Disclaimer: The PPC was created by Jay and Acacia; I have Permission to write this spin-off. The Sleep Mellon was first written by Alleb. Saxo and James are mine. The world of Harry Potter was created by J. K. Rowling and the world of Labyrinth by Jim Henson.
The fanfic being sporked, Wishes and Crystals belongs to Princess Emarelda.

Thanks to eatpraylove and S.M.F. who have been enormously helpful with betaing.

When the other two agents had left for their mission, James looked around the RC. “Might as well get started on our chores while they are out.”

“I don’t want to do chores,” said Saxo. “Why do we even have chores? We’re not kids.”

“Well, what do you want to do, if not chores?”

“I … uh … I want to contemplate important things.”

James crossed his arms. “You mean, you want to lounge about and re-watch The Force Awakens. You do realize that Kylo Ren is not supposed to be a role-model?”

“Mind your own business, fox!”

“Happily, when you mind yours.” James handed Saxo a plastic bag. “It is your turn to clean Aniseed’s litter box.”

“Urgh,” Saxo groaned, but went over to the litter box anyway. He pulled out his wand from his robes. “Accio cat poop,” he yelled and deftly caught the flying clumps in the bag. “I can’t believe I’m reduced to using my magic like this.”

“You could just scoop them out like a normal person,” pointed out James, who had begun washing the many tea mugs.

“Like a Muggle, you mean. That’s not what I’m talking about. We should have house elves.” Saxo sighed and pointed the wand at the litter box again. “Accio clumps!”

The clumps came flying out of the litter box just as Aniseed came flying out from somewhere and pounced on the biggest. It fell apart into a rain of dirty sand.

Aniseed stood in the middle of it, looking wide-eyed. “Mreow,” she said, and licked a paw before walking off towards the Radioactive Moss Creature’s room.

“Merlin’s wrinkly left cheek,” Saxo muttered, and went over to look under the sink for a broom and a dustpan. Therefore, when the console suddenly went BEEEEP!! he banged his head on the sink.

James walked over, pressed the button to silence the alarm, and started reading the report. Saxo, still rubbing his head and muttering different variations of “Merlin’s [adjective] [body part]” under his breath, joined him.

It turned out to be a new Harry Potter/Labyrinth crossover, and judging by the report, it combined and magnified the worst badfic traits from both continua.

“Myla… Sarah might have acted that way before going through the labyrinth, but not afterwards. If she did, then the whole movie would have been pointless,” complained James.

“Mucking up the magical world?” muttered Saxo. “We’ll see about that.”

When they were done reading they were once again united, if not comfortably then at least efficiently, in the common loathing of a badfic.

Saxo took the backpack from the shelf and checked the contents to make sure everything was there, while James started punching buttons on the console.

“Are we going as House Elves again?” asked James.

Saxo just nodded with gritted teeth, since he despised going as anything non-human.

James set the disguises and opened the portal, Saxo hoisted the backpack, and they stepped through.



They stood in prefic darkness and had to cover their ears as an Author’s Note in bold blared over them.

Wishes & Crystals begins a year after Sarah’s journey through the Labyrinth.

It is fall again and school is one month in. Sarah is now extremely close to Toby, but Karen and her father don’t change. They are uncaring and ignore her.

The CAD gave a BEEP loud enough to be heard over the din. Saxo took it out and looked at the display. [Centered text found. Revert to left-justified? Y/N]

Saxo pressed to confirm, and a moment later the format of the text became less obnoxious, although it didn’t do anything for the content.

“Why are there so many badfics that try to make Karen and Sarah’s dad out to be neglectful or borderline abusive?” asked James. “They are pretty normal parents and Sarah was having normal teenage conflicts with them. Nobody was actually horrible.”

Saxo simply shrugged and handed him the notebook so he could get started on the charge list, since the badness kept piling up with every new sentence.

One day Karen decides that Sarah is just a problem getting in the way of their happy family so she convinces Robert to let her send Sarah away to a horrible Catholic Orthodox boarding school run by nuns in Mass. Bay. But Sarah not only has caught the eye of the goblin king. She has caught the attention of Albus Dumbledore and the moon goddess, Selene.

“Well, there it is,” said Saxo. “She’s a big, honking Sue and we don’t need anything other than that paragraph to …”

“No,” interrupted James firmly. “We are going to do this by the book.”


Ignorant of her heritage, Sarah is shocked to discover that her great grandfather, Aldethas Gallan Williams was a wizard, she accepts the invitation to attend Hogwarts, unknown to her parents who think she is in Mass.

“That is not how it works,” said James, scribbling. “She is a minor so she does not get to attend Hogwarts without the consent of her parents, certainly not without their knowledge. I am charging for having herself kidnapped.”

But she is not alone, along with her new Griffindor friends, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, the Weasleys,Ron, Fred, Ginny, George, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Oliver Wood, and Alicia Spinnet, she might just survive. Unfortunately with all this Sarah gains a powerful enemy, Draco Malfoy.

Saxo bent down to pick up Griffindor and placed it on top of the backpack. “Don’t fall off,” he warned. The mini-Aragog clicked its pincers in reply.

Sarah has much to hide yet much to gain, she discovers that not only does she have tame magic (wizard magic) she has wild magic (Labyrinth Fae Magic). Secretly, she learns and discovers more about her Fae powers that are equal to Jareth’s and experiences the effects and duties as a moon child and it’s gifts.

“Urgh!” exclaimed Saxo. “She might as well be ticking off a list of Labyrinth and Harry Potter Sue clichés.”

“I think something is finally happening.”

Sure enough, the darkness around them lifted and they found themselves standing on the pavement in front of Sarah’s house. Sarah herself was coming up the street with her dog on a leash, so the agents had to hide around a corner.

Mid July – Saturday, July 16, 1994

The world around them started to shake ever so slightly.

“Must be the time-shift,” whispered James. “Labyrinth takes place around 1986, almost a decade before this.”

Sarah had wished Toby away about seven and a half months before.

The shaking became even more pronounced.

“What’s this, then?” asked Saxo.

“The intro said that the story begins a year after the events of Labyrinth,” James explained. “So there is not just a jump in the canon time, but the story’s own internal chronology is inconsistent.”

“You’ve been doing some reading, haven’t you?”

“I take this work seriously and I would thank you to do the same.”

“She’s entering the house; let’s follow.”

They went all the way around the house, looking for an open window, before James remembered that they could just portal in. Saxo thought of Apparating in at the same time, so they argued about which way would work better before finally doing it each their own way and meeting up inside.

This meant that they missed a lot of whining from Sarah about what an awful mother Karen was and how she was basically a slave in her own home, as well as a flashback to the first manifestation of Sarah’s new powers (summoning crystals when she got angry).

She did magic when she could, like if she forgot a book or was running late to school. She still talked to Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus constantly and she even had some goblin friends, who loved to make mischief for Karen. Her hob-goblin friends were, Ziggy, Gimp, No-Nose, Dizz, Dusty, Wagli, Peeku, and Moli.

“Soooo…” said Saxo, scratching his nose thoughtfully. “Do you want to bet that only one or two of them will have lines or any kind of personality and the rest will just be in the background once each, after which we’ll never see them again because she got tired of copy-pasting the names?”


“Bucket of fun you are. Also, incoming flashback. Brace yourself.”

Everything went sepia-toned as a scene played where Sarah was upset with Karen and a group of Brownies showed up and started to clean the house while singing and dancing. Then the flashback ended.

They had introduced themselves as Patches, Brownie, and Buttons.

“Hang on, what?” asked Saxo after the flashback had ended. “Whatever happened to Dingy, Stuffy, and Butthurt or whatever their names were? And weren’t they supposed to be hob-goblins?”

“She must have changed her mind. I should have taken that bet anyway, since it turned out you were wrong.”

Saxo sniffed. “Only on a technicality. I was right that she couldn’t be bothered with writing them properly; I just underestimated how little she actually cared.”

“She is using the mirror to call Hoggle now. You should get a reading on him to find out how out of character he is.”

Saxo scowled but took out the CAD.

Hoggle’s face appeared in the mirror and he stepped through. “Hiya missy!”Hoggle said. “Hey Hoggle. How are you and the guys?”Sarah asked.

“Line breaks. They exist for a reason,” said Saxo.

“We are well Sarah. Ludo and Didymus have set up a stand in the marketplace. Ludo sells rocks that change shape in your hand and Didymus carves wood.

Saxo laughed out loud, making both Sarah and Hoggle pause and look around, so that he and James had to duck so as not to be seen. After a moment the two canons shrugged and continued their conversation.

“I didn’t know you were so good at whittling,” whispered Saxo. “That baton you’re using, did you make that yourself?”

James scowled, but elected to ignore the jibe. Instead he said: “It just said in an earlier paragraph that she talks to her three friends constantly, so why does this conversation read like she has not seen any of them for months?”

“Hm. You’re right. This is starting to look less like sloppy writing and more like a serious case of amnesia.”

“And it seems to be contagious. You still need to get that reading.”

Saxo rolled his eyes but pointed the CAD at Hoggle, checked that it was muted, and pressed the button. Then he read the display before showing it to James.

[Hoggle. Goblin. Canon. OOC 45%.] The text blinked and was replaced with: [It sounds like a lot, but he is hardly in this story.] Blink. [Not glamorous enough, you know?]

“Tell me about it,” muttered Saxo and was about to put the CAD away, when James said: “Get a reading on Sarah, while you are at it.”

“Don’t see why we have to bother. She’s as Sueish a Sue as I’ve ever seen. We’d just risk the CAD blowing up.”

“And if we don’t do this properly, we risk Upstairs blowing up.” James made a grab for the CAD and got it.

Saxo ignored him and stepped in front of Sarah after she finished talking to Hoggle. “Sarah Williams, also known as Mary Sue, you are charged with being a big honking Sue, multiple time-shifts, and not caring enough about your own story or your own OCs to keep even the simplest details straight. You are sentenced to die. Avada Kedavra!”

The killing curse struck the confused looking Sarah squarely in the chest and she keeled over backwards.

“Noooo!” James yelled.

Saxo turned. “What?”

James held up the CAD and showed him the display. [Sarah Williams. Human. Canon. OOC 32%.] It blinked. [You messed up.]

Saxo felt his knees go wobbly. “She’s the real Sarah? But she had every single mark of being a Sue!”

“And that is why we get a reading before executing anyone,” replied James through gritted teeth. He opened the notebook and wrote a short message, before ripping out the page and placing it on Sarah’s chest. Then he opened a portal. “Help me get her through. Carefully.”

“Is this going to the Bog of Eternal Stench?” asked Saxo as they lifted the dead body through.

“What?! No! It is a portal to Medical. They can fix her.”

“But she’s dead!”

“She is a canon. They can fix her. We, however, are still in trouble and we will need to clean this up without further mishaps.” He scanned the Words ahead of them. “Fortunately, it would seem that Sarah does not show up again for a while. We will proceed with our duty.”

Meanwhile, in Salem, Massachusetts, a young middle age woman sat at a desk.

The Word World shimmered for a moment, then settled on a young woman in a dress that looked like it came from a historical movie with little thought to accuracy and an even smaller budget.

She pulled out some creamy stationary and began to write in a beautiful flowing script. Soon she was finished and she sealed the note in the envelope.

A large pool of spilled cream appeared on the desk, which the woman wrote in with a pen. It went about as well as you would expect. When she was finished, she wiped the cream from the table down into an envelope, spilling most of it, before sending it off with an owl.

“Creamy is actually an acceptable word for ‘cream coloured’,” muttered James. “The Word World must be seriously out of whack to interpret it literally.”

The woman’s name was Anya McCallistar. She was a witch and the headmistress of a wizard school in Salem.

James sniffed. “Smells like a Sue to me. You had better get a reading on heeeeer!!” The last word ended in a drawn out yowl, as they were dragged sideways into a new scene.

