Fic: The Unicorn Who Crashed the Garrison’s Pool Party
Title: The Unicorn Who Crashed the Garrison’s Pool Party
Characters: Sam, Dean, a unicorn, Castiel, Zachariah
Ratings/Warnings: PG-13/Language
Word Count: 2100
Summary: The unicorn enjoys messing up Zachariah's End Days plans almost as much as he enjoys eating the entire angel buffet. Questions are answered due to cruel and unusual punishment. Castiel shows off his arts and crafts talent.
Part 7/8 of the ongoing collaboration between me and sockkiah that we've been calling Unicorn Verse.
Part 1: The Unicorn Who Used Up Dean's Shampoo
Part 2: The Unicorn Who Apologized For Stealing Hot Pockets
Part 3: The Unicorn Who Made Sam Deeply Uncomfortable
Part 4: The Unicorn Who Interrupted An Angel Of The Lord
Part 5: The Unicorn Who Ruined a Patented Winchester Heart-to-heart
Part 6: The Unicorn Who Helped Sam Reclaim His Childhood
Part 7: The Unicorn Who Crashed the Garrison's Pool Party
Part 8: The Unicorn Who Ruined the Apocalypse
After five straight hours in the Impala with Metallica booming through the speakers and a disgruntled angel pointing out landmarks from the backseat, a caffeinated unicorn trying to play road trip games beside him, Sam’s head was starting to throb.
“Off the next exit is Hayward, Wisconsin, home of the world’s largest fish, which also happens to be the world’s largest fiberglass sculpture,” Castiel deadpanned, encyclopedia-like, from behind the driver’s seat. “The fish is an Esox masquinongy, commonly known as a muskelunge and colloquially known as a ‘muskie.’ The natural fish grows two to five feet in length and up to seventy pounds, but its fiberglass approximation in Hayward is the size of a Boewing 757 and contains within it a shrine to famous anglers.”
“Zitchdog!” the unicorn cried just behind Sam’s head, making him cringe. This was a game that no one knew how to play except for him, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Open mind for a different view, and nothing else matterrrs,” Dean crooned, oblivious.
Sam sank deep into his seat, drawing a hand down his face. “Oh my god, this is Hell. I’m in Hell.”
“Hey!” Dean barked. “You know I don’t like your afterlifist bullcrap!”
“Nor do I appreciate you taking my father’s name in vain,” Castiel added, sticking his face over the front seat. “Also, did you know that the Freshwater Fish Hall of Fame, home of the world’s largest fish statue, proudly displays 5,000 fishing lures, 200 rods and reels, 400 mounted fish, and an entire room of outboard motors?”
“ZITCHDOG!” yelled the unicorn, flopping his unicorn head over the front seat, too. His horn swung past Dean’s head, making him take a swerve into oncoming traffic. “C’mon, you guys, it’s 43-nothing here. You gotta get in the game!”
“I DON’T CARE!” Sam yelled, and the car swerved again.
“Well, none of us care about this unicorn’s dog counting game,” Castiel said haughtily.
“Is that what he’s counting?” Dean asked.
“Or your stupid landmark trivia!” Sam cried. “I just don’t care about any of it, and you’re giving me the worst headache I’ve had since back when I had visions!”
Castiel and the unicorn glared at each other, their faces crammed inches away over the front seat. “You’re giving Sam a headache,” Castiel hissed, and the unicorn responded by huffing pink and gold glitter all over the angel’s face. Castiel tried to snuff it away in a dignified manner and failed.
“What are you two even doing riding around with us?” Dean asked.
“It’s nearly time for Heaven’s End Game,” Castiel said somberly.
“Yeah,” the unicorn agreed. Everyone looked at him funny. “What?” he said. “I can’t be interested in the plot?”
When they got to the next motel, Dean went to the front desk to request a room and Castiel followed him dutifully. Sam hung back by the Impala, getting their bags together, and the unicorn pranced around the parking lot, swishing sparkles and candy at the other motel patrons who were unloading their cars.
“Will you stop making a scene?” Sam hissed at him.
