Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: I encourage you to take this informational, educational guide to heart. Positive feedback and additional ideas are encouraged. If any of you actually decide to do any of these activities/dares, I would love to hear all about it, and you can do so in the form of a review. This is all in good fun, because I love this fandom to pieces.

Oh, and I made Fangirl Becky less "buckets of crazy" and more…real, I guess (for instance, she does reference Kripke), although her character is highly entertaining to watch. Enjoy!

HOW TO SURVIVE THE HELLATUS

An Informative Guide for Supernatural Fans Everywhere

By Becky Rosen

Hello fellow Saltgunners and Superfreaks, Sam Girls, Dean Girls, and whatever else you may call yourselves.

It's that time of year again.

You know what I mean, don't you? Of course you do. It's that three and half month Purgatory in between seasons where we fans go into complete withdrawal mode.

Otherwise known throughout the fandom as "Hellatus."

It's like PMS, but worse. We're scary and extremely bitchy.

It totally sucks.

The whole painful, traumatic ordeal happens in stages—stages of Fangirl Grief, to be precise. It starts as soon as the last frame of the season finale fades into a black screen with the credits, and by this point, all of us are usually a pathetic, shaking wreck. We cry hysterically (and therefore, collectively, create enough tears to cause The Flood version 2.0, which would be a real apocalypse). We yell profanities at the television screen. We scream "NOOOOO!" so loud we have the threat of getting the cops called, or at least scaring the holy hell outta anyone within a ten-foot radius, prompting them to ask, "Who died?" which is sometimes the truth. Which feels something like getting the proverbial knife (that was plunged into your chest at approximately the beginning of the episode) twisted further and further in.

We stare in shock, our mouths wide open, our jaws collecting dust on the floor. We don't move for at least five minutes, even though the credits have rolled and the station has moved on to the news or some other program we couldn't give two craps about. After about seven minutes, we remember that we stopped breathing and yeah, you kinda need to do that to keep truckin' along…

Then, what we just witnessed finally sinks in. It smacks us right in the cakehole, and we feel kind of overwhelmed. There's typically lots and lots of questions racing through our heads and it all seems so confusing and horrifying and all these "what if's" and "oh my God's" and "I can't believe…'s" and "Damn you, Kripke!'s" make us want to tear our hair out and kick some demon ass. So, we analyze and question and cry some more…and rant to whoever is willing to listen, just to get it all out in the open to save any shred of sanity we have left. We rant even when no one gives a rat's ass, and we scorn anyone who tries to tell us to "get over it" and "it's just a show."

No. We don't take that kind of crap here. People just don't get it, you know?

After the analysis/confusion/weeping, blubbering mess stage, which still kind of lingers throughout the entire Hellatus period, speculation typically sets in right away. It depends on what kind of fan you are to determine how you handle speculation. Some people prefer to keep their theories locked in their crazy little minds until the next season premiere. Others flock to message boards, communities, and social networking sites to get through speculation with fellow fans.

There's strength in numbers, guys, and it always helps to have a Hellatus Buddy and a support group to turn to.

Speculation can last the whole duration of Hellatus, too. Known treatments for it, other than the Buddy System, are fanfiction writing, fanart, and the wonderful invention of Youtube. Codas and tags are a great way to stave off some of the speculation until September. Fanvids are amazing when paired with the right tunes, although they have more of an ability to cause another onslaught of The Flood.

But, anyway you slice it, we all end up in the same place. No matter how many hours we spend ranting to other Saltgunners, swapping theories, and pouring our hearts and souls into fanfiction, withdrawal is still an evil sonofabitch.

There most likely won't ever be a "cure," per se for this Hellatus during the waiting period itself. The only solution is the start of a new season. But here, I have compiled a little something to "take the edge off," so to speak.

So, if you ever have a day where you're feeling the effects of Hellatus pretty badly, you can always find something to do. You can survive this, you brave little soldiers! (Castiel has enough to worry about; he can't be racing circles around the globe pulling each and every one of you obsessed fans out of your own personal Hells. He doesn't have time for that.) You don't have to suffer alone!

And now I present, out of the kindness of my heart, activities and dares that Supernatural fans around the world will enjoy during the months of Hellatus… If fanfiction and marathon sleepovers with copious amounts of ice cream and tissues isn't going to cut it for you, try any of these:

Make T-shirts! I know you guys are creative and crafty. "Team" shirts are always great to support your favorite character or pairing, or even try a quote. (Good luck choosing!) Maybe you could try something like, "I Survived the Kripocalypse (Barely) and All I Got Was This Crappy T-Shirt I Had to Make Myself."

