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It's A Terrible Life

Prompt: This story follows the Supernatural episode "It's A Terrible Life" (04x17) Song Rec: None TW: None Word Count: 4K Pairing: Dean W. x OC (Max), Friend!Sam W. x OC (Max) A/N: This was one of the first requests I ever got on Wattpad!

Max's POV:

I sighed as I walked out of the elevator, ready to take off my heels and throw down my bag. Working with kids all day long was exhausting, no matter how much I loved them. I tried to unlock the door to the apartment, only to find it was already open. Guess Dean was home early.

I closed the door gently behind me, dropping my keys on the table beside the door and my bag full of paperwork on the floor. I paused as I heard voices. It was just like him to bring work home, but I couldn't blame him, I did too sometimes.

"Honey, I'm home!" I walked through the short hallway into the apartment, the open floor plan giving me a view of both men. Dean was sitting at his desk, typing away on his computer, while the other man sat at the dining table, also working on a laptop. He was wearing a light yellow shirt, which I recognized from the company Dean works at.

"Hey babe." He gave me a quick kiss on the lips before returning his attention to the laptop.

I noticed the man at the table staring at me, "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, right, sorry. Max, this is Sam Wesson, he works at the company. Sam, this is my wife, Max." I walked over and shook his hand, a tight smile on my lips. When I tried to pull my hand back, he didn't let go. He stared at me, a dark look in his eyes. Dean cleared his throat, snapping Sam out of whatever daze he was in. I backed away quickly, standing beside the island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment.

"I'm sorry, it's just... You were in my dreams."

"Excuse me!?" I crossed my arms, tightening the knitted jacket I was wearing. A shiver ran down my spine as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. My blood ran cold, "Who the heck are you?"

Dean stood up quickly, stepping over to me and wrapping a protective arm around my waist, "Hey, man, c'mon, what the hell?"

"No, no- She was in the dreams with us, fighting along side us." He scratched the back of his neck, an awkward silence settling over us. I kept my arms crossed as I stared at the man, the feeling of déjà vu washing over me as he stood up.

"No way man, that's not possible. I know Max, she wouldn't be involved in any of that... stuff. She's a kindergarten teacher, for Christs sake. She couldn't hurt a fly, much less- much less a monster."

"No, it's her. I know it. She looks a little different in the dreams- Her hair is always pulled back and is a darker blonde than that, and she has glasses. She never wears dresses, only jeans and a flannel. She's a total badass."

"What is going on here? Who are you? What do you mean monsters?" I questioned timidly, another wave of fear washing over me as he took a step towards us, towering over me. He had to be six inches taller than me.

"Okay, here, sit down." Dean guided me to the stool at the island, giving me a moment to get comfortable. I kicked off my heels, watching as the men in front of me stood near each other. I felt a pang of familiarness as Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, "Let me explain everything..."

———

Dean sat at his desk as I stared out the window to my left, trying to comprehend everything they had just told me.

"Ghosts?"

"Yeah."

"And you killed one?"

"Well, no, we don't think so."

"And now you're trying to figure out how to kill it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

I nodded, bringing my attention back to him, "Okay. I mean, I truly believe you're both having a psychotic break, but okay. If it helps you both to move on from this, I'll help you... hunt... the ghost."

We each got to work on our separate computers, Dean being the first to find anything, "Oh, jackpot!"

"What you got?"

"I just found the best site ever. Real, actual ghost hunters. These guys are genius, check it out." I stood to his right as Sam stood to his left, all three of us watching the video play.

"We know why you're watching."

"You've got a problem."

"A ghost problem."

"A ghost related problem."

"A ghost- It's like a ghost adjacent pro- It's like a problem that's-"

"Whatever. You've come to the right place. The only decent place, really, because the Ghostfacers know how to solve it."

"Period."

"Watch and learn."

"The first step in any supernatural fight: Figure out what you're up against." We all shared a look. Despite the fact that the video had animations that were childish, we knew they were our only hope.

Sam grabbed his laptop and started typing away, pulling up a website that full of information about P.T. Standover and the company.

"That's him, that's the ghost."

"P.T. Sandover. Died 1916. Devoted his life to work. No wife, no kids. Used to say he was the company, that his very blood pumped through the building."

"Wow, a workaholic. Sounds like you, honey." I ruffled Dean's hair, trying to make light of the situation. He gave me a not now look.

"Maybe he's still here, you know, watching over the company... even killing for it."

"Plus, this isn't the first time people started killing themselves in the building. 1929."

"Yeah, but lots of guys jumped off high rises that year."

"How many companies had seventeen suicides?"

"Woah, seventeen?" I leaned over Sam and read over the article, which listed the names of people who had killed themselves in the building over the past sixty years.

