In the auditorium at the college, Dean walked down the aisle slowly, wooden stake gripped in his hand. The place was empty, lights dim, the stage washed in a faint glow.
"Hunters and their wooden stakes," a smug voice echoed through the hall. "You never change, do you?"
Dean turned sharply.
The Trickster stood a few seats behind him, hands tucked casually into his pockets, grin firmly in place.
Then he vanished.
A second later he appeared on stage, spotlight catching him like he'd planned it that way.
"Why can't we have a little business arrangement?" the Trickster said lightly. "Something that doesn't involve killing. Let me show you my good faith."
He snapped his fingers.
Two women in black lingerie appeared on stage in dramatic poses.
"They're my gift."
Dean blinked, eyes widening for half a second before he cleared his throat.
"Man," Dean muttered, rubbing his jaw, "I really wanna agree. I like your style. Aliens that dance, now this? You're creative."
"Right?" the Trickster said proudly. "I aim for variety."
Dean let out a slow breath, glancing at the stage and then back at him.
"And I'd really love to dig this," Dean continued, lifting the stake slightly, "but here's the problem."
"I can't let you go."
The Trickster tilted his head, mock disappointment flashing across his face. "That's too bad. Here I thought we were becoming friends."
He snapped his fingers.
The world shifted.
Dean was suddenly on stage, stumbling as he landed at the women's feet. The stake nearly slipped from his grip.
"See?" the Trickster said cheerfully from the front row. "I'm generous. You even get the golden opportunity to die by two beautiful ladies."
He leaned back in his seat. "Ladies, finish him."
One of them moved first—faster than human. She grabbed Dean by the collar and lifted him clean off the ground. The other swept his legs out from under him midair, and he slammed into the side wall with enough force to rattle the stage lights.
Dean hit hard and dropped to one knee, clearly not pleased.
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath as he rolled his shoulder, "this is humiliating."
The second woman lunged again, striking with brutal precision. Dean barely raised the stake in time to block a blow that would've crushed his ribs. The impact drove him backward across the stage floor.
From the audience, the Trickster clapped lightly.
"Oh come on, Dean. You've handled worse. Show some effort."
A stake drove down toward the Trickster's back from behind.
He vanished.
The stake struck empty air.
The Trickster reappeared a few feet away, already turning—only to see it was Sam who'd taken the shot.
He clicked his tongue. "Sammy, Sammy. Always so intense."
He snapped his fingers.
"For you," the Trickster said casually.
A woman in black leather appeared beside Sam, a whip already cracking through the air. It snapped around Sam's leg with brutal precision and yanked. Sam was ripped off his feet and flung across the stage, crashing into a stack of chairs.
Before Sam could recover, the whip snapped again, striking the floor inches from his hand as he reached for the fallen stake.
Across the stage, Dean was still trading blows with the other two. He ducked a swing, drove a punch into one woman's side, only to get caught by a spinning backhand that sent him sliding across the boards.
The Trickster laughed softly and reached into his coat, pulling out a chocolate bar. He unwrapped it slowly.
"You boys really know how to put on a show."
Bobby burst in from the side aisle, stake in hand, charging straight at the Trickster.
The Trickster didn't even look at him.
With a lazy flick of his fingers, Bobby was lifted off his feet and hurled across the auditorium, slamming into the back row hard enough to splinter wood.
"Now that," the Trickster said, taking a bite of chocolate, "is entertaining."
On stage, Dean staggered back to his feet. Sam rolled aside as the whip lashed down again. The Trickster leaned back in the chair, chewing thoughtfully while watching Dean get hammered by the two women and Sam fight to free himself.
The whole auditorium had turned into his private theater.
The auditorium doors burst open again.
"Guys, did you already deal with the—"
Henry stopped mid-sentence.
Dean was getting thrown across the stage by two lingerie-clad powerhouses. Sam was midair, yanked around by a whip like a rag doll. And the Trickster was lounging in the front row eating chocolate like he'd bought tickets.
Henry blinked once.
"Umm. Wrong room."
He slowly stepped backward.
The doors behind him slammed shut.
Henry turned—
—and found himself staring up at a towering man in a blood-stained apron holding a chainsaw. The blade revved with a metallic snarl.
"Hello," Henry said carefully. "How do you do?"
The only reply was the rising scream of the chainsaw engine.
"Right. No small talk."
Henry spun and bolted down the aisle as the chainsaw roared behind him, chewing through seat backs like cardboard. Wood exploded in splinters.
"You've gotta be kidding me!"
The Trickster grinned wider, taking another bite of chocolate.
"Oh, this just keeps getting better."
Henry didn't look back. The chainsaw howled behind him, chewing through seats as the massive man charged down the aisle. Splinters flew past Henry's shoulder as he ducked and vaulted over a broken chair.
"Why is it always me?" he muttered, sprinting toward the stage.
Sam was still on the ground, the whip snapping across the boards near his hands. The leather cracked again, curling back for another strike. Henry changed direction mid-run and lunged straight at the whip.
The leather snapped toward Sam—
—and Henry caught it.
The force burned across his palm, but he locked his grip and dug in his heels.
"Not today."
He triggered the strength.
Muscle tightened. He yanked.
The woman in black leather stumbled forward, surprise flashing across her face as the whip went taut. Henry didn't hesitate. He twisted his shoulder and hauled with everything he had, dragging her off balance and flinging her sideways.
She flew straight into the charging chainsaw man.
The collision was brutal. Leather, metal, and raw force smashed together mid-stride. The chainsaw jerked sideways as both figures crashed into a row of seats, tearing through wood and fabric in a violent tumble.
*****
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