Keep those minds busy and learn Latin. Or Enochian, for that matter. You never know when you might need it… Plus, we all could pretty much agree that it sounds badass.

Paperclip art. It's not only for escaping handcuffs, you know.

Dress up in angel wings and halos (get crafty!) and pick a busy street, residential area, or a parking lot. (Watch out for shady van guys, though…) Walk around proclaiming such things as, "Lucifer has risen!" or "The demons are coming!"—a la Paul Revere—and other apocalyptic warnings. Standing on the corner of a busy intersection dressed as either an angel or demon, holding a cardboard sign that says something like "The Kripocalypse is upon us" would also be acceptable.

Hold a Supernatural-themed Olympics or sporting event. You could create a Team Free Will and a Team Lucifer and let your like-minded, obsessed friends have at it. But don't, like, kill each other or anything, 'cause that's just a moment ruiner. Making jerseys or nametags could be cool, as well as the activities involved. Trivia, or…"holy water" water balloon war, anyone?

Go into your local supermarket and walk up to one of the employees, pretending to be in an incredibly agitated, pissed off mood. Demand to know where that "fabric softener teddy bear bitch" is. If you get an answer, storm off and make a beeline for that aisle, muttering curses and death threats directed at Snuggles.

Dress up as Lucifer and go to a public place, like a mall. Approach random people and ask them for directions on where to find Sam Winchester because MapQuest didn't do crap. In an alternative version, you could pretend to hitchhike (again, watch out for shady van guys…), see if people stop, and ask them for a ride to Detroit while discussing plans about the End of Days.

If you spot someone wearing a beige trench coat, proceed to run at them yelling, "I found you, Castiel!" and other such delightful nonsense. Give this person a hug. Start talking to them about angels, the Winchesters, his funny "Where's Waldo?"-esque game (which you just won), etc. and enjoy seeing what their reaction is.

Wear nametags with insults only our fandom could coin, like "idjit," and "assbutt," and see if you can actually get someone to call you by that "name."

Go to any store that sells large bags of rock salt. While deliberating what to buy, wave over an employee. Ask them very seriously about which brand is the best and guaranteed to work against demons and spirits and see what they say. (This could also work for regular salt.)

The next time you're at a restaurant, if they have pie, yell loudly about your excitement over this fact, because our fixation with pie is all due to Dean Winchester. In an alternative and more amusing version, when the server returns with your food, wait a minute before asking them, "Dude, where's the freakin' pie?" Even though you haven't ordered any (yet), make them believe you did. See how good of an actor you are! For added effect, after they walk away, you could always throw in the classic "I hope your apple pie is freakin' worth it!" line.

Head over to a street corner, parking lot, etc. and create a large circle of sale around yourself. Act paranoid, and try to get random people around you to stand in the circle "for protection," too. Insist that if they don't get inside the magic circle, the spirits will gank them. If they're no fun to play along, they must be low sodium freaks…

Recreate Dean/Jensen's "Eye of the Tiger" performance. You know you want to.

Stand outside a store or on a corner and hand out awesomely decorated index cards with messages on them like, "Have you accepted Chuck (or character of your choice) as your Savior?" and "Read the Winchester Gospel" and other such preachy-sounding phrases. People need to be converted!

Buy a mullet wig, put it on, and pretend you're Dr. Badass for a day.

Insist that everyone you encounter who is wearing sunglasses is a demon ("Black-eyed bastards!") and take the necessary measures to exorcize them. In an alternative version, go up to anyone wearing sunglasses and mutter the word "Cristo." If you're feeling up to it, you could even pretend you're Sam and use his nifty Jedi Mind Tricks.

Draw a giant Devil's Trap on the sidewalk outside your house with chalk on a nice day. Sit outside your house and keep watch over it vigilantly. Every time someone walks onto it, shout "Gotcha!" and proceed to perform an exorcism on these "demons." Holy water is optional.

"Carry on My Wayward Son"—sing it loud and sing it proud, Saltgunners! It's tradition!

Go into a fast food joint, waltz up to the counter, and in a serious, Castiel-like voice, ask them if they sell raw chunks of beef, beef in bulk, or something to that effect. When you get the inevitable weird look, calmly inform them that your "vessel has a particular fondness for red meat."

