FIC: Of Terminators and Training Wheels- Chapter 20
(Here be Chapter One if you missed the beginning)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters or their atrocious 80's fashion sense…
CHAPTER 20-
"See you in Kiddie-Hell, Sammy!" Gordon shouted over the roar of the approaching motor.
Sam's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as Gordon pushed the baby walker off the curb and held it there waiting for just the right moment to send him rolling out into middle of the street. The Corvette was close enough now for Sam to catch sight of the driver- a pudgy middle aged man with frosted honey-blonde hair teased up to the roof of his car.
"Oh great," the panicked thought nearly overwhelmed Sam's senses, "Death by Bon Jovi wanna-be..."
Just as the toddler was wondering if it was possible to die from sheer indignation before the impact, a three and a half foot tall Garanimal clad wave of pure unfettered big brother rage came crashing over the fence and down on top of Gordon.
"Bastard!" Dean growled as he tackled the bigger boy to the concrete and yanked Sam back onto the curb and out of harm's way.
The Little Red Corvette zipped on down the road posing no more threat beyond the driver's terrible fashion sense. Sam clasped his little hands up to his mouth to stifle a squeal of utter delight as Dean straddled the stunned hunter pummeling him with his five year old fists of fury. He knew his brother would never let him hear the end of it if the words 'My Hero!' actually spilled from his lips.
"You!" Gordon gasped between punches, "How the Hell did you get loose?"
"Let's just say you won't be earning your Knot Tying Badge anytime soon, you weak ass Scout!" Dean seethed glaring down into the face of his enemy.
He drew back his fist ready to pound the older boy senseless, but Gordon let out a howl of pure hatred and grabbed Dean by the shoulders, head-butting him against his already bruised brow.
"Sonofabitch..." Dean panted seeing stars.
"Shit!" the toddler cursed as Gordon began to peel himself up off the sidewalk and stalk towards Dean once more.
Sam struggled to free himself from the harness. But the childproof latch proved too much for his tiny fingers to manage, leaving him a captive spectator as the older boys got to their feet and began circling each other. Although Gordon had several inches and at least 15 pounds on Dean, the younger opponent was not to be underestimated. Still, Sam could tell that his brother was weary and hurting. The fight could easily go either way and it was frustrating him to no end not to be able to help out. He wasn't used to sitting on the sidelines like a damsel in distress and he definitely wasn't used to being so small and defenseless that the others mostly ignored him. And yet, being practically invisible had its advantages he decided. As the oldest boy's attention was turned fully on Dean, the toddler quickly revved up his little feet Fred Flintstone style and charged forward.
"YABBA DABBA DOO, Asswipe!" he cried out, ramming the baby walker straight into the back of the Gordon's knees.
"OWW! Damn demonic imp!"
The Cub Scout grunted in pain, his legs buckling suddenly beneath him and Dean seized the opportunity to wrestle him to the ground once more.
"Yabba Dabba Doo?" Dean cocked an eyebrow at his brother while holding the struggling Gordon down.
"I watched cartoons too, you know." Sam shrugged.
"Well, nice work, Bam-Bam," Dean snorted as he pinned their enemy's arms behind his back, "And won't Daddy be proud when he gets home from hunting that werewolf? Looks like we caught us a little Wolf Cub ourselves."
The Cub Scout writhed and hissed as Dean whipped the neckerchief from his shoulders and began to use the cloth to bind his wrists together.
All at once there was a screech of tires and a stylish purple Mustang convertible came speeding around the corner. A sinister smirk crossed Gordon's lips and before Dean could finish tying his hands he rolled out from under the smaller boy and back towards Sam.
"Your Daddy's gonna come home to demon baby Roadkill!" he shouted kicking the baby walker off the curb and into the street.
"SAMMY! NO!" Dean cried out in horror unable to reach his brother in time.
"DEAN!" Sam screamed as he helplessly spun straight into the path of the oncoming car.
Sam couldn't decide if it was just an odd quirk of Time Travel or a cruel joke played by a capricious Universe. But as the Mustang came heading his way and his life began to flash before his eyes, he only got the first 14 months instead of the full 23 years. Not that it was all bad. There were plenty of sweet long forgotten images of Mom, tender moments with Dad, and highly entertaining games of Patty-Cake and Peek-A-Boo with Dean to highlight a blur of sleeping, eating, pooping, bouncing, cuddling with Pooh and waiting for that awesome talcum powder to hit his tush. Still, for a Stanford educated monster slayer to have his greatest achievement reduced to taking his first steps, the whole "This Was Your Life" flashback felt like the ultimate gyp.
