Samuel rubbed the sleep from his eyes as the morning light spilled through the window. He was tired—his body felt heavy, but his mind had been running nonstop for days. Ever since the plane crash and discovering that Shawn and Gus were real, he had spent every waking hour researching this world.
I couldn't have done this without Sam Winchester's brain, he thought, almost grateful for that strange birthday spin. His mind processed information faster now, more efficiently. Lore, research, history—he could absorb it all with ease, and something about diving into it felt comforting. Familiar.
Luckily, he had discovered early on that this wasn't the Supernatural world. No demons, no yellow-eyed monsters hunting in the dark—at least, not that he could find. There were some scattered stories about odd, mythical occurrences, but nothing concrete. And thank God for that. That show was nuts. Angels, gods, monsters—he wasn't ready for that kind of chaos.
But even so, this world was far from normal.
Over the past few days, Samuel had figured out more about the structure of this place. He realized that TV shows from his old world weren't just fiction here. They were history—reality. Crime dramas, sitcoms, even UK shows.
He chuckled, remembering what he read in an archived online article from a British tabloid called The Evening Light. It referenced a schoolboy named Will McKenzie who had become somewhat of a viral figure due to being mocked as a "briefcase wanker" by his peers. The Inbetweeners, he thought. They're real too.
Even history seemed different. He discovered that the Shelby family—the infamous gang from Birmingham—had actually existed in his old world too. But here? Thomas Shelby had died decades ago, yet his family was still said to run the largest gang in England. They were seen as the European version of the Capone empire.
And then there were the Vikings.
According to old scanned records and amateur translations, Ragnar Lothbrok had been a real warlord, just like in the TV show. But more than that, his sons had made a massive impact. Bjorn Ironside, Ivar the Boneless, Sigurd—all of them. Some documents even hinted that Floki and Ubbe had sailed west and might have reached what would become North America long before Columbus. Nothing had been confirmed, of course. But the idea that Ragnar and Floki had touched lands across the sea made Samuel smile. It made this world feel so much richer—so much more alive.
That's when his uncle stepped into the room, pulling him from his thoughts.
"Hey, I was wondering," Michael said. "Do you want to go to that funeral for the billionaire—Mr. Clayton?"
Samuel blinked. Normally, he'd say no. He didn't like funerals or crowds. But now? The possibility of seeing Shawn and Gus again made his heart skip.
"Yes!" he blurted.
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Wow. You sure? That's not like you."
Samuel cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. "Yeah. I figure it's good to get out for once."
His uncle laughed a bit and gestured at Samuel's outfit. "Well, we'll need to get you something decent to wear first. You've got nothing but tree-stained rags at this point."
Samuel looked down at himself. He hadn't really paid attention before, but now that he was standing in front of the mirror, he could see what Michael meant. Most of his clothes were torn or stained green from the forest.
My cleanest shirt is literally the one I got from the gacha wheel... and that's Jesse Pinkman's, he thought, grimacing. Yeah, I definitely need new clothes.
---
He and his uncle stepped into the truck and made their way toward the city. It was the first time they'd gone somewhere outside of the forest together. Most of their life consisted of short lessons in the morning, and then Michael would head into the forest to monitor fire danger while Samuel would spend hours running, climbing, or practicing archery.
But today felt different. He was actually excited to leave the woods. The idea of seeing the world—of running into more TV characters—made him feel like something big was about to happen.
He snapped out of his daydream just as they pulled into a shopping center.
They entered a typical mall, and Samuel immediately felt out of place. He used to avoid malls in his past life. The noise, the people—it had never been his thing. People stared as they walked in, whispering about Samuel's ragged outfit. He didn't care. He scanned every face they passed, searching for any sign of someone familiar from TV.
But after a while, he sighed. Of course I don't see anyone. What are the odds? He followed his uncle into a clothing store.
"Hey," Michael said, glancing at him. "You seem more lively than usual."
Samuel shrugged. "I don't know... I guess since the plane crash, I've been curious. The world's bigger than I thought."
Michael raised an eyebrow but didn't press further.
As they browsed the racks, Samuel heard two voices arguing near the back.
"Cam, we have to get something for Gloria—she'll hate us if we don't!"
"And I told you, Mitchell, I want it to be personal. Something that says 'we care,' not 'we panicked and picked a blender.'"
Samuel's head snapped around.
There they were. Cam and Mitchell. You couldn't miss them—Cam had that excited, animated expression, waving his arms as he spoke. Mitchell, on the other hand, looked utterly exhausted, dragging his feet through the store.
No Lily, Samuel noted. Right. They haven't adopted her yet.
He ducked behind a clothing rack, heart racing. What do I say? Should I say anything? Should I just follow them? No, that's weird.
He peeked through the shirts, watching them browse a gift section near the back.
This is insane. I'm watching Modern Family in real life. Their lives always looked so fun—so chaotic, but warm. Is this really happening?
He crouched, trying to come up with a plan. Should I ask for a photo? No, too suspicious. Maybe just say hi? But then what? 'Hey, I'm a fan of your life?' That sounds creepy...
By the time he peeked up again, they were gone.
"Damn it," he muttered. I wasted my chance. But hopefully, it's not the last time I meet one of them—or someone from their family.
A few minutes later, Michael returned with a full outfit in his hands.
"Well, look at that," he said. "You almost look like someone fit for a billionaire's funeral."
Samuel nodded. "Let's go."