At the same time in Salem, Massachusetts,

“Wait, what?” asked Saxo, getting to his feet. “Weren’t we here just a minute ago?”

“I have a feeling of deja moo,” said James.

a kind woman with deep blue eyes and blond hair in her mid-thirties, stared at a large old thick book.

A man entered the room and greeted the woman as Anya and she greeted him as Casper.

The two Agents hid behind a curtain, although it was doubtful if any of the two people would have noticed them, since Anya had been oblivious to their headfirst tumble into the room.

Anya Felling was a wise woman of thirty-five. She had deep big blue eyes and golden blond hair that fell to her shoulders.

“I will make sure to contact the Department of Redundancy Department about this,” said James.

She wore a black wizard robe, with two symbols on the right chest. One was the shield of Gryffindor the other was the shield that said -Salem School of Witchcraft- with a black cat. She was the founder and headmistress of the school. It was the only wizard and witch school in the United States that existed.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Merlin’s pantaloons!” swore Saxo. “How arrogant can one get? Not only is she headmistress at the age of thirty-five, but she claims to have founded the first and only Wizarding School in America? I know this is before Pottermore and all that, but this is still beyond stupid! How and where does she think magically gifted American children got their training before she came along?”

He pulled out the CAD, muted it, and pointed it at Anya. [Anya Felling, or possibly McCallistar. Female human. Non-canon. Yup, that’s a Sue alright.]

James glanced at the read-out. “We have our target,” he said.

“So do we just kill her now or …?” asked Saxo.

“We gather charges and, if we are very lucky, we will manage to gather enough to warrant killing her and ending the fic before Sarah is set to make her next appearance.”

“And if we’re not?”

“I have read of a case like that. One of the agents had to play the role of the canon character in the fic to get the story moving along.” James’ facial expression was neutral, but there was a wicked gleam in his eyes.

After Ayna graduated from Hogwarts in 1977, she became an Auror.

“Looks like I might just avoid having to …” began Saxo. He stopped and looked at a tiny version of Anya running in circles on the floor. “Is that a mini-Sue?”

“It must be Ayna,” replied James.

There was an excited hissing, and then Griffindor jumped through the air and landed next to the mini-Sue, who only had time for a small squeak before meeting her timely demise.

“Good mini-Aragog,” said James brightly.

She did this for five years, until she was twenty-three. She then returned to Salem, Massachusetts and founded a magic school for magical children in the United States with the help of some of her friends from Hogwarts.

Saxo pinched the bridge of his nose. “She didn’t just become an Auror, she ditched the job again.”

In the fic, Anya explained to Casper that a new name of a fifteen year old girl had showed up in the Book of Listings. She wrote a letter to Dumbledore and McGonagall and sent it by owl. This time, no dairy products were involved.

She then went to the staff room and explained to some of the present faculty members how she had found out about Sarah.

“A new witch has been announced. And not just any witch. Her name is Sarah Katherine Williams. She is fifteen years old and lives with her father, stepmother, and half baby brother, Toby, in the town of Crystal Falls, New Jersey.”

There was another silence, this time from embarrassment, as both Agents tried to fathom the level of subtlety it would take to have a Labyrinth fic take place in a town called Crystal Falls.

James cleared his throat. “One of the faculty members is the uncanonical brother of Nymphadora Tonks.”

Grateful for something to do, Saxo took out the CAD and got a reading on Henry Tonks. [Henry Tonks. Male human. Non-canon. Bit original character. Very little bit.]

“Funny,” muttered Saxo and put it back in his pocket.

“The girl that just was listed today in the Book of Listings, is the great granddaughter of Aldethas Gallan Williams and is the great great niece of Godric Gryffindor.”

“She is the Gryffindor Heir!”Casper exclaimed.

The agents found themselves in Dumbledore’s office almost as quickly as they’d arrived in Salem.

The headmaster received Anya’s letter and then went to his own staff room, where a selection of faculty members were gathered.

“I just got a letter from Anya everyone!”Dumbledore said entering the room. “Oh Albus, what does it say?”Minerva asked. “I haven’t read it yet.”Dumbledore said opening the letter.

Both Agents facepalmed twice in a row. It helped a little because the physical pain distracted from the pain of the stupid.

Anya McClallistar was a student at Hogwarts long ago, when she grew up she went to America and founded a school for witches and wizards there. Dumbledore silently read the letter.

With another enthusiastic hiss, Griffindor jumped down and took care of McClallistar the mini-Sue, while James noted a charge in very large letters with many exclamation points for being unable to decide on her own name.

James frowned. “Sarah is about to show up in the next scene, so we had better stop this now.” He winced. “The kids at her school call her ‘Ice Queen’.”

Saxo also made a pained expression. The Sarah!Sue in the badfic they both originated from had had the same nickname. “Cliché much?” he said with a laugh that sounded a little shaky. “Are you sure there are no more major charges?”

“I am sure.” James pointed ahead in the Words to the end of the following chapter, which contained an Author’s Note asking for ideas for how Sarah and Jareth should meet.

Saxo made a disgusted noise. “Very well. As you say, we should wrap this parody of a fic up.” He had managed to pull himself together, but was still so shaken from his mistake, that he didn’t even comment on the fact that in the Words he had just scanned, Hoggle said that Didymus’ dog was smarter than he was.

Then he hesitated, thinking for a moment. “Actually, let’s get Anya first and stuff her in an Oubliette. I want her to sit and think about what’s coming next.” He grinned, grabbed James’s arm, and Apparated back to Salem. Anya had no life outside her role in the plot, so she was still waiting in her office for McGonagall to arrive. It was eerie and rather sad in a way, but at least it made it very easy to open a portal under Anya’s chair, which she fell through with a yelp.

The agents quickly made a round to all the characters who had been affected by the story — this time by portal, since James claimed that apparating gave him an upset stomach — and erased everyone’s memories of the events of the fic using alternately the neuralyzer and Memory Charms, and in Hoggle’s case both at once.

“Oops,” said James, looking down at the unconscious Hoggle. “Do you think he’ll be alright?”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” said Saxo. “We can ask in Medical when we get back. Discreetly, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Well, that was almost as dull as wading through this fic,” said Saxo when they were done cleaning up and had gotten rid of Henry Tonks.

James opened a portal to the Oubliette and they stepped through.

Saxo yelled “Stupefy!” at the Sue and she froze sitting on the floor. Only her eyes moved, darting from one to the other as if she knew this could not be good.

James took out the notebook, but Saxo asked “May I?”

With a surprised look at his partner being polite, James handed it over.

Saxo cleared his throat and began: “Anya McCallistar or Felling or whatever your name is, you are charged with exceptionally sloppy writing leading to, among other things, time-shifts, random name changes, and spawning Griffindor the mini-Aragog along with two mini-Sues. You are further charged with having a completely overblown backstory, being both a former Auror and the headmistress of a wizarding school you founded yourself when you’re not even in your forties, being arrogant enough to claim that said school is the only one in North America, putting several other characters Out of Character, especially Sarah Williams, who we killed in the belief she was a Sue —”

“Hang on!” interrupted James. “You do not get to pin that on her. You killed Sarah because you could not be bothered to get a reading. That has nothing to do with her.”

“Only because she was so Sueish! Anyone would have mistaken her for the main Sue!”

“But not anyone would have killed her without making sure.” James’ expression of anger was replaced by one of sadness. “You killed her, because you wanted to. Because you hate the real Sarah, and for this … I apologize.”

“You … apologize?” Saxo could not have been more surprised if James had sprouted an extra head. Even the Sue looked puzzled.

“In our last mission together,” James said slowly, “I wanted to kill the replacement-Sue prematurely, without even charging her, because I love Sarah so much. You held me back, reminded me of my Duty. I should have done the same for you, but I failed you. I failed the Flowers. This is my fault. I am sorry.”

He stopped talking and just stood, looking dejected.

Saxo cleared his throat again. He felt like he should do or say something, but had absolutely zero experience with comforting an upset person and nothing in his background to help him out. How would Mittens or the RMC handle this?

“Look, I screwed up and it’s not something you should take the blame for,” he said finally. “Anyway, Medical will fix Sarah, we’ll kill this Sue and fix canon, and the Flowers will forgive us. It’ll be alright.”

James looked up. “You think so?”

“I do. Now let’s get this over and done with. I’m sick of this story.” He made a gesture towards the Sue. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“In that case, Anya, I charge you with being a Sue and the center of an awful story. The punishment is death and you do not get any last words because, frankly, there’s been enough talking.”


After watching the Sue sink in the Bog of Eternal Stench and making sure that there were no more bubbles coming up, the agents opened a portal back to RC#170 and stepped through, reluctantly. They were half expecting to see agents from the Department of Internal Affairs waiting to arrest them, but the RC was empty, apart from the many minis, Aniseed and the Prefect Badger, which was snoring peacefully in a corner. Either Mittens and the RMC hadn’t gotten back from their mission yet, or they had gone somewhere else.

Griffindor jumped eagerly from the backpack and joined the small group of mini-Aragogs, who all hissed excitedly.

There was a soft “blup” and a message appeared on the screen of the console. “Come see me at once. The Floating Hyacinth.”

Saxo gulped audibly, but James reached out and squeezed his arm. “We’ll go together. We’ll face this as fellow agents.”

Saxo simply nodded, and they went out the door, whereupon a melon with Elf ears bounced past, snored menacingly, and continued on its way.

The agents looked after it, looked at each other, shrugged, and went in the opposite direction to face the wrath of their department head.


Because time in HQ can be very wonky indeed, the Radioactive Moss Creature was already at the Nursery, waiting for him. It was talking to an elderly lady with her hair in a bun. She turned and smiled at Mittens, then she cooed at Elisabeth, who giggled back and made happy spit bubbles.

“Shall I put you down as her legal guardian?” asked the lady and took the baby from Mittens.

“Uh, I’m not sure if …” he began.

“You won’t have to adopt her or raise her, but it would be a kind gesture. It will be nice for the girl to know that someone cares about her.”

Miss MacKinnon,” said the RMC firmly, “I appreciate that you are thinking about what’s best for the children, but it’s not nice of you to try to emotionally blackmail my partner. He is not responsible for the child.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I would like to come visit,” said Mittens. “That is, if I may?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful.” Miss MacKinnon beamed a smile at them. “And have you thought about a name?”

“A name?” asked the RMC.

“Well, she can’t go on being named Winchester and since she’s so young, we can change her first name also.”

“I haven’t got any ideas,” said the RMC. “Never really saw the purpose of names, myself. How about you?”

Mittens thought about this. He tried to think of a good girls’ name. Someone he admired. Finally he said: “Ammy, and for her last name, she should be called Moss.” He looked down at the RMC, worried that he might have gone too far, but it just looked bemused.

Miss MacKinnon looked very pleased. “Ammy Moss, a beautiful name. Well, Ammy, I think it’s time for your bottle so wave goodbye to the nice agents.”

Ammy looked thoughtful and stuck her whole hand into her mouth. Then she took it out and made what might have been a waving motion.

Both Mittens and the RMC waved in return, before starting the walk back to RC#170.

Disclaimer: Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke. The PPC was created by Jay and Acacia; I’m only playing in it. The fanfics ‘Ski Trip‘ and ‘Baby‘ belong to Kit-Kat92 and she can keep them; preferably far away from me. Mittens, the RMC and James are mine.

Rating: T. Fics contain attempted rape and miscarriage, but no details.

”You are back,” said James as soon as Mittens opened the door to RC #170. ”How did it go? Where were you sent?”

”We’ve been transferred to the Department of Improbabilities,” the Radioactive Moss Creature replied. ”It’s …” It was interrupted by the console going BEEEEEEEEP!!

Mittens strode over, hit the button and checked the Intelligence Report. “It’s another Supernatural fic,” he said and frowned. “For no discernible reason, the Winchester brothers stop looking for their father and Sam settles down with a girlfriend.” He turned to look at the RMC. “That’s …”

“Improbable, yes,” the RMC finished dryly. “Well, we’ve already packed for that canon. Do we need a new dummy?”

