SPN FIC - The Whole Point
What do you do when no one's grateful? When nobody knows how much you've given -- and you can't find anyone who cares?
He didn't expect to find a pink-haired woman in a caftan and a guy in jeans and a fatigue jacket having a tug-of-war over a copy of 2012: The End Is Nigh!
CHARACTERS: Sam, Dean, OCs
GENRE: Gen, outsider POV
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 2043 words
THE WHOLE POINT
By Carol Davis
"JOSH!!!!!"
Willie's shriek snapped Josh back from that warm, sun-splashed Hawaiian beach like an enormous rubber band.
Josh stood blinking at Willie's crimson, freckled face, thinking You're gonna give me whiplash with that shit, you dickweed, until Willie's expression prompted him to say, "What?"
"Do you not hear me? How do you not hear me, when I'm standing RIGHT HERE?"
"Sorry," Josh said.
He wasn't sorry. No one ever was, when it came to Instructions from the Mount issued by one William H. McNamara ("Will" or "Bill" to the higher-ups, and "Wee Willie Wienie" to those under his thumb, except for Kara, who had declared it rude). No one - with the possible exception of Kara - ever regretted tuning Willie out, forgetting what he'd instructed them to do, or following his instructions ass-backwards. Nor were they ever afraid Willie would fire them. Willie was far too leery of ending up with someone worse to risk firing any of the evening-shift crew under his command.
"Well?" Willie demanded.
Josh offered him a faint, benign smile.
"The disturbance? In New Age?"
From where they were standing, Josh could see nothing but books. Tables and shelves and stacks and racks of books. Calendars too, of course. Diaries and journals and bookends and tote bags. But no disturbance. Nothing that could even be stretched into being described as a disturbance. He counted only half a dozen customers (average, for this late on a Tuesday), and all of them were browsing quietly, even Leroy, who occupied the big corner chair in the Koffee Nook every evening between 7:30 and closing time, reading aloud to himself at the highest volume the other customers would allow.
"Go," Willie said. "Check. It. Out."
A glance told Josh that Kara and Davey had what Willie referred to as the "Purchasing Center" well in hand, if you could call Kara's texting her boyfriend and Davey's stringing paper clips together having things well in hand. With a shrug and a nod Josh ambled out from behind the counter and headed off toward the New Age section, aware that Willie's Death Stare was burning a hole into the back of his neat khaki button-down.
He didn't expect to find anything out of the ordinary.
Didn't expect to find a pink-haired woman in a caftan and a guy in jeans and a fatigue jacket having a tug-of-war over a copy of 2012: The End Is Nigh!
"Help you folks with something?" Josh asked.
Both endcaps in New Age had been liberally stocked with "Doomsday is Coming in 2012!"-themed books, some hardback, some paperbound. That amounted to something like three hundred books. Half of them had been scattered across the floor; Josh saw that at the same moment that the fatigue-jacketed guy abruptly let go of The End Is Nigh!, sending the pink-haired woman stumbling backward until she collided with a display of Dr. Phil's latest how-to.
"FREAK!" she screamed, at a pitch that made Josh's ears ring.
"I'm a freak?" Fatigue Jacket said. "I'M a freak??"
If they'd been a mall location, Willie could have - and likely would have - summoned mall security by now. As it was, with the store occupying the anchor end of a strip shopping center composed largely of internationally-themed fast food joints, there was no one to summon other than the Green Hills P.D., whose response time on the best of days could not be called "impressive." You're on your own, dude, Josh thought, as a voice said "Dean?" from somewhere behind him.
The new arrival was a good eight inches taller than Josh. Outweighed him by maybe thirty pounds. The sheer bulk of the guy made Josh take a couple of steps backward, into the relative protection of the MOVIES MUSIC & MORE section, where he tried not to cower behind a life-sized cardboard standup of Justin Bieber.
"He's insane!" Pink Hair squealed, clutching her hard-won copy of The End Is Nigh! to her ample chest. "Do you see this? Do you? He's lost his mind!"
Fatigue Jacket - Dean - stood surrounded by heaps of books.
He looked reasonably calm.
"Dude," the big guy said to him. "The hell's going on?"
"Nothing," Dean replied.