He threw his arms across his face and waited for the collision… which never came. The driver of the Mustang calmly pulled over to the side of the road and rolled to a casual stop as if she had fully expected a baby walker carrying a small child to come flying out in front of her. Sam continued rolling from the momentum to the other side of the street where he hit the curb and zigzagged back and forth like a pinball before finally coming to rest with his wheels wedged in a drainage pipe at the end of the street. There he found himself stuck tight, but thankfully out of the path of any more traffic.
All three boys watched as a full figured African American woman in her mid-30's stepped out of the Mustang and crossed the street. She was sporting a Tina Turner lion's mane hairdo, Rubik's Cube earrings, hot pink stirrup pants, high-top sneakers, a Be-Dazzled Jeans Jacket and a 'Where's the Beef?' t-shirt. And yet she rocked this style as if she were strutting down a cat walk in Milan. After a quick glance towards Sam to see that he was safe and unharmed, she turned her attention to the older boys, pushing her sleeves up as she marched towards them.
Gordon sat up quickly, shoving Dean aside and staring up at the strange woman with a puppy-eyed look that would put Sam to shame.
"Lady!" he gasped out in an angelic voice full of innocence while pointing an accusing finger at Dean, "This mean little boy pushed his own brother into the street! I tried to stop him, but he knocked me down and was gonna tie me up and…"
"Shut that lying mouth of yours, Gordon Walker!" the woman shouted, grabbing the boy's wrist and nearly yanking his arm out of its socket as she jerked him to his feet.
"How… how do you know my name…?" Gordon asked stunned.
"I know things," the woman spat back, "And I can see straight into that evil little mixed up mind of yours, so don't you dare be trying to pull any more wool over these gorgeous eyes of mine!"
"Missouri!" both Winchesters said at once recognizing the 80's version of their psychic friend.
"What, so you're like some kind of Palm Reader or something?" Gordon trembled in the woman's grasp feeling a premonition of his own coming on.
"Good guess, Honey," Missouri growled out, her eyes flaring beneath a mound of glitter eye shadow, "'Cause my palm's about to do some reading on that little hiney of yours!"
Without another word she set to raining blow upon blow against Gordon Walker's rear end. The hunter yowled and wailed under the assault, his outraged curses soon dwindling to unintelligible whimpers and then hiccupping sobs. Dean watched in awe, almost feeling sympathy for his nemesis. As Gordon's cries grew more and more hysterical, the older Winchester wondered briefly if it was because his macho defense mechanisms were absent from his eight year old body. But then he decided that Missouri was beating him hard enough to make any grown man cry regardless of his true age. Not that Gordon's punishment wasn't richly deserved...but in witnessing the whole ordeal, Dean began to rethink his birthday wish of spankings at Hooters. His thoughts on the matter were soon interrupted by a small cry from further down the street.
"Uhh... little help here?" Sam grunted hanging halfway out of the baby walker's harness.
"Oh God, Sammy!" Dean gasped as the memory of how close he'd come to losing his brother came flooding back in a rush.
He hurried over and quickly freed the smaller boy from his bonds before gathering him up into his arms and holding him tight.
"Oh my God, Sam!" he said shakily, "I thought you were a goner for sure!"
"Same here," Sam exhaled, trembling as he wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and buried his face against his shoulder.
"Are you hurt?" Dean asked patting his brother all over even as he felt Sam shake his head 'no', "Are you sure? Really? You're sure you're ok?"
"Well..." Sam admitted, "I'm not exactly dry at the moment..."
"Huh?" Dean frowned in confusion.
And then his eyes grew wide with understanding and he dropped Sam to the ground like a hot potato.
"Oh, Dude!" he cried, "That's so wrong!"
"Dean Winchester!" Missouri was coming up behind him suddenly, popping her hand against the back of his head, "Dropping that baby! I oughta drop you! Now go get Sammy's spare diaper bag out of my car... and don't you cuss at me, boy!"
Dean rubbed at the back of his head sulking as he looked up at the woman. A quick glance at her face and then to the spot where Gordon lay curled in a sniveling ball told him not to say, or even think another defiant word.
