Dean & Chewie’s Most Excellent Adventure
TITLE: Dean & Chewie’s Most Excellent Adventure
AUTHOR: adrenalineshots & jackfan2
CHARACTERS: Dean, Sam, Bobby
GENRE: Crack, Parody
WARNING: None, except for some silliness, none.
RATING: G
SUMMARY: When Sam angers a witch, the consequences prove to be… hairy. Now, Dean is obsessing over Star Wars, Bobby’s wondering which one’s the bigger idjit and Sam growls... a lot
AUTHOR’S NOTES: In response to a challenge at SPNWRITERLOUNGE over at LJ wherein members were to write something completely different than what they’d normally write, something outside your comfort zone. I missed the last challenge and wasn’t feeling this one ‘til my good friend adrenalineshots, whom I’m honored to beta for, asked me to co-write this one with her.
Writing CRACK is as far from my ZONE as I could get (slash and wincest not withstanding, neither of which I will write. Ever). So, here you go. I plead insanity. And an equally insane friend in adrenalineshots *ruffles her hair* Dude, I never would’ve done this (or likely anything I’m currently working on now) if not for your input and encouragement lately.
Never wrote crack before so um... kinda nervous… If it makes you laugh, then our work is done :D
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Pass me the socket wrench, will ya?”
“Urrgh wrgh arrwh”
“What do you mean it’s gone? It was right there in the tool b-”
The silence lasts long enough for Dean to look up from his ministrations on the Impala's suffering engine in to his brother's face. It was right there 'the look', the one that says 'you're a moron'.
“Oh... that's right... the tool box got left behind, in that place where the thing, with the bitch who did the th-”
“Ahwwgghhh! Whrruugh.”
“That’s ok, Sam... we can get a new box once we get to Bobby’s... assuming that the car will run long enough to get us there...”
“Grrrh uhhgth”
“Yeah, I known it sucks, but think about it... at least you’re not furry!”
“Arggh!”
“OK! Ok... you’re a little furry. Gezz, relax or something... I’m sure Bobby will figur-”
“Grrruugh arrwwh rruuugh”
“What was that? I should shove what where? This was not my fault, you know? You keep that up and I'm stopping at the vet to get you neutered.”
Pissy silence is his only answer. It's as clear as the grunts have been so far.
“You should be damn well thankful that at least I can understand you!”
Dean pauses. A slow smirk creeping up one side of his face, eyes sparkling like those of a kid who’s been told Christmas was moved ahead to tomorrow. “Hey, we're like Star Wars characters! You know, the hero -tha’d be me- and his trusty sidekick, and the hero's the only one who can understand what the furry beast is saying...”
Dean waits for Sam to comment, when he doesn’t, he moves to fill in what he assumes is Sam’s lack of knowledge in the area of Pop Culture. “You know, it's like I’m Han Solo and you’re Che-”
“ARGHH!”
“Alright, princess. I won’t say it... but you know that's what people will think anyway.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You shot him!"
Bobby raises his head long enough to send a withering look in Dean's direction. "Well, ya could've been a lil' more specific on the phone... 'sides, it's just a graze, barely any damaged at all. The fur though...”
"But... but... you shot him!"
"Oh! Quit you're whining! I get here to find a giant furry beast standing by the car and you walking outta woods with ya' pants down... I just reacted, you idjit!" Bobby reaches a hand down and takes Sam's furry... paw. Dean takes his brother's other arm and together they help him stand.
"Grrawr"
The sound is almost too soft to hear. Bobby leans in, sure he heard wrong, ‘coz those sure weren't words!
"Can't talk either, can ya?" Bobby says, a scowling look that packs enough force to send a human Dean and a... a... furry Sam, running with their tails between their legs. Damn! Right now, Sam probably even has a tail too...
Frustrated, Sam's hands are jammed in his pockets, his shoulders high, neck hunched, eyes now downcast. Dean just stands there, looking a weird cross between guilty and too damn amused for his own good.