The big guy took a long look at the strewn books, then sucked in a deep, massive breath. Seemed like he was counting to ten. Seemed like maybe that was something he'd had to do pretty often, maybe just today, maybe for the last couple of weeks. Shaking his head, he crouched down and scooped up a double handful of books, aiming to place them back on the endcap shelves. "I told you, man," he said quietly to Dean, "this isn't gonna go away. The closer we get to next December, the louder it's gonna get."
"It's bullshit, Sam."
"Do you READ your BIBLE?" Pink Hair demanded. "Are you AWARE of the WORD OF THE LORD?"
Sam looked up at Dean from his position near the floor. His expression seemed to say Zip it. Please? Don't say anything. I'm begging you.
"Ma'am?" Josh said. "If you'd like to take your selection up front, one of our sales associates will be happy to -"
She glared across the aisle at him. Willie, Josh figured, could take some Death Stare lessons from this woman. "Those who do not heed the Word of the Lord are doomed to suffer in brimstone and hellfire for all eternity," she announced.
"Already been there," Dean told her, then nodded toward Sam. "Him too. Know what? The Lord voted me back onto the island. Cram that in your cookies."
"Dean," Sam said.
Pink Hair stood gaping at them for a long moment, apparently unable to come up with an appropriate response. She settled for storming off toward the front of the store. Not toward the Purchasing Center, though; she aimed for the double glass doors that led out to the parking lot. She was a good ten yards past the doors when Willie went loping after her, waving his arms and shrieking, "Ma'am! MA'AM!"
The store fell silent after that, a soundlessness so deep that it made Josh long for the holiday Muzak they'd played during the weeks leading up to Christmas. He stood alongside the cardboard Justin half-watching Sam replace the hundreds of 2012 books - Dean standing nearby, scowling, arms clamped across his chest - until Willie returned to the store, bearing the copy of The End is Nigh! To Josh's great relief, Willie headed for the Purchasing Center, not New Age, and disappeared from sight beyond the racks of discounted books at the front of the store.
"You buy any of this?" Dean asked suddenly.
"I - what?"
"This 2012 baloney."
Rule 5 during Sales Associate Training had been Don't engage the customer in a negative way. Paint a positive face! "I suppose there are -"
Dean's left eyebrow shot up toward his hairline.
"Websites," Josh said. "I think, um, legitimate science has, um…"
Sam, finished with his tidying, climbed back to his feet, and once again Josh was boggled by the sheer size of the guy. He had to go a good six-five, and the thick soles of his boots added another inch or so. What I wouldn't give to watch this guy kick Willie's ass, he thought, and a broad grin broke out across his face.
"It's funny?" Dean said.
"No," Josh said. "Not - no."
"You watch people. Right? People come in here. You tell me why people figure the world exploding in a gigantic freaking ball of fire next December would be a good thing."
Sam said quietly, "Let's go, man. Let's just go."
Dean waved him off. "I'm asking an opinion from this" - he leaned in, squinting at Josh's nametag - "Josh. You got an average opinion, right, Josh? You got any clue why anybody would want the friggin' planet to fry? You want to know why? It's because they figure they're gonna end up in the lifeboat. Am I right?" Without waiting for Josh to reply, he babbled on, "Now, if it was up to you - if you were making up the rescue list, would you include that nutball in the muu muu? You wouldn't. Would you? I don't think you would. And I definitely would not. Although they keep telling me that every life's worth something. Everybody's worth saving. Everybody's somebody's grandma. Or some damn thing."
He seemed to run out of steam then. His expression collapsed, and he rested a hand against the edge of the endcap to support himself.
Happy Hour had gotten started a little early today, Josh figured. Had maybe coasted right on through dinnertime.
"All of it," Dean murmured, and he seemed to be addressing the books rather than either Josh or Sam. "All the shit we've been through, and they think the end of the world'd be a good thing."
"Come on," Sam coaxed. He rested a hand on Dean's arm. Dean looked at it like it was a curiosity, but he let it stay.
"We haven't done enough?" he asked Sam.
"I don't know, man."
"Then who does? Who gets to decide? Hell, we should just say 'screw it'. If they want to go up in flames anyway."
"I don't," Josh said.
Dean turned to look at him. He looked like a kid watching some stranger drive off with his puppy. He didn't look drunk, Josh realized; he just looked wrecked.
