THEN: If you're new to the Sockchester Supernatural fan fiction series, this is Episode 4 in the epic saga of Sam and Dean Sockchester! They exist in one of Chuck's universes, parallel to the Sam and Dean Winchester we all know and love. The Sockchesters' are also in the 'family business' of saving socks, hunting things!
Each episode can be enjoyed on its own, or you can start at the beginning with Episode 1, which takes place in Kenmore, Washington! From there, you can continue with the Sockchesters' adventures until you catch up to episode 4!
NOW: Join the brothers on their hunt in Dyersburg, Tennessee!
The Sockchester Brothers' Supernatural
A Sock Man wearing blue striped swim trunks walks out of a bathroom stall, leaking blue water into his sockprints. He comes to the edge of a public pool, which, at first glance, resembles a bathtub. Several sock people are swimming around the pool. Some smaller socks are tossing a beach ball back and forth. Older socks, a bit more threadbare, swim laps across the pool.
Without a sound, the Sock Man jumps into the water. A blue stain seeps from the splash waves and slowly drifts across the pool.
The Sock Man surfaces and swims the length of the pool. He gets out and returns to the shower stalls. He looks in the mirror and notices a blue swatch on his arm.
Sock Man: What the -?
The Sock Man rubs at the swatch, but it gets larger the more he swipes at his skin. He rubs his eyes and raccoon spots of blue appear on his face.
The Sock Man runs to the shower room, but it only makes his skin more and more blue with each movement. Little socks and Sock people from the pool rush in and scrub vainly at themselves, but slowly each one turns more and more blue. The socks begin to exclaim louder and louder as their skin color worsens.
Sock Man: What is going on?!
Title Slide: The Sockchester Brothers’ Supernatural
Sock Dean scrubs a blue microfiber cloth against the top edge of The Cardboard Impala ™ . His breathing is steady, focused on the physical exertion involved in polishing the car.
Sock Dean mumbles: I know, Baby, I know. But, we’re better now, aren’t we?
Sock Dean presses his lips together, but his sock face crumples and he bows his head. He clenches the cloth into a fist and shakes his head to shake away the thoughts. Sock Dean squats to work on the licence plate: SOX-2Y5. He uses short vigorous motions as he cleans every speck of dust from the car’s exterior.
Sock Sam watches his Sockbro out the kitchen window at Bobby’s house. Concern wrinkles his face. Sock Bobby nurses a drink at his desk. A rugged book is laid in front of him.
Sock Sam: I really don’t know what to do. That spin through time pulled a loose thread in him, Bobby. He’s not even acting the same!
Sock Bobby: You just need to find him a case. You two idjits are simple like that; get some hunting action and he won’t wear a black hole into himself.
Sock Dean is now buffing the hubcaps on The Cardboard Impala’s tires. For the third time today.
Sock Sam: I mean, I understand why he’s upset. He blames himself for attracting angel attention to us, as potential puppets for Michael and Lucifer.
Sock Bobby: Well none of that is on him! From what you tell me, it’s that darn Trickster’s fault!
Sock Sam: Yeah, he orchestrated things, but that wouldn’t matter to Dean. No amount of saying it wasn’t so will change his mind.
Sock Bobby: Well, like I said, he ought to get on a job to air out all this ridiculous guilt and self-blame.
Sock Sam: I’ve looked! The internet, the papers - nada. All we’ve had in the past week is that case of blue people in Tennessee, but the town is claiming responsibility. Something about chemicals near the pool.
Sock Bobby: Well, maybe you boys ought to check it out anyway. It can’t hurt to go for a drive and maybe get some of it off his chest.
Sock Sam nods, grabs a few beers from the fridge, and heads downstairs to meet his brother.
Sock Sam passes a bottle to Dean and leans against the worktable while facing The Cardboard Impala ™ .
Sock Sam: You ready to take her out for a drive again?
Sock Dean shoves the cleaning rag into the pocket of his work jeans. Grease stains lay in a few creases at odd angles and his t-shirt is sweaty and sticking to him in places.