"This I might expect from Dean," Bobby barks, effectively wiping the amused part from Dean's face, "but you... you should know better Sam! Goddammit! How t'hell did you figured it would be a good idea to go ruffle some witch's feathers?"
Sam's mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out. Dean doesn't seem more incline to answer either.
"Idjits .. you're both turnin' into idjits," Bobby mumbles, turning his back on them to hook the Impala to his tow-truck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Arrrhuugh ggrrrhwwh rrgguhhft?"
Bobby's face is as clueless as the wise, old hunter's face could ever get.
"He’s asking if you're sure about this," Dean translates, mumbling around the cheeseburger they'd stopped to eat. Talking around the mouth full of food, his speech wasn't much better than his brother's.
Bobby ran a hand through his beard. Only the Winchesters. "Yea, I'm sure. We found the curse bag, we burned the curse bag and nothing happened, so..."
"But how the hell are we gonna burn the pot, the same pot the potion was made in, and stop Sam's curse, BEFORE she actually curses him and Sam is turned in to Che-OW!"
The innocent look that Sam plasters on his face almost sells the fact that he did not just viciously slap one paw against the back of his brother’s neck, sending him and his unfinished burger to the ground.
"My burger..." Dean whines, looking desperately at the now dust covered, greasy meal.
"I can help you," a solemn voice interrupts.
"You can fix my burger?" Dean says, hope surging in his eyes.
The look that the angel, the hunter and the furry one send him are, oddly enough, very similar.
Castiel walks up to the group, "I can send you both back to the time before the curse is cast. Then you can find and destroy the witch's pot."
Dean's snicker is barely contained before it erupts in to a fit of laughter. "Witch's... pot..." he managed to wheeze out between gasps.
Castiel tilts his head to one side. The different angle to his brain did not help matters. "I do not understand."
Bobby purses his lips. Despite knowing perfectly well what was going through that boy's head, Bobby wasn't touching that one, not even with a ten feet pole. From the eye-roll that furry-Sam had just thrown, he was right up there with Bobby.
"Pot, Cas!" Dean tries to explain as soon as he can form a sentence. "It... well, it makes you all... loopy."
"Loopy?" Brow furrowed, Cas fixes his eyes on Dean as if trying to imagine him in just such a situation. "Is this a painful condition?"
Dean shakes his head emphatically. "No, it just makes you act silly. Oh, and it really gives ya a wicked case of the munchies."
"Munchies?"
"Pot munchies!" Dean says then dissolves into another fit of giggles. Finally calming, he opens his mouth to comment further-
"GRRWWWWOOOOORRORLLLLLLLL!!!!"
Dean's mouth snaps shut. He glances at Sam. "Yeah, yeah, you're right..." Then, turning a disapproving glance at Castiel, he adds," Can we have this little drug education class later?"
Castiel, being the angel of the Lord that he is, doesn't dignify Dean with an answer. Placing two fingers on Dean's forehead and two on Sam's, he silently sends the boys back, an hour before Sam was cursed, to the witch's house.
"Finally," Bobby sighs, "some peace and quiet."
"Like all good things..." Castiel turns a glum look to the remaining hunter, "it will not last."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The suburbs are a scary place to find yourself in when you're traveling on the angel-express. Dean blinks and slowly backs away from the ginormous fish-mailbox in front of him. If he remembers correctly, the witch’s house is just around the corner.
When they come to the witch's house, Dean places a hand on the door knob then pauses, his face wrinkling in disgust. "Shit, Sam... maybe you ought’a wait outside for a bit while I go take care of this."
Sam tilts his head to one side, the question obvious in his furry face.
"Dude!" Looking in disbelief at his brother, Dean waves a hand in front of his face, disgusted with the lack of results. "You can't smell yourself? You stink like a skunk -no, wait- you smell like a skunk’s ASS! Man, she may not hear us get in, but she'll definitely smell you coming from a mile away!"
