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Super Moon: The Curse of the Rose

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Hi!  I’m Serena, an ordinary teenage school girl who happens to own the world’s most powerful compact.  With the help of my magical powers, I become the champion of justice known as SAILOR MOON!

Hey!  Wanna meet my friends?  This is Amy.  She’s the smartest person in our school, a real brainiac.  We also know her as, SAILOR MERCURY!

And this is Raye.  She has a really bad temper but she’s cool, she’s a psychic!  She becomes SAILOR MARS!

My friend Lita is the best cook, but she really cooks when it comes to the martial arts.  She is SAILOR JUPITER!

Last, but not least is Mina with my cat Luna and her cat Artemis. She’s famous as Sailor V but we call her SAILOR VENUS!

We are one great team.  We are the SAILOR SCOUTS!  Our job’s to protect the planet and ensure peace on Earth!  YEAH!

 

¯ Fighting evil by moon light

Winning love by daylight

Never running from a real fight

She is the one named Sailor Moon ¯

 

Sam shook his head several times trying to clear the ringing from his ears.  Beside him Dean was fiddling with something in his hands.

“Would you put that down?  Why do you always insist on touching everything?”  Sam asked his brother, shaking his head at his childishness.

Dean rolled his eyes and put whatever it was back on the shelf with a loud clang that was quickly followed by a series or clatters and scuffles as he clumsily set off a chain of dominos leaving behind it puffs of dust.  Sam frowned at the strange phenomenon, confusion and disbelief playing on his face.

Dean moved past him knocking into his shoulder and Sam glared at his brother again before taking off after him.

“What were we talking about before?  I feel like it was important, but I can’t remember.”

“It’s all that floppy hair on your head, it’s muffling everything and stopping you from thinking.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

“No seriously!  Have you looked at yourself lately?  You’re starting to look like Shaggy in Scooby Doo…  All long awkward limbs and hippy hair.”

“Ha ha, jackass.  I’m not the one knocking everything over.  Seriously though, what was I saying?”

“I don’t know, it all sounds like Charlie Brown to me, wan wa wawan, waaaaaan!”

Sam sighed and pursed his lips to stop himself from snapping back at Dean.  When his brother got into that mode, there was just no talking to him anyways.  He looked around himself at the shop they were in and stopped in his tracks as Dean moved off down another aisle.  He could see there were objects of various shapes and sizes on the shelves around him, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out exactly what they were, and the further down the aisle he looked the more misshapen and vague things got.  He frowned looking at the far wall of the store and seeing only the faintest lines, giving him a colourless impression of a wall of windows, but nothing beyond them.

“What the hell?” he muttered, catching a glimpse of his own hands and looking down at himself.  He seemed to be lacking in definition somehow, like everything had been outlined and air brushed.  Even his shirt didn’t wrinkle in any way that made sense, no matter how much he twisted and turned as he tried to put his finger on what was wrong.

Dean wandered back towards him with his hands in his pockets and Sam noticed the same lack of definition on him.  Even his hair was just barely an impression of hair. Like they were…  drawn, or maybe…

“Dean?” Sam called out to him, getting his attention, “Did you fall asleep with your stupid animated porn playing again?”

“Shut up, it’s not stupid!  Besides I didn’t watch anything last night.  Why?”

“I dunno…  I think I’m dreaming…  Ow!” Sam exclaimed wrapping his long fingers around the upper part of his arm where Dean had just clogged him.  “What the hell, Dean?”

Dean shrugged and turned away, “Not dreaming.”

Sam bit back the insults he would dearly love to prattle off at his irritating dumbass of a brother and took off after him, looking again at the surroundings.  If this wasn’t a dream, then what was going on?  “You don’t think there’s anything weird about this shop?”

Dean looked around too as he fiddled with a shapeless blob on the shelf again, before wiping his hand on his solid blue pants.  Were those jeans?  “I don’t see anything.  Looks like a regular shop to me.”

Sam was about to comment, wondering about how they had come to be in the shop in the first place when behind him the shelves started shaking and quaking.

 

Behind the shelves, Bobby and Jo were holding back Chuck as he threatened to burst in on Sam and Dean’s argument like he could solve all their problems.

“Come on, guys.  We ain’t supposed to be here spyin’ and those idjits.  They can figure their own stuff out like adults.”

“Well, ain’t that just like you, Bobby Singer!  We’re tryin’ to help these boys out and you want to bail because the emotions are just gettin’ to ya!  Typical.”  Ellen threw over her shoulder at the bearded, baseball cap wearing hunter as she adjusted her position against the shelves trying to see the Winchester boys as they argued.

Gabriel straightened up from his own spy hole.  “Sshh!  If you dimwits don’t shut up, they’re going to hear us and the trap I set is going to be a total failure!”

“Oh please!” Jo said looking up from her own spot and crossing her arms over her chest to give the arch angel, master of mischief, her best cold glare, learned from her mother of course, “You think your tricks are all that, but all they are, are ridiculous excuses for ruining people’s lives.”

