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Summer is supposed to be on vacation. She’s in some state in the Midwest, some out-of-the-way, nowhere city, where nothing interesting should have happened, trying to take a week and just relax without worrying about accidental alien invasions or Greek gods tearing the world apart. But of course, her luck doesn’t work like that.
She’s sitting on a park bench, relaxing and soaking up some sun as she jots down ideas in her notebook, when she hears something that practically shouts trouble - the flap of giant wings. She looks over the top of her notebook to see two men in suits standing a few feet from her that definitely hadn’t been there earlier, and sighs. From what their mentor has told them, any being who can do some form of teleportation is their biggest problem with keeping things on their proper side. The good news is, they’re also one of the easier situations to rectify, since usually all it takes is pointing out they’re in the wrong spot for them to leave. Summer just hopes this will be an easy case.
She stores her notebook and pen in her bag, then stands and makes her way over to the two men, one hand in her pocket making sure her ID card is within easy reach. “Hey, you two.” They turn to look at her, and Summer almost freezes at their cold, calculating stares. She doesn’t think she recognizes either of them, but there have been so many one-off angel characters it’s hard to tell if she’s seen them before. “You’re on the wrong side of the wall.”
“What are you chattering about?” one of them demands, his tie a dark blue. His companion’s tie, Summer notes, is a lighter blue, so she can at least tell them apart. Other than that, the two angels are dark-haired and dark-eyed, with matching suits and expressions of disgust. Probably season 4 or 5, then, Summer thinks, then amends her thinking. Angels’ attitudes towards humans have been one of the few consistent things about the show. They could honestly be from anywhere from season 4 through to season 8, given that her only limiting factor is their wings. She forces herself to get back on track.
“Look, feathers, you two aren’t from this world,” she informs them, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m asking you, nicely, to go back.”
The other angel, with the lighter tie, speaks up at that point. “Who do you think you are, mud monkey, telling us where we can and cannot go?”
Summer lets out a heavy breath and raises her gaze to the heavens. “Seriously, do all you angels have a stick up your butts? I’m not asking you to do much - just spread your wings and shift slightly. It’s not hard.” Summer catches the glance the angels send each other, but still isn’t prepared for them to grab her by the shoulders and take off. They land a second later, and Summer takes a moment as she waits for the room to stop spinning. Man, Dean was right. Angelic travel sucks.
The angels don’t give her much time, as one of them slams her up against the wall, his face inches from her own. “Who are you, and how do you know such things?”
Summer forces herself to remain calm. These are angels. Theoretically, she should be more scared of demons than these feathery idiots.
Theoretically.
“I’m a Writer,” she says simply, not fighting the hold. Not yet, at least. “It’s my job to know, just like it’s my job to tell you two featherbrains you’re on the wrong side of the wall, and I’d appreciate it if you’d get back on the right side.”
The angel’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “A writer? What does that have to do with-”
“Bethor.” The first angel cuts himself off as the other angel says what Summer assumes is his name, and files that information away in case she does have to do this the hard way. “That has everything to do with it.” The other angel - the one with the dark blue tie - steps towards her, his gaze sweeping over her body in a way that makes her want to squirm. “Yes. I remember hearing of your kind. You who can cross through worlds at will, who the universe has - for some reason - chosen to make everyone…what is the phrase? ‘Stay put’.” He smiles at Summer, a cold, sharp thing that’s all teeth. “I remember my superiors telling me your kind used to have a certain kind of protection in our world, similar to our prophets.”
And Summer is suddenly frozen. She…she has an archangel on her shoulder? Why hadn’t her mentor told her that? Does he even know? Then her brain processes the rest of the sentence, and she frowns. “What do you mean, used to?”
Dark Blue shrugs, the unnerving smile still present on his face. “It was my understanding that your kind lost your protections when your protector created the first demon.”
Summer blinks. Lucifer. Her archangel had been Lucifer, before the Fall, likely before the Mark. And her heart suddenly aches with the knowledge that, had a million little things not happened, she would have back-up. Not just the Winchesters - and for all she wishes they were there, she’s mostly glad they’re not - but an archangel on her shoulder.
Well, he’s in hell, and the universe isn’t fair. Get over it, and do your job. “As fascinating as this is, my request for you two birds still stands,” Summer tells them, clearing the shock off her face. “Go back to your world willingly, or I’ll make you.”
“Will you?” At some point Bethor had released her and stepped back, leaving the way open for Dark Blue to get all up in her personal space. “Tell me, human,” he spits, making her species an insult as he whips out something that actually does strike fear into her heart. “What exactly do you think you can do if we refuse?”
“Simiel-”
“Quiet, Bethor!” Dark Blue - Simiel, Summer files - snaps at the other angel, raising his angel blade and twirling it in his hand.