“Whaaaaaaat,” answered the unicorn, flipping his unicorn hair so that caramel apple pops and Tootsie Rolls hailed down onto the hood of a nearby Camaro. Suddenly, his unicornly countenance shifted to thoughtful. “Oh, hey.”
“Wha-” Sam started.
And then without warning, he was standing next to the unicorn in a stately room decorated with Biblical paintings and buffet tables. Massive double doors led out into what looked like a garden beyond, and Sam thought he heard splashing and laughter. It was only when he noticed the harp in the corner of the room that he figured out it must be the heavenly green room Dean had talked about.
“Aw-c’mon,” Sam groaned.
“Sam? You’re not supposed to be here,” Zachariah said, appearing in the double doors. He was wearing floral swim trunks, a SURF NAKED t-shirt, and a pair of flippy-floppies. Sam buried his face in his hands, both out of exasperation and the desire to not see Zachariah’s weirdly youthful calves anymore.
“Hi, angel,” crooned the unicorn.
“Unicorn,” Zachariah growled. “I was trying to summon Dean here for a little pow-wow about Lucifer. This is your doing, isn’t it?”
“Well, duh!”
“But how-?”
“UNICORN,” Sam shouted at the same time as the unicorn, dropping his hands to his side. The unicorn gave him an approving look, and he added, “What’s going on here?”
“The garrison and I are having a pool party to celebrate the End Days,” Zachariah said, frowning at them. “You’re not invited. Now get out, or I’ll punish you.”
“Haven’t you punished our eyes enough with that outfit?” the unicorn spat back.
“What is it with you two, anyway?” Zachariah said, casting them a dubious look. “Sam and the unicorn. You two are always together. You’re just as bad as Dean and Gastiel.”
“Gastiel?” Sam said, furrowing his brow.
Zachariah smiled widely. “Yes, that’s what I’ve taken to calling Castiel since he rebelled against Heaven. It’s a fart joke. Do you like it?”
“Not really.”
“Well, you’re a human, so your taste is of questionable validity, anyway. Anyway, my point being, it seems like next time you check into a motel, you ought to ask for separate rooms - one for Dean and Gastiel, and one for you and the unicorn.”
“Me…and unicorn,” Sam repeated, his eyebrows rising into his bangs.
“Me…and Poo-burns?” Unicorn said.
The two of them looked at each other. For the briefest of moments - in the same foolhardy way he might consider changing the tape in the Impala to the Indigo Girls - Sam wondered what it would be like to kiss a unicorn. Sparkly, he guessed - and probably sugary sweet, like eating too much Halloween candy. He felt bile rising in the back of his throat. “No.”
“You’re already a donkey fondling yak fucker,” the unicorn pointed out helpfully. “What’s one more quadruped?”
“No! Dude, why are you arguing for this?”
“I’m so lonely,” the unicorn moped. Then he looked past Sam and yelled, “OOH! BUFFET!” and that seemed to end the conversation, as the unicorn plowed his face into the buffet table.
“Hey!” Zachariah shouted, hands on his hips. “I made that blueberry boy bait for the garrison!”
It was at that moment that Castiel and Dean appeared, looking miffed.
“UNICORN!” Castiel bellowed.
“You two are late,” the unicorn chided, his face stuffed full of blueberry cake.
Castiel frowned. “We had to stop and make out.” Dean cleared his throat, and Castiel added, “The way you’d gone. We had to make out the way you’d gone.”
“Whatever!” Zachariah announced testily. “Dean, we need to talk about your job performance.”
“Job performance?”
“It’s a euphemism. Your job is killing Lucifer. Have a burger, take a load off.”
“Uh…what burger?” Dean said.
Sam looked around. Both the buffet tables were already empty, and the unicorn was licking ketchup and frosting off his lips.
Zachariah’s face turned about five shades of red. “That is IT!” he yelled, and suddenly the doors slammed shut and a chair rose from the floor, ropes strapping the unicorn into it with a whump. Just in front of it, a TV rose on a gilded pedestal.
“Cover your ears!” Castiel cried.
