Episode: Season 4 - The Monster At the End of This Book Pt. 2

As we approached the house of the address the publisher had given us, Sam knocked on the door. After a few minutes, it swung open to reveal a short, disheveled man in a bathrobe who eerily looked like Mr. Robutusen from Princess Diaries.

"You Chuck Shurley?" Dean asked the man.

"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the Supernatural books?" Sam offered.

"Maybe. Why?" he asked in a bored tone.

"I'm Dean. This is Sam and Parker. The Dean, Sam, and Parker you've been writing about," Dean informed him.

The man nodded, smiling fakely as he slammed the door in our faces. I scowled as I mashed the doorbell. Slowly, he opened the door again and smiled that same faux smile as before.

"Look, uh, I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's always nice to hear from the fans. But for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life," he said, denim blue eyes bloodshot.

"See, here's the thing. We have a life. You've been using it to write your books," Dean snapped at him suddenly as Sam forced his way inside the house.

I was about do the same when Dean caught me by the wrist, spinning me into him. My brown eyes met his green orbs and I bit my lip as the anger he had for Chuck dissipated.

"What?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

Gently, he cupped my cheek and I leaned into his touch, placing my own hand over his.

"Why didn't you tell me before? That you were in love with me?" he asked me, his words soft as we stood on the porch.

I shrugged, strands of ebony hair falling around my face just to be tucked behind my ear again by Dean's nimble fingers.

"I didn't know how to say it..." I admitted quietly and I felt his fingers caress my cheek.

"I didn't know how either..." Dean confessed and I smiled up at him before he connected his lips to mine.

Butterflies swarmed in my belly at the contact, his lips warm and soft on mine. His mouth glided across mine gently before he pulled away. We grinned at each other as he led me into the house, following after his brother.

"Is this some kind of Misery thing? It is, isn't it? It's a Misery thing!" Chuck wailed from the living room and we found him lying on the couch as Sam glowered at him.

"It's not a Misery thing. Believe me, we are not fans," Dean snapped at him, walking over to the couch where he lay.

"Well, then what do you want?" Chuck whined.

"I'm Sam and that's Dean and Parker," Sam explained to him.

"Sam, Dean, and Parker are fictional characters. I made them up. They're not real,"

I let out a sigh and walked over to the window. The glass was grimy, blurring the outside world. With the back of my sleeve, I rubbed on the glass till I could make out figures walking around outside.

"How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking seals?" Sam suddenly asked him and I turned back around to join the boys.

"How do you know about that?" Chuck asked cautiously.

"Question is how do you?" I shot back, crossing my arms over my black with red-lettering Buffy the Vampire Slayer t-shirt as I sat down on the couch.

"Because I wrote it,"

"You kept writing?"

"Yeah. Even after the publisher went bankrupt. But those books never came out..."

"I'm Dean Winchester and this is my brother, Sam. And my girlfriend, Parker Martinez," Dean let out an exasperated sigh, his tone that of an adult explaining something to a petulant child.

"Last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down," Chuck said suddenly, his blue eyes widening in shock.

He raked a hand through his very disheveled brown hair then, "Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously, I'm a god,"

I snorted, rolling my eyes as I leaned back into the cushions, "You're not a god,"

"How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god," he said, beginning to pace across the room, "The things I put you through. The physical beatings alone,"

"We're still in one piece," Sam tried to assure him to no avail.

"I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. You had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica," he shook his head, briefly glancing at Sam before his eyes shifted to me, "And you - I killed your mother when you were a baby so you were forced you to grow up with an Aunt that was cruel to you. You had no love growing up at all,"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, avoiding his eyes.

"All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for entertainment!"

"You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us," Sam told him.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he ignored Sam's words, "Well, at least nothing bad has happened to Darker,"

We all furrowed our eyebrows in confusion.

"Darker?" we questioned simultaneously.

Chuck nodded then, smiling as he looked from me to Dean.

"Yeah. You and Dean. You're Darker! One of my greatest creations," he beamed as he went back to his work.

I felt my face heat up slightly at our ship name. Chuck told us about more things he had written then - about how Sam would have a fling with...Lilith of all...demons... We bid our goodbyes to Chuck then and we all headed back to the hotel to make sure Sam was safe and far away from her clutches. But what awaited me there, I never could have saw coming. Slid in between the windshield wipers of the Impala where usually, Dean's growing collection of parking tickets were placed was a letter...to me. Sam grabbed it as we headed inside and handed it to me as I sat down on one of the twin beds in our hotel room.

In the middle just my name was listed so I have no idea how the letter even got here to me. But my eyes widened in surprise when I read who it was from. Aunt Grace. I arched my eyebrows, reading it off to the boys who were equally surprised. Ripping it open, I slid a folded paper out before opening it. It read:

Dear Parker,

If you're reading this, I am dead. Don't pretend to be sad, we both know you're ecstatic I'm gone. There's no one to hold you back now, is there? You're free to live recklessly just like you always wanted. With those two boys who are just dead ends. You'll destroy your life by staying with them but I guess that's your choice now. I tried to raise you the best I could in return for what I asked for-

At this part of the letter, absentmindedly, I briefly chewed on my fingernail with a confused expression on my face. What in the world was she talking about? What did she ask for?

-but in the end, maybe it wasn't worth it. All the wealth in the world couldn't have been enough for what it took to raise a brat like you. Parker, maybe it's time you should know...I'm not your great-aunt. I'm no relation to you at all.

My eyes widened even more and I bit my lip as I read on.

Surely, you're smart enough to know now that your mother was a witch. A very powerful one. I made a deal with her - a spell that would give me all the riches I pleased. And in return, if ever something should happen to her, I would look after her only daughter - you. After your mother died in that horrible...accident, I kicked out that filthy little Familiar that always hung around ad I took you in, raising you like a great-niece. I made up that your father was my nephew. When in reality...there was no Daniel Sullivan.

I sucked in a sharp breath, whispering quietly to myself, "What?"

I don't know who your father was - I never heard a name since I only knew your mother in passing. All I knew was that he was an evil man - cold, cruel, malicious. Some say he had no soul. And I believed that wholeheartedly. He was a mean, vicious man from the stories I've heard. So now you know. You are and have always been nothing to me. And now that I'm gone, I'm under no obligation to care for you anymore. Everything in my will has been left to the state. You shall inherit nothing from me, Parker Martinez, as it always should have been. I'm sorry I ever made that deal now. But it's much too late for regrets. Have a nice life, Parker. Try not to destroy it.

Grace Sullivan

I gripped the letter tightly with shaking hands, Sam and Dean's eyes boring into me.

"Parker? What did it say?" Sam asked softly and slowly, I met their concern-filled eyes.

"Daniel Sullivan wasn't my real father."