Summer takes a deep breath and looks Simiel in the eyes, letting the hint of a smile play over her face. “You really should listen to your brother, Simiel,” she says softly. “And you really shouldn’t have told me your names.” Summer ducks, surprising the angel in front of her as she grabs her stylus from behind her ear and twirls it into an angel blade in time to swipe at Simiel’s ankle before rolling away, swiftly spinning the blade back to a stylus and using the distraction to scribble as fast as she can. She can’t be certain what season this is, so that gets left out, but on the plus side she actually knows the angels’ names.
Bethor, thankfully, isn’t moving, apparently frozen in shock at the proceedings. Simiel collapsed the moment Summer swiped at him, but she’s sure that reaction was more surprise than injury. She doesn’t have much time. She finishes the English line and hurriedly nicks the side of her hand to start the Enochian. She’s four letters in when Bethor speaks up.
“What…what are you doing?”
Summer glances up, noticing Bethor has moved to crouch next to Simiel, one hand on the other angel’s shoulder, but she can’t tell if Bethor is supporting him or holding him back. “Well,” Summer says, turning back to her lines, “since you and your friend didn’t want to do this nicely, I get to do things the fun way. I’m sending you back to your world,” she clarifies, one glance showing her the confusion on Bethor’s face.
“You cannot do this,” Simiel growls, going to stand, but Bethor stops him.
“What language are you writing in?”
“English,” Summer tells him. “But the alphabet is Enochian.” Silence, and Summer looks up to see Bethor’s eyes are wide with shock.
“How…how do you…”
“Well,” Summer replies with a shrug, checking to make sure she’s spelled the angels’ names the same in English and Enochian, “apparently I’m something like a prophet. So that might be it. Or…” She flashes Bethor a grin before finishing the last word. “Maybe I’m just special.”
One last line, and both angels vanish in a flash of white light. Summer lets out a sigh and leans back against the wall, just taking a moment. She knows she needs to figure out where the angels took her, and how to get back to the town that’s apparently not as out of the way as she thought it was, but she should be able to take just a minute.
But, of course, she doesn’t get a minute, as the door to the room - shed, she realizes now - opens with a loud crash as someone kicks it in. Summer stares open mouthed as three figures enter the room - two men and a woman. The men are instantly recognizable, as is the woman, her straight dark hair and faint black aura marking her as Ruby 2.0. Great. Season 4. The complicated one. The two men look at her in confusion, then send their gaze around the room, their expressions getting more and more confused as Summer assumes they take in the blood on the floor.
The taller of the two turns to Ruby. “I thought you said there were angels here.”
“Yeah, well you said someone was in trouble,” the shorter one shoots over his shoulder, stowing his gun as he comes over to Summer.
“That’s because I was in trouble,” Summer speaks up, eyeing Ruby warily. She doesn’t trust that demon, but the problem is Sam does, and she can’t actually give the Winchesters her reasons. Season 4 is too big for her to mess up, as much as she wishes she could.
Dean crouches in front of her and frowns. “What do you mean, was?”
Summer shrugs, tapping her stylus against her leg as she considers her options. Ideally, she’d like to send Ruby away. Really, she needs to send all three of them back to their world before she says something she shouldn't. “I mean, two angels grabbed me and brought me here, and I sent them away. Hey, can I see your hand?” She doesn’t wait for Dean to answer, instead grabbing his wrist and nicking the side of his thumb. She’ll feel better about any conversation she ends up having with the Winchesters once Ruby is out of the room. Dean just stares at her as she starts writing on the floor, while Sam seems to be stammering in shock.
“You…you sent them away? You can do that?”
Summer frowns for a moment, then the frown clears as she remembers where - and when - she is. Right. Not there yet. The boys don’t see an angel banishing sigil until Anna, and she’s pretty sure neither of them memorize it until Season 5. Because as far as they know, the angels are the good guys.
“What…are you doing?’ Dean’s question is slow, like he’s not totally sure he wants the answer.
Summer snorts. “Don’t worry, Dean, I’m not doing anything to you. It’s just…insurance?” That’s the wrong word. “Protection. That’s the word I wanted.” She switches blood and alphabets, and now Dean is spluttering.
“Wait, how do you know my name?”
Summer actually looks at him after that comment, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Because you’re Dean Winchester. And that -” She points behind him at Sam- “Is your younger brother Sam, and that-” She points at Ruby and has to pause before she swears. “Is. Ruby.” She doesn’t say anything else, though she wants to. She really wants to, mainly to call her traitor, manipulator, you don’t really love him do you, tell him it’s all a trick, tell him you’re doing this on Lillith’s orders, tell him you’re doing this to free the devil, not keep him caged. But she doesn’t, and focuses on finishing up the line in Enochian.