What Sam’s face does is not so much as the usual annoyed furrowing of brows, but more like a convention of fur in the space between his eyes. Dean realizes one thing quickly: a pissed Sam-face, covered in thick brown fur, is the scariest damn thing he's seen in a very long time. And that's saying a lot.
Hiding his fearful recoil, Dean pastes on a look of indifference, shrugs and turns again to the door. "Just saying..." he mutters.
As the door opens, the kitchen's smells wash over them in a putrid wave of something foul. This time the recoil is impossible to suppress.
"I take that back..." Dean fans at the air again, dry gagging his way in. "Whatever that bitch's cooking in here... smells way worse than you."
Sam stays at the doorway, a little reluctant to enter, though his eyes rove the room, searching. Dean moves over to the stove, lifting lids, searching for the right pot. Would it be too much to ask for a little bit of cliché-ness and just have the damn thing sitting in the center of a fire pit in the middle of the room?
"Huh.." Dean starts as he sniffs the contents. "Weird... from over there this stuff smells like cow turds baking in the sun - or maybe that's just you - but close up? Smells kind of great!"
Dean's stomach growls audibly, the sound rolling like a pre-historical beast ready to charge. Grabbing a spoon off the counter, he scoops some of the contents and lifts it to his nose, eyes as hungry as his stomach, "Dude, you gotta smell this! Seriously!"
Sam's attention, however, is focused on something else; the simple clay pot just sitting there on the middle of a table. The drawing etched on it is ancient and he recognizes it from research- it's a witch's binding sigil.
That has to be the one!
As Sam picks it up, the sound coming from the distant TV set distracts him from alerting Dean of his findings. He knows that music, knows the show to which the opening credits belongs... it's been so long since he had a chance to see it...
Charmed was playing on TV and Sam immediately recognizes the episode. It’s the one where the pig, the snake and the rabbit are all turned in to guys. Sam can't help but snicker. How fitting, he thinks, even as one side of his mouth tips in a distorted furry grin and he starts grunting the words quietly, knowing the dialogue by heart.
Dean's cursing -quiet as it is- and the sound of something hitting the floor -not so quietly- disrupts Sam's trip down memory lane. He turns around to find Dean with a finger buried in his mouth, face twisting in pain.
"Sonafa..." Dean curses quietly around the mouthful of finger. With a pop he removes it and examines the angry red skin as if it were a rare species. "Shit's hot..." he mutters with the good grace to look chagrined.
When Sam stalks angrily toward him, Dean backs up a step, "What?!" He whispers loudly - coz shit! Sam makes one hell of a scary Wookie, "What? Dude, I was hungry!"
Sam opens his mouth to say.. er.. growl something when...
"YOU!" A shrill voice cuts across the kitchen.
Dean looks around his ginormously furry brother and Sam twists to see; the witch is standing at the entrance, one accusing finger leveling at them. Her wrinkled face is blotchy red with rage.
"Grrwooowl lerrrg."
"Couldn't've said it better myself Sammy," Dean says nudging Sam toward the door. Eyeing the witch then the burning stove he offers, "Sorry to eat and run, I mean REALLY sorry -coz that's some good chow- but we gotta-"
The witch seems to grow in size, or maybe the kitchen is shrinking and starts chasing them, either way she's moving way quicker than a gnarled old woman should be able to move.
Not wanting to waste the whole time-travel thing without destroying at least something, Dean throws a chair at the stove. The crash of pots, wood and fire is huge; it should make enough of a mess to keep the witch busy for awhile. Also, she might need to call in the firemen.
"Crap!" Dean spins when he sees the flames erupt and shoves Sam through the door. "C'mon! Les'go!"
Sam knows she's yelling something but whatever it is, the words aren't Latin, aren't English, aren't anything he understands. And then the world just twists and turns and he never gets the chance to figure out just what the hell she was yelling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam looks at Bobby and grasps the tiny pot in his hands tighter. He landed on his butt and that kind of hurt his feelings.