“Why?” Sam said. “Is it going to play angel voices?”
“No, worse!”
The TV flicked on, and Tom Welling’s face appeared on it, frowning in a feat of bad acting.
“AUGH!” the unicorn shrieked, thrashing in anguish.
“Season seven of Smallville?” Dean said. Everyone else gave him a funny look (except the unicorn, who was busy screaming), and he shrugged. “I watch a lot of TV.”
“IT BURNS!” screamed the unicorn.
“Why would late-season Smallville hurt a unicorn?” Sam asked.
“To kill a unicorn, you must inflict the opposite of the unicorn’s essence upon it,” Castiel said. “Late-season Smallville is one of the few true ungoods in the universe.”
“MAKE IT STOP!”
Sam went to the unicorn’s side and tugged at the ropes. They didn’t budge. He took Ruby’s knife from his pocket and began to rip at them. Being angel ropes, they didn’t even fray. “Castiel! Angel mojo! Now!”
“Y’see?” Zachariah said, tutting. “Totally gay for the unicorn. Just like you and Gastiel.”
Dean snickered. “Gastiel. Like he’s full of farts - that’s a great one!”
“KRISTIN KREUK’S GAZE IS CORRODING MY SOUL!”
“Why should I help the unicorn?” Castiel said.
“Because!” Sam said, trying to yank the ropes over the unicorn’s head and dislodging a rain of Skittles from his mane instead. “He may be a dick, but he hasn’t done anything to deserve this kind of fate!”
Castiel sighed, and Sam knew the angel had been won over.
In a split second, the unicorn was gone from the ropes beneath Sam’s hands, replaced by Zachariah. Zachariah’s eyes went wide. “No-no, Castiel, you can’t!”
Castiel strode over BAMF-like, his trenchcoat billowing out behind him, and put one foot up on the chair to lean over Zachariah. “I just did,” he growled. “Now, we need some answers from you.”
“A-anything,” Zachariah said, the TV screen reflected in his wet, panicked eyes.
“Where is the weapon that will kill Lucifer?”
“I-in the umbrella stand,” Zachariah whimpered, and Dean retrieved it easily - a long, overcompensating sort of sword with rubies in the hilt.
“Where is Lucifer hiding?” Castiel demanded.
“I don’t-I don’t know! Turn it off, please!”
“He does too know!” the unicorn cried from the corner, where he was rubbing his eyes. “There were Doritos Special Edition Late Night Last Call Jalapeño Poppers in the buffet, I ate them!”
“Devil chips!” Castiel growled, leaning over the chair. “Where is he?”
“O-o-okay!” Zachariah stammered, starting to sob. “He couldn’t get enough of those stupid chips! He’s in Killingly, Connecticut, at the Frito Lays factory where they’re manufactured!”
“Well, that’s an oddly appropriate location name for Lucifer,” Dean quipped. “Almost like the whole thing was planned from the beginning.”
“Let me out!” Zachariah shrieked.
“Just one more thing,” Sam spoke up, leaning over him along with Castiel. “Why do unicorns and angels hate each other so much. I mean, nobody seems to remember where this feud started. Do you?”
“It was-it was-” Zachariah sobbed, his face streaked with tears, “it was the ancient nourishment of the angels - a unicorn ate it!”
“Ancient nourishment?” Sam said.
“H-H-Hot Pockets!” Zachariah sobbed pathetically.
“Hot Pockets,” Castiel deadpanned. “Ah, yes, I remember when those were purely for angelic consumption.”
“Steal other people’s food?” the unicorn scoffed. “That doesn’t sound like a unicorn at all! He’s obviously drunk!”
Everyone glared at the unicorn. Castiel sighed. “I guess it’s time to end this madness.” He snapped his fingers for dramatic effect, and the group - sans Zachariah, who was still tied up in front of a TV - were back in the motel parking lot.
Sam leaned against the wall of the motel, exhausted from the ordeal. “So, we’re really coming up on the end, aren’t we?”
“Guess so,” Dean said, fingering his sword.