Sock Dean: I know what you’re doing, Sammy. I’m not completely stupid. You think I’ve lost a few threads, but I’m fine.
Sock Dean’s smile is as weak as generic laundry detergent. His green button eyes are dull and devoid of amusement.
Sock Sam: You say that but -
Sock Dean swipes the grimy rag across his face: I said I’m fine.
Sock Sam opens his mouth and gestures with his hand: Uh, you’ve got a little…
Sock Dean finds a cleaner spot on the rag and wipes the spot again. The spot smudges on Sock Dean’s face, but Sock Sam ignores it.
Sock Dean sighs: So, what do you have?
Sock Sam passes the file to him, but Sock Dean turns his hand in a winding gesture.
Sock Dean: Short version.
Sock Sam: People are turning blue in Tennessee. The town says it’s chemicals, but I’m not so sure.
Sock Dean: You’re thinking witches?
Sock Sam: Maybe. It could be anything.
Sock Dean tosses the grimy rag into a bucket and throws the keys to Sam.
Sock Dean: Get her started. I gotta take a shower and change clothes, then we can get on the road. We’ve got some socking to do.
The Cardboard Impala ™ rolls to a stop in front of the Dyersburg Police Station. Sock Sam and Sock Dean are wearing their suits, but each clips a CDC badge to their front pockets.
Sock Sam: Ugh, faking identities and long road trips are starting to wear on me. Look! I think I’m getting a hole in my head.
Sock Dean: Come on, Sammy. Hunting’s good for you. Right up there with Diet Coke and exercise.
Sock Sam: I don’t think that’s…
Sock Dean and Sock Sam walk in to the police station. They head toward a desk that has Detective Weaver on the name plaque. A blonde haired woman sits turned away from them. Her nylon clad legs end in classy high heels that perch on the other side of the L-shaped desk. She reads from a manila case file in her lap.
Sock Dean nudges Sam: You know I love blondes, man.
Detective Weaver: And I love redheads but we don’t always get what we want, do we?
She turns her chair and takes a good look at them.
Detective Weaver: ...but I might be convinced to make an exception.
Sock Dean: Agents Burdon and Price, CDC. And you -
Detective Weaver’s demeanor changes: --have been waiting for you to send me someone for days! Twenty people cooped up in a couple community rooms has been trying -- to say the least. We’ve run out of pizza, board games, and makeup for them. And they’re starting to smell like dirty laundry. Can I send them home yet?
Sock Sam: Once we’ve interviewed them and determined a treatment. Hopefully.
Sock Dean: We understand you’re unraveling from the stress. Just tell us the facts and we’ll sort them out of your way.
Detective Weaver looks from Sock Sam to Sock Dean and back again.
Detective Weaver: Alright, this is what we know so far.
She hands them the case file and twists her hands together.
Detective Weaver: Stan Woolworth was patient zero. He infected all the people who were in the Dyersburg Public Pool and a few who jumped in afterward who didn’t know the infection was in the pool at that point. We have samples of the pool water, but we thought it was in our best interest to close the pool and drain it. The pool’s been closed ever since, but it’s summer and we’re getting daily complaints. The victims all claimed their skin color simply wiped off, almost like they were actually blue beneath.
Sock Sam: And they haven’t infected anyone else who has come in contact with them?
Detective Weaver: Do I look blue to you?
Sock Dean: No, but we might have to check. Just to confirm, you know, for the CDC.
Detective Weaver snorts: In your dreams.
Detective Weaver turns down a hall and pulls a key from her lanyard at the door to the quarantine room.
Sock Dean: Dude…
Sock Sam: Nope.
Sock Dean raises his eyebrows and follows Detective Weaver into an interview room with Sock Sam behind him.
Sock Dean: And none of the quarantined people are acting strangely or look odd?
Detective Weaver: They’re blue. That’s fairly odd, I’d say.
Sock Dean: I meant besides that.
Detective Weaver: Mr. Woolworth is being blamed by most of the rest of the quarantined folks. However, he claims he has no idea how it happened. He just jumped in and everything turned blue.
