Xander-centric doctor who crosses over

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Fortune Cookie Calling Episode 5

I wake up and wonder. I'm sitting at a bus stop and must have dozed off. A mild breeze blows around my calves and it makes me shiver.

Since when have I been hanging around at bus stops? And where is my car? I look around and there is nobody but me and the bus shelter.

Yawning loudly, I rummage in my handbag for my cell phone, let's see when the next bus leaves. Generation smartphone sends its regards, could also look at the timetable to see when the next bus is coming and then it says where I am.

And since I can't find my cell phone either, I actually do. There was no timetable, not even a notice board. Hm. I can't find a timetable either when I circled the bus shelter for the fifth time. It won't be a fake stop again, will it?

I look around, there is nothing around me except harvested fields and a hell of a lot of Batz and the road.

All I can do is stand by the street, keep my good old thumb out and wait until Saint Never's Day or do "I'm walking" and hope that a gas station will appear soon, or at least a house with a phone. Just who do I call? Once again I don't check what's going on. Not that someone will knock me out again. Tipped drops in my last drink. Hm.

I have no idea, my general health right now doesn't feel like I've enjoyed a drink with a shot, nor does my body feel like it's been enjoyed in the recent past. Shit.

I embark on a research into what happened and just dump the contents of my handbag on the street. There's no one here anyway, so I dig into the past and can't find any real clues. The only thing that really puzzles me is that I'm wearing a white glove. Am I now under the part-time butler?

I hear a car in the distance with a really good sound and look up as I try to stuff my things back into my purse.

A black 1967 Chevy Impala with familiar contents is held in front of my nose. Thanks, it must be November.

And when Sam opens the door, he throws the door full on my head and I go on a trip to dreamland. Note: November seems to be over. Why always me? Not that I most likely dreamed before, because in which of my lives does a 1967 Chevy Impala come rushing past that is also black? And how many girls would give their souls to be knocked down by Sam?

Far away I can hear someone talking:

‘Nice job, Sam! You caught them full once! ’

"Dean, it could just be a random passerby."

‘Take a look at the area, there is nothing here but mud!"

"Maybe she's waiting for someone?"

'On whom? To Santa Claus? Let's leave them lying around, we've got things to do! ’

I hear an eyebrow raise.

"It's okay, let's get her in the car and go to the nearest doctor!"

I am pushed more than carried into the car and Dean probably collects my belongings from the street.

‘What shit she has in her handbag…. Ui, Sam, look what is that? ’

Oh no, he discovered my emergency thong!?!

"The lady was not here by chance, she was waiting for us!"

I drifted away completely and didn't wake up until I got a load of water on my face.

"She's not a demon, Sam!"

‘Dean, you are so paranoid!’

I got some cleaning agent poured in my face, it burned like hell and I screamed like a stick.

"I told you it had to be a Leviathan!" Dean exclaimed excitedly and I could hear a large knife being pulled from a metal sheath. It was probably a bayonet. Before they could knock my head off, I could at least scream at them: ‘You bums, have you ever considered that there are people who react allergically when you poke a domesticated rag in their face. Do you all still have it together, I think it's hacking ... ’ I freed myself from the amateurish bondage and tried to get up, but since I couldn't see anything because my eyes were swollen shut, I stumbled into the arms of one of the two screaming. "And you can't tie up either!"

‘Is there anything in Dad’s diary about allergy sufferers?’ Dean asked his brother.

I just rattled: ‘Water, handbag!’

I got another gush of water poured on my face and was able to at least open my eyes a little. Dean had just dumped my handbag on the floor and pulled my thong out of my clothes again before he found a few pills.

‘No, please not the diarrhea tablets!’ I tried to scream. Luckily Sam had found the antiallergic drugs and after I sank close to the floor with three fingers raised, he put 3 tablets under my tongue. He patted my cheek and held out a bottle of water.

When I was more or less recovered, Dean said to me: 'Hold on a minute!' He pressed a silver spoon into my hand.

'Boa, dude! I'm not a werewolf, and you don't have to hit me with a garlic cross either. I'm a damn nerd with a wintry fortune cookie curse. " I shouted furiously and threw the silver spoon after him.

‘Sam, is there anything in Dad’s diary about fortune cookie curses?’