Bobby returns his gaze wordlessly. "Well, you're a sight for sore eyes," he says with a grin.
"Shit Bobby," Sam hears the sound of his own voice, but he has to be certain. "Am I back to normal?" He asks, dropping the pot to run one shaking hand over his face. There's some stubble there, he thinks, but fur?
Bobby ponders the question long enough to send Sam's heart on a mad race. "Well, you're still a giant," Bobby finally says with a chuckle, moving toward him, "but other than that mop you call hair, you're fur-free."
As the words 'fur-free' hit the air, Dean -who had been suspiciously quiet thus far- makes a mad dash to the Impala.
"Dean?" Castiel's voice, careful and questioning, draws both men to turn. The angel is standing a few feet from the eldest Winchester, looking as puzzled as a pigeon on crack.
"Dean?" Sam joins in, seeing nothing but his brother's ass, for all intents and purposes, sticking out from the car's back seat, wiggling in the air. "Are you ok?"
Wouldn't that just be a bitch if Dean were now cursed by whatever chant that old crone was screaming at them as they left? And that would be the Winchester luck too, so Sam's more worried now than ever.
The mumbled, angry sounds that emit from the car are impossible to classify as English.
Bobby and Sam share a confused look. Sam's brows dances above his eyes before quickly going up in sudden realization, "Shit!"
"What?" Bobby is beyond baffled. "Sam...?"
"I... she... the witch, when we were leaving... and Dean ate-" Sam slaps a hand to his forehead. "Oh crap, he ate from the pot!"
"The witch's pot?"
Sam doesn't even answer, quickly moving to his brother, fearful of what he'll discover when he sees Dean’s face, but needing to know just the same.
Suddenly Dean's head jerks up, eyes snapping with anger. He thrusts a hand-full of brown fur at Sam's face making him flinch back.
"SAM, YOU... APE! YOU SHED ALL OVER MY FRIGGIN’ CAR, MAN!"
*~The end~*
AUTHOR: adrenalineshots & jackfan2
CHARACTERS: Dean, Sam, Bobby
GENRE: Crack, Parody
WARNING: None, except for some silliness, none.
RATING: G
SUMMARY: When Sam angers a witch, the consequences prove to be… hairy. Now, Dean is obsessing over Star Wars, Bobby’s wondering which one’s the bigger idjit and Sam growls... a lot
AUTHOR’S NOTES: In response to a challenge at SPNWRITERLOUNGE over at LJ wherein members were to write something completely different than what they’d normally write, something outside your comfort zone. I missed the last challenge and wasn’t feeling this one ‘til my good friend adrenalineshots, whom I’m honored to beta for, asked me to co-write this one with her.
Writing CRACK is as far from my ZONE as I could get (slash and wincest not withstanding, neither of which I will write. Ever). So, here you go. I plead insanity. And an equally insane friend in adrenalineshots *ruffles her hair* Dude, I never would’ve done this (or likely anything I’m currently working on now) if not for your input and encouragement lately.
Never wrote crack before so um... kinda nervous… If it makes you laugh, then our work is done :D
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Pass me the socket wrench, will ya?”
“Urrgh wrgh arrwh”
“What do you mean it’s gone? It was right there in the tool b-”
The silence lasts long enough for Dean to look up from his ministrations on the Impala's suffering engine in to his brother's face. It was right there 'the look', the one that says 'you're a moron'.
“Oh... that's right... the tool box got left behind, in that place where the thing, with the bitch who did the th-”
“Ahwwgghhh! Whrruugh.”
“That’s ok, Sam... we can get a new box once we get to Bobby’s... assuming that the car will run long enough to get us there...”
“Grrrh uhhgth”
“Yeah, I known it sucks, but think about it... at least you’re not furry!”
“Arggh!”