"I graduate next May," Josh went on. "World's my oyster. By next December - I don't know. Kind of hoping I have a decent job by then. Nicer apartment. And there's this girl in my old neighborhood. Never figured she'd be interested in me, but she sent me a text yesterday. Olivia. Her name's Olivia. I don't want to die next December. I've got plans."
"Good for you," Sam said.
"Good for all of us."
Dean shook his head. Stepped away from Sam's hand, and took a long look at the endcap, like he was considering undoing Sam's work and sending all the books flying across the aisle again.
"You in the service?" Josh asked. "D'you just come back from over there? You said 'all the shit you've been through' - nobody's showing you any appreciation, is that it? Because I get it, man. I'm all for you guys. You gave a lot. I appreciate that. I do."
Dean's head jerked, as if he intended to argue the point.
"If you want a book? Or something? It's on me. My treat," Josh said.
Slowly, Dean looked around the store. When his attention reached Sam, Sam said quietly, "I got what we needed. We're good."
And Dean said to Josh, "He says we're good."
"Coffee, then?" Josh offered. "It's good coffee. Get some coffee and a biscotti or something. On me."
Again, Dean shook his head. He headed off toward the front of the store without saying anything further, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket, head bowed low. Josh and Sam watched him go, then Sam turned his attention to the books he'd replaced on the shelves. "I don't think anything was damaged," he said. "My brother - we've just had a tough time lately. You know?"
"I get it," Josh told him.
"I hope so," Sam said.
Then he, too, walked away.
Josh watched him go - watched him stride down the wide aisle toward the front of the store, push the doors open with both hands. It made for a grand exit, to some degree.
Sam had been gone for a minute or two when Josh noticed a lone book still lying on the carpet, pushed up against the base of the shelving unit. Its cover said 2012 and Beyond.
That seemed to promise something other than a fireball.
For a moment, Josh considered running after the two men and offering them the book.
But he'd seen Sam sling an arm around Dean out in the parking lot.
He says we're good.
Maybe that was the truth.
Maybe it would have to be.
For all of us, Josh thought.
In the end, he simply returned the book to the shelf, pressed it into a neat line with the other books with the flat of his hand, and headed back toward the Purchasing Center to finish his four-hour shift.
* * * * *
He didn't expect to find a pink-haired woman in a caftan and a guy in jeans and a fatigue jacket having a tug-of-war over a copy of 2012: The End Is Nigh!
CHARACTERS: Sam, Dean, OCs
GENRE: Gen, outsider POV
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 2043 words
THE WHOLE POINT
By Carol Davis
"JOSH!!!!!"
Willie's shriek snapped Josh back from that warm, sun-splashed Hawaiian beach like an enormous rubber band.
Josh stood blinking at Willie's crimson, freckled face, thinking You're gonna give me whiplash with that shit, you dickweed, until Willie's expression prompted him to say, "What?"
"Do you not hear me? How do you not hear me, when I'm standing RIGHT HERE?"
"Sorry," Josh said.
He wasn't sorry. No one ever was, when it came to Instructions from the Mount issued by one William H. McNamara ("Will" or "Bill" to the higher-ups, and "Wee Willie Wienie" to those under his thumb, except for Kara, who had declared it rude). No one - with the possible exception of Kara - ever regretted tuning Willie out, forgetting what he'd instructed them to do, or following his instructions ass-backwards. Nor were they ever afraid Willie would fire them. Willie was far too leery of ending up with someone worse to risk firing any of the evening-shift crew under his command.
"Well?" Willie demanded.
Josh offered him a faint, benign smile.
"The disturbance? In New Age?"
From where they were standing, Josh could see nothing but books. Tables and shelves and stacks and racks of books. Calendars too, of course. Diaries and journals and bookends and tote bags. But no disturbance. Nothing that could even be stretched into being described as a disturbance. He counted only half a dozen customers (average, for this late on a Tuesday), and all of them were browsing quietly, even Leroy, who occupied the big corner chair in the Koffee Nook every evening between 7:30 and closing time, reading aloud to himself at the highest volume the other customers would allow.
"Go," Willie said. "Check. It. Out."
A glance told Josh that Kara and Davey had what Willie referred to as the "Purchasing Center" well in hand, if you could call Kara's texting her boyfriend and Davey's stringing paper clips together having things well in hand. With a shrug and a nod Josh ambled out from behind the counter and headed off toward the New Age section, aware that Willie's Death Stare was burning a hole into the back of his neat khaki button-down.
