![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amberdreamsThe (J2) French Mistake - Part 2
Title: The (J2) French Mistake
Author![info]](file:///Users/anne-mariebyrne/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0/clip_image002.png){kind=small}
amber1960
Characters: Jared, Jensen, Bobby Singer, Raphael, Ben Edlund (Gen)
Rating: PG-13
Words: c 6800
Summary: Season 6 – what happened to the ‘real’ Jensen and Jared when Sam and Dean took their places in that reality? What if they actually swapped places with Sam & Dean and found themselves in a real Supernatural environment (not talking to each other)?
Warnings: Some swearing
Now his initial anxiety about Jensen’s injuries had been allayed by the awesome competence of the real Bobby Singer, Jared was starting to relax and enjoy the whole “visiting another dimension” experience.
Having been told in no uncertain terms to get his gargantuan ass out of Bobby’s space while the old hunter stitched up the last of Jensen’s lacerations, Jared was free to explore the house. Which was, quite frankly, amazing. He wandered around the study, randomly picking up books that smelt of decay and herbs and old leather, and were full of strange engravings, unlike the mostly empty props they used on their set. He was so used to being in an incomplete three-sided mirror version of these rooms, and having to walk around a tangle of wires and cameramen to get from a to b, it felt strange to be enclosed by four walls (well, except for the gaping hole where the bay window should have been, that is).
He was thumbing through what he assumed was some sort of ancient grimoire when Bobby came downstairs. It was getting easier and easier to think of the old man as Bobby Singer, hunter, instead of Jim Beaver, veteran actor, which was the main reason Jared felt like a kid with his fist in the candy jar as Bobby caught him with the book in his hand. In his hurry to put the grimoire down on the table, he knocked a teetering pile of books and papers with his elbow, and just managed to stop the whole lot cascading onto the floor.
“Sorry, sorry I just….er…,” Jared spluttered until Bobby put him out of his misery.
“So, making yourself useful doing some research on how we might send you and Mr GQ Magazine back to where you belong, eh? Good.”
Jared didn’t think it was the right time to point out that he had featured on GQ’s cover more often than Jensen Ackles had, especially as GQ Magazine in this universe might turn out to be gay porn or something. Although he was now having a hard time imagining Bobby Singer reading gay porn. He waited until the veteran hunter settled in behind the desk with a large tumbler of whiskey safely in his hand before he dared to speak again.
“Erm, so, is Jensen going to be okay?” He waved in the general direction of the stairs. “Should I go and, you know, watch over him or something?”
“He’s fine, son. We should check on him in a couple of hours or so, but for now, sleep’s the best thing for him. Now, why don’t you take those volumes there, while I look through these…” But Jared was no longer listening. Once he had heard the all-important words confirming Jensen was not going to die anytime soon, a wave of excitement washed over him. Jared didn’t wait for Bobby to finish his sentence before jumping in, eyes lit up with enthusiasm.
“We won’t need those books, Bobby! I think I know exactly how we open the door to get us home – and get your Dean and Sam back. It was all in the script…and I know all the lines back to front!”
Two hours later both men were tired and frustrated. Jared was happy to admit he had spoken too soon. The answers might have all been in the script, but although Jared could remember all the ingredients Sebastian (no, Balthazar) mentioned using to paint the symbol onto the window, he had only a vague idea what the symbol looked like. He had run his hands though his hair so many times it was standing on end, and the end of his pencil was chewed down to the lead. He crumpled up his latest drawing when Bobby pointed out that it looked more like a Mexican in a sombrero on a bicycle than anything Enochian. Jared dropped his forehead onto the desk in front of him while letting out a huge sigh.
“I could kill Ben Edlund right now,” Jared muttered. Bobby made an enquiring noise and Jared lifted his head.
“Ben – the writer – refused to give out big chunks of the script for this one, he wouldn’t say why, except he wanted us to come to certain parts of the story ‘fresh’. So I’ve got the part up to where Sam and Dean are thrown through the window, and then the bit where Raphael sends her enforcer, Virgil, through after them, because we’d already rehearsed the part where Virgil finds the Winchesters in the studio and discovers his angel powers don’t work. Which, don’t get me wrong, is good to know, as the last thing anyone would want is a crazy angel running amok in Vancouver.”
Jared paused, suddenly distracted. “Unless, you know, he could change the weather. That would be cool. Make it more like California…,” The big man caught Bobby’s expression and blushed.
“Sorry. So anyways, the point is, I don’t even know if recreating the symbol on the window and jumping through will actually work, and I don’t know if us going back home will mean that Sam and Dean will get pulled back here. It’s all just guesswork.”
