The hitchhikers (and the De Soir Code) (Part 2/2)

[ultraviolet9a]

>> The hitchhikers (and the De Soir Code) (Part 2/2)

 

TITLE: The hitchhikers (and the De Soir Code)

AUTHOR: ultraviolet9a
SPOILER: Spoilers for after In My Time of Dying

GENRE: Crackfic.

CHARACTERS: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester and a heap of other persons I can’t tell you about.

SUMMARY: Sam, Dean, John, a heap of other persons and the Mystery behind Lana of Smallville. (And the mashed-potato-well demon. And mysterious voices.And sarcasm like whoa. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you anyway.)

RATING: PG-13. Easy on the rating.

FEEDBACK: Dude…duh. 
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the Winchester boys nor the various other verse visitors (which include Smallville and Ats generally speaking). I’m willing to compromise with doppelgangers though.

NOTE: This is my favourite piece of work by far, and the one I’m most proud of because no hint is left unresolved or misplaced. My credo too, in a sense. Everything I believe about the Winchesters, fanfic (and Lana) is in here. (I blame Pratchett a lot. And Spike.)

[Part One Here]: It all makes sense in the end

On to Part Two:

The empty church ruins were exactly as they should be. They had a roof, enough to keep the rain out, but some walls were missing so that the Goth effect wouldn’t be spoilt. The sunny day had evolved to a rainy, thunder filled night, but the hard wind didn’t blow out the candles they had lit, merely made the flames tremble, which in turn made the shadows fall around more…Goth. Right. Of course.

 

“Candles,” Mattie mumbled. “Candles my ass. I’d love a torch right now.”

 

But no. Amber had insisted that the torches would be left outside.

 

“So we bring Dad back,” Dean asked. “And nothing else.”

 

“We’ll bring a powerful demon back and we’ll force him to do our bidding. Our bidding will be to bring John back,” Amber corrected then hugged Dean tight. “Don’t worry, it’s going to be ok.”

 

Her eyes were already brimming with sentiment. It reminded Matt vaguely of Lana Lang. Ew.

 

“Right.”

 

They’d done all symbols and pentalphas and all that and Mattie really wished they would hurry along.

 

“It’s got to happen at midnight,” Amber said. Of course, Matt thought. Figures. Drama. She looked over at Sam. He nodded silently.

 

Amber started chanting. Dean was surprised that such a powerful spell didn’t require any sacrifice, especially a white goat.

 

“White goat?” Amber said, then brilliantly smiled at her own knowledge. “Oh I know, that’s a euphemism, used mostly in voodoo for humane sacrifice. No, no sacrifice. I don’t do sacrifice. That’s why I found the spell that needs no sacrifice, just a supernatural death.”

 

So the candles were set, the herbs were done, and Dean donated some of his blood on the runes drawn and of course, Amber did all chanting. And suddenly a demon was there. A big huge demon, like a Bal-rog, standing in the centre of the circle unable to move outside. Red, flapping beast, massive horns, you wondered how the roof actually managed to contain this size.

 

And also how hallowed ground allowed his presence, Sam thought, but didn’t say anything. It was a Mary Sue verse still.

 

“Hear me, demon,” Amber said, straightening up. She looked like a queen, a queen of warrior angels, full of dignity and power. “If you want to be released, then you must bring John Win…”

 

There was only muffled protest as Sam got her hands and Mattie gagged her mouth.

 

“Sam what are you doing?!” Dean yelled approaching.

 

Sam turned his full stare at him.

 

“Dean,” he said quietly, and all the sibling love, all the family longing, all the bonds of brothers was there, in two words. “Trust me.”

 

For a moment Dean seemed torn. Then he stood still..

 

“Always,” he said, and at that moment the world stopped on its hinges and started rotating properly again.

 

–

 

They finished tying her up. Since she had done the spell, it was safer to keep her conscious then not.

 

“She’s a Mary Sue,” Dean said. “A Mary Sue.”

 

Mattie once more narrated to him the talk she had with Sam in the parking outside their motel room.