He didn't expect to find anything out of the ordinary.
Didn't expect to find a pink-haired woman in a caftan and a guy in jeans and a fatigue jacket having a tug-of-war over a copy of 2012: The End Is Nigh!
"Help you folks with something?" Josh asked.
Both endcaps in New Age had been liberally stocked with "Doomsday is Coming in 2012!"-themed books, some hardback, some paperbound. That amounted to something like three hundred books. Half of them had been scattered across the floor; Josh saw that at the same moment that the fatigue-jacketed guy abruptly let go of The End Is Nigh!, sending the pink-haired woman stumbling backward until she collided with a display of Dr. Phil's latest how-to.
"FREAK!" she screamed, at a pitch that made Josh's ears ring.
"I'm a freak?" Fatigue Jacket said. "I'M a freak??"
If they'd been a mall location, Willie could have - and likely would have - summoned mall security by now. As it was, with the store occupying the anchor end of a strip shopping center composed largely of internationally-themed fast food joints, there was no one to summon other than the Green Hills P.D., whose response time on the best of days could not be called "impressive." You're on your own, dude, Josh thought, as a voice said "Dean?" from somewhere behind him.
The new arrival was a good eight inches taller than Josh. Outweighed him by maybe thirty pounds. The sheer bulk of the guy made Josh take a couple of steps backward, into the relative protection of the MOVIES MUSIC & MORE section, where he tried not to cower behind a life-sized cardboard standup of Justin Bieber.
"He's insane!" Pink Hair squealed, clutching her hard-won copy of The End Is Nigh! to her ample chest. "Do you see this? Do you? He's lost his mind!"
Fatigue Jacket - Dean - stood surrounded by heaps of books.
He looked reasonably calm.
"Dude," the big guy said to him. "The hell's going on?"
"Nothing," Dean replied.
The big guy took a long look at the strewn books, then sucked in a deep, massive breath. Seemed like he was counting to ten. Seemed like maybe that was something he'd had to do pretty often, maybe just today, maybe for the last couple of weeks. Shaking his head, he crouched down and scooped up a double handful of books, aiming to place them back on the endcap shelves. "I told you, man," he said quietly to Dean, "this isn't gonna go away. The closer we get to next December, the louder it's gonna get."
"It's bullshit, Sam."
"Do you READ your BIBLE?" Pink Hair demanded. "Are you AWARE of the WORD OF THE LORD?"
Sam looked up at Dean from his position near the floor. His expression seemed to say Zip it. Please? Don't say anything. I'm begging you.
"Ma'am?" Josh said. "If you'd like to take your selection up front, one of our sales associates will be happy to -"
She glared across the aisle at him. Willie, Josh figured, could take some Death Stare lessons from this woman. "Those who do not heed the Word of the Lord are doomed to suffer in brimstone and hellfire for all eternity," she announced.
"Already been there," Dean told her, then nodded toward Sam. "Him too. Know what? The Lord voted me back onto the island. Cram that in your cookies."
"Dean," Sam said.
Pink Hair stood gaping at them for a long moment, apparently unable to come up with an appropriate response. She settled for storming off toward the front of the store. Not toward the Purchasing Center, though; she aimed for the double glass doors that led out to the parking lot. She was a good ten yards past the doors when Willie went loping after her, waving his arms and shrieking, "Ma'am! MA'AM!"
The store fell silent after that, a soundlessness so deep that it made Josh long for the holiday Muzak they'd played during the weeks leading up to Christmas. He stood alongside the cardboard Justin half-watching Sam replace the hundreds of 2012 books - Dean standing nearby, scowling, arms clamped across his chest - until Willie returned to the store, bearing the copy of The End is Nigh! To Josh's great relief, Willie headed for the Purchasing Center, not New Age, and disappeared from sight beyond the racks of discounted books at the front of the store.
"You buy any of this?" Dean asked suddenly.
"I - what?"
"This 2012 baloney."
Rule 5 during Sales Associate Training had been Don't engage the customer in a negative way. Paint a positive face! "I suppose there are -"
Dean's left eyebrow shot up toward his hairline.