"Okay, so, P.T. Sandover, protector of the company. His ghost wakes up and becomes active during times of grave economic distress."

"The worst time since the Great Depression-"

"Is now. Yeah, now sucks. My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even wanna talk about it."

"What? It is? Why haven't you said anything?" I smacked his shoulder in anger.

"Max, sweetheart, not the time."

"Not the- fine. We'll talk about it later."

Sam made a face at us before continuing, "So, Sandover's helping the bottom line."

"By zapping some model employees."

"Yeah, I mean, Ian and Paul. It was like he turned them into different people."

"Perfect worker bees, exactly. So devoted to the company that they would commit hara-kiri if they failed it."

"One more interesting fact, the building wasn't always that high. Used to be fourteen floors. And the room where the ghost attacked, fourteen-forty four? Once upon a time, that was the old man's office."

We turned back to the disregarded video from earlier.

"Once you've got that thing in your sights, you kill it. Using special ghost hunting weapons."

"First, salt. It's like acid to ghosts."

"Burny acid."

"Not LSD."

"No. It's a bad trip for ghosts."

"Next up, iron."

"That's why the wrench worked."

"Pure power in your hand."

"Dissipates ghosts instantly."

"Next little trick. We learnt this from those useless douche bags-"

"That we hate."

"The Winchesters."

"Gun. Shotgun shell. Pack it up with fresh rock salt."

"Very effective."

"Winchesters still suck ass, though."

"Affirmative. Suckage, major."

I rolled my eyes at their childish behavior, suddenly feeling protective over these Winchester people. Within the hour both boys had a bag of stuff packed. Anything that was made of iron was packed, as well as all the salt we had on hand. Despite his cleanse, I kept everything on hand, in case I wanted some carbs or other unhealthy snacks.

"Where do we even get a gun?" I asked, sitting on the back of the couch.

"A gun store?" Sam glanced at me as he handed both canisters of salt to Dean.

"Isn't there some kind of waiting period?"

"I think so. How in the hell-?"

"I don't know, man. Seems pretty impossible, honestly."

"Right."

"The aforementioned super annoying, Winchester douche nozzles also taught us this one other thing."

"You have to burn the remains."

"Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry."

"It's illegal in some states."

"All states."

"Possibly all states."

"No, absolutely not. Digging up a body? That's where I cross the line. That's some bad ju-ju right there." I threw my hands up, shaking my head.

"Sandover was cremated."

"What? So what do we do now?"

"Now, if the deceased has been cremated- Don't panic!"

"Just gotta look for some other remains."

"A hair in a locket. Maybe fingernails, baby teeth-"

"Milk teeth."

"Genetic material. You know what we're talking about."

"Go find it."

"Fight well, young lions."

"Godspeed."

———

The elevator dinged as it hit the ground floor, "Set your cellphone to walkie talkie in case we get separated."

"How the hell are we gonna find some ancient speck of DNA in a skyscraper?"

"Well, that creepy storeroom used to be Sandover's office, right?"

We each took a corner of the office to search.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I kneeled down as a security guard stood next to Sam. I placed a hand over my chest, heart beating uncomfortably fast.

"Uh- um- nothing, I just-"

"Come with me." He grabbed his arm and led him out of the office.

Dean and I stood from our respective hiding places, sharing a look of concern. Surely Sam can take care of himself, right?

We sped up our search, coming up with nothing. "Hey, you okay?" He walkied Sam.

"Call you back." We shared a look at his abnormally high pitch.

———

"Dean, you there?"

"Yeah, listen, I think I got it. Meet me on twenty-two."

"Okay, yeah. Just take the stairs."

We both sighed at the thought. Despite his cleanse and my constantly being on my feet at work, neither of us were particularly in shape.

We stood waiting for Sam in front of the Sandover memorial wall in the main corridor.

"Whoa... That's a lot of blood."

"Yeah, I know."

"Right... So, in there."

"P.T. Sandover's gloves."

"How much you wanna bet there's a smidge of DNA in there? You know, like a fingernail clipping or a hair? Something."

"So, you ready?"

"I have no idea."

"Me neither."

I watched them as they talked to each other. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought they were brothers. They both leaned down, grabbing a fire poker and canister of salt each. I took the second out stretched poker from Dean, holding it with both hands.

Dean smashed the glass covering, Sam breathing out heavily. He and I watched the white cloud that formed, jumping as an old man appeared behind Dean, who was tossed backwards into a wall. The ghost threw Sam across the lobby and into a wall. Then it turned to me, blue sparks between its fingers. Sam quickly threw salt at it, the ghost vanishing.

"Oh, nice." Dean stood up, holding onto the wall for support.

