33. "Play Through the Pain."

"I'm sorry, fill me in here," I say. "Who's Charlie?"

We got an email last night from someone named Charlie, who had supposedly found the boys a case. Now, here we are, the following day, waiting. I'm still watching Sam like a mother hen, but I can't help it.

"We met her last year," says Dean. "You'll like her, maybe."

"Maybe? That sounds convincing."

"You haven't had a lot of women to talk to, Max. This might be good for you."

"Focus on the case, Dean, not my social life." I nudge his ribs.

Soon enough, a yellow bug finds its way to the bunker and stops. I notice the red hair even before she steps out of the car. When she does get out, I feel like an old lady. She's got a dorky look to her, but no glasses or anything, just the outfit. But it's not a bad dorky in any means.

"Your Highness!" Dean calls.

"What's up, bitches?"

I tilt my head. This friendship is a bit weird. I sort of loom in the background as Charlie hugs the brothers.

"You okay, Sam?" she asks as Sam leans rather heavily on the Impala.

"Yeah, no I'm, I'm good, yeah," he mutters.

You don't look it. Even Charlie can see that.

"Is this who you talked about?" Charlie looks at me. She almost gets this deer-in-headlights look. I don't look that hideous or scary, do I?

"You mentioned me?" I look at the brothers.

"We didn't want any surprises," Dean says.

"Don't worry, there wasn't any trash talk," Charlie assures me. "There actually wasn't much talk at all about you, other than your name."

"Then I guess we don't need any introduction," I say kindly.

"What're you doing in Kansas?" Sam asks Charlie.

"Uh...a comic convention. In Topeka."

"In the middle of the week?"

"Girl's gotta get her collectibles. So, are you gonna invite me into your dungeon, or do I gotta answer your 'questions three' first?"

"Allow us-let us introduce you to the Men of Letters."

* * *

"Holy awesome" are the first words out of Charlie's mouth. We're in the bunker library. Charlie's eyes are wide in awe. "Too bad they got wiped out, though that is what they get for the sexist name."

"Well, anyway, that's our skinny," says Sam. "How about you?"

"Um, made a deal with the yesteryear weirdos, we're gonna team up to stomp the Shadow Orcs. You guys are still coming to the mid-year jubilee, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," says Dean.

I'm so lost. My mind feels a little out of control.

"So what about this case you brought for us?" I get right into things.

"When I was in Topeka, I saw this pop up over the wire," Charlie begins. "Tom Blake, a checkout clerk in Salina, who went missing on his way home from work. He was found dead yesterday, his insides liquefied. Locals have no idea what happened, they tried to bury the report so people wouldn't freak, but I flagged it. I have eliminated the following things that go bump in the night-"

"Wait a second," Sam cuts her off. "When did you become such an expert?"

"Well, after you guys left, I dug into all things monsters. I'm a wee bit obsessive. If 'wee bit' means completely. I also found this series of books, by a Carver Edlund? Did those books really happen?"

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask.

"Wow, guys. Nice way to keep Max up-to-date," she scolds them. "There is a book series that's based on their lives."

Dean and Sam exchange awkward glances.

I shake my head vigorously. "You're kidding."

"I know, I know. It's hard to digest. Try reading them."

"Don't do it," Dean warns me.

"Is Charlie right? There's a freaking book series that stars you two?"

The sigh from Sam tells Charlie and me "yes."

"Wow," I say, whistling lowly.

"That is some meta madness," Charlie chimes. "Thanks for saving the world and stuff. Sorry you have zero luck with the ladies."

"We need to find every single copy of those books and burn them," Sam tells his brother.

"They're online now, so good luck with that."

"Awesome," says Dean. "Well, you three crazy kids deal with that, I'll go see if there's anything to this, uh, case of yours."

"I'm coming with you," Sam insists. Charlie and I are there to grab Sam to make sure he doesn't hit the floor.

"Whoa, are you sure you're okay?" Charlie asks.

"Yes."

"No," says Dean. "You're taking a knee as long as you're off your game."

"I'll go with you," Charlie offers.

"No disrespect, okay, but there's a big difference between reading about hunting and actually hunting. Besides, I think Max would be better suited for the job if I had to take someone."

"I'm coming with. No offense, Max."

"None taken," I tell her lightly. I look to Dean with narrowed eyes. "Time for another test?"

"Time for another test," he agrees.

Dean leads Charlie to the shooting gallery while I stay with Sam.

* * *

Somehow, Charlie proves to Dean that she's good enough to be out in the field. Which, consequently, leaves me to play babysitter to Sam. So while Dean has Charlie out costume shopping (and not the kind she would normally consider "costume"), I'm stuck between me time and watching over Sam.

Me time right now consists of investigating Dean's room. Not to steal anything, I'm beyond that point. I've lost my survival instincts since I've been in this bunker with the Winchesters. Since I've met them, my life has molded into something different.