Sock Sam: And the story about the chemicals being dumped?
Detective Weaver: There weren’t any chemicals anywhere near that pool. Everyone knows that, but it’s the only thing that explains it to everyone. They all think they’re going to get better.
Detective Weaver turns toward Dean and looks up at him: They are going to get better, right?
Sock Dean: Uh, yeah. Good as new.
Sock Sam: Does Mr. Woolworth have any enemies? Anyone who would prank him like this?
Detective Weaver: Well, he is a teacher at our local high school. History teacher. You think some of the kids may have done this and aren’t coming forward?
Sock Sam: Maybe. Let’s go ahead with the interviews and we’ll get back with you.
Detective Weaver drops a blue and white business card into Sock Dean’s hand. You have my number, if there’s anything you need.
Dyersburg High School, a stately building made of mostly bricks, is flat on top. It is basically just a small squat tower. A footrest for a giant, maybe. Sock Sam and Sock Dean climb out of The Cardboard Impala ™ and move toward the front doors.
Sock Dean: Well, those interviews were a bust.
Sock Sam: I don’t think your Smurf jokes landed well either.
Sock Dean: What can I say? They needed some humor. Teaching the kids to sing the theme song was a step up from the yawnfest earlier.
Sock Sam: Their parents hate you more than Mr. Woolworth now, and that’s saying something.
Sock Dean shrugs and pulls open one of the doors to the front of the school. A mixture of the smell of slightly fresh spiral notebooks, partially chewed gum, and a faint tinge of waxed floors greets them.
The principal’s office sits behind a stylish check-in station near the front entrance.
The office assistant with a nameplate that says Janice frowns at their badges: This is about those blue folks, isn’t it?
Sock Dean: Yes ma’am. Just making sure everything’s fine here.
Office Assistant Janice: I knew I should have inoculated Chelsea, but no. Sharon Johnson - she’s my next door neighbor who is teaching me all about the Vegan way - anyway, she talked me into a delayed schedule. Make sure she’s ready, you know? Don’t wanna get a case of ADHD, you know? Because Carrie Peters’ son Travis got it and he’s, well, delayed, you know?
Sock Sam opens his mouth but closes it and turns back to his iPad.
Sock Dean: Uh, inoculated against what? Turning blue?
Office Assistant Janice: I don’t know, you’re the CDC guys.
She hurries off to her desk and shuffles some papers around.
Sock Dean fiddles with pages in the Science and Nature magazines. Sock Sam continues researching on his iPad. Janice lets them into Principal Myers office after a short sit.
Principal Myers: What exactly is the CDC investigating?
Sock Sam: We’re determining who Mr. Woolworth was in contact with to see if there are any other people who may have contracted the infection.
Principal Myers: Stan has been a history teacher at our school for over 15 years. He helps out at the local museum on his weekends. He took the kids on a field trip two weeks ago. Do you think they’re infected?
Sock Dean: No, probably not. Have any of the kids held a grudge against Mr. Woolworth? Wiccans, for example?
Principal Myers: What kind of school do you think we are? Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters? The kids seem to think of him as codgy and clueless, but he’s mostly a teddy bear. He rarely made the students upset. Why is the CDC asking about Wiccans?
Sock Dean: Just need to ask all the questions they give us. So you know, witches...tend to be very...unsanitary.
Principal Myers: Unsanitary? What do you mean, unsanitary?
Sock Sam pulls at Sock Dean’s elbow: Thank you for your time.
Sock Sam pushes Sock Dean out the door and they reconvene in front of The Cardboard Impala ™.
Sock Dean: So, did we get anything useful?
Sock Sam: You know Dean, it could just be the Trickster. Turning a whole pool blue sounds like something he might do.
Sock Dean: Yeah, well. Pushing us into becoming freaking stooges for his brothers sounds like something he would do.
Sock Sam: Still, we should make sure, just so we know if we’re wasting our time here.