"Dean!" I hollered, the ghost appearing behind him." Sam tossed his poker to Dean, who caught it effortlessly and swung around, causing the ghost to vanish again.

Sam let out a faint laugh, "Nice catch!"

"Right?!"

They walked over to the bag, Sam picking up another iron rod. The ghost appeared between them, causing them both to swing through it. I watched as the both of them swung around to catch the ghost as it appeared behind them repeatedly. They were both thrown back into the walls, knocking Dean unconscious.

I scrambled over to the memorial wall, grabbing the gloves and the lighter from my pocket. I turned around and watched as the ghost's lighting fingers neared Dean. I flipped open the lighter and held the flame to the gloves. Dean finally came to, trying to back away from the ghost, but was stuck between it and the wall.

The ghost's hand caught on fire slowly, then the entire thing burned up in a matter of milliseconds. I dropped the gloves and rushed over to Dean, helping him to his feet.

"Huh... that was amazing." Sam said, standing at the other end of the hallway.

"Right!? And you- you really are a badass." Dean responded, kissing my forehead gently. I glanced between them, silently agreeing.

We made our way to Dean's office, packing up our tools and leaving the mess for someone else to clean up.

I sat in Dean's chair as Sam sat on the desk. Dean grabbed the small first aid kit from the cabinet, sitting beside him.

"Man, I gotta tell you. I've never had so much fun in my life."

"Hey!"

"Other than when I married you, of course." He corrected himself quickly, sending a wink my way. I rolled my eyes jokingly.

"Me neither."

"Was a hell of a workout too, wasn't it?"

"We should keep doing this."

"I know."

"I mean it. There gotta be other ghosts out there." Dean handed Sam a small gauze pad, keeping one for himself. He handed me another, so I could clean the small cut along my eyebrow. I wasn't even sure how I had gotten it, "We could help a lot of people."

"Right, we could be like the Ghostfacers."

"No, really. I mean, for real."

"What? Like, quit our jobs and hit the road?"

"Exactly!"

"How would we live? You gotta be kidding me. How would we get by, with stolen credit cards? Huh? Eating diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a crap motel every night?"

"That's all just details."

"Details are everything! You don't wanna go fighting ghosts without any health insurance."

Sam dropped his head with a curt nod.

"Dean, don't be an asshole." I stood up and walked around to stand in front of them, "But he is right, Sam. I mean, we have something going here. Steady jobs, lives. I, for one, love my job. I don't want to just leave it."

"Alright, uh... Confession."

"What?"

"Remember those dreams I told you about with the ghosts?"

"Yeah? That's what started all of this."

"I was fighting them... With you. Both of you. We were these, like, hunters and we were friends. More like brothers, really. And sister. I mean, what if that's who we really are? I mean, you saw us back there working together. The ghost was scrambling brains. What if it scrambled ours?"

"That's insane."

"Is it? Think about it for just one second." Dean got up and moved over to the window, running a hand down his face, "What if this is our life, but it's not?"

"The ghost is dead, we're still standing. I'm sorry, but-"

"Look, all I know is, this isn't who we're supposed to be." Sam stood up, his voice raising an octave.

"No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? This is my wife, Max Smith. I'm Director of Sale and Marketing. She's a kindergarten teacher. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo."

"When's the last time you talked to them? To any of them?"

"Okay, you're upset. Upset, confused-"

"Yeah, cause I only moved here because I broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital."

They both inched closer towards each other, shoulders and voices raised. I moved to stand between them, arms raised so they couldn't move any closer.

"Okay, what are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real, huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on!"

"All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know. I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We are supposed to be something else." Dean scoffed, shaking his head, "You're not just some corporate douche bag, this isn't you. I know you."

Dean looked up slowly, eyes dark, "Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go." They stared at each other, Sam with a sad look and Dean with frustration.

"Guys, c'mon, let's just take a breath-" Sam turned on his heel and walked away, Dean turning back to look out the window, "That was cold, Dean."

———

I made my way to Dean's office the next day, a small brown bag in my hand. I smiled at the security guard and made my way to the elevator bank. He had forgotten his lunch that morning and I knew he'd be grumpy without it. I entered his office slowly, watching as he ran a hand down his face.

"Still mad?"

"At you? Never." I smiled softly, walking around to stand in front of him and lean against his desk.

I turn my head at the knocking on the office door, a tall man staring at us. He was bald and had deep set eyes, a knowing look in them. I furrowed my eyebrows, the feeling of déjà vu back again. Dean's head popped up.

"Got a minute?"

"Sure, of course."

The man closed the office door as I stood up, "How are you feeling, Dean?"

"Uh, great."

"You look a little tired. Been working hard, I gather."

"Yeah."