“OK! Ok... you’re a little furry. Gezz, relax or something... I’m sure Bobby will figur-”
“Grrruugh arrwwh rruuugh”
“What was that? I should shove what where? This was not my fault, you know? You keep that up and I'm stopping at the vet to get you neutered.”
Pissy silence is his only answer. It's as clear as the grunts have been so far.
“You should be damn well thankful that at least I can understand you!”
Dean pauses. A slow smirk creeping up one side of his face, eyes sparkling like those of a kid who’s been told Christmas was moved ahead to tomorrow. “Hey, we're like Star Wars characters! You know, the hero -tha’d be me- and his trusty sidekick, and the hero's the only one who can understand what the furry beast is saying...”
Dean waits for Sam to comment, when he doesn’t, he moves to fill in what he assumes is Sam’s lack of knowledge in the area of Pop Culture. “You know, it's like I’m Han Solo and you’re Che-”
“ARGHH!”
“Alright, princess. I won’t say it... but you know that's what people will think anyway.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You shot him!"
Bobby raises his head long enough to send a withering look in Dean's direction. "Well, ya could've been a lil' more specific on the phone... 'sides, it's just a graze, barely any damaged at all. The fur though...”
"But... but... you shot him!"
"Oh! Quit you're whining! I get here to find a giant furry beast standing by the car and you walking outta woods with ya' pants down... I just reacted, you idjit!" Bobby reaches a hand down and takes Sam's furry... paw. Dean takes his brother's other arm and together they help him stand.
"Grrawr"
The sound is almost too soft to hear. Bobby leans in, sure he heard wrong, ‘coz those sure weren't words!
"Can't talk either, can ya?" Bobby says, a scowling look that packs enough force to send a human Dean and a... a... furry Sam, running with their tails between their legs. Damn! Right now, Sam probably even has a tail too...
Frustrated, Sam's hands are jammed in his pockets, his shoulders high, neck hunched, eyes now downcast. Dean just stands there, looking a weird cross between guilty and too damn amused for his own good.
"This I might expect from Dean," Bobby barks, effectively wiping the amused part from Dean's face, "but you... you should know better Sam! Goddammit! How t'hell did you figured it would be a good idea to go ruffle some witch's feathers?"
Sam's mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out. Dean doesn't seem more incline to answer either.
"Idjits .. you're both turnin' into idjits," Bobby mumbles, turning his back on them to hook the Impala to his tow-truck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Arrrhuugh ggrrrhwwh rrgguhhft?"
Bobby's face is as clueless as the wise, old hunter's face could ever get.
"He’s asking if you're sure about this," Dean translates, mumbling around the cheeseburger they'd stopped to eat. Talking around the mouth full of food, his speech wasn't much better than his brother's.
Bobby ran a hand through his beard. Only the Winchesters. "Yea, I'm sure. We found the curse bag, we burned the curse bag and nothing happened, so..."
"But how the hell are we gonna burn the pot, the same pot the potion was made in, and stop Sam's curse, BEFORE she actually curses him and Sam is turned in to Che-OW!"
The innocent look that Sam plasters on his face almost sells the fact that he did not just viciously slap one paw against the back of his brother’s neck, sending him and his unfinished burger to the ground.
"My burger..." Dean whines, looking desperately at the now dust covered, greasy meal.
"I can help you," a solemn voice interrupts.
"You can fix my burger?" Dean says, hope surging in his eyes.
The look that the angel, the hunter and the furry one send him are, oddly enough, very similar.
Castiel walks up to the group, "I can send you both back to the time before the curse is cast. Then you can find and destroy the witch's pot."
Dean's snicker is barely contained before it erupts in to a fit of laughter. "Witch's... pot..." he managed to wheeze out between gasps.
Castiel tilts his head to one side. The different angle to his brain did not help matters. "I do not understand."
Bobby purses his lips. Despite knowing perfectly well what was going through that boy's head, Bobby wasn't touching that one, not even with a ten feet pole. From the eye-roll that furry-Sam had just thrown, he was right up there with Bobby.