“My tricks are hilarious,” he retorted in a mumble.

“Where’d Dean go off to?” Ellen said looking through her peep hole, and everyone scurried back to their watching stations enthralled by the boy drama unfolding.

“This is ridiculous,” grumbled Bobby in a huff.

“Hey!” Chuck exclaimed, “This is writing gold!  The fans love a good brotherly angst scene.”

“You mean, they love turning the angst scene into brotherly love scenes…  if you catch my meaning,” Gabriel announced pumping his eyebrows suggestively.

“Idjit!”

“All I need is to snap my fingers and I bet you I can get those boys kissing and making out… I mean up, in no time.”

Suddenly Gabriel was buried in a pile of bodies as they all surged forward collectively to shut him up.

 

Sam looked down at the dust cloud at his feet, the occasional exclamation of pain and arm or leg coming out of it.  He coughed to clear his throat and the movement stopped dead.  What he found on the ground before him made his eyebrows jump up his forehead.  What circumstances had brought these particular people from different casts of his life together?  Jo, Ellen and Bobby he could understand, they knew each other, but how did Chuck get involved?  And Gabriel?  What the hell was he doing there?  Sam suddenly got the immediate urge to protect his balls with his hands.

But if Gabriel was there, Sam reasoned, it could explain everything going on and why things were so strange!  He had been the one to trap him and Dean in TV land in the first place.  Sam reached down and grabbed the small man by the throat and shook him.

“Whoa! Hey!” he exclaimed between gurgles and yelps.

“You did this!  Put us back!”

“Wrong, Bucko!” Gabriel answered, “I didn’t do anything!  Put me down!”

Sam watched in dread as Gabriel raised his hand, fingers ready to snap, in a gesture Sam had come to see as leading to the next torture.  Painful memories of the genital herpes commercial swam up and he let go of Gabriel’s shirt.  The angel snapped his fingers anyways, and everyone froze as they collectively held their breath waiting to the Trickster’s twisted humour to be inflicted on their bodies and souls.

But nothing happened.  Sam blinked and looked around.  Gabriel frowned and snapped his fingers again.  “Huh,” he said, “That’s weird.”  The angel shrugged as though apparently losing his powers was as insignificant as finding a mystery bruise on an arm while showering.

Slowly the rag-tag group got to its feet, the embarrassment of having been caught spying creeping up their necks and settling in their cheeks.  Sam’s eyes widened as he stared at Jo, something pulling at his subconscious like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

“Where’d Dean go?” she asked, looking around.

Sam looked around too, but it was clear that his brother had left the oddly undefined store.

“I think he’s outside,” said Chuck, with the assurance of someone with an all access pass to both Winchesters, which was fairly accurate, prophet and all.

The group made its way towards a door Sam hadn’t realized was there until they had started moving towards it.  Actually, he was pretty sure that there had not been a door there at all before they had needed it.  He glanced down again at his shapeless fingers like perfectly elongated star points and wondered again about why things were irking him so.  He began to follow friends, arch angel and prophet out the door but like the snap of demon fingers, he found himself outside instantly.

Dean was standing still at the top of a path and looking out on the foreign landscape before them.  Sam looked around too, his discomfort growing as he realized he had no idea where they were.  Trees lined an escarpment of carefully tended rows of flowers and herbs intercut with cobble stone pathways.  In the distance, he could vaguely make out the shape of a building backed with a thick cover of trees like a watercolour painting.  In front of it was the stone basin of a fountain that was quietly burbling away.  The sky above was blue with the vague shapes of identical white clouds repeating themselves like a pattern in a video game.

He walked up to his brother and looked back at the rest of the group and suddenly, he realized what was truly wrong with this picture.

“Dean!” he exclaimed, wide eyed as he stared at the crochety old man in the oil stained shirt and ratty baseball cap.  “It’s Bobby… he’s--”

“Here.  I know!  And you thought he wanted nothing to do with you because of the whole apocalypse thing.  You’re welcome.”

Sam frowned at Dean and tried again.  “Ellen and Jo are--”

“Hunting together!  I know right?  The world’s gone all topsy turvy and squiggly.”

“No, Dean—”

“Sammy, get behind me,” Dean said, suddenly sounding on high alert and shoving him behind him like when they were kids.

Instead of getting angry, Sam turned his attention to what was happening around them.  The sky had turned dark suddenly like someone had dimmed the lights.  Purple-black clouds like a sudden storm had materialized from nowhere and a chill swept through the gardens and trees in a shiver you could follow from the far end of Sam’s vision right to where they were standing and back around to where it came from.  Just like crab-apple blossoms shaken by a sudden draft, petals swirled around them, but Sam could not see where they were coming from no matter where he looked.  He looked up, his attention pulled to the odd sky again, and saw more of the light pink things floating down from the strange clouds as though they were snowflakes.  Their perfume floated down on the breeze as well, a delicate aroma that would have been like a soothing balm had the circumstances not been so other worldly.