“No, but I think we might need extra bottles of Bleeprin.”

“Then grab what you can find and let’s get going.”

Mittens set their disguises to human, opened a portal and they stepped into the pre-fic darkness.

An Author’s Note boomed.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything certainly not this.

My sis wrote this and told me to post it so hear it is.

“It’s going to be one of those fics, isn’t it?” said the RMC with a sigh.

“According to the report, yes. But maybe the sister has better SPaG than the poster?”

The fic opened with some exposition.

They had been looking for there father for almost a year now and Sam hadn’t gottenover the death of his girlfriend but he Dean convinced him that as much as it hurt Sam was just going to have to move on no matter how much the pain was. There had been “supernatural” cases but Dean decided Sam needed a little break to get to move on with his life before he continued being a supernatural bounty hunter.

“What? No!” the RMC exclaimed. “Back then Dean would never have told Sam to take a break from hunting. Not to mention that the demon who killed Sam’s girlfriend and their mother is still out there and they would still want it dead.”

“So, a charge for OOC behaviour, then.” Mittens took out a notebook and a pen. “I should get a reading on the brothers, just to make sure none of them have been replaced. Once they show up, that is.” Mittens shot a pointed look at the lack-of-setting-around them.

When he went back to what as hewould call it a “normal” life he went back to schooland his friends andhe even got a new girlfriend, her name was Crystal she was a Latin girl and very beautiful. But today was the anniversary of his girlfriend’s death and Crystal didnt know of her boyfriend’s life past or present and on this specific day he seemed very depressed.

This ended the exposition and the fic finally deposited them in a hallway outside a classroom. The hallway was so generic that for a moment the agents thought they had somehow landed back in HQ, but Sam and Crystal were there.

They watched as Crystal asked Sam if something was wrong and he changed the subject by asking her if she wanted to go skiing.

Mittens took the opportunity to get a reading on Sam. [Sam Winchester. Human (mostly). 91,2% OOC. Otanche. Siem reap District] He looked at it in dismay, before showing it to the RMC. “Apparently there’s much worse to come.”

All of a sudden Xs started falling down around them and they had to dive into the classroom to avoid getting hit. The bold, upper-case Xs had been used to mark a scene change. From the outside, it merely looked bad, but from inside the text, it was very much like having caltrops raining down.

“Charge for the use of weapons grade punctuation,” the RMC said, while opening a portal to the next scene, which took place in a cabin somewhere.

The next thing Sam heard was Crystal’s scream. He went and got there as fast as he could. When he got there she was bleeding from the head. She fell back and hit her head on a rock. She had scratch marks on her and they did not seem normal. So Sam called his brother, Dean, and they where on another supernatural search.

“That came out of absolutely nowhere,” the RMC said. “No buildup, no tension, no nothing. Charge.”

“Also, that has to be the worst description of someone getting injured, that I have …” Mittens began, but was interrupted by an Author’s Note in all caps. Both agents clamped their hands over their ears, but it barely helped.


My ears are ringing,” the RMC said, when it was safe to remove one’s hands from one’s ears.

“What? I can’t hear what you’re saying. My ears are ringing,” Mittens replied, almost as if someone, somewhere was scraping the bottom of the barrel of jokes.


The next chapter opened in a hospital.

Sam called Dean, while he rushed Crystal to the hospital. She woke up 3 hours later and by that time Dean had already gotten there so Sam went in the room alone and Dean stayed in the waiting room.

Being off stage, so to speak, the story had a less firm grip on Dean and he had a puzzled frown as if he was trying very, very hard to remember something that was just outside his reach.

“Get a reading on him,” the RMC whispered. “I’ll take a look at the action. Or what you might call it.” It peeked into the hospital room, where Sam had just told Crystal that something knocked her out and scratched her.

“What do you mean by something?” she asked with a scared look on her face.

“You didn’t see what attacked you?” he asked with a shocked look on his face.

The RMC winced. Then it looked ahead in the Words and returned to Mittens, ushering him to safety in another room, just as more X‘s began raining down.

“We need a charge,” it said, “for what is possibly the worse prose I have ever had the misfortune of coming across. What did the reading say?”

Mittens showed the CAD to the RMC; the last readout still visible in the display. [Dean Winchester. Human. 43,7% OOC. Belvis. Craftivism.]

“He looked like he was trying to break out of it,” he said. “Maybe … Oh, I guess it’s too late now. Sam’s here and Dean is back in the story.”

“Yeah I know, I have to tell her the truth she has to know that we are bounty hunters.”

Sam had not notice but Crystal had came out of the room when he said that they where bounty hunters.
“You’re a what?” She said with a surprised look on her face.

“They’re not bounty hunters!” both agents said, at roughly the same time and with exactly the same tone of annoyance.

Suspense what can I say. PLEASE R&R.

Charge for stupid Author’s Notes,” the RMC said as next chapter began.

After Sam called Dean, while he rushed Crystal to the hospital. She woke up 3 hours later and by that time Dean had already gotten there so Sam went in the room alone and Dean stayed in the waiting room.

Both agents stared. Then blinked. Then stared again.

“You know,” the RMC said. “I’ve got the strangest feeling of deja moo.”

“Did we somehow end up back in the beginning of the last chapter instead of going to the next?”

The RMC looked at the Words. “No. We’ve moved on as we were supposed to. It would seem that whoever put this up, posted the second chapter twice. Let’s just skip it. I have absolutely no desire to rewatch any of it.”

They opened a portal to the next chapter and found themselves standing in a foggy, grey nothingness, since there was no indication of where the chapter took place.

Crystal tried calling an ambulance, but there was no service where they were they where standing. They had Crystal who was in the metical classes in the school and she knew there was a first aid kite in the cabin, so they got on the motor skis and where on there way to the cabin.

“Huh?” asked Mittens.

What?” asked the RMC.

What it this … I don’t even … What’s a ‘metical class’? Or a ‘first aid kite’?”

Never mind that. Where are we and what’s going on?” The RMC frowned and studied the Words for a moment. “It would seem that the second chapter was not just posted twice, it was posted instead of the third. Thus we have no kind of context that could make this make sense.” It paused. “Not that anything could, really, but you know what I mean.”

It checked the Words again since hanging back meant that they had gotten left behind by the story. “So there’s a fourth person who’s hurt. Crystal tells Dean to get the first aid from the bathroom and for some reason he just stares at her like an idiot. Although maybe he’s wondering if she’s talking about the kite or if she wants him to bring something actually useful.”

“Huh. I suppose the Sue is making Dean an idiot because she’s trying to make herself seem competent and assertive.”

“And failing spectacularly. Let’s go to the cabin and watch them in person.”

“Hola beba como estas?” She heard her mother’s voice.
“Bien, yo esto en la mountains con los amigos meo.” She responded in Spanglish.

“What language is she talking?” Dean asked his brother in a whisper.

“I have no idea what she’s saying,” the RMC commented. He and Mittens were outside the cabin looking in through the window at Crystal, who was on the phone. “But even the story admits that it’s not proper Spanish, so we can make the charge.”

“Ok guys, I just asked my mother what a Chupacabra was and she said it was a blood sucking thing and it also does weird scratches.”

The agents gave each other a long look.

“Okay,” Mittens started. “Even though they haven’t actually been featured, chupacabras are mentioned in Supernatural, so they do exist. Which means that Sam and Dean should already know about them.”

“And if they don’t, there could be an entry in their dad’s journal,” the RMC interjected.

Mittens started ticking off points on his fingers. “They could also call Bobby or hit the library or use the internet. Basically, you could do a top fifty of places they would look for info about a monster and ‘waiting for the girlfriend’s mom to happen to call and tell them about it’ wouldn’t even be on it. This is …”


“To say the least, yes.” Mittens crossed his arms. “And it’s not even like the mom knew anything important, like how to find it or kill it.” He uncrossed his arms and started scribbling more charges.

“How did your mom know that?” Sam asked wondering if his girlfriends family was part of the bounty hunting business.

“They show things about that thing on the Spanish news.” She responded.

They started to do more research on Sam’s laptop.

Both agents facepalmed.

“Well, that just made the last part completely and utterly pointless,” Mittens said and wrote a new charge.

They skipped ahead to the next morning and came out of the portal to find the whole cabin in an uproar because the wounded woman from the last chapter was dead.

“It was my fault I should have kept an eye on her we never should have left her alone.” Crystal said with tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Crystal come downstairs with me, Dean you go and do some thing with the body.” Sam said walking out the door with Crystal.
“Look at me. It was not your fault, we couldn’t do anything about it she died it her sleep maybe she didn’t feel anything.” Sam said.

“You idiot! Of course it was her fault!” the RMC snapped, before turning to Mittens. “She couldn’t call an ambulance, but there was nothing stopping her or the Winchesters from driving the woman to the hospital. Instead Crystal, who is supposed to be studying medicine, patched the woman up with a first aid kit or kite or whatever and then ignored her until now. Sam and Dean should also have known better, but they’ve been brainwashed into extreme incompetence so the blame falls squarely on Crystal.”

There was a moment’s silence after the rant.

Mittens cleared his throat. “They’re going hunting. Should we follow?”

“Have to,” the RMC replied moodily. “The hunts are an essential part of a Supernatural story; we need to see how badly she mucks it up.”

Crystal stayed in the car until she heard a scream and it sounded like Sam, so she got out of the car and ran to where the boys where. Sam was not hurt he Screamed because a branch hit him on the back when the wind blew.

There was the sound of two agents banging their heads against two tree trunks in an attempt to lessen the pain.

Crystal didn’t move but it was coming to her. Then Sam took his gun and BOMB. He shot the thing it was on the ground so they said the spell and sent it back to hell. Then Crystal ran to Sam and they got there bags to go home.

“If this was any other fic,” Mittens said, “I would make a charge for having a hunt that was far too short and lacking in tension, but I’m just so glad that it’s over.”

“I know what you mean,” the RMC said. “But you should still find it in you to make the charge. We can’t go around slacking on the Duty.” It checked the words once more. “At least the fic is done. There’s a short scene in which Crystal finds out that she’s pregnant, but we don’t have to watch it.”

“It’s done?” Mittens frowned. “How long is this fic?”

“I’d say around 2000 words, including Author’s Notes.”

“Seriously? I know it makes no sense to complain that it wasn’t longer, but it’s barely even the length of a decent chapter.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just wrap it up so we can go home. It’s …” The RMC stopped and squinted. “There’s something in the Words ahead of us.”


“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this before. You know how the end of a fic looks like the grey pre-fic darkness?”

“No.” Mittens had always had difficulties looking ahead in the Words and had never tried to look beyond the end of a fic.

“Well, it does. Except that here, there seems to be something behind it.”

“It continues?”

“Well, it can’t, can it? The fic ends, that’s why it goes grey.”

“Should we skip ahead?”

The RMC considered for a moment. “No. The greyness can’t hurt us, but if we portal blindly, we have no idea where we might end up.” It reached out and grabbed Mittens’ hand. “We’ll let it catch up with us. Just keep the Remote Activator ready so you can open a portal back to HQ, if we need to get out.”

Wide eyed and rigid Mittens waited as the scene with Crystal played out. He made a mental note to charge for stupid use of a pregnancy test, but didn’t want to let go of the RMC’s hand. He probably couldn’t if he had tried. The RMC was holding on to him with an iron grip that turned its knuckles white. Then the greyness at the end of the fic was visible, not unlike the Nothing from the movie version of The Neverending Story and it washed over them and he couldn’t see a thing, could just feel the grip on his hand and gripped tightly in return.

There was a sense of falling or maybe of being catapulted straight ahead; it was impossible to tell. Then they hit something.