 

“She’s a Mary Sue,” he repeated.

 

“Didn’t it strike you as odd that her spell doesn’t have a white goat? That she’ll use the spell to bring John Winchester back and not her own mother?” Matt said.

 

“But our father died a supernatural death…”

 

“And what do you think burning up against the ceiling is, Dean?” Sam said impatiently. “She is a Mary Sue. Look at her. Please look at her and tell me that a girl like that, in that dress way, in that mentality, could ever be a true hunter.”

 

Dean tilted his head. The candle light caught one side of his face deep in thought, the other deep in darkness.

 

They were right of course. He should have known, should have known the moment he had noticed Mattie. He had felt comfortable with Mattie and her hunting clothes, her fear of screwing up, her silent knowledge, her dirty fighting. Mattie didn’t fight for show. Mattie fought for living. Like they did. He should have known. There was virtually no reason why Amber should have come crashing through that barn window when they first met her. A true hunter would first work the perimeter and help those who needed more helping. Mattie had done that. Working in the background she’d eliminated some guarding vampires, freed the hostages and then showed up at the barn, because she had recognized them as true hunters that would stand their own for a while.

 

“It was her trail the vampires had picked up when we met you, wasn’t it?” he asked, wearily rubbing his eyes with his right hand. “That had bugged me to tell you the truth. We’re good at not being spotted.”

 

Mattie nodded. “I didn’t know she was a Mary Sue back then,” she said. “but the night before? Some guy had grabbed her ass in a honky-tonk bar and she had kicked his ass. That draws attention. Was a dumb thing to do too. I mean you start dancing the way she does in a place like that and what’d she expect? Flowers and heart-shaped candy?”

 

“She’s a Mary Sue alright,” Dean said. “Dangerous demons. But they can’t not show off.”

 

“Can’t not show off?” Sam said. “Dean, is that even English language?”

 

“Shut up, Sam. How’s that for English?” Dean said without malice, and suddenly all three were silent [course, in the distance you heard the muffled Mary Sue, but there was not much she could do at the moment. They were paying attention to her and had thoroughly searched her.]

 

“See?” Matt said quietly. “You’re doing wisecracks again.”

 

There was a discreet, but way baritone cough.

 

They all turned.

 

“Excuse me,” said the Demon in a voice that seemed to come through a well filled with mashed potatoes. “Not that I’m complaining mind you, but is this how we’re going to spend the rest of this fic?”

 

–

 

 

“So what did you have in mind?” Dean asked. “Surely you had a plan or you wouldn’t have gagged her and all that.”

 

“Well,” Sam said, “we thought we’d swap her for dad. She can be the sacrifice.”

 

“Hey, that’s not what we said. It’s not her fault she’s a Mary Sue,” Matt exclaimed. “She may be dangerous and annoying but she’s humane…to a larger percent. She was just born this way.”

 

“Well, it’s not any demon’s fault it’s a demon, doesn’t mean we don’t get rid of it,” Dean said.

 

“Point.”

 

“So what do we do?”

 

There was another cough.

 

They all turned.

 

“Excuse me for interrupting again,” the Demon said politely in the same welled mashed potato voice, “but I have an idea.”

 

–

 

There was a huge red light, like fire that didn’t burn. Then the flames turned blue. Then the world went white. Then the world went black.

 

–

 

There was a lot of crying. Crying would not have been accepted as canon except…in this scene. In the scene where in the darkness Sam fumbled to turn on his torch. In the scene where he made light and then on all four dragged himself to his unconscious brother. In the scene where shaking him awake he pointed at the spot the demon once stood. In the scene where all the world was quiet and waited with their breath held.

 

And then both started to scramble across the old broken tiles and dirt, and those 6 feet of distance felt like the distance between the moon and the earth and time eternal till they finally, finally reached the centre of the pentalpha, finally saw the curled up figure down, finally hugged him crying out Dad, dad over and over again, till John opened his eyes and took a deep breath and found himself in the arms of his sons as they all started crying, calling each other’s names, and then nothing, because some silences are louder than any words spoken.