"Pot, Cas!" Dean tries to explain as soon as he can form a sentence. "It... well, it makes you all... loopy."
"Loopy?" Brow furrowed, Cas fixes his eyes on Dean as if trying to imagine him in just such a situation. "Is this a painful condition?"
Dean shakes his head emphatically. "No, it just makes you act silly. Oh, and it really gives ya a wicked case of the munchies."
"Munchies?"
"Pot munchies!" Dean says then dissolves into another fit of giggles. Finally calming, he opens his mouth to comment further-
"GRRWWWWOOOOORRORLLLLLLLL!!!!"
Dean's mouth snaps shut. He glances at Sam. "Yeah, yeah, you're right..." Then, turning a disapproving glance at Castiel, he adds," Can we have this little drug education class later?"
Castiel, being the angel of the Lord that he is, doesn't dignify Dean with an answer. Placing two fingers on Dean's forehead and two on Sam's, he silently sends the boys back, an hour before Sam was cursed, to the witch's house.
"Finally," Bobby sighs, "some peace and quiet."
"Like all good things..." Castiel turns a glum look to the remaining hunter, "it will not last."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The suburbs are a scary place to find yourself in when you're traveling on the angel-express. Dean blinks and slowly backs away from the ginormous fish-mailbox in front of him. If he remembers correctly, the witch’s house is just around the corner.
When they come to the witch's house, Dean places a hand on the door knob then pauses, his face wrinkling in disgust. "Shit, Sam... maybe you ought’a wait outside for a bit while I go take care of this."
Sam tilts his head to one side, the question obvious in his furry face.
"Dude!" Looking in disbelief at his brother, Dean waves a hand in front of his face, disgusted with the lack of results. "You can't smell yourself? You stink like a skunk -no, wait- you smell like a skunk’s ASS! Man, she may not hear us get in, but she'll definitely smell you coming from a mile away!"
What Sam’s face does is not so much as the usual annoyed furrowing of brows, but more like a convention of fur in the space between his eyes. Dean realizes one thing quickly: a pissed Sam-face, covered in thick brown fur, is the scariest damn thing he's seen in a very long time. And that's saying a lot.
Hiding his fearful recoil, Dean pastes on a look of indifference, shrugs and turns again to the door. "Just saying..." he mutters.
As the door opens, the kitchen's smells wash over them in a putrid wave of something foul. This time the recoil is impossible to suppress.
"I take that back..." Dean fans at the air again, dry gagging his way in. "Whatever that bitch's cooking in here... smells way worse than you."
Sam stays at the doorway, a little reluctant to enter, though his eyes rove the room, searching. Dean moves over to the stove, lifting lids, searching for the right pot. Would it be too much to ask for a little bit of cliché-ness and just have the damn thing sitting in the center of a fire pit in the middle of the room?
"Huh.." Dean starts as he sniffs the contents. "Weird... from over there this stuff smells like cow turds baking in the sun - or maybe that's just you - but close up? Smells kind of great!"
Dean's stomach growls audibly, the sound rolling like a pre-historical beast ready to charge. Grabbing a spoon off the counter, he scoops some of the contents and lifts it to his nose, eyes as hungry as his stomach, "Dude, you gotta smell this! Seriously!"
Sam's attention, however, is focused on something else; the simple clay pot just sitting there on the middle of a table. The drawing etched on it is ancient and he recognizes it from research- it's a witch's binding sigil.
That has to be the one!
As Sam picks it up, the sound coming from the distant TV set distracts him from alerting Dean of his findings. He knows that music, knows the show to which the opening credits belongs... it's been so long since he had a chance to see it...
Charmed was playing on TV and Sam immediately recognizes the episode. It’s the one where the pig, the snake and the rabbit are all turned in to guys. Sam can't help but snicker. How fitting, he thinks, even as one side of his mouth tips in a distorted furry grin and he starts grunting the words quietly, knowing the dialogue by heart.