Sock Dean: Yeah, or are about to step into another trap of that archangel.
Sock Sam: Wait. Is today Tuesday?
Sock Dean shakes his head and calls Cass on his phone. Then he paces at the side of The Cardboard Impala ™. Sock Sam gets in and starts tapping at the screen of his iPad.
Sock Cass: Dean, is there a problem?
Sock Dean: What? No. Can you tune your angel radio or whatever and find out where your freaking manipulative brother is?
Sock Cass: Uh, you are going to have to be more specific. I have several thousand brothers who could be described like that.
Sock Dean: Gabriel, Cass.
Sock Cass: Yes. I’ll find him.
Silence. Sock Dean opens his mouth to say something more, but closes it and presses his lips together as he waits.
Sock Cass: I believe he’s currently in Dubai. Soaking in the sun, the women, and the alcohol.
Sock Dean: Figures. Thanks Cass. Let us know if you need any help with those demons down there.
Sock Cass: I will.
Sock Dean pockets his phone: Alright, so it’s probably not our favorite archangel.
Sock Sam: Yeah… and I haven’t found much about any witches in the area. But… this is interesting.
Sock Sam shows Sock Dean his iPad.
Sock Sam: Check it out, Stan Woolworth recently added a South American ‘Fountain of Youth’ area to the museum. Among the donated items is a vial of blue water claimed to be from the actual Fountain of Youth.
Sock Dean squeezes the bridge of his nose: So what, vampire blood or something? What does this have to do with the little blue men?
Sock Sam shrugs: Maybe nothing, but the principal did say that Stan took the kids there recently. If it’s a cursed object - it’s blue anyway - maybe it’ll be what we need.
Sock Dean: What I need is a cold one and a solid lead. I don’t need to be dragged around musty museums that smell like a taxidermy shop.
Sock Sam: Fifteen minutes, tops. We’ll check with EMF, and ask a few questions. Then I’ll buy you a drink.
Sock Dean: Fine.
Sock Dean starts up The Cardboard Impala ™ and they take off to the Dyer County Museum.
Sock Sam and Sock Dean walk around the darkened display cases holding their EMF detectors, but nothing seems amiss. Their sensors are quiet.
Sock Dean: This looks like that ‘Fountain of Youth’ exhibit you mentioned. There’s that vial of blue water.
Sock Sam: Yeah, the plaque says the donors are Dr. Stanley Woolworth and a Dr. Louisiana Ferrari.
Sock Dean quirks his eyebrows: Her last name is Ferrari? Sounds fast.
A museum intern, based on her lanyard, steps into Sock Sam and Sock Dean’s conversation. She is dark skinned with crimped dark hair and stylish glasses.
Museum Intern: It’s actually a pretty common last name in Italy. She’s the real treasure to Dyersburg. She’s brought over half of the good stuff here from all over the world.
Sock Sam: I’m sorry, you’re -?
Museum Intern: Shae Crow, I help Dr. Stan and Dr. Ferrari sometimes. Dr. Stan likes to put his name on most of the donated items, but Dr. Ferrari is the one who actually goes to find them. She’s the real archaeologist.
Sock Dean: Hey Sam, look at the side of the vial. You see that dried black drip?
Sock Sam and Sock Dean exchange glances.
Sock Sam: Where exactly did this Dr. Ferrari find this Fountain of Youth?
Museum Intern Shae: She couldn’t tell me. I mean, come on. If everyone knew it wouldn’t be special anymore, right?
Sock Dean: We’re gonna need to know where Dr. Ferrari is right now.
Museum Intern Shae: Uh, no clue. She comes when she wants to drop off new things and disappears back into the jungle, I guess. There’s a lot of mystery to her too.
Sock Dean: Alright, well, can you show me some more things Dr. Ferrari brought back here. That one looks like an ancient whiskey bottle...
Sock Dean leads the museum intern away and motions behind her back at Sam.
Sock Sam waves him off, already retrieving his EMF and thoroughly scanning the vial.