 

–

 

There were showers, and food and explanations. There was bliss and emotions a writer can’t do justice to.

 

And there was one small part of sadness. Mattie sat quietly at her chair in the diner, rolling the cigarette with her right palm on the table, watching the family be a family again.

 

She was happy, she was, with all her heart. The demon had been right. Fair trade. Give us the Mary Sue to unleash to other verses, he said, and I’ll bring you John back.

 

“What other verses?” Dean had wanted to know.

 

“Oh, you know. Verses where she’ll fit in but annoy the hell of any decent reader or viewer.” The demon shrugged.

 

“Like 7^th Heaven or Smallville?” Mattie asked and to her surprise watched the demon shudder.

 

“Not Smallville,” the demon said. “They already got Lana. She’s punishment enough.”

 

“Are you telling me that someone from a different verse sent her to you and you to Smallville?!” Mattie said.

 

The demon shrugged again. “Yes? Don’t you worry. I’ll find a show. One that doesn’t have strong story plots to begin with. Or even better, I’ll sent her to other fanfics.”

 

“And what’s in it for you?” Sam had asked.

 

“Are you kidding me?” the demon said. “We’re talking about sending a Mary Sue to fanfic! We’re talking about an ancient and lethal curse here!”

 

“Oh. But what happens to the other fics?” Mattie asked.

 

“Well,” the demon shrugged. “They ought to be more careful. Like you. Deal?”

 

–

 

So deal it had been, and John had been brought back and the verse was normal again, with the evil Mary Sue being eliminated.

 

And I’m just a second character again, Mattie thought. With Amber at least I could tag along for a long, long while as her sidekick. Damn. And I don’t even know if I’m well-written.

 

A warm hand clasped hers, forcing it still, cigarette trapped underneath it.

 

She looked up. John was looking at her intently. Good genes in the family, she thought. All of them gorgeous as hell.

 

“Mattie,” he said. “I and I think my boys too, would like to thank you. No protagonist can ever escape a Mary Sue. It has got to be a secondary, sometimes even original character that does that. This time it was you. It takes a lot of strength and good writing of a character for a character to do what you did. So thank you.”

 

She was no Mary Sue, so she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t cry.

 

The first tears started welling up.

 

“Mattie, why are you sad?” Sam asked.

 

“Well…the story is ending…you’ll keep on travelling and doing whatever it is that you do and I…I’ll be gone I think. No one cared if I was a good hunter so far. It doesn’t matter if I was smart and did what was right and did well. I have to end. And I don’t want to end. No living thing wants to end….Nor be alone. Not after all that, Sammy. Sorry. I meant, Sam.”

 

Sam smiled. “I don’t mind being called Sammy.”

 

“Really, Sammy?” Dean grinned.

 

“I don’t mind being called Sammy by her. She’s earned it.”

 

“And what do you think I’ve been doing saving your ass all those years?”

 

“Trying to balance out the times I’ve saved yours.” Sam deadpanned and the Winchester family grinned.

 

Their grin could light up a world, Matt thought. It had lit her life and now…now she’d have to trail back in the shadows.

 

“You know, Mattie,” John said, “I think in this story the writer wants me as a regular.”

 

“Was about bloody time too,” Dean muttered.

 

“And I don’t think anyone would mind if…if you stuck with us for a little while more. No, I don’t think anyone would object to that. Shouldn’t object to that. Because we sure as hell don’t.”

 

She looked at them.

 

“Really?”

 

There was a unanimous nod.

 

“But…” Mattie said, “You know that I am an original character that is kind of encompassing the mentality and essence of my creator without being a Mary Sue.”

 

“Look, Sammy,” Dean grinned, “she sounds just like you now.”

 

Mattie rolled her eyes. It was the first time she had after they had done away with Amber.

 

“What I mean is that I’m the avatar of the writer. To a great extent. Isn’t there a danger that I’ll turn Mary Sue on to you?”

 

John shook his head.