Since the pre-fic darkness has no actual mass, landing in it should have been like two solid objects landing on something soft. In reality – although that word is used very loosely here – it felt like the agents were two soft, bouncy objects, like silly putty, landing on something very hard. While it didn’t technically hurt, it was as far away from being comfortable as you can get without losing the ‘didn’t technically’ part of the sentence.

The RMC finally let go of Mittens’ hand and dazed and confused but relatively unscathed they picked themselves up from the not!ground and looked around. Words were glowing in the darkness.

By: Kit-Kat92
What happens in the life of Sam and his girlfriend Crystal From the story sky trip.

“Wha…” Mittens said in a sluggish voice.

“I think,” the RMC said, concentrating hard, which wasn’t doing anything good for its head, “that we have been propelled directly into a sequel to ‘Ski trip’.

Wha…” Mittens said again; then he frowned and tried harder. “Who starts a sequel after writing barely a chapter’s worth of a fic?”

“The same kind of Sue who can’t even get the title of their own story right. Can you get at the Bleeprin?”

“Sure,” Mittens muttered and fumbled for a moment in the dark before finding the glass in a pocket and handing it to the RMC.


Both agents winced as the word suddenly roared though the darkness.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, certainly not this.

The fic started properly and Mittens took advantage of the light to write down the charges that had accumulated, along with one for having an annoyingly phrased disclaimer.

The action picked up right where the last story had left off, with Crystal on the phone, learning that she was pregnant.

“Can you believe it?” Crystal asked.
“Of course we did it three weeks ago.” Sam said.
“Yeah and the doctor said I was about 3 weeks a long.” Crystal said.

“Uh, yeah, no,” Mittens said. “A pregnancy test can only tell you that you’re pregnant, not how far you are. Even I know that and I …” He stopped.

The RMC tactfully changed the subject by saying: “Another one of those scene dividers. Take cover.”

The next day Crystal had gone to work because she had gone on the trip three weeks before graduating and getting her thing to become a doctor. The day before finding out she was going to have a baby Crystal had gotten the thing and she was a doctor now.

Mittens slumped against a convenient wall and slid down slowly. Sitting on the floor, he buried his head in his hands and made small whimpering noises. The RMC patted his arm and muttered soothingly.

Finally Mittens lifted his head. “I’m … okay. Sorry about this.”

“Shh. She’s the one who should be sorry. And she will be.”

Mittens nodded grimly and got to his feet. “We’ve been left behind again.”

“I watched the words and we didn’t miss much. The chupacabra is back, the brothers are still incompetent and the idiocies won’t stop piling up, but no real new charges. But we have to watch the scene that comes right after Dean and Sam going for drinks and Sam getting drunk.

Mittens nodded again and opened a portal to right outside Sam and Crystal’s bedroom.

When Dean left to his room Sam woke Crystal and started calling her Jessica his dead girlfriends name and she tried to move from under him and he hit her in the face. She screamed and Dean ran into the room and moved him off her, then took him to another room. Crystal ran to the door and locked it she stayed up for a while but then fell asleep.

The next morning Sam begged Crystal for forgiveness, but she was angry and left for her mother’s house. Dean yelled at Sam and then they followed the Sue, which left the agents alone in the house.

“So,” Mittens said, “right out of nowhere, Sam decides to get drunk, then he calls Crystal Jessica’s name, but then he attacks her. Is he possessed?”

“No,” said the RMC who had looked ahead in the Words.

“A shape shifter? Is the real Sam tied up somewhere?”


Mittens thought some more. “Mind control of some sort?”


“Okay, I give up. What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing. Everything. This is bad storytelling at its worse. The scene we just witnessed was simply an attempt to inject drama into their happy domesticity. And you wanna know the worst part?”

“Not really, no.”

“In a few paragraphs, he will save her mother’s life, the Sue will forgive him and it will all have been rendered completely pointless and never be mentioned again.”

Mittens got an exasperate expression. “But whyyy?” he asked with almost a whine.

The RMC shrugged and downed a few more Bleeprin. Having no answer to give, it handed the bottle back to Mittens, who took a handful himself, before opening a portal so they could go back to watching the fic.

Crystal was now 8 months along and she was so happy that her baby was going to be born in a week and that was the last day of the 8 month. Crystal was going to give birth in 2 days.

“I would previously have judged the Sue’s knowledge of basic human biology and medicine to be at zero,” the RMC remarked. “Which means that she’s now going into negative numbers. Same goes for her grasp of basic math.”

In a few paragraphs the baby, Elisabeth Winchester, was born and mother and child were sent home from the hospital just an hour and a half later.

The baby was put in the nursery and everyone went to sleep, but Crystal woke up the next morning to the smell of smoke and the sound of the baby crying.

“Is the yellow-eyed demon back for Crystal?” asked Mittens, sounding hopeful.

“Nah, that would, you know, indicate that the Sue has actually watched more than two episodes of Supernatural.”

The fire was put out and no one was hurt, but Sam still had a meltdown.

“I’m sorry but this is happening because of me I’m going to leave.” Sam said running out of the room.

Crystal cried and then called Dean to ask him to find Sam. By this point Dean was so incompetent, that his ‘searching’ simply meant trying to call Sam’s cell phone. Whether he would actually have done anything useful was doubtful, but never put to the test since Sam showed up at Dean’s place. Crystal came by and they kissed and made up.

“Making this whole thing totally pointless, once again,” as the RMC noted.

What happened next was that some kind of entity tried to get close to Elisabeth, but was dispatched by Sam in a few sentences. It was not brought up again. Following naturally after the other completely random events, Sam and Crystal randomly bought a new house and moved in.

The agents went with them to the new house, where they made themselves relatively comfortable under the kitchen table. Here they could watch most of the story unfold, safe from the frequent downpours of scene dividers.

Crystal found out that she was expecting again, by repeating the pregnancy-test-fail from earlier, down to the fact that she was three weeks pregnant.

One month there was a creature in there house and Crystal was running with Sam trying to kill it. Then Crystal tripped over something and fell down the stairs.
Sam killed the thing and drove Crystal to the hospital.
They ran some test and they told her that she had lost the baby.

Mittens took out his crossbow and absent-mindedly started checking it. “It’s just more fake, boring, inconsequential drama. I’m pretty sure we have enough charges. Can’t we kill her now and get it over with?”

“All right, I’ll take a look at the Words and see if there are any minis or anything we need to pick up.” The RMC was silent for a few moments. Then it simply said: “Oh.”


“Oh,” the RMC repeated but didn’t elaborate.

Mittens didn’t ask. He started taking out the crossbow bolts one by one and running his thumb over the tips to check how pointy they were.

The next day Kathy took Elisabeth to Crystal since her mother was sick. On her way to Crystal’s house Kathy was hurt something came in front of her and she had a car accident she crashed into a tree and got hit on the head luckily Elisabeth was not hurt she didn’t have a scratch on her.

“I just had a thought,” Mittens began. “If the sister is named Kathy and the poster is named KitKat and the Sue is named Crystal and the author of this atrocity is the sister of the poster, do you think we’re actually dealing with a self-insert?”

“Most likely, but the evidence is too circumstantial for us to make a charge. Hm. According to Kathy something jumped on the car and that was what caused her accident.”

“Another monster?”

The RMC sighed. “I wish it would stop. It’s bad enough with all the dull family stuff, but every time the Sue brings in monsters, she’s reminding us that this is supposed to be Supernatural.”

Mittens dug around in the backpack and found a bag of insta-popcorn, which he started munching on with a gloomy expression. The RMC also had a snack consisting of some stray punctuation it had saved from an earlier mission.

The characters came home, went to bed and once again Crystal was woken by the sound of Elisabeth being in danger. Since that particular plot device had already been done to death in the fic, Mittens was a bit surprised when the RMC said: “Finally, something new. This is what we stayed to witness.”

They got up and went upstairs to watch the scene.

Sam ran into the nursery after Crystal and saw a man holding Elisabeth and holding a knife to Crystal’s throat. A moment later the man dragged them out the window even though they were on the second floor and all three disappeared without a trace.

Sam and Dean searched the room for evidence and found a gold chain with a circled diamond one the ground.

“I’ve seen that before but not on Crystal or the baby on some man at the supermarket who always wears a black sweater with a hood on.” Sam said looking at the chain know it was that weird mans thing. He didn’t know where the man lived so he went to the supermarket to try and find out where he lived.

A few paragraphs of supremely lame detective work later, the brothers had the man’s address, which turned out to be the house right across from Sam’s.

The brothers went there, broke down the door, saved Crystal and Elisabeth from the man and had him arrested.

“Sam what the hell was that all why would he take the baby?” She asked not knowing why he took Elisabeth because she knew her took her to rap her.

“Trivializing attempted rape, to the point where she can’t even be bothered to spell it right,” said Mittens, who had taken advantage of the confusion to pocket the gold chain with the diamond as a souvenir. He scratched his chin with the end of the pen. “So was that guy a demon or something?”


“Then how did he manage to drag a woman and a baby out of a second floor window without everyone breaking their necks?”

“The idiocy in that scene was so thick, it probably cushioned their fall.”

Crystal was briefly interviewed by two detectives, before going home. The next morning she went to work and a couple of disposable girlfriends of hers were introduced into the story. The agents neuralyzed one of them, who wasn’t going to show up again anyway.

“Cameos by real life friends?” asked Mittens.

The RMC never got around to answering since the two detectives showed up again, this time to ask Crystal if Elisabeth was really Sam’s child, which caused her to leave in a huff.

Sam picked her up from work and she told him what the detectives had asked. Sam was as shocked as she was and suggested that they went to the station to confront Detectives Benson and Stabler and demand an explanation.

“I want to know why you asked me who the father of my child was.” She said looking at her.
“Well I was wondering why a man would attack out of the blue. Then say that the women he attacked baby was his.” She said explaining why she asked that.
“Well… its… true.” She said with tires coming down her cheeks.
Sam went in to the room enraged. “What… how could you this to me you… you.”

“What the teacup!?” exclaimed Mittens, which earned him a bemused look from the RMC. He stared at the scene in front of them, the furious Sam and Crystal, who had small rubber tires rolling down her face, giving new meaning to the phrase ‘tear tracks’. “Okay, so she seems to have cheated on him and passed the baby off as his; at this point I’m not the least bit surprised. But why tell him about the detectives’ question? Why agree to confront them, when she knew all along that they were right? It’s just so …” he grasped for a word. “It’s so extremely improbable,” he finished.

Sam and Crystal went home and the Sue started to explain herself.

“Ok, ok this is what you remember my ex right you know Luis?”
“Yeah what does he have to do with anything?”

“Oh, Sam,” the RMC sighed. “You really are dense in this story.”

“That’s him he changed his name but trust me that is him, I was mad that had not gone home for 5 days when you went on one of your trips with Dean and I hurt myself so he help me we started to talk and then it happened. But also remember I was mad at you.” She said walking away from him.

“Did she just blame him for her cheating on him?” asked Mittens incredulously.

“Oh, yes. And he’s buying it. I think now would be a good time to break out the next bottle of Bleeprin.”

“Oh then… I still don’t know why you didn’t tell me why you didn’t tell me she was not mine.” He said getting up and moving away from her.
“Sam I don’t know I thought this was how you going to react of course I was not going to tell you.” She said turning around and whipping her cheek.

“And she also just blamed him for her lying! Because he would get mad! Which he has every right in the world to be!” Mittens swallowed a handful of pills before passing the bottle to the RMC.

“I love you and I love Elisabeth I don’t care if she’s not mine.” He said holding her tight as she cried.
“I love you too. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness but you still gave it to me.” She said crying into Sam’s chest.
“But Crystal how do you really know it’s his did you take the paternity test?” Sam said wondering if she could still be his.
“That’s true how about I get Lourdes to do it tomorrow at 3 witch is mine and her lunch time.” She said wondering if there was hope of her being his.

Both agents just groaned at this.