Bobby shrugged. “Kid, if you’d lived in this world a bit longer, you’d know that is as good as it gets round here.”
Bobby closed the book he’d been reading with a snap that released a cloud of dust.
“Time to check on Concussion Boy then grab some sleep. We can work on this fresh in the morning,” Bobby said decisively. The old man had seemed to relax enormously as soon as Jared had explained that their world had no inkling of anything even remotely magical – no demons or dragons, no vampires or fairies; no miracles, no saints, no angels and no God. Knowing that Raphael’s enforcer would have no special powers to bring to bear when he turned up in Jared and Jensen’s world was reassuring, and Bobby seemed very confident that the Winchesters could easily deal with one angel-turned-human.
Jensen was a little more alert when they woke him up this time, and had regained some of the colour back in his cheeks, but they didn’t manage to keep him awake for long. Jared supposed that his colleague was probably suffering some of blood loss as well as the effects of the blow to his head, as some of the lacerations (particularly the one on his upper arm) had been quite deep and had bled a lot before Bobby had stitched them up. As the tall actor watched Jensen’s absurdly feminine lashes flutter closed, he wondered how their friendship had so nearly broken over something that now seemed so trivial in the face of their current predicament. He thought about Dean and Sam Winchester, their lives as he knew them through acting them out in a TV show, and what it meant knowing that here all of that suffering and heroism was real. The proof was lying in this bed, broken and beaten up just like the character he played. Jensen was even wearing one of the real Dean’s old t-shirts.
And both of them had thought it was all just make-believe.
Jared shook his head. It was too much to take in and he was too worn out to string a rational sequence of thoughts together right now. He reached out tentatively and gave Jensen’s uninjured shoulder a quick squeeze.
“Thanks for taking the hit for me, man,” he whispered.
Jared turned away and flung himself fully clothed face down onto the other single bed and was out faster that the proverbial light. He was so exhausted, he never heard the couple of times Bobby came in during the night to check on Jensen, and was surprised in the morning to find that Jensen was not only feeling much better but had made it out of bed before Jared was even halfway awake.
He found Jensen in the kitchen, chatting easily to Bobby as if they’d known each other for years. His friend was looking a bit paler than usual, and some of those bruises on his face were going to be really colourful, but Jared was surprised to find himself thinking that he hadn’t seen Jensen Ackles looking this relaxed for a very long time.
“Hey.”
“Oh, hey Jay,” Jensen looked up from a plate full of scrambled eggs, waved his forkful of bacon in a welcoming gesture. “Seems Bobby’s an awesome cook as well as pretty handy with a suture kit.”
Jared sat at the kitchen table watching Bobby pour out a mug of the strongest, blackest coffee he’d ever seen and wondered why it had taken a trip to another dimension and a face off with an insane Archangel to find himself feeling this happy just because Jensen called him Jay. How screwed in the head was that?
“Yeah well don’t get used to it, table service ain’t one of my specialities, but I guess you actor-boys had a bit of a rougher night than you’re used to in Hollywood and all,” Bobby said as he banged the chipped mug and a full plate down in front of Jared. Jensen just laughed.
“We don’t hang out in Hollywood very often, Bobby. Our show films in Vancouver, and believe me, there isn’t much resemblance between the two!”
“Oh yeah, Canada,” Bobby nodded “Jared did mention that last night.”
Jared took a cautious sip of the coffee and closed his eyes at the burnt taste explosion on his tongue. It was surprisingly good. In fact, it was better than good, more like amazing. As he opened his eyes, Jensen quirked an eyebrow in his direction then flinched as the motion pulled at the butterfly sutures on his forehead. Now it was Jared’s turn to wave a fork around.
“So, how’s the head?”
“Awesome.” Jensen lightly ran a finger over the jagged gash on his forehead. “Bobby says it will probably scar.” Jared was puzzled that Jensen didn’t seem too bothered by this thought, then as his colleague continued speaking he had a light-bulb moment.
“You know, this is almost exactly like the scar Dean had when he was in hospital in…”
The two men grinned as Jared chimed in perfect unison.
“…season 2 episode 1!”
Bobby looked from one to the other and scratched his head.
“Idjits!”
-----------
Concussion was a funny thing. Jensen’s aching head had been taken care of by another hefty dose of extra strength Tylenol, washed down with plain water this time, when Bobby’s offer of a whiskey chaser was turned down.
“Huh. I keep forgettin’ you ain’t a Winchester.” The old man said as he put the bottle back on his desk.