 

“If you were to turn Mary Sue you would already have. From the very beginning. Amber would have latched onto Dean and you would have latched on to Sam. Or some other combination. You’re no Mary Sue. You’re just Matt. Only Matt. No one else.”

 

“You know what Matt stands for?” Dean asked. “I thought I’d do some acronym mojo too.”

 

“And?”

 

“Might Avert Terrible Tragedy. That’s why you spell it with double T even if it’s from Matilda.”

 

She grinned.

 

“For the strong wisecrack tough lead you’re rather clever.”

 

“Thank you, princess. Now. Should we hit the road or what?”

 

And so the Winchester family with one tiny and temporary addition, left the diner.

 

The Impala drove off into the first rays of dawn.

 

–

 

And that should have been the end. The gunslingers, be it Lucky Luke or the Winchesters, riding off into the sunset. Or dawn. Or whatever. It rarely happens this way.

 

The Impala swallowed miles and miles of road ribbon until suddenly John squinted in the distance.

 

“A hitchhiker?” Sam asked from the back seat.

 

“Yep.”

 

The black Impala slowed down. The hitchhiker was a man in his thirties. Bleached hair, black jeans, black T-shirt and a black duster. He bowed down and looked through at all the passengers.

 

“It’s an Impala, alright,” he said in a distinctive Cockney accent. He looked at the girl, a slight cocky smile on his chiselled face. “Are you Matilda, also known as Mattie?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Brilliant. I need a ride, boys.”

 

“Where you going to?”

 

“Anywhere you are. Name’s Spike and I’m humane in this verse.”

 

He didn’t wait for a reply, but opened the door to Matt’s side and shoved himself in. Mattie moved to the middle shrugging in a clueless manner.

 

“You know how a word can mean lots of things on god’s green earth and how words have power, love?” he said turning his head to Mattie. She nodded.

 

“And you know how the writer said that in this verse you could bring something back but it wouldn’t be just the dead, cuz something dark had to come along for the ride too??”

 

She nodded again. He pointed at his black, his dark clothes and gave her a brilliant cat like smile that reached up to his smouldering blue eyes.

 

“Well, pet, I’m it. Now, you wouldn’t have a ciggie, would you?”

 

Matt reached to her pocket, took out the cigarette she had always been rolling and gave it to him wordlessly. She was smiling.

 

The Impala drove off and the day was king again.

 

–

 

And that should have been the end too. Except sometimes…sometimes you need one more funny scene.

 

It was midday when Sam squinted in the distance.

 

“Hitchhikers again?” he asked.

 

“Yep.”

 

The black Impala slowed down as it approached them..

There were two girls on the side of the road. The one with the raised thumb stood like a May queen or ready to have a photo shoot. She had long blonde hair waving in the wind like a shampoo commercial and the most perfect body Dean has ever laid eyes upon. The other had wavy red hair and was equally if not more beautiful.

 

“Hi!!” The blonde said. “We’re going to Trinity!!!! Could you give us a ride????”

 

The tires screeched and burnt rubber as Dean hit the accelerator with all his might.

 

“That was close,” he said, sweat trickling from his forehead.

 

“Nah, don’t worry. I don’t think we’ll see them again.” John smiled and he was so sure that his boys relaxed immediately. “Now crank up the music a bit, will you?”

 

The Impala drove away under the sun. It greedily swallowed miles day after day, night after night…but that, dear reader, is a different story.

 

–

 

The End. [this time for good]

 

SIDENOTE: My apologies if you're a Lana fan (and my sympathy too, probably). Got nothing against the actress, but the character is too mary sue for my liking. So. Don't mean to offend anyone though. Really.

Comments

[ultraviolet9a.livejournal.com]

Thanks for reading it! :)

Been reading fanfic for ages. Wrote this piece back in October in one go and didn't change anything, spelling aside, when I read this again now, so I guess my thoughts on fanfic must have been fermenting for quite some time and begging to be fleshed out. (now that was a nice cooperative plotbunny. Unlike the ones now. Dammit.)