The next day some sort of unspecified test was done and the day after that Crystal picked up the results. The agents neuralized Lourdes and then followed the Sue home, where she was reading the results with Sam there.

“You are… the father!” She said giving him the biggest hug in the world. She was so excited to know that he was the real father.
“Sam did you hear me?” She said looking at her boyfriend seeing that he made no movement or showing any emotions.
“Ahhhhhhh Sam please says something!” She screamed and she looked at her hand and saw that there was blood on her hand.
“Sam?” She said.
She saw something behind the where they where sitting, it was Luis. He jumped on her and they where on the floor.
“No one will know that I am not the father if they don’t see the test.” He took it from her and was about to rip it but he was knocked out.
“Don’t ever touch her or me.” Sam had gotten up even though he was hurt he managed to hit the guy.
“Crystal do me a favor?” He said looking up at her.
“What’s that?” She said.
“Call an ambulance.” He said before he passed out.

“What … did I just watch?” asked Mittens. “I mean, what just happened?”

“We should intervene here,” the RMC said. “She’s planning to stitch him up herself.”


She got the phone and called the police. She can take care of her own man.

“Uh, yeah, no,” said a voice behind her.

Crystal turned and saw a young man, whose most remarkable feature was the fact that he was pointing a crossbow at her.

“Put down that needle and step away from Sam,” the man continued.

A young woman, who looked like she might be the young man’s sister, went over, bent down over Sam and felt his pulse. “I’ll send him to Medical and get them to patch him up,” she said. She took out a pen and some paper and wrote a note, which she stuffed down Sam’s shirt. Then she started fiddling with some kind of mechanism and a moment later, there was a blue glow and Sam disappeared. Crystal gave a scream and tried to lunge at the woman but a bolt hit her in the thigh and she fell to the floor with a cry. Then she felt a foot on her back.

“Quiet,” the man said.

There was a knock on the front door.

“Must be the police,” said the woman. “I’ll go take care of them.” She left.

Crystal thought about screaming for help, but the foot pressed down threateningly.

A few moments later the woman returned. “Well, that was convenient,” she said. “It was Detectives Benson and Stabler, so now they’re taken care of.”

“What did you do to them?” asked the man.

“I neuralyzed them. They were actually okay cops and I suspect once they’re free of the Suefluence they can be quite good, so there’s nothing to keep them from assimilating into the canon. We can do the same with Kathy and the mother.”

“We can?”

“Yes. They haven’t really done anything, except aiding and abetting a Sue, but they seem like normal people. Once they forget about Crystal, they can also become background characters.”

“So that just leaves Luis,” said the man.

“Yeah.” The woman paused. “Can’t melt into the canon and I really don’t feel like recruiting him.” She sauntered over to the still unconscious Luis, bent down and said: “Luis, you’re charged with being a crazy, violent ex and wanna-be rapist and with performing an impossible kidnapping. Your sentence is death. Mittens, do your thing.”

There was a ‘thunk’ sound and then a bolt was sticking out from Luis’ neck. Crystal whimpered.

Then the man, whose name seemed to be Mittens, started talking. “Crystal, as agents of the PPC we hereby charge you with the following: Crimes against the English language, that are many in number and heinous in nature, not least the use of weapons grade scene dividers. Posting your second chapter twice and in place of your third. Writing a fic filled with boring domestic scenes, where the Winchesters were so bland that if it wasn’t for the names, we wouldn’t have any idea who they were supposed to be. Interjecting said domesticity with random overblown drama, all of which was both badly handled and inconsequential. You are also charged with the fact that any time you sent the Winchesters on something resembling a hunt, you made them so incompetent that they seemed to be too dumb to eat a sandwich. While it is not a charge to make your story up as you go along, it is definitely a charge to ignore what you have previously written in favour of chasing some new stupid idea, so we’re charging you with that as well.

You are also charged with claiming to be first a last-year med student and later a doctor and yet you haven’t the slightest grasp of medicine or biology. You are charged with criminal negligence towards a person in your care, resulting in said person’s death.”

“That wasnt my fault Sam said so himself.” Answered Crystal with a shocked look on her face.

This earned her a vicious kick to the ribs. “Learn some SPaG!” He cleared his throat. “You are charged with cheating on Sam and blaming him for it and with passing Elisabeth off as his daughter and then blaming him for your lie. You are an awful, awful person.

You are also charged with … You know what, I’m not even going to read the rest of the list. Any one of the points I have already mentioned would be enough to condemn you. You are a revolting, detestable Sue and your punishment is death! My only regret is that you have to be dead when we salt and burn you, but that doesn’t mean that you will get off easily. I have something very special in mind for you.”


“Well, that was even more satisfying than I had imagined it would be,” said Mittens, dumping the drained and mutilated body of the Sue next to Luis.

“I agree,” said the RMC. “It was both entertaining and enlightening. Very interesting to find out what a chupacabra looks like in this canon. I wonder if they will ever get around to feature one in the series.”

Mittens took out the salt and the gasoline from the backpack and started pouring them on the bodies.

The RMC moved back a little. “Why don’t you do that and I’ll go find Dean and the two bits and neuralyze them. Then you can grab the baby and take her to the Nursery and I’ll meet you there.”

“The baby?” Mittens turned and looked at the crib where Elisabeth was lying, apparently sleeping through it all. “Can’t she stay here? If you tell Kathy that she is her daughter …”

“No. She’s a child of a canon character and she has to go.”

“Well, um, okay then. See you.”

The RMC portalled out and Mittens poured the salt, lit a match and threw it on the bodies. They caught fire almost at once. He turned to the crib. “Okay,” he said to himself. “You can do this.”

He bent down and looked at Elisabeth, who was still sleeping. He poked her with a finger and she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She didn’t look dangerous. He reached down and lifted her up, dimly recalling something about how you were supposed to support a baby’s head. He held her firmly against his body so he could get one hand free to work the RA. Smoke and heat started to fill the room and Elisabeth made an unhappy noise.

“Shh,” Mittens said while pressing the coordinates back to HQ. “I’m here, you’re safe.” The portal opened and he stepped through.

Thank you to Rats and Phobos for betaing this.

”Transferred?” the Radioactive Moss Creature repeated.

Mittens nodded. “We’re supposed to go and see the …” He checked the screen again. “The Reannual Grape Vine.”

The RMC thought about this for a moment, then decided that the best course of action would be to shrug (figuratively) and go with it. “Which office?”

“Number 57.”

Mittens had only knocked once when a telepathic voice, sounding rather impatient, said: Yes, yes. Do come in.

Maybe wandering backwards through the corridors of HQ had taken longer than they had thought and they were now late. But the message hadn’t specified a time and anyway, he had no idea what time it was, since he hadn’t seen a clock since he came to the PPC. Still, back in Hell, reasons like that would not have stopped anyone from punishing him for being late, so it was with a feeling of unease that he pushed the door open.

They entered a small office, kept neat in spite of the fact that it was packed with crates and cardboard boxes. Behind the desk sat the Sentient Reannual Grape Vine. It was wearing a robe and a hat with the word ‘Wizzard’ embroidered on it. Small clusters of unripe grapes could been seen amidst its leaves.

, it said, in a brisk voice. My new Agents. Welcome to the Department.

The agents looked at each other, looked down and shuffled their feet or feet analogues a bit. Finally the RMC said: “Pardon me, but what Department would that be? The message didn’t specify …” It let the sentence trail off.

The Reannual didn’t look surprised. The Department of Improbabilities. We used to be The Department of Ah, Hell Naw! but people objected to the name. Anyway, it’s not surprising that you haven’t heard of us. We were never big in terms of numbers and we tend to get a bit overshadowed by the Department of WhatThe. I haven’t had agents ask to get transferred to this Department in a decade and this is the first time in years that Personnel has actually sent someone here, so you will understand why I was eager to meet with you at once. Now, to answer your question …

“I’m sorry,” the RMC interrupted, as politely as possible. “What question would that be?”

The question you just asked of course.

“But we didn’t ask a question,” the RMC insisted.

Didn’t you? Oh, dear. The Reannual looked slightly flustered. I accidentally started answering your question before you had asked it. It happens sometimes. You were going to ask me what this Department does, exactly. We deal with fics that contain elements that are highly unlikely, but not on the level of brainbreaking WTF. So we don’t get your typical clichéd thirteen-a-dozen Sues. But something like that eight year old Tenth Walker you took care of would have fitted nicely.

“You’ve read our reports?” Mittens asked.

Well, technically, no, I haven’t read them and won’t get around to it until this afternoon. But for the sake of getting this conversation to make sense, let’s just say that I have. I wanted to know who my new agents were. What you’re good at. Whether you own a flamethrower. According to your reports, you’ve performed … adequately. I’m sure you’ll do this Department proud. Or at least not embarrass it. Though I really don’t see how you could do that, since hardly anyone know we exist.

It mused about this for a moment, then continued. One last thing, before you go. Would one of you be so kind as to ask the question?

“What question?” asked Mittens.

Oh, not that again. The question I answered just a moment ago.

“But,” said the RMC, “you already know what it is. You’ve already answered it.”

Answering the question before it gets asked is all fine and good, the Reannual replied. But answering a question which then never gets asked violates the laws of Time and can disturb the fabric of causality.

Mittens tried to think back and remember this exact wording. “So what does this Department do, exactly?” he asked.

Thank you, said the Reannual. I’ll let you get back to work. Good luck. And it waved a stalk dismissively.

[Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke. The PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia; I’m only playing in it. ‘Daughter Of A Winchester‘ belongs to Fallen Angel and I do not want it. Mittens and the Radioactive Moss Creature are mine.]

Mittens was distracted from his search for the biscuits, by the console giving its familiar ear-splitting BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! He pressed the button and started to read.
“It’s a Supernatural-fic,” he said, after a moment, “the full title is ‘Daughter Of A Winchester (Will Become an Andy Biersack Love Story!)’. It’s written in first person, so we’ll need the dummy. And there’s a mini in the summary.”
“You should stay here,” the Radioactive Moss Creature said to Saxo and James. “You’re fully fledged agents now. No doubt, there’ll be another mission along for you soon.” They looked like they wanted to object, so it added: “Anyway, Christmas is near and we haven’t had time to decorate. You can do that.”
“So,” Mittens said, eyeing their rather extensive weapons collection with a thoughtful look, “would the crossbow be canon?”
The RMC gave a sound that could have been a laugh, converted into a cough. “They used a Christmas tree as a weapon once. Bring whatever you feel could be useful. Also, lots of salt and some kerosene.”
“We don’t have any of that.”
“We don’t? Then we’ll have to pick it up in the fic.”
Mittens packed their backpack, set the disguise generator to ordinary humans and programmed the portal.
They threw the dummy in first and stepped though after it.

They were in prefic nothingness. Mittens turned on a torch, knowing from experience that gathering charges from Author’s Notes and prologues in pitch darkness was a pain.
There was a bark. He looked down. Then further down.
The dog wagged its tail.
He stared, then turned to the RMC, who was also staring.
“Is that a … a …Is that Winchster from the summary? What kind of mini is it?”
The dog wagged its tail harder and barked again at the mentioning of its name.
“It must be a mini-Hell Hound,” said the RMC.
“By why does it look like that?”
“Well … It is never shown what the real Hell Hounds look like, so I suppose it is within the realm of possibilities, that the mini-version is a,” it hesitated for a moment, “a Yorkshire Terrier.”
The Yorkshire Terrier wagged its tail some more. It had a little purple bow between the ears.
There was a pause, then Mittens shrugged. “A mini is a mini.” He picked up the small dog. It tried to lick his face and he giggled, before placing it in the backpack.
The fic started, not with an Author’s Note or a Disclaimer, but with a character sheet.

Full Name: Raven Natasha Winchester

Age: 11 (she’ll get older as the story progresses)

A picture of a girl floated through the darkness, startling both agents, before it disappeared again.
“That must be one of the features of the Circle of Lemmings,” said the RMC.
“Is it dangerous?” asked Mittens.
“I don’t think it’s any more dangerous, than things like punctuation rains and unmarked scene changes.”

