A celestial surge — one part spell, two parts cosmic prank — tore through reality and dropped three perplexed men into the middle of the Winchesters’ bunker.

Jensen Ackles. Jared Padalecki. Misha Collins.

All actors. All human. All currently standing in the middle of Sam and Dean’s library, staring at their fictional counterparts like someone just broke the laws of God, physics, and television at the same time.

Dean’s the first to speak. “Okay… tell me I’m not seeing triple.”

Sam blinks twice. “Dean, that’s— that’s us. Or… them?”

Jensen lifts his hands. “Uh, yeah. Hi. So— long story short, we were shooting a scene, there was this freak lightning thing, Misha screamed something about method acting, and now we’re here.”

Dean stares. “You were... shooting a scene?”

“Yeah,” Jared says. “In Vancouver.”

Sam mutters, “What’s a Vancouver?”

Meanwhile, Castiel’s just standing there, staring at Misha like he’s trying to process the world’s worst riddle. Misha stares back, utterly horrified. “Oh my God,” He whispers. “You actually have wings.”

Dean points between them. “Okay, this is officially nightmare fuel.”

The bunker quickly turns into chaos. Jensen and Dean argue about gun safety, Jared and Sam talk lore and philosophy like it’s a mirror match, and Misha spends the first hour trying to tweet about the situation before realizing his phone has no signal — or apps. They eventually piece together what happened: a dimensional rip caused by a ritual in one of Heaven’s old archives. A “script” written by a low-ranking angel who thought free will was too boring. The only problem? The ritual wasn’t meant to bring anyone in — it was meant to keep something out.

Now that the barrier’s cracked, things are slipping through. Shadows that move on their own. Whispers coming from the bunker walls. Dean swears the lights flicker whenever Jensen talks about “retakes.” By the second night, everyone’s on edge. Jared catches something crawling through the vents — a shimmer of static shaped like a man. Sam identifies it as residual energy from the broken veil. Misha calls it “the ratings monster.” No one laughs.

Still, they work together. Jensen picks up a gun (reluctantly), Jared studies sigils, and Misha hovers near Castiel, trying to “method act” being an angel until Castiel finally tells him, deadpan, “You are deeply unsettling.”

Through the chaos, something weirdly human forms — actors meeting their characters, fiction shaking hands with reality. Dean calls Jensen “pretty boy” just to see him squirm. Jared asks Sam if he ever sleeps. Misha accidentally drinks holy water. Twice. But the veil’s tearing wider. If they don’t fix it soon, their worlds will merge — and not even Chuck would be able to write that mess away.

So the six of them — two sets of Winchesters, two sets of an angel, and two versions of the same exhausted faces — set out to find the source of the breach.