“What are you writing?” The question comes from her side, and Summer carefully does not jump as she realizes Ruby is standing next to her, squinting at the bloody letters on the floor. “Why is my name…” Ruby trails off, and Summer knows the demon has read the last word in English. The one that says leave.
But it’s too late, as Summer finishes up the last letter and Ruby vanishes in the same flash of light as the angels, and Summer can breathe.
“Ruby?” Sam’s voice is worried, then panicked, then Summer is lifted off the floor and slammed against a wall for the second time that day and Sam’s face is inches from her own. He is furious, and Summer can’t help the shiver of fear that runs through her. Because Season 4 Sam is powerful in ways he doesn’t understand, and he’s also terrifying. “What did you do to her?”
His demand is a growl, and Summer takes a second to look past that anger to the man she knows he’s going to be soon. And that is what lets her reply with a steady voice. “Calm down, Samuel. I didn’t do anything to her. I just sent her home.”
“You sent her to hell?”
Sam has not calmed down, and Summer really wishes Dean would come knock some sense into his brother, but one glance at Dean shows he’s suspicious, and not likely to help her out. Fantastic.
“Do you have any idea-”
“Sam Winchester, will you chill?” Sam freezes and actually takes a step back, enough that Summer thinks she can finally breathe. “I didn’t send Ruby to hell. I sent her back to your world, same as the angels.”
“Our world?” Dean asks, and Summer sighs.
She really doesn’t want to be having this discussion. Not in Season 4. They already have so much to worry about. So she goes for a simplified version. “Basically, you guys slipped into an alternate universe. Angels and demons can usually control where they go - you two are probably here because I called for backup I ended up not needing. I had to send the angels back because they refused to leave, and Ruby…” Summer trails off, then shrugs. “I don’t trust her very much. Or you two, for that matter.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual.” The reply, surprisingly, comes from Sam, and Summer silently curses Season 4. “How do you even know who we are?”
Summer rolls her eyes. “One? People talk. You two are the freaking Winchesters. You killed a-” Summer’s about to say Prince of Hell when she realizes they likely don’t know what that is and amends her statement. “A high-ranking demon, have both died at least once - you were in hell and got out because an angel pulled you out,” she says to Dean before looking at Sam, “you have demon blood in you and think-” She cuts herself off and looks at both of the brothers, her frustration building. “And you both…gah!” She throws her hands in the air and paces for a few steps before returning to her spot leaning against the wall. “Sorry. You two are being idiots, and it’s driving me insane.”
She doesn’t miss the confused look they send each other, nor the question Dean asks. “What do you mean, we’re being idiots? And how do you know about the demons and angels?”
Summer huffs out something close to a laugh. “Okay, one, I’m not answering the first question. It’s way too complicated for you two right now. Two, I’m special.” When Dean opens his mouth, likely to continue badgering her, she rolls her eyes and gives a different answer. “I’m a Writer. Ask Bobby about it next time you see him, I’m not explaining. Now,” she says, swiftly changing topics before either of them can try asking questions about that. “Where are we exactly?” To her surprise, Sam lists the exact same town she’d been staying in, and she frowns. “Huh. They didn’t go that far then.”
“What?”
“This is the same town I’ve been staying in for my vacation.”
The Winchesters exchange looks again and ask their question simultaneously. “You’re on vacation?”
Summer raises her eyebrows at them. “Yeah? I was going for somewhere out of the way, but I should have realized you two basically live in out of the way places.”
They share another look, and Dean speaks up this time. “Look, if you’ve got the time…and the ability to banish angels and demons-” Dean mutters the last bit almost under his breath.
“Look, I hate saying this, but the seals are the exact opposite of my problem,” she cuts him off. “What is my problem, is you two. You need to go back to your universe before your angel misses you and comes looking. So.” She looks between them, hands on her hips. “Who’s lending me ink this time?”
They frown. “Ink?” Sam asks.
“Blood,” Summer clarifies. “No more than a drop.” When neither of them move, she sighs and grabs Dean’s hand again, nicking him in the same place as before. “Children, I swear…” she mutters over Dean’s indignant cry.
“What are you doing?” The question comes from Sam as Summer starts writing on the wall behind her.
“I told you. I’m sending you home, before I lose my temper and smack the both of you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Summer shakes her head, trying to figure out how to word this string of words. “It’s nothing. You’re, what…” She does some quick math before continuing. “26 and 30? You’ll improve in a few more years.”
“You realize that doesn’t answer my question.”