Dean's cursing -quiet as it is- and the sound of something hitting the floor -not so quietly- disrupts Sam's trip down memory lane. He turns around to find Dean with a finger buried in his mouth, face twisting in pain.
"Sonafa..." Dean curses quietly around the mouthful of finger. With a pop he removes it and examines the angry red skin as if it were a rare species. "Shit's hot..." he mutters with the good grace to look chagrined.
When Sam stalks angrily toward him, Dean backs up a step, "What?!" He whispers loudly - coz shit! Sam makes one hell of a scary Wookie, "What? Dude, I was hungry!"
Sam opens his mouth to say.. er.. growl something when...
"YOU!" A shrill voice cuts across the kitchen.
Dean looks around his ginormously furry brother and Sam twists to see; the witch is standing at the entrance, one accusing finger leveling at them. Her wrinkled face is blotchy red with rage.
"Grrwooowl lerrrg."
"Couldn't've said it better myself Sammy," Dean says nudging Sam toward the door. Eyeing the witch then the burning stove he offers, "Sorry to eat and run, I mean REALLY sorry -coz that's some good chow- but we gotta-"
The witch seems to grow in size, or maybe the kitchen is shrinking and starts chasing them, either way she's moving way quicker than a gnarled old woman should be able to move.
Not wanting to waste the whole time-travel thing without destroying at least something, Dean throws a chair at the stove. The crash of pots, wood and fire is huge; it should make enough of a mess to keep the witch busy for awhile. Also, she might need to call in the firemen.
"Crap!" Dean spins when he sees the flames erupt and shoves Sam through the door. "C'mon! Les'go!"
Sam knows she's yelling something but whatever it is, the words aren't Latin, aren't English, aren't anything he understands. And then the world just twists and turns and he never gets the chance to figure out just what the hell she was yelling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ~NJ*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam looks at Bobby and grasps the tiny pot in his hands tighter. He landed on his butt and that kind of hurt his feelings.
Bobby returns his gaze wordlessly. "Well, you're a sight for sore eyes," he says with a grin.
"Shit Bobby," Sam hears the sound of his own voice, but he has to be certain. "Am I back to normal?" He asks, dropping the pot to run one shaking hand over his face. There's some stubble there, he thinks, but fur?
Bobby ponders the question long enough to send Sam's heart on a mad race. "Well, you're still a giant," Bobby finally says with a chuckle, moving toward him, "but other than that mop you call hair, you're fur-free."
As the words 'fur-free' hit the air, Dean -who had been suspiciously quiet thus far- makes a mad dash to the Impala.
"Dean?" Castiel's voice, careful and questioning, draws both men to turn. The angel is standing a few feet from the eldest Winchester, looking as puzzled as a pigeon on crack.
"Dean?" Sam joins in, seeing nothing but his brother's ass, for all intents and purposes, sticking out from the car's back seat, wiggling in the air. "Are you ok?"
Wouldn't that just be a bitch if Dean were now cursed by whatever chant that old crone was screaming at them as they left? And that would be the Winchester luck too, so Sam's more worried now than ever.
The mumbled, angry sounds that emit from the car are impossible to classify as English.
Bobby and Sam share a confused look. Sam's brows dances above his eyes before quickly going up in sudden realization, "Shit!"
"What?" Bobby is beyond baffled. "Sam...?"
"I... she... the witch, when we were leaving... and Dean ate-" Sam slaps a hand to his forehead. "Oh crap, he ate from the pot!"
"The witch's pot?"
Sam doesn't even answer, quickly moving to his brother, fearful of what he'll discover when he sees Dean’s face, but needing to know just the same.
Suddenly Dean's head jerks up, eyes snapping with anger. He thrusts a hand-full of brown fur at Sam's face making him flinch back.
"SAM, YOU... APE! YOU SHED ALL OVER MY FRIGGIN’ CAR, MAN!"
*~The end~*