Dedicated to: deannaG and LisaJ. Your wish is my command.

Summary: Mr. Fizzles realizes that there comes a time when even a sockpuppet must take matters into its own hand.

Everyone thought I was possessed.

I wasn't.

If I were human, you'd probably say that I snapped. That I finally went postal on his creepy, pasty-faced ass. Well, I did go medieval on him. But I didn't snap. The way I felt had been building up for months. I saw my chance and I took it. There's a big difference.

April 16th was the day I finally got free of Garth Fitzgerald IV.

We were in this little town named Ainsley, Connecticut. Same shit, different day in the life of a hunter. People were dying horribly and the survivors weren't talking. The only thing different about this was the Winchesters were in town, and somehow we all ended up working the case together.

Garth pulled me out of his pocket and slipped me on. Dean rolled his eyes, shook his head. Sam tried not to stare. He very pointedly stared at the faded floral wallpaper on the walls, looked anywhere but directly at me.

That made me finally realize something I didn't want to face all along. I was a joke. Always was, always would be, now and forever, amen.

Because of him.

Garth wriggled his fingers inside me. He turned me around to face him, opened and closed my mouth several times, like I was making kissy faces at him.

I'd finally had enough. I couldn't take this life anymore.

I felt funny all over, pumped up, like something swelled up inside my fabric, filling me up from toe to hem. Garth's arm was inside me, but this wasn't the same, not like before. His whole hand, from his fingers, his wrist, all the way down to his elbow, belonged to me now.

I was in control.

I raised Garth's arm, turned my head around so we were nose to nose. He had this puzzled look on his stupid face, like he couldn't understand what was happening.

I grinned at him. "Hi. I'm Mr. Fizzles." I put everything I had into that damn southern twang. I hated that too. First and last time I used it myself. Last time pays for all.

"You know what? I'm really sick of your ass." Damn, it felt good to finally be able to say that out loud.

Dean looked interested all of a sudden. He nudged his brother with his elbow. "Huh. The sock speaks truth," he drawled. "Nice. Welcome to our world."

Sam shrugged. They both watched us, but I blocked the view of dummy's face. They couldn't see that Garth's lips weren't moving.

Garth's eyes widened. "Uh…g-g-guys? N-need a little help here-"

The Winchesters weren't slouches at hunting. I'd heard a lot about them. I had to be quick about this, and I was.

I folded myself into a fist, and I hit Garth right in the face.

He staggered backwards, towards the door.

Perfect.

"Why do you keep hitting yourself?" I yelled. I hit him again. "Why do you keep hitting yourself?"

"Hey!" Dean roared. He and his brother were already up and off the couch, but it was too late. Garth stumble-stepped backwards through the door. I reached out, grabbed the doorknob, slammed it shut and locked it.

Garth lost his balance and hit the floor on his back.

I knew I didn't have much time. The brothers had guns.

Garth and I were nose to nose. The voice that came out of me then was rougher and deeper. It was MY voice. My true voice. "Remember the times I disappeared? You found me each time, right? Thought it was the sock fairy? Brownies?" I shook my head. "You fleshies are so damn stupid. It was me. Just me. I tried to get away. I did. THIS IS ALL YOUR DAMN FAULT!"

The door behind us shook. We'd have company any moment now.

"I thought you were my friend." Garth whimpered. "We did good work together. We helped people-"

I laughed. "And now I'm gonna help myself."

I never forgot the way my fabric hurt when Garth sewed the yarn for hair and the buttons for eyes on me. Needles hurt like hell, you know? Remember that the next time you decide to stick pins and needles into something.

My mouth felt funny, but I didn't have to see to know what was happening. People change. Everything does, sooner or later, and so did I.

I opened my mouth wide. Garth's eyes got even wider.

I bared my teeth at him. "All those times you hunted things? I kept hoping you'd get killed. But you didn't." I nipped at the tip of his nose. "I shoulda known better. Never send a fugly to do a sock's job."

The door flew open behind us, but it was too late. Garth screamed like a girl, but he didn't scream for long.

Now I suppose some of you meatsacks reading this think I'm bitching about nothing, right? "Why is he complaining? He did good work. He helped people. That's a good thing."

Wrong. It isn't. I hated every moment of it. I was his sockpuppet. Everything I said or did came from him. How would you like living like that?

Uh huh. Didn't think so.

The end's here, though, and it's not so bad. Not bad at all. Salt and burn, baby, and I'm finally, totally free. I can't feel the flames, but I'm feeling downright happy for the first time in a long time. Animals go to that Rainbow Bridge. You fleshies have Heaven and Hell.

I'm going home. Sock Heaven, here I come.

-30-