He hurried across the street to the Mustang. Sure enough, there was a diaper bag waiting for him in the back seated snuggly between a baby's car seat and a booster chair meant for an older child. A long forgotten memory arose in Dean's mind at once. He remembered this car and the crazy haired woman who cared for him and Sam in times when their father was gone. Gathering up the diaper bag he noticed a torn page from a Transformers Coloring Book sitting in the booster chair. Optimus Prime was decorated in a haphazard series of crayon scribbles. Beneath the picture, written in a careful uncertain hand, were the words: "Dean Rools!" followed by the afterthought: "Samy too."
"Damn straight, kid," Dean whispered to the ghost of his younger self.
He shook himself out of his revelry and made his way back to see that Missouri had tied Gordon up against the open gate herself using his own neckerchief and belt and was now lifting Sam up off the sidewalk and resting him against her amble bosom.
"Oh my goodness, Sweetie," she chuckled, as she carried him back into the yard, "If only it were this easy to pick up a 20-something man when I go out club-hopping. My night life would be so much more entertaining!"
Sam's eyes snapped wide open as he exchanged a look with Dean over the woman's shoulder.
"So... you know that we're not really kids?" Sam furrowed his brows as Missouri set him down on the picnic table and took the diaper bag from Dean, "Then this is gonna be really awkward and..."
Ignoring his protests, the woman reached into the bag and pulled out a large bottle of talcum powder.
"Never mind!" Sam beamed clapping his hands with glee before he could stop himself.
"So you know what happened, right?" Dean asked as the psychic set to changing Sam's diaper, "That we're all actually from the future? 'Cause it would be all kinds of awesome not to have to explain this whole situation again."
"I have to admit, the signals Sam was sending me were very confusing at first," Missouri answered, "But I can read your minds well enough to know that the thoughts going around in those little heads of yours most definitely belong to three grown men. Otherwise, Dean Winchester, you'd find your little hiney getting the same introduction to my palm that fool Gordon Walker just got. I'd turn you over my knee on principle alone if my spankin' hand wasn't so sore... Honestly... Hooters Girls! You best thank your lucky stars I don't have a spoon handy."
Dean swallowed hard, instinctively covering his buttocks with his hands as he backed away slightly. His mood brightened as Missouri finished up with Sam and handed a very familiar small bundle out to him. This time he took it gladly... then immediately tossed it over his shoulder in the direction of the gate.
"Oh what the...!" came the outraged cry from their captive enemy.
Sam and Dean exchanged a pair of mischievious grins knowing that the diaper had landed right on Gordon's head.
"Way to stock pile the ammo, Sammy." Dean winked as Missouri helped the toddler sit back up.
"You boys are something else," the psychic shook her head at the Winchesters.
"So are you," Sam sighed, his tush now feeling as much relief as the rest of him, "Thank God you finally heard me calling to you."
"I heard you right from the beginning, Sam," Missouri informed him. "But I was clear across the state at a Psychic Convention. I left the instant I sensed my babies were in danger. Hoo, you boys have no idea how many speeding tickets I had to flirt my way out of along the way. But believe me, I got here as fast as I could. And not a minute too soon…"
She sat down at the picnic bench pulling Sam into her lap and drawing Dean beside her, squeezing them both tight as she surveyed the overturned kiddie pool and the evidence of all the violence that had taken place in the yard.
"Lady? You can see into the future?" Gordon sassed as he struggled against his bonds, "Then you know that precious baby of yours is gonna turn evil!"
"Don't you try to tell me what I know!" the psychic snapped, "I know there are dark forces surrounding both these boys and always will be. But I also know everyone on this green Earth has a choice in how they shape their destiny. You best watch yourself and the choices you make Gordon Walker! Trying to drown a baby? Shoving him into the street? Stealing a little girl's bike? That's a mighty slippery slope for a former Cub Scout! Now keep your damn mouth shut before you get my palm itching to do more reading on your rear!"
"Ya know. My palms are itchin' to do a little bitch slappin' themselves now that you mention it," Dean sneered, cracking his knuckles as he marched over towards Gordon.
"Missouri," Sam asked quietly, "Do you really think I have a choice when it comes to my destiny?"
Before the woman could answer there was a thunderous boom and a flash of lightning streaking from the sky. All heads turned to see an ominous blue glow forming directly in the center of the yard.
Missouri shook her head with a derisive snort.
"500 Psychics gathered at a Holiday Inn Conference Center and not a one of us saw this coming!"
