"Today," Dean grunted.

"Dibs on shotgun," I smiled up at the brothers.

'Corse I was shoved in the back seat. Goon news, I was finely out of chains. Now I would never disrespect the car. It was the poor mans' life line. So I kicked my shoes off before stretching out in the back. Deans blue eyes in the mirror met my own brown ones. I looked up a half inch and started to fix my baby pink hair.

"Alright Pinkie, who are you," Dean asked once we pulled out on to the interstate.

"My names Ryan, I feel like Pinkie isn't going to fade away anytime soon though."

"How old are you Ryan," Sam asked. He was always the more gentler of the two. Well except that time where he was soul-less and everything.

"I'm 19, and you know what; Dean you'll love this, I don't want to hunt with you," I wanted to kick myself since I did happen to know what was coming for Bobby's place.

"That's the best thing I've heard all day," Dean said in his snarky tone.

"Look Dean. I know you just lost your boyfriend and everything but I was just forced into a world I thought was fictional. We do not need two people breaking down at the same time!"

"You're a bitch," Dean grunted.

"Still better than Becky," this comment made both brothers give me a strange look.



Time passed, and Sam had fallen asleep. Dean looked up at me though the rear view mirror. I felt his gaze and turned to lean forward.

"You want to know what I meant about two people breaking down. Don't you," I spoke softly to the driver.

He seemed hesitant, "Yeah."

"Honestly, Sam is running on fumes. He's going to snap. You're both bull headed, that's your father in the two of you. That's why he won't talk about it with you. You're a good brother Dean. Better than mine anyway," I muttered the last part.

Dean was silent. I took it as the end of the conversation and leaned back in the seat.

"What do you mean by that," Dean looked up through the mirror.

"I'm only telling you this cause I know your back story," I paused to take a breath.

"Your life may seemed fucked up to you, but there are a lot worse ones being dealt to good people. For starters I'm the product of teen pregnancy. I was the second one, my brother is a little less than a year older than me. Mom doped out, and well she's now a meth whore. My Dad, he graduated top of his class, sounds like a great guy right.

"Wrong he cheated on my mom daily, and beat us. Yeah Us as in plural. My brother was never touched. In fact being sent here was like a fucking blessing, 'cause the bastard sold me, yeah he sold me for some fucking blow. Sounds like the apple pie life you boys keep thinking of?

"So yeah your father may not have been around much, but he took you guys around with him. He left you in the care of capable hands. You may not have picked this life style, but at least you're a real hero."
Dean shook his head, "I'm no hero."

"Maybe in your eyes you're not, but to those who read Chuck's books and who watch the show in my world, you are," I leaned forward and patted his shoulder. The man kept to silence once again.

"Now are we done with the talking, 'cause I'm getting kind of hungry," I stretched out across the back once again.

"You're gonna' to have to wait Pinkie," Dean said light heartedly. I smiled happy to know that Dean Winchester does not hate my guts.