Physically, Jensen felt fine, but some of the other effects only became apparent as the day wore on. As soon as the eating and cleaning up was over, Jared and Bobby carried on their researching where they had left off the night before, but Jensen was finding it hard to concentrate on anything. He’d tried to read a couple of the dusty tomes littering the old hunter’s desk, but the words just didn’t want to keep still on the page, skittering around until he felt they would all slide onto the floor if he tipped the book up. Nothing his companions were saying made any sense either, his brain felt as scrambled as a plate full of eggs, the only coherent thoughts in his head were song lyrics that just kept playing over and over like some sort of demented radio station. Jensen decided to make himself useful by clearing up some of the debris from the shattered window that was scattered both inside and outside Bobby’s house.
Unfortunately, the constant bending down to pick up pieces of wood and glass was bringing back the dizziness and nausea, so after an hour or so, he found himself wandering aimlessly back and forth between the kitchen and the study, singing under his breath until Bobby cracked.
“If anyone had’ve asked, I’d’ve said there ain’t nobody more irritating than Dean Winchester, but you are proving me wrong, boy!”
Jensen blushed as he realised the song in his head was not as internal as he’d thought and the tune died on his lips. Jared, the smug bastard, just sat there sniggering. Embarrassment meant he obeyed without protest as Singer sat him down on an upright chair and carried out another set of concussion tests while giving Padalecki a running commentary.
“You heard of the Glasgow Coma scale?” Both actors shook their heads, an action that earned Jensen a flash of pain and a look of exasperation from the old hunter. Bobby held Jensen’s left eye open, waved a mini flashlight into it and nodded his satisfaction. “It’s a series of tests you can run to check there’s no internal bleeding going on in there.” He explained, gently tapping Jensen’s head.
After some more prodding and poking of various parts of Jensen’s anatomy testing his reflexes and the like, Bobby stood back, arms akimbo, and started asking questions. Jensen thought he had probably preferred being poked. Apparently this coma scale thing said not only did you have to be able to string an intelligible sentence together but you also had to remember stuff, and that just wasn’t happening for Jensen at the moment. Having that giant Padalecki just sit there and laugh at him wasn’t helpful either. Then in the middle of a bullet-hail of mundane questions about his life and work, Jared sat forward with that eager puppy expression on his face and butted in.
“Bobby, hold up a minute, I have an idea!” Jared turned. “Jen, what was the symbol Seb…I mean.. Balthazar drew on the window before Sam and Dean crashed through it?”
Jensen smiled. At last, something he could answer without even thinking about it. Pictures he could do, it was words he was having trouble with. He took the pen and notepad Jared was offering him and started to draw.
“There!” He said, holding it out. Bobby snatched it eagerly and scrutinised the design while Jensen pouted a little. I mean, would it kill the man to say thank you? On the plus side, Jared had called him Jen. He hadn’t done that since…something had happened and Jensen couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was. He shrugged. Well, whatever, it couldn’t have been that important if he couldn’t recall the first thing about it.
Bobby was nodding and looking satisfied, Jared was beaming like a kid at Christmas and Jensen found it hard to hold it against the giant sasquatch when he accidentally patted Jensen’s injured shoulder in his excitement, even though it hurt like hell. Or maybe not that bad, considering Hell was real in this dimension. Which was a disturbing thought.
It seemed his drawing was a key, or something, and now all they had to do was paint the symbol on something he and Jared could jump through and they would be on their way home, Dorothy. Jared would have to be Dorothy, of course. Jensen could braid that girly hair for him, and he could see those big boots replaced by ruby slippers, no problem.
“Does that make me Toto?” he wondered out loud, oblivious to the twin looks of exasperation and puzzlement thrown his way.
He fingered his forehead again, earning him a slap from Bobby as the older guy walked past with a pane of glass in one hand.
“Don’t pick at it!” Bobby ordered. “I used butterfly sutures instead of thread to save your pretty face, but it’ll rip right open again if you keep fiddling.”
Jared just grinned, and started to paint the symbol Jensen had drawn in some horrible concoction of blood and bone and salt onto the glass where Bobby had fitted it into a temporary frame. Jensen was floating in a sea of activity without the faintest idea what was going on, and he kind of liked it. He was happy to float, right up to the point when Jared grabbed his hand (he always had been a grabby fucker) and dragged him towards the hastily and badly reconstructed window that had materialised out of all that busyness. Jensen dug his heels in and brought Jared careening to a halt.
“What the f…”
Jensen pointed to Jared’s feet.
“You didn’t click your heels.”
“What?”
“You didn’t click your heels, Dorothy.”
Behind them, he heard Bobby guffaw but Jensen ignored it. This was important. There was no way all this other mumbo jumbo would work if Jared didn’t click his damn heels. It was unfortunate enough that the gigantor had forgotten to change his shoes but Jensen thought it could succeed without the ruby slippers.