Next Chapter
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters or their atrocious 80's fashion sense…
CHAPTER 20-
"See you in Kiddie-Hell, Sammy!" Gordon shouted over the roar of the approaching motor.
Sam's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as Gordon pushed the baby walker off the curb and held it there waiting for just the right moment to send him rolling out into middle of the street. The Corvette was close enough now for Sam to catch sight of the driver- a pudgy middle aged man with frosted honey-blonde hair teased up to the roof of his car.
"Oh great," the panicked thought nearly overwhelmed Sam's senses, "Death by Bon Jovi wanna-be..."
Just as the toddler was wondering if it was possible to die from sheer indignation before the impact, a three and a half foot tall Garanimal clad wave of pure unfettered big brother rage came crashing over the fence and down on top of Gordon.
"Bastard!" Dean growled as he tackled the bigger boy to the concrete and yanked Sam back onto the curb and out of harm's way.
The Little Red Corvette zipped on down the road posing no more threat beyond the driver's terrible fashion sense. Sam clasped his little hands up to his mouth to stifle a squeal of utter delight as Dean straddled the stunned hunter pummeling him with his five year old fists of fury. He knew his brother would never let him hear the end of it if the words 'My Hero!' actually spilled from his lips.
"You!" Gordon gasped between punches, "How the Hell did you get loose?"
"Let's just say you won't be earning your Knot Tying Badge anytime soon, you weak ass Scout!" Dean seethed glaring down into the face of his enemy.
He drew back his fist ready to pound the older boy senseless, but Gordon let out a howl of pure hatred and grabbed Dean by the shoulders, head-butting him against his already bruised brow.
"Sonofabitch..." Dean panted seeing stars.
"Shit!" the toddler cursed as Gordon began to peel himself up off the sidewalk and stalk towards Dean once more.
Sam struggled to free himself from the harness. But the childproof latch proved too much for his tiny fingers to manage, leaving him a captive spectator as the older boys got to their feet and began circling each other. Although Gordon had several inches and at least 15 pounds on Dean, the younger opponent was not to be underestimated. Still, Sam could tell that his brother was weary and hurting. The fight could easily go either way and it was frustrating him to no end not to be able to help out. He wasn't used to sitting on the sidelines like a damsel in distress and he definitely wasn't used to being so small and defenseless that the others mostly ignored him. And yet, being practically invisible had its advantages he decided. As the oldest boy's attention was turned fully on Dean, the toddler quickly revved up his little feet Fred Flintstone style and charged forward.
"YABBA DABBA DOO, Asswipe!" he cried out, ramming the baby walker straight into the back of the Gordon's knees.
"OWW! Damn demonic imp!"
The Cub Scout grunted in pain, his legs buckling suddenly beneath him and Dean seized the opportunity to wrestle him to the ground once more.
"Yabba Dabba Doo?" Dean cocked an eyebrow at his brother while holding the struggling Gordon down.
"I watched cartoons too, you know." Sam shrugged.
"Well, nice work, Bam-Bam," Dean snorted as he pinned their enemy's arms behind his back, "And won't Daddy be proud when he gets home from hunting that werewolf? Looks like we caught us a little Wolf Cub ourselves."
The Cub Scout writhed and hissed as Dean whipped the neckerchief from his shoulders and began to use the cloth to bind his wrists together.
All at once there was a screech of tires and a stylish purple Mustang convertible came speeding around the corner. A sinister smirk crossed Gordon's lips and before Dean could finish tying his hands he rolled out from under the smaller boy and back towards Sam.
"Your Daddy's gonna come home to demon baby Roadkill!" he shouted kicking the baby walker off the curb and into the street.
"SAMMY! NO!" Dean cried out in horror unable to reach his brother in time.
"DEAN!" Sam screamed as he helplessly spun straight into the path of the oncoming car.
Sam couldn't decide if it was just an odd quirk of Time Travel or a cruel joke played by a capricious Universe. But as the Mustang came heading his way and his life began to flash before his eyes, he only got the first 14 months instead of the full 23 years. Not that it was all bad. There were plenty of sweet long forgotten images of Mom, tender moments with Dad, and highly entertaining games of Patty-Cake and Peek-A-Boo with Dean to highlight a blur of sleeping, eating, pooping, bouncing, cuddling with Pooh and waiting for that awesome talcum powder to hit his tush. Still, for a Stanford educated monster slayer to have his greatest achievement reduced to taking his first steps, the whole "This Was Your Life" flashback felt like the ultimate gyp.