When Sock Sam and Sock Dean pull out of the museum parking lot, Sam is back on his iPad and Dean shakes his head.
Sock Dean: Forty-five minutes, Sam! I had to fake needing to take a leak to get out of there.
Sock Sam: Sorry, I just decided I should take a sample since I wasn’t getting any reading from the EMF.
Sock Dean: So it’s not ectoplasm?
Sock Sam: The EMF would have gone off.
Sock Dean: So what… then? Khan worm?
Sock Sam: Yahtzee! I got her. Looks like Dr. Ferrari's been living at a charge-by-the-week place outside of Memphis, two hours away. Wow. Dean. Every charge for the past four weeks has been to the motel. I’m not sure she’s gone out of her room for anything.
Sock Dean shrugs and tips his head, “I mean, if you’ve got everything you need…Food, sex, TV…”
Sock Sam points to the highway sign: Memphis.
Sock Dean: You’re going to owe me a couple more rounds for this one, you know that?
The Shady Branch motel is a brick stucco building with two levels. The lower level looks a little more grimy and worn. A biker sock walks out of one room and hops on his motorcycle, rumbling off to nowhere. The upper level looks a little more homey for one star motel standards. Fake potted palms collect dust on the corners of the upper balcony.
Sock Sam and Dean pull in and park near the end by a set of stairs leading to the upper level.
Sock Sam closes his Ipad: Looks like she’s in room 205.
Sock Dean climbs out of The Cardboard Impala in his Fed suit. Sock Sam wears a similar one. They jog up the stairs and Sock Dean knocks.
Sock Dean: Dr. Ferrari! Federal Agents! Open up!
No response. Sock Dean gestures to Sock Sam and he pulls out his lockpicking kit.
Sock Sam slides two small metal pieces out of his kit, but pauses when he hears the familiar sound of a handgun slide chamber a bullet.
Sock Dean draws his own weapon and kicks open the door.
A tripwire quivers at the force of the door inches away from it. Sock Dean turns his gun to the corner, where a black-haired woman presses up against the air conditioning unit. She’s sitting at the floor, legs braced against the floor to help with her weapon’s kick. Her gun is already trained on Dean’s green button eyes.
Sock Dean: Aw, crap.
Sock Sam steps in beside him.
Sock Dean: She’s blue too.
Louisiana: What is it that you mean, blue too?
Louisiana lowers the gun and carefully unhooks her trip line.
Sock Dean watches her fluid movement as she rises from the floor. Sock Sam slowly moves into the room and closes the door behind them.
Sock Sam: So a swimming pool full of people suddenly became blue in Dyersburg a few weeks ago. Actually, you look less blue than them.
Louisiana returns her gun to a holster strapped to her blue-tinged thigh: Dyersburg? Oh Stanley, that absolute idiot!
Sock Dean eyes the smoke grenade attached to the tripwire and raises his eyebrows in approval.
Sock Sam: Can you tell us how you became blue, Dr. Ferrari?
Louisiana paces along the front aisle beside the air conditioner: Isn’t it obvious? Or are you idiots as well? I also drank from the Fountain of Youth. That imbecile must have attempted to make a fountain of his own.
Sock Dean takes a seat on the bed: Just start from the beginning, Dr. Ferrari.
Louisiana: Please, Dr. Ferrari is the woman who holds office hours in Cairo and can’t be bothered to come home for Christmas holidays, just call me Louisiana. Forgive me, who are you?
Sock Sam scrambles for his badge, but Sock Dean answers: I’m Dean Sockchester, and this is my brother Sam, but please, go on.
Sock Dean pats the bed for her to sit. Sock Sam clears his throat.
Louisiana: I see, Dean. I searched the deep cavities under the Xunantunich ruins in Belize. The entrance was hidden through an ancient well, but there were rumors of a dried up pool past many chambers. Those chambers had your average pressure traps, triplines and the like. The pool chamber almost closed without me, but I rolled under the door.
Sock Dean nods and rubs the back of his neck: Of course, because you’re freaking awesome.