‘No, but I wrote something about nerds!’ Said Sam, flipped through the diary and made as if to want to read something.

"I know what nerds are, I got the live RPG number."

‘Thanks for that, I threw myself away laughing!’ I giggled and finally had time to look around a bit. We were in a place where my screams would definitely not be heard. It was all pretty shabby and the sparse light that came in through the windows wasn't worth mentioning.

‘What, did you throw yourself away laughing?’ Sam wanted to know rather bossy.

‘Yes, when I watched the episodes on DVD and I love it when you are so bossy, Sam!’ I giggled again.

"That sounds pretty familiar to me!" shouted Dean and suddenly a spark jumped over and we both chattered, as if from one mouth: ‘Sam Winchester puts on make-up ... Sam Winchester cries when he's having sex ... Sam Winchester has a ruler in bed and every morning when he wakes up ...!"

‘Okay, okay, that's enough!’ yelled Sam and was visibly pissed off by our outburst. He took a deep breath before continuing: ‘So we are on DVD? We have to find Chuck when we get back to the States. "

"I hope I'll be played by Karl Urban?" said Dean and brushed back the messy hair.

‘May I make use of my right to refuse to testify and ask a question?’ I said and grinned at her.

Both nodded curiously and I shot off like a gun: ‘What, by all good spirits are you doing in such a godforsaken area?’

"We came to Bavaria because we heard about a strange occurrence!"

‘How that you can still drive here after 2 measures !?’

‘Mass?’ Dean wanted to know.

‘Maß, is the unit of measure for 1 liter of beer in Bavaria, Dean!’ Sam reprimanded his brother.

‘Yes, Oktoberfest! Oans, Zwoa, Gsuufah! ’ called Dean and made to start a Schuhplattler. Hopefully the fortune cookie will soon see me and end this dream before it gets any stranger.

‘We are actually looking for the heir to the Werewolf Brigade!’ Sam said rather casually.

‘The Nazis are all dead, you Spasti! Haven't you read the newspaper? These are not the werewolves you are looking for. It was all just a huge drug party and I advise you to get out of my head and out of my plot! "

‘Direct hit, sweetheart! Now tell us everything! ’ said Dean and held a Japanese bayonet from World War II under my nose.

‘Back then in summer camp ...!’ I started and gave her a stupid grin.

‘I didn't mean that! What about the werewolf brigade now? ’ Sam barked at me again and I have to admit that my panties filled up a bit.

‘Now again slowly and to take notes. Better stick your nose into your affairs and stay out of my plot, the con is long over and if you weren't there, it's your own fault. "

‘Con?’ asked Dean and raised an eyebrow.

‘Con that! Abbreviation for Convention ...! ’ Sam recited from Dad’s diary.

'I do not understand a word!' Dean pissed around and again waved his bayonet around in front of my nose.

‘Larp - Life Action Role playing, Dean!’

‘Oh, you are Larper !?’

‘What kind of genre mix is ​​that?’ Sam joked, grinning for the first time in that dream.

‘That's the one - I'll shove my fist up your ass as far as it will go if you don't take your fingers off my plot - genre mix!"

‘It's okay! So there is nothing out of the ordinary here? ’ Sam wanted to know.

‘Except for the number with the fortune cookie curse, nothing! But you can read that on my blog, all you have to do is google Sparklefool and / or Fortune Cookie Calling. And nothing for unguat ... ’

That's when I wake up because I get water poured in my face again. This involuntary shower doesn't want to stop and when the water jet finally dried up, I was back at the bus stop and I looked like a doused poodle after the taillights of a bus.

It is not Curse, no it has to be a large-scale conspiracy, or can someone explain to me why this shit always happens to me and why I always get such stupid fortune cookie sayings. Not that, according to my December fortune cookie, I have to wait until November for something wonderful to finally happen in my life. My New Year's fortune cookie promised me that I would soon get what I have wanted for a long time. The water damage was just as little on my wish list as a broken radiator! Thank you fortune cookie! And then the Easter fortune cookie with a slight delay: 'Your wish will be granted after a short delay!'

Short delay? November? I think it chops! I feel like I am on a platform and the nice lady from the train tells everyone who is waiting that there is a short delay. Now next November is over and the only thing that splashes in my face is the passing bus. I'm trapped in a fortune cookie queue, get me out of here!

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