He threw his arms across his face and waited for the collision… which never came. The driver of the Mustang calmly pulled over to the side of the road and rolled to a casual stop as if she had fully expected a baby walker carrying a small child to come flying out in front of her. Sam continued rolling from the momentum to the other side of the street where he hit the curb and zigzagged back and forth like a pinball before finally coming to rest with his wheels wedged in a drainage pipe at the end of the street. There he found himself stuck tight, but thankfully out of the path of any more traffic.
All three boys watched as a full figured African American woman in her mid-30's stepped out of the Mustang and crossed the street. She was sporting a Tina Turner lion's mane hairdo, Rubik's Cube earrings, hot pink stirrup pants, high-top sneakers, a Be-Dazzled Jeans Jacket and a 'Where's the Beef?' t-shirt. And yet she rocked this style as if she were strutting down a cat walk in Milan. After a quick glance towards Sam to see that he was safe and unharmed, she turned her attention to the older boys, pushing her sleeves up as she marched towards them.
Gordon sat up quickly, shoving Dean aside and staring up at the strange woman with a puppy-eyed look that would put Sam to shame.
"Lady!" he gasped out in an angelic voice full of innocence while pointing an accusing finger at Dean, "This mean little boy pushed his own brother into the street! I tried to stop him, but he knocked me down and was gonna tie me up and…"
"Shut that lying mouth of yours, Gordon Walker!" the woman shouted, grabbing the boy's wrist and nearly yanking his arm out of its socket as she jerked him to his feet.
"How… how do you know my name…?" Gordon asked stunned.
"I know things," the woman spat back, "And I can see straight into that evil little mixed up mind of yours, so don't you dare be trying to pull any more wool over these gorgeous eyes of mine!"
"Missouri!" both Winchesters said at once recognizing the 80's version of their psychic friend.
"What, so you're like some kind of Palm Reader or something?" Gordon trembled in the woman's grasp feeling a premonition of his own coming on.
"Good guess, Honey," Missouri growled out, her eyes flaring beneath a mound of glitter eye shadow, "'Cause my palm's about to do some reading on that little hiney of yours!"
Without another word she set to raining blow upon blow against Gordon Walker's rear end. The hunter yowled and wailed under the assault, his outraged curses soon dwindling to unintelligible whimpers and then hiccupping sobs. Dean watched in awe, almost feeling sympathy for his nemesis. As Gordon's cries grew more and more hysterical, the older Winchester wondered briefly if it was because his macho defense mechanisms were absent from his eight year old body. But then he decided that Missouri was beating him hard enough to make any grown man cry regardless of his true age. Not that Gordon's punishment wasn't richly deserved...but in witnessing the whole ordeal, Dean began to rethink his birthday wish of spankings at Hooters. His thoughts on the matter were soon interrupted by a small cry from further down the street.
"Uhh... little help here?" Sam grunted hanging halfway out of the baby walker's harness.
"Oh God, Sammy!" Dean gasped as the memory of how close he'd come to losing his brother came flooding back in a rush.
He hurried over and quickly freed the smaller boy from his bonds before gathering him up into his arms and holding him tight.
"Oh my God, Sam!" he said shakily, "I thought you were a goner for sure!"
"Same here," Sam exhaled, trembling as he wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and buried his face against his shoulder.
"Are you hurt?" Dean asked patting his brother all over even as he felt Sam shake his head 'no', "Are you sure? Really? You're sure you're ok?"
"Well..." Sam admitted, "I'm not exactly dry at the moment..."
"Huh?" Dean frowned in confusion.
And then his eyes grew wide with understanding and he dropped Sam to the ground like a hot potato.
"Oh, Dude!" he cried, "That's so wrong!"
"Dean Winchester!" Missouri was coming up behind him suddenly, popping her hand against the back of his head, "Dropping that baby! I oughta drop you! Now go get Sammy's spare diaper bag out of my car... and don't you cuss at me, boy!"
Dean rubbed at the back of his head sulking as he looked up at the woman. A quick glance at her face and then to the spot where Gordon lay curled in a sniveling ball told him not to say, or even think another defiant word.