"Websites," Josh said. "I think, um, legitimate science has, um…"
Sam, finished with his tidying, climbed back to his feet, and once again Josh was boggled by the sheer size of the guy. He had to go a good six-five, and the thick soles of his boots added another inch or so. What I wouldn't give to watch this guy kick Willie's ass, he thought, and a broad grin broke out across his face.
"It's funny?" Dean said.
"No," Josh said. "Not - no."
"You watch people. Right? People come in here. You tell me why people figure the world exploding in a gigantic freaking ball of fire next December would be a good thing."
Sam said quietly, "Let's go, man. Let's just go."
Dean waved him off. "I'm asking an opinion from this" - he leaned in, squinting at Josh's nametag - "Josh. You got an average opinion, right, Josh? You got any clue why anybody would want the friggin' planet to fry? You want to know why? It's because they figure they're gonna end up in the lifeboat. Am I right?" Without waiting for Josh to reply, he babbled on, "Now, if it was up to you - if you were making up the rescue list, would you include that nutball in the muu muu? You wouldn't. Would you? I don't think you would. And I definitely would not. Although they keep telling me that every life's worth something. Everybody's worth saving. Everybody's somebody's grandma. Or some damn thing."
He seemed to run out of steam then. His expression collapsed, and he rested a hand against the edge of the endcap to support himself.
Happy Hour had gotten started a little early today, Josh figured. Had maybe coasted right on through dinnertime.
"All of it," Dean murmured, and he seemed to be addressing the books rather than either Josh or Sam. "All the shit we've been through, and they think the end of the world'd be a good thing."
"Come on," Sam coaxed. He rested a hand on Dean's arm. Dean looked at it like it was a curiosity, but he let it stay.
"We haven't done enough?" he asked Sam.
"I don't know, man."
"Then who does? Who gets to decide? Hell, we should just say 'screw it'. If they want to go up in flames anyway."
"I don't," Josh said.
Dean turned to look at him. He looked like a kid watching some stranger drive off with his puppy. He didn't look drunk, Josh realized; he just looked wrecked.
"I graduate next May," Josh went on. "World's my oyster. By next December - I don't know. Kind of hoping I have a decent job by then. Nicer apartment. And there's this girl in my old neighborhood. Never figured she'd be interested in me, but she sent me a text yesterday. Olivia. Her name's Olivia. I don't want to die next December. I've got plans."
"Good for you," Sam said.
"Good for all of us."
Dean shook his head. Stepped away from Sam's hand, and took a long look at the endcap, like he was considering undoing Sam's work and sending all the books flying across the aisle again.
"You in the service?" Josh asked. "D'you just come back from over there? You said 'all the shit you've been through' - nobody's showing you any appreciation, is that it? Because I get it, man. I'm all for you guys. You gave a lot. I appreciate that. I do."
Dean's head jerked, as if he intended to argue the point.
"If you want a book? Or something? It's on me. My treat," Josh said.
Slowly, Dean looked around the store. When his attention reached Sam, Sam said quietly, "I got what we needed. We're good."
And Dean said to Josh, "He says we're good."
"Coffee, then?" Josh offered. "It's good coffee. Get some coffee and a biscotti or something. On me."
Again, Dean shook his head. He headed off toward the front of the store without saying anything further, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket, head bowed low. Josh and Sam watched him go, then Sam turned his attention to the books he'd replaced on the shelves. "I don't think anything was damaged," he said. "My brother - we've just had a tough time lately. You know?"
"I get it," Josh told him.
"I hope so," Sam said.
Then he, too, walked away.
Josh watched him go - watched him stride down the wide aisle toward the front of the store, push the doors open with both hands. It made for a grand exit, to some degree.
Sam had been gone for a minute or two when Josh noticed a lone book still lying on the carpet, pushed up against the base of the shelving unit. Its cover said 2012 and Beyond.
That seemed to promise something other than a fireball.
For a moment, Josh considered running after the two men and offering them the book.
But he'd seen Sam sling an arm around Dean out in the parking lot.
He says we're good.
Maybe that was the truth.
Maybe it would have to be.
For all of us, Josh thought.
In the end, he simply returned the book to the shelf, pressed it into a neat line with the other books with the flat of his hand, and headed back toward the Purchasing Center to finish his four-hour shift.
* * * * *