Personality: People She Doesn’t Know: Shy, Quiet, Adorable. People She Does Know: Funny, Sarcastic, Outgoing, Snarky, Witty, Sweet, Can Win Almost Any Argument, Is Known To Stay Quiet For Long Periods Of Time, Very Protecteve.

“That Is One Of The …” The RMC paused, then cleared its throat. “Sorry. It seems to be catching. That is one of the worst instances of telling, not showing, I have ever had the misfortune to witness. Charge.”
Mittens rummaged in the backpack for Bleeprin and giggled again, when Winchster licked his hand. “I’m also charging for crimes against capitalization and spelling.”
“And I suppose, we’ll have to inform the Department of Redundancy Department.”

Status: Hunter, Bird Kid (Idea stolen off of Maximum Ride), psychic

Hobbies: Hunting, Shooting, Skate Boarding, Flying and Messing with people’s minds

“What’s a Bird Kid?” asked Mittens.
“Something from another book, which has absolutely nothing to do with Supernatural.”

The character sheet was then followed by a back story. It explained how Dean Winchester, at the age of 15, had gotten another 15-year-old, Natasha Rivers, pregnant and how she had died after giving birth.
The RMC scoffed. “With the number of Sue-mothers who die giving birth, you would think that they all live in the Dark Ages, not in the modern world, where these things are very rare, thankfully.”

There was something wrong with the baby.

“You don’t say,” Mittens said, absent-mindedly, while checking his gun.

She  had been born with little, black, dawny wings. It turns out that Natasha was being experimented on by an underground science facility to earn some extra cash.

There was the sound of two palms hitting two foreheads.
“I don’t even know where to start,” said Mittens.
“Neither do I. The whole thing is just so idiotic. Underground facilities do not experiment on anyone, although the people in them might do so. And ‘to earn some extra cash’? It makes it sound like she got extra pocket money for mowing the lawn.”
Mittens handed a couple of Bleeprin to the RMC and also took some himself.
The infodump continued by explaining that John Winchester had taken Raven in as his own daughter, until she was five years old, when she had been told the truth.
“She might as well be going through a check-list,” said the RMC, while Mittens scribbled furiously to get all the charges.

She turned out to be a little girl genius at the I.Q. of 360.

“Firstly,” said the RMC, “charge her with giving herself an absurdly high IQ, despite clearly not having any idea how an IQ score works. Secondly, charge her with insulting the honourable Agatha Heterodyne, by calling herself that.”
“There’s a another chapter coming up.”
“And thirdly, charge for having a whole chapter consisting of a character sheet.”

Dean and I pulled up outside Sammy’s apartment complex and pulled to a soft stop.

Mittens made a mark next to the charge for redundancy, happy to have firm ground under his feet once again.
The dummy settled into a blond girl with blue eyes; she was sitting next to Dean. She had some kind of odd pink-orangeish light, in the colours of a sunrise, shimmering on her back. It might have been pretty, if not for the fact that it, at the same time, tried to be black.
Mittens tilted his head. “I suppose that’s her ‘dawny, black wings’ shining though her clothes.”
The Sue explained that she called her dad ‘Dean’ and John ‘Dad’.
“So in reality, she’s an ordinary Winchester-little-sister-Sue, with a convoluted back story,” remarked the RMC.
Mittens looked round. “This is from the beginning of the pilot episode,” he said. The complete lack of description meant, that their surroundings defaulted to canon, but the colours looked a bit pale. “If they leave the car unattended, we can get some salt and kerosene from it.”
“I think we’d better not,” said the RMC. “I can’t remember if they already have the devil’s trap in the trunk, but if they do, we don’t want to trigger it.”
“Why …” began Mittens. Then he stopped and his eyes went big. “Oh,” he said.
“I see you catch my drift.”
“Wasn’t it a bad idea for the Flowers to send us here, then?”
The RMC shrugged. “I suspect, that if we get the disadvantages, we also get the perks.”

We climbed out of the impala, and snuck inside the complex.

The lack of capitalization caused the car to turn into an antelope. The agents winced in sympathy as the two people climbed out of it. It looked painful.

I pick-lock my way in, and I listened for the thoughts or dreams of Sammy. Yeah, I’m a psychic. It helps a lot. Like, I can here people’s thoughts, make them see or think what I want them to see or think, and I can even make people do what I want them to do. Not only is it useful, but it’s also really fun. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten out of cleaning the motel room?

“That’s just wrong,” said the RMC. “You don’t use your psychic powers on your friends and family like that.”
“Charging. Also for crimes against grammar, punctuation and tenses.” Mittens stopped writing and lowered the notebook. “Can she hear our thoughts?”
“Maybe, but she seems to be focused on Sam, so we’re probably safe for now.”
In the fic, Raven hid, while Dean and Sam got into a brawl as per canon.

I watched them go at it for awhile (A/N: I just realised how dirty that sounded>D) and finally it ended with Dean on top. (A/N: That sounded dirty too! :3)

The RMC glared. “This is a Suefic. You’d think, we would at least be free of Wincest.”

“Or not,” I said reviling myself.

“You got it wrong,” said Mittens. “Reviling is what we’re doing to you.”
Dean told Sam that their father hadn’t been home for a few days.

Dean wasn’t getting through to him so I stepped in. Okay first you should know that I may be able to read his thoughts, I can’t do any other mind tricks on Sammy. It’s just weird. I’m telling you this so you don’t think Well, why don’t you just compel him to go with you?

“So the only reason,” the RMC said, more acidly with every word, “you don’t force your uncle-brother to leave his life and girlfriend, drag him back into something, he has made it very clear, he wants no part in and make him risk his life, is because you can’t. You are a horrible person. And it’s an extra charge for assuming that everyone else are horrible persons as well.” It turned to Mittens. “If she can’t compel Sam, it’s probably because of the demon part of him. That’s lucky for us.”

“Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days,”

Mittens facepalmed. “That’s exactly what Dean was going to say. Not only is she stealing lines, she’s making the canons look like idiots, who can’t speak for themselves.” He grabbed the Bleeprin and chewed moodily on a couple of pills. Then he looked at the RMC. “She’s just going to insert herself into the pilot episode, steal lines and not add anything but rubbish, isn’t she?”
“Ayup!” the RMC replied with false cheerfulness, having had a brief look at the Words ahead of them. It swallowed a couple of Bleeprin, looked at the bottle of pills, shrugged and swallowed some more.

They followed the canons and the Sue outside and settled down to watch behind a parked car.
Sam and Dean were arguing in lines taken more or less straight from the canon, but with added spelling mistakes. The Sue didn’t have any lines; instead she was making mental comments on everything the brothers said.

“I’m not,” Sam said much more calmly. Told you.
“Why not?” Dean asked raising his eyebrows. Well ain’t that a stupid question?

Obnoxious mental comments.
“Can we kill her now?” asked Mittens.
“No. Sorry.”
Raven told Sam that she wouldn’t give up being a hunter for anything.
The RMC scoffed. “She’s supposed to have an IQ of 360 and yet she wants nothing more than to run credit card scams and drive around killing monsters. I’m starting to think, there’s a zero too much in that number. We might be doing more or less the same, but at least we get paid and we recognise, that this isn’t the best job in the world.”

“So dad was taking out this two lane balck top just outside of Jerico, California. About a month ago this guy. They found his car but he’d vanished completely MIA.”

“Bleeprin?” asked Mittens.
“Don’t mind if I do.”

I slowed the message down, ran though a goldwave(?)

“If you don’t know what it is, why don’t you look it up!?” snapped Mittens. “It would have stopped you looking like an even greater moron than you already do.”
The RMC snatched the extra punctuation and started chewing on the quotation mark, stuffing the parentheses into its pocket for later.

The chapter ended with Sam wishing Raven a happy twelfth birthday.
“Speaking of which,” said the RMC. “How does the math add up?”
Mittens did a quick calculation, jotting down numbers in the note book, scratching his head and redoing them. Finally he said: “It doesn’t. This is 2005 and if she has just turned 12, she should have been born in 1993, but Dean is 26, so he wouldn’t have turned 15 until 1994.”
“Which means, that he couldn’t have been 15 when she was born, much less when she was conceived. Thank you. Make a charge for failing at basic math, resulting in under-age characters having sex.”

In the next chapter the canons were on the road, but had stopped for food. Since there were no more mentions of any impalas, they were now driving in a proper car.

I skipped inside and grabbed everything that was appeiling(SP?) Being a bird kid, you burn a lot of calories fast. So I have to eat a lot. Being a bird kid is also why I’m so tall. Sometimes people are all like, You could be a model! And I’m just like, Me. A model? You sir/ma’m owe me a new lung!

“So that’s what all that bird kid nonsense was about,” said the RMC, pocketing some more punctuation marks. “Being really tall and being able to eat lots of food without getting fat.”

But seriously, being tall can be pretty annoying. I’ve been hit on by a sixteen year old boy once.

“Why do Sues want to be tall and thin if it’s such a bother?” Mittens mused.
“Sues don’t want to be tall and thin, that would be shallow. They just are and they can’t help it. It’s almost like a curse. Trajeck, really.”
Both agents sniggered.

“Oh yeah? And what names did you put on the application this time?”
“Um, Burdafromniam(?), his son Hector, and grandaughter Lesely,” I said with my mouth full.

There was a small ‘pop’ and the mini-Hell Hound Burdafromniam appeared. It was also a Yorkshire Terrier, but rather than its fur being long and smooth, it was in tight curls.
“It has an afro,” Mittens said incredulously.
“Let’s just be grateful that ‘Lesely’ didn’t get us a mini-Sue.”
“What’s a grandaughter, anyway?” Mittens asked, picking up the mini-Hell Hound. “The daughter of his gran?”
“Probably has something to do with her unlikely family circumstances, which means that none of us wants to know.”

“Scored three cards out of the deal.”

“Do they issue credit cards to twelve-year-olds?” asked Mittens.
Sam started going through Dean’s ‘caset tape collection‘.

Black Sabbeth? Moter Head? Metallica?

The agents blinked.
“One out of three,” the RMC said, falsely cheerful. “That’s not … Actually, it’s horrible. You call yourself a fan, you star in a fanfic and you can’t even be bothered to look up the names of Dean’s favourite bands!?”
Mittens handed it some more Bleeprin and wrote the charge. Then he made a mental note to snatch the tapes. They would make a nice souvenir and besides, he was a bit curious as to how the music sounded.

There was a new chapter. The brothers and the Sue arrived at the bridge where the scene with the police officers was to take place.
Sam and Dean got out their fake IDs, but Raven had to stay in the car. Sam had promised her that she could get her own fake ID when she turned fifteen, by which time she would be able to pass for someone in her early twenties.
Mittens leafed back through the notebook. “What happened to her ability to make people ‘see or think what I want them to see or think, and I can even make people do what I want them to do’?”
“Either she has forgotten about her special powers already or she’s too lazy to describe the following scene and this is her way of skipping it.”
“If she just stays in the car, can we go watch the canon scene?”
The RMC checked the Words and frowned. “She texts her friend and … Never mind, I’ll keep an eye on her, you can go watch.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Mittens, you’ll be standing right over there. I think I’ll be safe.”
So the RMC was handed the notebook and stayed to watch the Sue, who was texting her best friend Nick, who was ‘Bobby’s nephew and practically my brother‘.

Me: Damn it!
Him: Damn what?
Me: I have to stay in the car again!
Him: And I should care why?
Me: Dick.
Him: Meanie.

“So that’s the kind of conversation a girl genius, with an IQ of 360, has with her best friend,” the RMC muttered to itself.

Yeah, him and I have our own little name calling thingy. You know? Kind of like the one Sam and Dean have?