"Ah, don't be modest, I hear everything. And I'm pleased with what I'm hearing." He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. He glanced to me every few moments, "That's why it's important to me that you're happy."

He pulled out a pen and took a sticky note from the holder. I couldn't make out what he was writing, until he slid the piece of paper over to Dean. I was standing behind him with my hands on his shoulders, "How's that for a bonus?"

Our eyes widen at the number scribbled on the paper, "That's very generous."

"Purely selfish. Wanna make sure you're not going anywhere."

"Wow. Are you sure?"

"Positive. You are Sandover material, son. A real go-getter. Carving your own way."

"Thanks, I try."

"I see big things in your future. Maybe even Senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes Division. Don't get me wrong, you'll have to work for it. Seven days a week, lunch at your desk. But in eight to ten short years, that could be you."

Dean sighed and let out a short laugh, "Well, thank you. Thank you, sir." He set his ear piece on the desk, "It's, um... But... I am giving my notice."

Both the man and I looked at Dean incredulously, "This is a joke. You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I've- I recently- Very recently realized that I have some other work I have to do. It's very important to me."

"Other work? Another company?"

"No, I- It's hard to explain. Um... It's just that this- This is- It's just-" He waved his hands towards the office then his chest, "It's not who I'm supposed to be."

I bit my lip and crossed my arms, ready for the man to leave so I could smack some sense into my husband, but then the man laughed.

"What?"

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Finally." He stood up and pressed two fingers to his forehead, then mine. Suddenly the world got a little bit darker.

"The hell? Why am I wearing a tie? My God, am I hungry." He looked over to me, "Why are you wearing a dress with apples on it?"

I looked down and squinted, taking the lower half of the dress between my fingers, "I have no idea. Why are we in an office?"

"Welcome back."

"What. Did I- Did we-" Dean stood up quickly, standing beside me, "Did I just get touched by- You're an angel, aren't you?"

"I'm Zachariah."

"Oh, great. That's all I need is another one of you guys." He harshly pushed the chair under the desk, looking at me before walking the other direction.

"I'm hardly another one, Dean. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping here into one of these smelly things. But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel... I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row."

"Hey, watch it. We are not one of your ducks." I stood tall, trying to regain some dignity that the red and white dress seemed to be taking from me.

"Starting with your attitude."

"Oh, so, what, this was all some sort of a lesson? Is that what you're telling me? Wow." Dean stepped back over to me, putting himself protectively in front of me as Zachariah stepped closer, "Very creative."

"You should see my decoupage."

"Gross. No, thank you." I shook my head at his misunderstanding, "So, what? We're just hallucinating all this? Is that it?"

"Not at all. Real place, real haunting. Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories." Zachariah turned and walked back to the other side of the desk.

"Just to shake things up? Hm? So you guys can have fun watching us run around like ass clowns in monkey suits?"

"To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're hunters. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell," He looked over to me, "Not because your parents died, not because your joined the Winchester clan. But because it is what you are. And you love it. You find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it."

"Stop what? The apocalypse, huh? Lucifer? What? Be specific, man!"

"You'll do everything you're destined to do. All of it."

"Oh, I doubt that, he doesn't believe in destiny." I stood up straighter as he turned towards me.

"That's enough out of you." Before Dean could intercept or I could back away, he had placed two fingers on my forehead. I fell into the blackness without another thought.

———

I shot up from the bed, a layer of sweat causing the sheets to stick to me. I threw off the top sheet and blanket, rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands. I looked over to Sam, who was sitting at the small table in the corner of the room.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's Dean?"

"I have no idea," He looked at me, a distant look in his eyes.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Something just feels... off."

"You feel it too?" He nodded. At that moment, Dean walked in, a scowl on his face, "Dean, hey, where've you been?" He ran a hand down his face, heading straight into the bathroom. Sam shrugged, looking back to his laptop.

"I found a case."

"Another? Sam, we just finished one yesterday."

"It's only a few hours away. Seems like a ghost, so it wouldn't take long."

"Okay..." I sat down across from him, turning the laptop towards me to look over the case. Dean came back out and sat on the bed, looking between Sam and I. I smiled gently, eyes never leaving the screen. I didn't have to look over to know he was staring at me.

"Find a case?" He asked.

"Yeah, seems like a ghost. It's a few hours south of here."

I could feel his eyes still on me, so I looked over. I noticed the bright smile on his face, "What's got you so happy?"

He shook his head, "No reason."

Despite the circumstances, there was an air of comfort surrounding us. It wasn't often Dean allowed himself to be happy, so it was a nice change. With the threat of Lucifer, the apocalypse, and angels hanging over us, it was hard to find moments of peace, so I'd take what I could get, even if it was just a smile from Dean.

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