He hurried across the street to the Mustang. Sure enough, there was a diaper bag waiting for him in the back seated snuggly between a baby's car seat and a booster chair meant for an older child. A long forgotten memory arose in Dean's mind at once. He remembered this car and the crazy haired woman who cared for him and Sam in times when their father was gone. Gathering up the diaper bag he noticed a torn page from a Transformers Coloring Book sitting in the booster chair. Optimus Prime was decorated in a haphazard series of crayon scribbles. Beneath the picture, written in a careful uncertain hand, were the words: "Dean Rools!" followed by the afterthought: "Samy too."
"Damn straight, kid," Dean whispered to the ghost of his younger self.
He shook himself out of his revelry and made his way back to see that Missouri had tied Gordon up against the open gate herself using his own neckerchief and belt and was now lifting Sam up off the sidewalk and resting him against her amble bosom.
"Oh my goodness, Sweetie," she chuckled, as she carried him back into the yard, "If only it were this easy to pick up a 20-something man when I go out club-hopping. My night life would be so much more entertaining!"
Sam's eyes snapped wide open as he exchanged a look with Dean over the woman's shoulder.
"So... you know that we're not really kids?" Sam furrowed his brows as Missouri set him down on the picnic table and took the diaper bag from Dean, "Then this is gonna be really awkward and..."
Ignoring his protests, the woman reached into the bag and pulled out a large bottle of talcum powder.
"Never mind!" Sam beamed clapping his hands with glee before he could stop himself.
"So you know what happened, right?" Dean asked as the psychic set to changing Sam's diaper, "That we're all actually from the future? 'Cause it would be all kinds of awesome not to have to explain this whole situation again."
"I have to admit, the signals Sam was sending me were very confusing at first," Missouri answered, "But I can read your minds well enough to know that the thoughts going around in those little heads of yours most definitely belong to three grown men. Otherwise, Dean Winchester, you'd find your little hiney getting the same introduction to my palm that fool Gordon Walker just got. I'd turn you over my knee on principle alone if my spankin' hand wasn't so sore... Honestly... Hooters Girls! You best thank your lucky stars I don't have a spoon handy."
Dean swallowed hard, instinctively covering his buttocks with his hands as he backed away slightly. His mood brightened as Missouri finished up with Sam and handed a very familiar small bundle out to him. This time he took it gladly... then immediately tossed it over his shoulder in the direction of the gate.
"Oh what the...!" came the outraged cry from their captive enemy.
Sam and Dean exchanged a pair of mischievious grins knowing that the diaper had landed right on Gordon's head.
"Way to stock pile the ammo, Sammy." Dean winked as Missouri helped the toddler sit back up.
"You boys are something else," the psychic shook her head at the Winchesters.
"So are you," Sam sighed, his tush now feeling as much relief as the rest of him, "Thank God you finally heard me calling to you."
"I heard you right from the beginning, Sam," Missouri informed him. "But I was clear across the state at a Psychic Convention. I left the instant I sensed my babies were in danger. Hoo, you boys have no idea how many speeding tickets I had to flirt my way out of along the way. But believe me, I got here as fast as I could. And not a minute too soon…"
She sat down at the picnic bench pulling Sam into her lap and drawing Dean beside her, squeezing them both tight as she surveyed the overturned kiddie pool and the evidence of all the violence that had taken place in the yard.
"Lady? You can see into the future?" Gordon sassed as he struggled against his bonds, "Then you know that precious baby of yours is gonna turn evil!"
"Don't you try to tell me what I know!" the psychic snapped, "I know there are dark forces surrounding both these boys and always will be. But I also know everyone on this green Earth has a choice in how they shape their destiny. You best watch yourself and the choices you make Gordon Walker! Trying to drown a baby? Shoving him into the street? Stealing a little girl's bike? That's a mighty slippery slope for a former Cub Scout! Now keep your damn mouth shut before you get my palm itching to do more reading on your rear!"
"Ya know. My palms are itchin' to do a little bitch slappin' themselves now that you mention it," Dean sneered, cracking his knuckles as he marched over towards Gordon.
"Missouri," Sam asked quietly, "Do you really think I have a choice when it comes to my destiny?"
Before the woman could answer there was a thunderous boom and a flash of lightning streaking from the sky. All heads turned to see an ominous blue glow forming directly in the center of the yard.
Missouri shook her head with a derisive snort.
"500 Psychics gathered at a Holiday Inn Conference Center and not a one of us saw this coming!"
Next Chapter