I take note of his wall of weaponry, noticing a peculiar weapon. My mind flashes to the one I had been temporary owner of in Purgatory. I'll bet that's seen a lot of monster blood. I bite down on my thumbnail, in thought. A year, Dean had survived a year in Purgatory.

I leave Dean's room to head back to the shooting gallery. Since Sam's probably asleep in his room or somewhere else in the bunker, I don't have to worry about him leaving.

But when I find the said shooting gallery, I can't stop the grimace that covers my face.

"Damn it," I mutter as I find Sam at one of the stations. "The hell do you think you're doing?"

"Max-"

"I thought you were taking it easy?"

"When have you ever known me to obey rules?"

"I haven't known you that long." I fold my arms over my chest. I blink as Sam's phone goes off. I lunge for it, but he scoops it up, holding it high out of my reach.

"Yeah?" Sam answers, keeping me at bay with his other arm.

"Hey, it's me," I hear Dean's voice. "You okay?"

"Yes, Dean. I'm still fine. Look, I can hunt, I-"

"He's obviously lying!" I scream.

"Well, then let the healing continue. I'll check in with you later."

"There's no way you're healthy enough to go out, Sam," I chastise him once the call ends.

"I'll prove it." He picks up the gun, fires two shots. Both shots in comparison to the others last night are closer but not hitting the target. "Close enough."

"Damn it, Sam!" I run after him as he stumbles out of the shooting gallery. "I'm supposed to babysit you. Guess this means I'll be breaking out the ammunition."

"Max, if Dean comes back and finds me hurt worse, whether you're his girlfriend or not, he will kick your ass for it."

"What makes you think I'd hurt you? I'd just knock you out then tie you up, and then lock the door and throw away the key," I say nonchalantly.

"You can't stop me, Max."

I sigh. "Unfortunately, I might agree with you on that. If you're so bullheaded about joining the hunt, at least let me go with you."

"Under any other circumstance, I'd say no."

"Finally, some sense!" I say dramatically. "I'm glad I don't have to argue with you about it. You should be this way more often, you're more susceptible to suggestion."

* * *

Once Sam finds a recent report-a victim near railroad tracks-it's our cue to get moving. I almost think we won't get anywhere, but Charlie left her car at the bunker, which Sam hotwires. Not too sure she'll be happy about it. Sam and I are garbed up in professional attire. I pull my hair back into a ponytail for this.

I drive, as I don't trust Sam to do so. He gives me the directions, and soon we find the scene. We've got the usual police presence. We climb out of Charlie's car, and Sam is the first to get the details while I'm merely the observant agent.

I could hear the engine from a mile away if I had really wanted to. Sure enough, the Impala pulls up, with the driver and passenger climbing out. Boy, this is going to be fun, I think grimly. I hold my breath and wait by the car until the pairs of eyes notice Sam.

"Took you guys so long?" says Sam as Charlie and Dean come over.

Dean gives me a pointed look. "I thought you were watching him?"

"I am, in a manner of speaking," I stammer. "Come on, do you really think I had a shot of holding him hostage back at the bunker? This was the next best thing."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Working the case, same as you," says Sam, gesturing towards the body. "Jake Hill, librarian. Went missing yesterday, no relation to the other vic. Coroner already swooped in and scooped up what was left of him."

"Yeah, we met her, bit of a stickler. Well, if there's not a body, there's nothing else to see here, so why don't you go home?"

"Still have to talk to the witnesses."

"Well, we can handle that. Charlie, why don't you go talk to the witnesses."

"But I don't wanna miss the broman-" she tries to protest.

"Charlie."

She looks at me with fearful, big eyes. I give her an encouraging thumbs up as she heads to the bench with the two male witnesses. I know I'm better off staying here with the Winchesters.

"Look, man, I know you're frustrated," says Dean. "But you're also sick."

"I'm not leaving, Dean."

"The hell you aren't. Next time, I'm locking you up somewhere since Max clearly isn't enough."

"It was your idea to begin with!" I complain.

"I know you wanna help, I do, but-"

"Dean, you cannot take care of the both of us," Sam protests. "Max isn't a superhero, either. I need to be out here. Play through the pain, right?"

"Come on man, don't quote me to me."

"So," Charlie comes back into the picture, "the boys said they noticed something on the body's arm before it covered them in years of future therapy. Said it looked like a blue handprint."

"Sounds like something you should read about. In a book. At home."

"I'm not leaving until we find out whatever is doing this," Sam insists.

"Whatever." Dean stalks off.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I'm not sure who Dean's madder at. I've only got so many guesses.

"You guys fight like an old married couple," Charlie notes.

"Charlie..."

"Does this mean we don't have to break into the coroner's office anymore?"

"That's a good idea."

The Impala's engine turns my attention to Dean taking off.

"Is he leaving?" Charlie gasps. "He's leaving!"

"That's alright. We stole your car. I think I know where he's going. Come on."

"Cool. Wait, you stole my car?"