Louisiana looks at Dean appraisingly and gives him a charming smile: At first, I was disappointed to discover only the dried and empty fountain. But the Mayan glyphs on the walls around it were so detailed and then there was another language beside it. One I did not recognize. I took rubbing after rubbing of the glyphs. It was after I circled the room with my rubbings that I saw the pool was starting to fill with the bluest water I’d ever seen, but it wasn’t until it started overflowing onto the floor that I tried to escape.
Sock Sam: How did you escape?
Louisiana: I carry a small bar of C4 on me in case any job goes south.
Sock Sam: You demolished the door? I thought you were an archaeologist?
Louisiana: Which one cannot be if you’re dead. I bottled a portion of the water before I left and brought it back home. Sorted out the glyphs on the plane ride. That’s when I learned I had discovered the Fountain of Youth. I bottled a smaller amount into the vial and put it in Stan’s possession to donate to the museum. The rest I kept with me, until I decided to try it myself.
Sock Dean: Worst Idea Ever.
Louisiana: Yes. I suppose so. Now I cannot do any work without strange looks in the civilized world. On the other hand, most tribal people will assume I’m a god. Not the worst trade I’ve ever made.
Sock Dean: Way to stay positive.
Louisiana: Do either of you happen to carry an abyaa on your person?
Sock Dean: A what?
Sock Sam: It’s a, uh, black dress used in Islamic culture. It would cover her from head to toe.
Sock Dean: And cover up those legs? That’d be a crime!
Sock Sam: Dean!
Sock Dean: Sam saves his for late night stakeouts and Halloween.
Sock Sam: Stuff a sock in it, Dean! We don’t have one. But is there anything you discovered in that cavern that could help us figure out how to reverse this?
Louisiana stands up and digs in her pack: Nothing, unless you understand this strange language. The languages I know are mostly extinct cuneiforms and dialects of French and Spanish.
Louisiana waves some rubbings in front of Sam.
Sock Sam: Wait… is that… Enochian?
Sock Dean hops up from the bed and takes a sheet of the rubbings from Sam.
Sock Dean: It looks like.
Louisiana: What is Enochian? That sounds middle-eastern. Pre-Hebrew?
Sock Sam: Try the language of angels.
Louisiana glances between Sam and Dean, her pack, and the door.
Louisiana: Alright… I’ll have to take your word for it.
Sock Sam: Look, a month ago, you probably wouldn’t have believed a person could have blue skin, so just trust us, angels are real. One of them is a friend of ours.
Sock Dean pulls out his phone and pokes his head out the door: One second.
Louisiana turned to Sock Sam: What is it he’s doing?
Sock Dean: Hey Cass, can you fly over for a minute? Shady Branch Motel, just outside of Memphis, room two-oh-fi-.
Sock Cass appears in the middle of the room. His trenchcoat is speckled with demon blood, and his angel blade is coated in it.
Sock Cass: Hello, Dean.
Sock Sam looks up from the Enochian rubbings and his eyes lock on Castiel’s bloody blade. He swallows and glances at Louisiana.
Louisiana’s fingers stray to her gun at her thigh again.
Louisiana: Who the --? This man is what you call an angel?
Sock Cass wipes the blade on the side of his coat and returns it to an inside pocket.
Sock Dean: Cass, are you okay?
Sock Cass: I’m overwhelmed. The demons have been taking biker gangs and running them in and out through small towns all around the west. It’s causing so much havoc.
Sock Sam: We called you because this Enochian text was inside the cavern with blue water that turned these people blue.
Sock Cass turns to Louisiana: I see. Do you happen to be from Kentucky?
Louisiana: No? Italy.
Sock Cass turns to the rubbing and reads: “Weak creation, your life to strength renewed. Cast death away eternally. In the dark, the hidden knowledge of the Old Ones' births grows anew.” No. This cannot be correct.
Louisiana: I don’t get it. It doesn’t even rhyme.
Sock Sam: Old Ones? What does that mean?
Sock Dean runs a hand through his hair: No. Wait. Leviathans? Again? Really?