“No, it’s nothing like that. For one thing, their conversations are actually funny. I would charge you with stealing, except that you seem to have left empty-handed.”
Mittens returned, for which the RMC was grateful. Talking to itself felt kind of uncomfortable. It made it remember being locked up, alone.
“’Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you,’” Mittens quoted, with a chuckle.
The RMC smiled. “Hope you enjoyed it. I doubt we’ll be seeing much intact canon. Now, on to the next chapter.”

Name: Nickoli Thomas Singer

Age: 13 (He will also get older as the story prgresses)

A picture of Nick floated past them and disappeared.

Personality: People He Doesn’t Know: Vague, Quiet, Feirce.

“All three things at once?” Mittens mused.

People He Does Know: Sarcastic, Childish, Bubbly, Funny, Witty, Smart, Very Protective.

“You know,” the RMC said, looking up, as if addressing someone outside the Word World, “repeatedly stating that your characters are witty does not make them so. You have to actually write witty lines for them.”

Hobbies: Reading, Writing, Researching, Playing Computer Games, Hanging Out With Raven, Skate Boarding.

“Raven’s hobbies did not include ‘hanging out with Nick’,” said Mittens, who had started a new chargelist for Nick by writing on the last pages of the notebook.
“Almost enough to make you feel bad for him. Almost.”

His parents died when he was young by a poltergyste.

Both agents sniggered.
“I wonder what a ‘poltergyste’ is,” said Mittens.
“Obviously a bilingual pun, since ‘gyste’ is Danish for ‘shivered in fear’.”

So, his Uncle Bobby on his dad’s side took him in.

“So,” the RMC said, “he is both a non-canonical nephew and foster son to Bobby Singer. That’s like our Sue being both daughter and little sister to Dean.”

Half of his feels for Raven are like brother sister. The other half, however, is like feelings feelings, you know?

“Such eloquence in the description of luw and friendsheep,” said the RMC and downed another couple of Bleeprin. It checked the Words again. “They’re heading into town. You’ll watch the action for any more charges, I’ll go buy salt and kerosene.”

In the next chapter, Raven spelled Modesto as ‘Madesto(SP)‘ and Mittens aggravated the charge for knowingly spelling words wrong, then scooped up the punctuation marks for the RMC.

This one girl, she got murdered out on Centenial.

Mittens picked up the new mini-Hell Hound, Centenial, and placed it in the backpack with the others.
The RMC returned carrying a couple of shopping bags. Besides large quantities of salt and kerosene, it had bought chocolate and other goodies.“Anything interesting?”
Mittens shook his head. “Not really. They’re going to the library.”

Raven upstaged the brothers once again, by being the one who guessed, that they should search for articles about a suicide victim.

“This was 1918. Constance Welch, 24 years old jumps off Sylvainia Bridge and drowns in the river.”

“You fail at numbers as well as letters,” Mittens muttered, then bent to pick up Sylvainia the mini-Hell Hound. It barked in agreement, before being placed in the bag with the others.

An hour before they find her, she calls 911.

“In 1918? You fail at history as well,” said Mittens.

It was the same bridge that the cops were all over. So, that night we headed over there.

The RMC checked the Words ahead of them. “There’s some more copying the canon and except for the fact that she apparently enjoys watching the Winchesters argue, there are no new charges.” It frowned. “She uses her wings for the first time, but nothing comes of it. She just flies away from the possessed car. There’s a mini we need to pick up, but other than that, we can skip ahead.”
Mittens nodded and opened a portal.

That Constence chick, what a bitch!

Mittens picked up Constence and placed her in the backpack with the other minis.

Thank you Captian Obvious.

The RMC shifted both shopping bags to one hand, so it could use the other to pinch the bridge of its nose. “How do you manage to spell ‘captain’ wrong, but ‘obvious’ right?” it demanded.

Then the lack of a new paragraph caused both agents to be whipped through time and space and land in a small heap outside a motel.
“Is it just me,” began Mittens, getting up and helping the RMC to its feet, “or has the SPaG gotten worse? Back there she spelled genius as ‘genious’.”
“We could be dealing with deteriorating writing, caused by an author getting bored with her work,” agreed the RMC. “We need to watch ourselves in that case.” It looked at the Words again. “Let’s skip ahead.”

They portalled to where the cops were coming to arrest Sam and take Raven into custody.

I didn’t mind control them because I was trying to work on not using my powers. It really drains me.

“You are so full of it,” Mittens muttered, while scribbling the new charge.

The agents followed  Dean, Raven and the sheriff to the station. Raven listened in on the sheriff and Dean’s conversation.

“You talking like Mistimener kind of trouble, or, ‘Squel like a Pig’ trouble?” Dean asked. I remember that movie!

“You got a reference to a grown-up movie,” said the RMC flatly. “How nice for you.” It turned. “Mittens, brace yourself.”

I almost got up and punched the sheriff’s stomach right on the spot.

With a jerk, that made the two agents stumble and almost fall, everything was pulled sideways and through a wall, as the Word World adjusted to the fact, that Raven was not listening in on the conversation; she was in the interrogation room with Dean and the sheriff. A moment later, she shifted back to being outside and the room followed. She then spend a bit of time in a sort of quantum uncertainty, where she was both in the room and outside it, before finally settling on being outside. Then the officers left the station and she went into the room again, but at least this time, she used the door. Both agents glared at her, nauseated by the many shifts.

I broke off the handcuffs with ease. I’m super strong like that.

“And it gets worse,” said the RMC gloomily, as the next chapter started.
Dean was calling Sam; Raven was ignoring the conversation, in favour of playing ‘pac man’ on her phone, until it got serious.

I walked over to the nearbye parking lot and hot wired a car.

“Much, much worse.”

We drove up the road and I saw the Impala in the far of distance, and thats with my super vision.

Mittens carefully split the rest of the bottle of Bleeprin between them and they both downed a large – but not big enough – handful of pills.
The whole climatic battle from the pilot episode was abridged to a few, clumsily worded paragraphs. After that came a few rushed chapters wrapping up the end of the episode and then a chapter consisting of nothing but an Auther’s Note.

So, just do you know, Raven doesn’t go on every hunt. She mostly just stays with Bobby and Nick until I decide her next hunt. But I’ll do chapters on her school life and stuff so you’ll be entertained.

“Sure,” said the RMC, when it was safe to remove one’s hands from one’s ears again. “What people really want to read in a Supernatural fic is stuff about some girl in middle school, with Sam and Dean being nowhere in sight.” It once again got the distant look, that meant it was looking ahead in the Words. This time the look stayed on for a very long time. “Oh no,” it said.
“Is it … bad?” Mittens ventured to ask. He actually shivered a little. Whatever could make the RMC go ‘oh no’ after everything else in the fic, had to be very bad.
“Oh, yes,” came the reply, followed by a long silence. Finally it said: “First it’s all about her going to school and being a weirdo and there are some kids being introduced, who are supposed to be her new friends.” Its voice started to loose its calm and got more agitated. “Then she just as suddenly goes back on a hunt. But it’s still partly about Nick, who is Andy Biersack or at least will be when he starts his band and …” It broke off its rant and had to take a couple of deep breaths. “I will not have it!” it shouted so suddenly and loudly that Mittens jumped. Then it stamped its foot, which would have been more effective, if they hadn’t been in the Author’s Note nothingness, where there wasn’t anything for its foot to connect with. “Mittens! Open a portal!”
“Um, of course. Whereto?”
“To the end of the pilot episode. We’re going to get her there.” It looked at Mittens, a furious glare in its eyes, he couldn’t remember having ever seen before and didn’t care to ever see again. “We are agents of the PPC, we protect canons from bad fanfic, but we are not obliged to police bad real-person fanfics, which is what this is becoming. Not to mention, that it gets really, really ugly. We are going back to the last time this was decidedly a Supernatural-fanfic and then we’ll shut it down.”
Mittens took a while fiddling with the RA. Opening a portal to a previous chapter was much more difficult because, if not done properly, they risked crossing their own time stream and meeting themselves, which would be embarrassing.
“Bobby and Nick are the only ones, who are mentioned in the fanfic part,” said the RMC, once again calm. “We’ll neuralyze Bobby and kill the kid. From the way he’s written later, I’m not inclined to offer him recruitment.”
Mittens nodded and pressed the final button to open the portal, that took them back to the scene at Breckenridge Road.

“So,” Mittens started once more fiddling with the Remote Activator, “now we separate her from the Winchesters?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“No?” Mittens looked up, surprised.
“I think, call it a hunch or what you will, that it’s actually better for the canon, if we can make the canon characters snap out of it on their own. I know, we don’t usually do it that way, but the Winchesters are hunters; they have experience with all sorts of weird stuff, including mind control. Maybe we can talk to them.”
“If you say so.”
“But keep the RA handy, just in case it doesn’t work out.”

Mittens and the RMC walked up to the two canons and the Sue, who were all still standing by the empty house.
“Sam and Dean Winchester?” said the RMC.
Both men turned.
“Yeah, that’s us,” Dean replied. “Who are you?”
“We are fellow hunters … of a sort.
“Really? What are your names?”
“This is Mithrades and I’m … Aniseed.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of you. Where’ you from?”
“New Caledonia. And none of that matters. We are here to warn you about a very dangerous monster, that is stalking you.”
“What kind of monster?” asked Sam.
“Her.” The RMC pointed at Raven, who simply looked confused.
“If that’s a joke, it’s a very bad one,” said Dean. “If it’s not a joke, then let me tell you, that you are barking up the entirely wrong tree and I think you should leave and never come near my daughter again.”
“She’s not your daughter, she has simply manipulated you into thinking she is.”
Dean scoffed. “Bullshit!”
“Why? You know that she has the ability to manipulate people’s minds and she has never hesitated to use it on you.”
Dean opened his mouth, closed it again, looked at Raven, then at Sam, who looked equally confused, and finally back at the two agents. “Look, I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but she is my daughter, I know it.”
“You should go,” said Raven.
The RMC turned to look at her coldly. “I’m afraid that your jedi mind trick does not work on us,” it said and turned back to Dean. “What was her favourite toy, when she was little?”
Dean hesitated. “A teddy bear,” he said finally.
“Is that something you know or are you just guessing? What’s the name of her school?”
“I … I know it. I just can’t remember it right now.”
Mittens, who had been quiet until now, pointed at Raven. “What clothes are she wearing?”
They all turned to look at Raven. Unlike many other Sues, she had completely neglected to describe her outfit and was therefore wearing Generic Clothing. Until now it had defaulted to a sort of jeans-and-a-t-shirt outfit, but under the sudden scrutiny, it melted into something grey and foggy.
“She’s standing right there,” Mittens pressed on. “What is she wearing?”
“I don’t know,” Dean muttered. He was staring at Raven, as if he was seeing her for the first time, which wasn’t entirely untrue.
“That’s because she’s not really there, she has only made you think that she is,” said the RMC.
Dean looked from the agents back to Raven. “Who … are you?”
“This has gone far enough!” shouted Raven. “Dean, attack them!”
Dean immediately threw himself at Mittens, ignoring Sam, who yelled at him to stop and be rational about this.
Mittens, who’s lean appearance belied his real strength, managed to block Dean’s punch, but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up, especially since he was trying not to hurt Dean, who seemed to have no such qualms regarding him.
The RMC folded its hands together, the way Mittens had taught it, swung them like a club at the Sue’s head, the way Mittens had taught it and missed completely, which had not been one of Mittens’ lessons.
She glared at it. “I’ll …” she began, but the RMC never found out, what it was she intended to do. In the next moment, she fell to the ground, unconscious. The RMC looked at Sam who was standing right behind where the Sue had stood, then it turned and looked at Dean and Mittens who had each other by the throats and were playing a game of who-passes-out-first.
“I think we should separate them,” it said.
“I think you’re right,” replied Sam.