The sudden twilight brought on by the dark clouds’ shedding these delicate flower remains masked the arrival of a new character in this farce, and this was what Dean’s eyes were focused on.  Sam turned away from the inexplicable petals as they thinned and stopped falling altogether, and his gaze landed on a woman wearing a long black dress that swirled and rippled around her long legs.  Her shoulders were bare except for where the locks of her long blue-black hair caressed her skin while playfully dancing in the remains of the softly sighing air.  She had eyes so deeply blue that Dean would argue looked purple, and Sam would find it hard to deny.  Nestled in the middle of a face as white and smooth as porcelain, their glassy clarity made her look like an exquisite china doll.

As Dean stood mesmerized by the woman’s approach, a chill ran down Sam’s spine.  He shifted his stance, on guard, unsure what danger this person was bringing with her.  His feeling of unease was not appeased in the least by the bland reaction, or lack thereof, from the rest of the hunters gathered behind him.  The woman raised her hand as she drew closer, Dean did the same, reaching towards her in numbed greeting.  Danger! screamed Sam’s instincts.  He couldn’t understand why, but she was a threat to them, and his adrenaline kicked in, propelling him forward to intercept the attack.  He grabbed his brother’s shoulder and jerked him back, away from her, years of battle reflexes the only thing keeping Dean on his feet.

“It’s been a long time, Dean,” the woman said in an easy lilt and a voice like warmed honey.

Sam frowned in confusion, “Do you know her?”

“Naw,” he answered vaguely.

“I never gave up hope that I would see you again.  It took me a long time, but I found you.”

The collective confusion was made obvious by the simultaneous cries of “What?” coming from the people assembled to witness the supposed reunion.

“Don’t look at me!” Dean said defensively, looking as confused as the rest of them, “I’ve never seen her before in my life!  I’m pretty sure I’d remember those legs.”

“Now that I found you,” she went on, ignoring the interruptions, “we can finally have everything we’ve ever wanted.  We can be happy, Dean, together.”

With a movement as natural as breathing, she reached out and wrapped her long fingers around Dean’s wrist.  He didn’t break her hold, or walk away, his eyes wide and his mouth a little slack, as he looked down into the woman’s large royal blue eyes.  She was looking at him so earnestly, with a delicate smile that betrayed both trust and happiness.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, no longer sounding so sure of himself, “I don’t remember you.  I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“But you have to remember!” she cried out, undeterred by his confusion as she moved a step closer still.

The uneasy feeling had not left Sam during the whole exchange and with every step she took, his every nerve and muscle tightened and screamed with the urgency of action.  Something was off about this whole thing and it was time to get out.

“Right,” Sam said, stepping between the woman and his brother, breaking her delicate hold on his wrist.  “This has been fun, but we have to go now.”

He grabbed his brother’s shoulders to turn him around and march him away from the beauty that had him enthralled, but before he could, he felt the woman’s feather light touch on his own shoulder.  Suddenly, he was shoved to the side by a strength he never would have guessed the small woman had and he flew through the air, only to land painfully on his side a couple meters away.

“Well, someone chomped their Wheaties, this morning,” said Bobby, in a voice that was half awe, as the rest of the group suddenly snapped out of their stupor and rushed over to fuss over Sam.

“What are you doing?” he yelled at them, “Get Dean!”

His worry for his brother was unnecessary though as the woman turned and started walking away.  Dean was still focused on her, a deep frown on his face and his lips pursed thin.  As she neared the basin of the inactive water fountain she turned and called back to him, her sweet voice made thin in the wind’s tendrils, “No one’s going to keep us from being together, Dean.  No one.”

From the darkened sky, a twister of petals cascaded around her in a crazy whirlwind that thickened until she was no longer visible.  The gusts reached the group where they were still huddled over Sam and failing to get him back on his feet, and they all covered their faces to protect their eyes.  Then, the wind died down as quickly as it had come, and they opened their eyes tentatively.  The sky was no longer dark, the fountain was gurgling away, little jets of water shooting up into the air, and there was no sign of the mysterious pink petals… nor the woman.  She had disappeared.

“What in Sam Hill was that?” exclaimed Ellen angrily.

“Girl’s got flare, I’ll tell ya that much,” answered Gabriel.

“You alright, son?” Bobby asked Sam as he stuck his hand out to him.

Sam grasped it and together, they were able to get him back on his feet again.  Bobby smacked his shoulder a couple times, just to be sure.  Jo strayed closer to Dean, who was still staring at the spot where the woman had vanished, and laid her hand on his upper arm.  “Are you okay?”

“That was Roseline, had to be.  But how?” He had spoken so softly, it was hard to make out, but still Jo’s hand fell away limply from his arm and she turned away.  Everything grew still in the suddenly breezeless air that felt heavy with dread at what was to come.  Like a painting, they stood in a loose constellation of characters, gathered in stunned silence and pondering their thoughts while they waited for the cut scene.