Sock Cass presses his lips together and rereads the rubbings, “Dean, this is old magic. Somehow some Leviathans must have escaped Purgatory and created a way to survive by turning humans into Leviathans with this spelled water.
Sock Sam: Wait a minute. She’s becoming a Leviathan?
Sock Cass: I will see.
Before Louisiana can say anything, Sock Cass sets two fingers on her forehead.
After a moment, Sock Cass drops his hand: I’m sorry.
Sock Dean: She’s turning?
Sock Cass: Her body is already accepting it. She’s becoming less blue every moment.
Sock Dean: No. No. There’s got to be a way to reverse or stop it. We have twenty people in Dyersburg who look like freaking smurfs.
Sock Cass: I can attempt to remove the Leviathan threads, but I’m not sure how much will be left of her human self.
Louisiana: Hey! Hey! I’m standing right here. Stop discussing my fate and explain what this is to me. I’m becoming a monster?
Sock Sam: Yeah, apparently you consumed a spell and are becoming Leviathan, but we’ll try to figure out how to fix it.
Sock Dean: Maybe we can reverse the spell somehow?
Sock Sam: I’ll call Rowena and see if she has any ideas.
Sock Sam steps outside the motel room, and Sock Cass pulls off his trenchcoat to rinse the bloody front and sleeves in the sink.
Louisiana turns to Dean: Tell me what a Leviathan is.
Sock Dean: Well, the chompers were God’s first beasts. They just eat everything. When they’re not wearing someone, they’re just black goo.
Louisiana: Splendid. I gained eternal life as The Blob.
Sock Dean: I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but it could be worse. You could be ‘destined’, or whatever crap they say, to become the puppet of God’s right-hand angel and kill your brother who’s possessed by the devil.
Louisiana: Come again?
Sock Sam returns to the room: Okay, Rowena thinks we could try bleach baths. It’s an unmagical way to get rid of the Leviathans threads, hopefully, or at least temporarily damage them enough for Cass to destroy them.
Sock Dean: Okay, so let’s head to the store and get Louisiana back to normal.
Louisiana lifts her hand: This new plan, I am a fan of it.
Sock Cass returns, now wearing a dripping trench coat with some red splotches on the front.
Sock Cass: I doubt it will work on her. She’s progressed too much. Even if I removed all the Leviathan threads, she might not be the same person anymore.
Sock Dean: Sam! Cass! We have to try to save her. Isn’t that what you always say?
Sock Sam: Yeah, but we have 20 people in Dyersburg who need to be saved or we’ll have an entire Leviathan colony here.
Sock Dean: Okay. Fine.
Sock Dean grabs the Impala’s keys and slaps them into Sam’s hand.
Sock Dean: You and Cass take care of Dyersburg. I’ll keep an eye on Louisiana.
Louisiana crosses her arms: A nanny is unneeded, Mulder.
Sock Sam and Cass hesitate. Sock Dean lifts his hands.
Sock Dean: Hey, I’ll be fine.
Sock Sam: Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.
Sock Cass and Sock Sam leave.
Louisiana huffs and plops into a chair.
Louisiana: Splendid. Right on the cusp of a breakthrough, discovering the ancient remains of the fabled Fountain of Youth, and I spoiled my chances and sealed my fate as a monstrosity.
Sock Dean: We’ll find a cure. We have to.
Louisiana: What? Will fixing me help assuage some kind of guilt or responsibility you have toward me? Or are you simply trying to fix yourself?
Sock Dean: Listen, Ferrari, you don’t know anything about us. What we do, and what kind of crap we’re in. Your problems are just a job, so focus on thinking human thoughts, and I’ll try to keep the two of us alive.
Louisiana curtly nods: Fine.
She pushes past him to the bathroom.
Sock Dean: Fine.
Louisiana slams the door shut.
Don't Be Left in Suspense! Find out what happens to our heroes in Part 2!
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Sammy and Dean Sockchester 'action figures' and all props are hand sewn, staged and photographed by Marion.
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