Jared was staring at him as if he was crazy, but Jensen just squared his shoulders and waited his co-star out.
When it became clear Jensen was not going to budge unless Jared gave in, Bobby stopped laughing and decided enough was enough.
Striding forward, Bobby grasped Jared by the arm and gave it a shake.
“Just do it, boy! You’re already holding hands, how much more embarrassing can it be?”
Jared grimaced and clicked his booted heels together.
Once, twice, thrice. On the third click, Jensen sprung into action and this time it was the shorter actor who dragged the taller one forward to crash through the flimsy construct – and disappear.
Bobby thought that he heard Jensen shout “Woof” as they vanished, but he couldn’t be sure. He stood for a moment, staring at the fresh debris, waiting anxiously for his boys to reappear, and his shoulders slumped when nothing happened.
It seemed Jensen and Jared had made it home, but something else was required to bring the Winchesters back. Bobby had nothing to go on – the script, such as it was, had gone back to whatever reality the actors had come from.
“Balls.”
-----------
Whatever Jared had expected on their return, it wasn’t this. The two actors landed in a shower of sugar glass on the mattress that should have been there two days ago, but instead of the usual organised film crew chaos, they were surrounded by bloody mayhem. As Jared straightened to his full height, steadying Jensen who seemed to be swaying dizzily, he stared around him in growing horror. There was blood everywhere. Real blood. He could smell it, along with cordite and the stink of fear. And there were bodies everywhere too.
He began to move, still gripping Jensen’s arm in an attempt to anchor himself. The two men walked aimlessly round the studios, barely able to take in the carnage. There was Kevin Parks, face down in a bloody pool of gore. Lou was next to him moaning faintly, still alive but only just; one of the young PAs kneeling over him, crying. An ambulance was just screeching to a halt outside and Jared could see some people huddled in the rain gathered round what looked like two more bodies.
Then Jared heard a noise from the motel set at the back of the stage. It sounded like a familiar voice shouting “Run!” followed by breaking glass. He let go of Jensen’s arm and started to run. He didn’t look to see if Jensen was following or not, because he knew that he would be.
-----------
Ben Edlund unwrapped another candy and popped it into his mouth, thoughtfully rolling it round on his tongue. This was turning out quite differently to what he had expected. That was one of the joys of writing, he supposed. Sometimes your characters took on a life of their own, and did something that you hadn’t anticipated. Virgil had proved to be far more resourceful than Edlund had originally written him, and Ben couldn’t help but admire how the weapons master of Heaven had managed to find new and effective weapons here in a different world. It hadn’t really helped the angel against the Winchesters of course. They were far too tough to be worried by pump action shotguns or semi automatics, and had consequently beaten the crap out of poor Virgil, though sadly not before the crazy-ass angel had run amok and killed off some of Ben’s colleagues. That was unfortunate.
Still, silver lining, Sera would be pleased to have a free rein now, and the world (this world anyway) would be spared Eric’s Octocobra.
And his boys, Jared and Jensen, had come out of it better than he had thought they would. Okay, Jensen had a nice concussion and that cut on his head was going to leave quite a scar, but an action hero needs that sort of credibility in Hollywood, and Ben was sure Ackles would go far. Perhaps he’d be the next Jeffrey Dean Morgan, who knows? While Jared, that gentle giant, had just saved Ackles from getting shot by the angel who, it seemed, just didn’t know when to quit. It was a bit unlucky for Padalecki that the act of saving his friend had put him in the way of a stray bullet, but it was only a shoulder wound, nothing too serious. The media was going to go crazy for these two boys, wouldn’t be able to get enough of them, and Edlund was certain their careers were made. They were heroes, after all.
Smiling, Edlund walked over to where Jensen was supporting Jared as they both climbed into the waiting ambulance (there were now several on site – it was getting somewhat crowded). Jensen’s cut head was bleeding freely again, Bobby’s sutures having come adrift, but that was probably just as well, as it would have been hard to explain those away. Ben clapped both young men on the shoulder.
“In a world where the only magic is television, I think this worked out pretty well, don’t you?”
He ignored the synchronised glares thrown his way, smiled even wider as he saw the realisation hit both sets of hazel eyes. Ben gave them a friendly push towards the awaiting paramedic and stepped back.
“But hey, at least you guys are talking, right?”
Raised one hand and clicked thumb and forefinger together.
“And - cut.”
THE END
A/N - I have been writing this for weeks and weeks so I can't believe it is finally finished! And all I needed was to go to the gym and think about Ben Edlund...writing is indeed a funny thing...!