“I want some answers!” Dean demanded, a few moments later. “Who is this girl? Why did I believe she was my kid? What was she trying to do to us?”
“All your questions will be answered in a moment, if you’ll look here,” the RMC said, pulling out the Neuralyzer.
“Hey, Sam! Close your eyes!” shouted Dean. “It’s one of those flashy thingies from Men in Black! They’re trying to make us forget!”
“It’s called a Neuralyzer,” the RMC said. “And, well, yes, I was.” It exchanged a glance with Mittens.
“Awkward,” he muttered.
“There are mind controlling monsters stalking the world and you just want us to forget, huh?” said Dean.
The RMC mulled this over for a moment. “Isn’t that kind of hypocritical? You and Sam rarely go around telling people about the things that go bump in the night.”
“That’s different,” said Dean. “Ordinary people can’t handle that sort of knowledge. They don’t even want it. But Sam and I are hunters. We can handle it.”
“Sorry, but no. There are things that even hunters like you can’t handle. Now, just open you eyes and lets get this over with.”
“No!” said Dean.
“Look,” said Sam. He was trying very hard for his puppy eyed look, which was surprisingly effective, even with closed eyes. “If you make us forget, we’ll be easy prey the next time one of those monsters shows up. You should tell us about them instead.”
“Don’t worry, if that happens, we’ll be there to protect you.”
“You are only two,” Sam argued. “What if something happens to you?”
“There are other hunters like us,” said the RMC. “They’ll look after you. And speaking of them, if you won’t let us neuralyze you, someone else will show up and get the job done. You can’t escape it. Might as well make it easy on all of us.”
Dean scoffed. “We’ll deal with whoever you send.”
“Tell me,” said the RMC, “aren’t you curious, as to why Raven couldn’t compel me and my partner?”
“Why do you want to tell us that, if you plan to erase our memories anyway?” asked Sam.
“I thought you might find it interesting. You see, it’s because she had already established that she couldn’t compel people who have something demonic in them, so it makes sense, that she certainly wouldn’t be able to manipulate an actual demon and a hellspawn.”
“What?” Dean forgot himself and opened his eyes in surprise. So did Sam.
“Sam and Dean Winchester, you do not know a girl named Raven, who claims to be Dean’s daughter. Any lingering memories of it, will have been an odd dream, caused by too much junk food before bedtime. You have just defeated the White Woman and now Sam wants to go home.”
The RMC pocketed the Neuralyzer, then picked up Raven who, being a Bird Kid, weighed almost nothing.
Mittens opened a portal and took the RMC’s shopping bags.
“Nice one with the clothes, Mittens,” said the RMC with a smile and walked though the portal.
Mittens blushed, smiled and followed.

Raven blinked a couple of times, her gaze slowly focusing on first Mittens, then the RMC, then at their surroundings. They were in an open field in the middle of nowhere. She was tied up and gagged.
“You’re awake,” said the RMC. “Finally. Now we can read your charges.”
Mittens opened the notebook. “Raven Natasha Winchester, as agents of the PPC we hereby charge you with having a supremely stupid story title; grossly violating the ‘show, don’t tell’ rule; redundancy; repeating things; creation of the mini-Hell Hounds Winchster, Burdafromniam, Centenial, Sylvainia and Constence; horrendous crimes against spelling, punctuation and grammar, especially tenses; with having a back story that managed to somehow be both a rip-off and not make a lick of sense.”
He stopped reading for a moment to look at her. “That’s actually quite a feat, because normally, in stories like this, the only parts that make sense are the ones stolen from elsewhere.”
He looked back in the notebook. “Where was I? Oh, yes. You are furthermore charged with giving yourself a ridiculous array of speshul abilities and powers and then placing random limitations on them, when using them would mean, that you would have to deviate from canon. You are especially charged with not knowing how an IQ score works and just giving yourself a random high number. This is made worse by the fact, that you sounded and acted like a moron throughout the story. You are charged with insulting Agatha Hetrodyne; having whole chapters with nothing but character stats; cruelty to a poor antelope; mentioning Wincest in a Suefic; being a horrible person; assuming that everyone else are horrible persons as well; not only stealing lines, but stealing the lines that made you look clever, thus making other people look stupid; having a bilingual pun, when you can barely manage your own language; making dumb mental comments and multiple instances of adding question marks after words you had spelled wrong.”
The RMC stepped forward. “Despite your many crimes against SPaG,” it said, “you have a grasp of the basics and you actually use that knowledge. You must have some idea about the value of proper grammar. So why didn’t you try harder? Use a spell check or at least look up words that you know, you can’t spell.” It stepped back.
Mittens whacked Raven over the head with the notebook for good measure, then continued reading. “You’re also charged with having the …” he squinted at the words the RMC had written, “… the most inane text conversation in the history of texting; with being a Mary Sue and with annoying PPC agents, for which the punishment is death.”
The RMC stepped forward again. “Normally our chargelist ends there. And normally we don’t charge for crimes we have only read in the Words and not witnessed ourselves, but we are willing to make an exception with you. We therefore charge you with loosing interest in your own story and rather than having the common decency to just abandon it, you hijack it. We charge you with turning a Supernatural fanfic into a real-person fanfic about this Andy Biersack, who we don’t really know and don’t care who is, but who we are sure, did not deserve to be dragged into this mess.”
Mittens pocketed the notebook and looked at the RMC. “Do you think we need to kill her in a special way? Like with a dagger that has been blessed seven times? Or maybe we should use a woodchipper; apparently, that works on most things.”
“I don’t think so. She hasn’t mentioned anything about being invincible. We should just make sure, that she doesn’t come back to haunt canon more than she already have, by salting and burning her.”
“Should she be alive or dead when we do that?”
There was a pause. Raven shivered, her gaze darting from one to the other, as Mittens used the time to sprinkle her with salt and pour kerosene on her.
Finally the RMC said: “Well, they’re always dead when they do it in canon, so I guess we have to kill her first.”
Mittens looked from the gun to the crossbow, decided on the crossbow, pointed it at Raven and fired.
There was a long drawn-out scream, muffled by the gag.
“Oops,” Mittens said flatly. “Was that your kneecap?” He retrieved the bolt and fired again, this time into her left eye.
The Sue turned back into an inflated dummy and glitter started streaming out of the two holes like sparkly smoke. Mittens stroked a match and let it drop on the dummy. The flames rose instantly and engulfed the cloud.
“We’re going to be in trouble about loosing a dummy,” he said.
The RMC shrugged. “Had to be done,” it said. “Unless the Flowers wanted a Glittery Woman who haunts the roads, luring unsuspecting canons to their deaths. Now, let’s go take care of Bobby and Nick.”

They neuralyzed Bobby and dragged off with Nick. After charging him with being a non-canonical nephew and foster-son of Bobby, engaging in inane texting, aiding and abetting a Sue and conspiring to do further crimes, he was executed by a gunshot through the head and the body salted and burned.
“What do you think happens with the rest of the OCs; I mean the ones from the rest of the fic?” asked Mittens, as he started opening a portal back to their RC.
The RMC shrugged. “They’ll never exist, I guess. Like in that episode with Titanic. A lot of people who were never supposed to be.” It smiled. “Possibly there’s a little book now, with their names in, belonging to Atropos.”
The portal opened and they walked though.

“We have new minis,” announced Mittens, as they stepped back into RC#170.
“Where?” asked Saxo, who was decorating half of the Response Centre with green fir branches and silver ornaments. James was hanging red and golden decorations on the other half.
“Right there,” said Mittens, pointing.
Both James and Saxo looked at the Yorkshire Terriers, who were already sniffing the floor and sending cautions looks in Aniseed’s direction. Except that they didn’t seem to look at them, as much as in their general direction.
“Where?” asked James, with a frown.
“Oh, I forgot,” said the RMC. “Hell Hounds can’t be seen by ordinary humans and such and neither can the minis, it would seem.”
“I’m not an ordinary human,” replied Saxo, indignantly.
“Neither am I,” said James.
“I did say ‘and such’,” replied the RMC. “Mittens and I can only see them, because …”
It was interrupted by a small ‘beep’ that indicated a message. “Will you get that, Mittens? No doubt we are being summoned to be berated about loosing the dummy.”
Mittens checked the message, frowned and turned. “We’re being transferred,” he said.

[Author’s Notes: This is from the newly discovered Circle of Lemmings. It’s not possible to copy paste from there, so all excerpts from the fic have been written in by me. I have tried to write everything exactly as it was, but it’s possible that I might have added some SPaG mistakes (not likely) or accidentally corrected some (more likely).

Mittens and the Radioactive Moss Creature are from an unpublished novel about angels and devils I wrote, before even knowing what Supernatural was. Any similarities between the two continua are coincidental, but highly amusing.

Despite the RMC’s rant. I am not against the sporking of real-person fics; I just think they require a lot more care and thought. In fact, if That Guy With The Glasses didn’t seem to be a self-sporking canon, I might have written a mission there. However, I had never heard of Andy Biersack before this. (When this fic caught my eye for the first time, there was no mention of him, neither in the title nor anywhere else.) Hardly a good starting point for a sporking. And while I won’t go into details, there were several things in that part of the story, that made me feel uncomfortable or even angry, and none of it made me feel, that I could get good humour from it.
Also, the later Supernatural parts were just the Sue once again – in Mittens’ words – inserting herself into canon and not adding anything but rubbish. Except for the occasional mini, there were no new charges and no new jokes. Therefore, I decided to simply wrap it up.]

It Feels Like Christmas

Author’s Note: To be sung to the tune of It Feels Like Christmas from The Muppets Christmas Carol. The PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia. Mittens, the Radioactive Moss Creature, Saxo Cruore and James Vulpes are mine.

[The RMC]


It’s in the HQ getting cold as the North Pole

It’s huddling up and getting warm by the console

It’s true, wherever you feel home it feels like Christmas


A cup of Bleepka that we share with another

A game of Scrabble with a friend or a brother


In all the places you feel home it feels like Christmas

[The RMC]

It is the season of rejoicing

A special time of cheering

Vacation time is near


And it is the season of the sprit

The message if we hear it

Is make it last all year


It’s in the giving out of gifts to your best friends

A pair of mittens that were made with your own hands


It’s all the ways that we show love that feel like Christmas

[Saxo and James]

A part of childhood that we’ll always remember

Although we’ve only been here since last November


Yes, when you do your best for love it feels like Christmas

[The RMC]

It is the season of rejoicing

A special time of cheering

Vacation time is near

[Saxo, James and Mittens]

It is the season of the sprit

The message if we hear it

Is make it last all year

[The RMC]

It’s in the HQ getting cold as the North Pole

It’s huddling up and getting warm by the console

It’s true, wherever you feel home it feels like Christmas

It’s true, wherever you feel home it feels like



[The RMC]

It feels like



[The RMC]

It feels like



[The RMC]

It feels like



Candlelight Carol

Author’s Note: To be sung to the tune of Candlelight Carol by John Rutter. The PPC belongs to Jay and Acacia.


How do you capture the vision of Tolkien?

How do you count all the treasures of Smaug?

How can you measure our love of the canon?

And how do you write all the Dwarrows so proud?


Candlelight, Elven-light

Dragonfire and star glow

Shining on Arda till breaking of dawn

Badfic, oh! Badfic, woe! In excess is coming!

Agents are singing

The movies are here


Fangirls and fanbrats will watch and adore them

Agents around them their vigil will keep

Hunting down bad slash, bad grammar and plotholes

Then read the goodfics, till they fall asleep


Candlelight, Elven-light

Dragonfire and star glow

Shining on Arda till breaking of dawn

Badfic, oh! Badfic, woe! In excess is coming!

Agents are singing

The movies are here


Find them at Rivendell, taking their photos

Keeping the onslaught of songfics at bay

Petting the giant-a** spiders of Mirkwood

Childish and deadly on this winter’s day


Candlelight, Elven-light

Dragonfire and star glow

Shining on Arda till breaking of dawn

Badfic, oh! Badfic, woe! In excess is coming!

Agents are singing

The movies are here