Summer looks over her shoulder at Sam to see a hint of a smile, the edge of a dimple - traces of the boy he was mixed with the man he will become. He just needs to go through literal hell first. Summer sighs and turns back to the wall, but something in her face must have given something away.
“What?” Sam’s hand is on her shoulder, turning her back towards him, the touch gentle in contrast to his harsh words from earlier. “What is it?”
And this is why I wanted Ruby gone, Summer thinks. And I’m sending you back to her. God, I hate my life.
“Hey.” Summer looks up and has to catch her breath, because screens can’t do this justice - Sam’s eyes really do have sunflowers in them. “Are you okay?”
Summer blinks, then shakes her head and turns away. “You are entirely too pretty for me to have this discussion while looking at you,” she mutters.
She hears Dean snort behind her. “Him? Pretty?”
“Hey, I’m not looking at you either, emerald eyes,” she shoots back. “I know better.”
“Look.” Sam’s tone is still gentle, which is not improving Summer's mood. Every kind word and gesture only increases her wish to murder Ruby a couple months early. “You're talking like you know the future.” Summer is carefully not looking at either Winchester, just as she’s carefully not saying anything. “If you know what’s going to happen, you could help us change it. Help us stop the seals from breaking, help us kill Lillith!”
Summer’s anger flares and she can’t stop herself from whirling to face Sam, one hand coming up to jab a single finger at his chest. “It is not my place to help you defy fate, Winchester. And you need to let go of this, this crusade for revenge before you get yourself or your brother killed!”
“So you do know the future,” Dean says from behind his brother, and it’s all Summer can do not to scream in frustration.
She settles for glaring at the two morons in front of her. “Yes,” she grits out. “I know the future. And before you ask, no, I’m not telling you. Either of you.”
“But if you know what’s going to happen-”
“Samuel these are not like your visions so don’t think you know what’s going through my head,” she cuts him off, turning back to the wall. She’s managed to finish writing what she wanted in English, so she quickly nicks herself and starts writing in Enochian. There’s more silence behind her, then Sam speaks up again.
“How do you know about my visions?”
Summer blows a stray bit of hair off her forehead, but doesn’t turn around. “What, I know the future but can’t know the past? Sorry, boys, but a one-trick pony I am not.”
“Okay. But-”
“No.”
“You won’t even-”
“No, I won’t!” Summer finds herself whirling around again, this time jabbing her stylus at the younger Winchester. “I’m not telling you two the future! It’s big, it’s complicated, you won’t believe me, and it won’t change anything either way!”
“Please.” Sam’s looking at her with those stupid puppy dog eyes, but she forces herself to stand firm. “Just tell us something.”
“Anything,” Dean speaks up. “Just a random truth.”
Summer raises her eyebrows. “Anything?”
“Anything,” Dean repeats.
Summer can’t help it - she smirks. “Alright, boys. Here’s what I’m going to do. You each get one true fact about future you, then I’m going to give you both a single piece of advice, then you’re going home. Capice?”
Sam and Dean exchange a look, then nod. “Sounds fair,” Sam says.
Summer looks between them, considering. She could tell them something important, something recent, like Sam’s going to kill Lillith or Dean’s going to kill Ruby. She could tell them something so far in the future it won’t make any sense, like Sam’s going to shoot God or Dean’s going to get to have a family dinner. Or…she could tell them one of the many, many ridiculous things that have happened to them, something that will make absolutely no sense without them living through it. And it’s the last route Summer decides to take.
“Okay. You two listening?” She pauses a moment, then speaks. “Sam, you’re going to get married for a week, then get divorced. Dean, you’re going to have a daughter, and within the week she’s going to try to kill you.” She watches as both of them splutter, trying to come up with something coherent to say to that. When Dean finally manages to glare at her, Summer just shrugs. “Hey. You did say anything. Now, the advice.” She pins both of them with a stare, making sure they both know that while the facts may have been a bit of fun, this? This is dead serious. “Talk to each other. You’re both adults - use your fucking words more often than once a year or when someone’s dying.” They exchange a confused look, but Summer glares first at Sam, then at Dean, trying to convey with just her facial expressions that she knows what both of them are hiding, and that she thinks it’s the stupidest decision on the planet. That done, she turns back to the wall. “Idiots,” she mutters under her breath.
She gets to the last word and pauses, glancing over her shoulder at the Winchesters, her gaze lingering on Sam. “Hey. I meant what I said earlier.”
“What, use our words?” Sam’s tone is sarcastic, but Summer silences him with a glare.
“I meant, the part about your crusade to kill Lillith. I know you’ve got a brain, college boy. Use it.”
And with that, she finishes the last word and the Winchesters vanish in a flash of light, back into the frying pan. “Man,” Summer mutters as she makes her way out of the shed. “I need a vacation.”