There is NO plan for this. This is just a place for me to put random crack!tastic one-shots that I write to tide you guys over during the hiatuses that will inevitably happen in Phone Tag's publication schedule while I write longer stories that are companions to PT in this 'verse.

I have no idea where this will go--if anywhere. They might connect, they might not.

There is a a connection to the rest of the verse in that it includes Dean and Shawn and Sam and MAY reference other stories in the 'verse. I make no guarantees as to canon or fanon adherence.

The only thing you can be sure of is that beyond this point you will find only the purest of the pure.

Oh yes . . . there will be crack. *_*

Disclaimer: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA- *dies laughing*

Also this is uncut and unbetaed. Enter at your own risk and please leave all choking and spitting hazards at the door.

For Berrica who just couldn't wait for more. :D

Just Because You're Paranoid Doesn't Mean They Aren't Out To Get You

Dean bent and slid the nozzle into the Impala's tank, then secured the fill switch. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, blatantly ignoring the sign that said not to use his cell phone and answered it.

"Yeah?"

"Dude, are you anywhere near a computer?"

"Shawn?"

"Yeah, where's Sam? Does he have his laptop?"

Dean snorted. "Dude, he practically sleeps with the damn thing. And not because he's watching anything good on it. Yeah, he's got it."

"Where are you? Can you get wireless?"

Dean frowned. "Probably? I don't know. What the hell's going on, Shawn?"

"There's this thing . . . I don't . . . It's . . . I didn't know who else to call."

The pump click-thumped and Dean reached down and freed the nozzle, replacing it and the gas cap.

"A thing online?"

"Yeah. It's . . . Freakin' creepy, dude. Guh."

Dean waved to Sam inside the Qwik-Mart and indicated he was going to move the car. Sam gave an acknowledging wave and went back to scrounging for goodies.

"Are you in any immediate danger?" Dean asked as he slid behind the wheel. "Are you safe?"

"No . . . Yeah . . . Well . . . I mean . . . Um . . . I'm as safe as I can be. Man this is so WEIRD."

Dean let him mumbled and mutter as he settled his baby in a parking spot, then cut the engine and braced the phone, reaching into the back to retrieve Sam's laptop bag.

He pulled it out and was happy to see Sam hadn't shut it down.

Clicking open a browser window he said, "Okay, Shawn, what's the address?"

Shawn rattled off a line of words and letters and symbols and Dean's eyebrows rose.

The webpage popped up and Dean's eyes widened.

"Well, hell that is creepy as fuck."

"Dude, that's not it. That's just the front page."

"It gets weirder?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Click on 'Series' and then the letter 'P'. It's the second listing down. Click on it, dude, and brace yourself."

Dean did as directed and then stared.

"What the fuck?"

"I KNOW!" Shawn said. "Have you ever seen anything like this? What do we do?"

Dean's jaw worked up and down. "I . . . I don't . . ."

The passenger side door opened Sam slid in, eyes skipping to the laptop. "What's up?" he asked.

Dean just shook his head, the sprinkling of freckles on his nose stark against his bloodless skin. He shoved the laptop at Sam and then gripped the keys, giving them a twist.

"Shawn found this," he explained. "It's . . . I don't even know what it is, other than fucking creepy!"

Sam frowned as he skimmed the page, clicking on a link here and there. His eyes widened with every click.

"What the fuck?" he finally said.

"I know!" Shawn and Dean said in unison.

"Shawn," Dean said, flooring the gas and leaving a trail of rubber on the road as he pulled out of the gas station lot. "You're at home, right?"

"No, dude, I'm at the office!"

"Get home. Fast as you can. Don't stop for anything. When you get there, lock yourself in. Salt doors and windows, get out the bag Dad gave you. Lock that place down tighter'n a virgin's bedroom door on prom night."

Dean heard sounds of Shawn moving about, grabbing his stuff and heading out the door.

"And then?"

"Stay there. We're on our way."

Dean hung up and dropped the phone on the seat.

"How far are we from Santa Barbara?" Dean asked.

"Uhh . . ." Sam looked up, then dug out the map and made some quick calculations. "Six hours."

"We're gonna be there in four," Dean said and floored the accelerator.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you think 'whump' means?"

Dean's jaw tightened and he shook his head.

"Dude, I don't think we want to know."

Sooooooo . . . did I scare anyone away yet?

Review if you're still here and not afraid of admitting it. :D

*goes back to writing other storiness*