Get a huge, fancy-looking but fairly inexpensive glass of some kind. (Scour the party stores, guys!) Whip up a batch of fake blood, which you can use for other dares or pranks later on, if you're feeling creative. The recipe for fake blood is simple: 1 part water, 3 parts corn syrup (or glucose syrup), and red food dye. Add a small amount of blue to get a more realistic color. Add thickener (flour, corn starch, or chocolate syrup to get that creepy, believable look) and stir to get the right consistency. Let it sit for ten minutes in a warm environment so it can thicken, and there you go—blood! Fill the glass with this concoction and go to a bench where there's lots of traffic. Talk with the "glass" about sinister plans. Freak people out. Laugh like a big bad, and repeat.

Walk into a local pet store and look distraught. Proceed to circle the store and ask employees if they know of a teddy bear doctor for your gigantic, hopelessly suicidal teddy bear. If you're feeling particularly brave, try it at an animal hospital or SPCA.

Change the lyrics of Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl" to "I Kissed a Crossroads Demon." It's great for those long hours in your car, passing the time on a road trip. It could go a little something like this…'I kissed a crossroads demon and survived it/the taste of sulfur and chapped lips/I kissed (him, her, whatever floats your boat) just to seal it/hope my ten years is worth it/It felt so wrong, it felt so right/Don't mean I'm screwed after tonight'…and so on and so forth; you get the idea. You could always, you know, swap out the "I survived it line" with: 'I kissed a Crossroads Demon and it was slightly homoerotic…' Yeah. How 'bout that, slash fans?

While you're still in a musical mood, get some Superfreaks together and think up a version of "The Tiger Song" from The Hangover about your favorite character. It's another good road trip activity, or if you want, set up camp on a street and see if you can get an audience.

Sidewalk chalk always has the ability to cure anything. Get a hold of some and go crazy! Spam the sidewalks and streets in your neighborhood with Supernatural propaganda. Quotes, pictures, declarations of love…hell, even write "Thank You, Eric Kripke!" in ginormous block letters everywhere. Copy some sigils or protection symbols and confuse the neighbors…

Drive around your hometown blaring the Greatest Hits of Mullet Rock. Writing "Zeppelin Rules!" on your windows in special window paint would also be an awesome homage to the best soundtrack on television.

Pretend you're one of the Ghostfacers! team for the day. Carry around a video camera and film the entire experience, making side comments to your "audience" while you invade businesses and knock on neighbors' doors asking about the paranormal activity they presumably reported (scratching, flickering lights, you guys know the drill…). For added effect, carry around an additional bag full of what you would consider "ghost hunting supplies." If you're feeling awesome about it, upload it on YouTube!

If you're in a store and someone starts talking over the P.A. system, start freaking out. (I mean Dean-scared-pantsless-because-of-a-cat kind of freaking out.) Shout, "It's the aliens! Don't let them make me slow dance again!" and things of that nature.

At your nearest convenience store, gas station mart, 7-Eleven, whatever—walk in and attempt to buy a crapload of candy. When you get up to the counter, complain to the cashier that your roommate is the Trickster, who apparently made you his candy-buying bitch. Once the cashier gives you the total, make a show of checking your pockets for money. Get pissed at the Trickster for stealing it and just walk away.

Keep a running tally of how many times you say "dude" over the Hellatus.

Gather a group of Saltgunners and go into local businesses, dressed officially. Make some "business cards" in your word processing program beforehand, to make it seem more legit. Tell the business owners that you're from the Enochian Protection Agency and offer services to "angel-proof" their building. Pull out charts of Enochian symbols and start going over "protection plans" your Agency has. Try to pass it off as an Avon-like institution!

Pretend you're Cupid (This doesn't mean I want you to have a free-for-all and go streaking. That's creepy.), and give random people horribly awkward, near-suffocating hugs. Act extremely happy about seeing these people. If they tell you off, just start sobbing.

Hopefully, this puts a dent in your Hellatus symptoms. These are just some examples of what you can do to take your mind off this unbearable time.

So I encourage you, fellow fans, to get out there and spread the Supernatural Love. Only together can we conquer Hellatus!

A/N: Sharing of Fan Grief experiences and further suggestions for activities and dares is welcomed. Let all hell break loose! Hope you liked my attempt at humor after the Season 5 finale.