“I guess it’ll be a relief to end it, whatever happens,” Sam said. “Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I let the devil loose.”
“It’s okay, Sammy. Y’know, actually, I’m kinda proud of us. We’ve held it together pretty well, considering.”
Sam smiled. His brother was proud of him - sort of. He hadn’t felt such a swelling of pride in ages. It felt like things had finally gotten back to where they used to be - with the notable exceptions of the unicorn, of course.
“And I’m kinda proud of Cas, too,” Dean added, smirking. “He hasn’t butchered a ‘your mom’ joke this whole time.”
“Oh, I forgot,” Castiel said, holding up a finger. He opened his coat and fished inside, digging out a sheet of construction paper, which he flashed in the unicorn’s general direction. It read “YOUR MOM” in macaroni and glitter. Below the letters was a crayon drawing of a unicorn with blood spurting from its neck.
“Yeah, well,” the unicorn spat, shrinking away, “you win this time, angel. But don’t get cocky!”
“I’ll get cocky if I want!” Castiel retorted, and looked to Dean for approval.
Dean facepalmed.
Sam smiled a little. They were facing the end of the world, maybe, and fighting Lucifer for sure, but he was beginning to feel like they had a good team with which to do it.
Sort of.
He guessed.
To be concluded by sockkiah.
Characters: Sam, Dean, a unicorn, Castiel, Zachariah
Ratings/Warnings: PG-13/Language
Word Count: 2100
Summary: The unicorn enjoys messing up Zachariah's End Days plans almost as much as he enjoys eating the entire angel buffet. Questions are answered due to cruel and unusual punishment. Castiel shows off his arts and crafts talent.
Part 7/8 of the ongoing collaboration between me and sockkiah that we've been calling Unicorn Verse.
Part 1: The Unicorn Who Used Up Dean's Shampoo
Part 2: The Unicorn Who Apologized For Stealing Hot Pockets
Part 3: The Unicorn Who Made Sam Deeply Uncomfortable
Part 4: The Unicorn Who Interrupted An Angel Of The Lord
Part 5: The Unicorn Who Ruined a Patented Winchester Heart-to-heart
Part 6: The Unicorn Who Helped Sam Reclaim His Childhood
Part 7: The Unicorn Who Crashed the Garrison's Pool Party
Part 8: The Unicorn Who Ruined the Apocalypse
After five straight hours in the Impala with Metallica booming through the speakers and a disgruntled angel pointing out landmarks from the backseat, a caffeinated unicorn trying to play road trip games beside him, Sam’s head was starting to throb.
“Off the next exit is Hayward, Wisconsin, home of the world’s largest fish, which also happens to be the world’s largest fiberglass sculpture,” Castiel deadpanned, encyclopedia-like, from behind the driver’s seat. “The fish is an Esox masquinongy, commonly known as a muskelunge and colloquially known as a ‘muskie.’ The natural fish grows two to five feet in length and up to seventy pounds, but its fiberglass approximation in Hayward is the size of a Boewing 757 and contains within it a shrine to famous anglers.”
“Zitchdog!” the unicorn cried just behind Sam’s head, making him cringe. This was a game that no one knew how to play except for him, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Open mind for a different view, and nothing else matterrrs,” Dean crooned, oblivious.
Sam sank deep into his seat, drawing a hand down his face. “Oh my god, this is Hell. I’m in Hell.”
“Hey!” Dean barked. “You know I don’t like your afterlifist bullcrap!”
“Nor do I appreciate you taking my father’s name in vain,” Castiel added, sticking his face over the front seat. “Also, did you know that the Freshwater Fish Hall of Fame, home of the world’s largest fish statue, proudly displays 5,000 fishing lures, 200 rods and reels, 400 mounted fish, and an entire room of outboard motors?”
“ZITCHDOG!” yelled the unicorn, flopping his unicorn head over the front seat, too. His horn swung past Dean’s head, making him take a swerve into oncoming traffic. “C’mon, you guys, it’s 43-nothing here. You gotta get in the game!”
“I DON’T CARE!” Sam yelled, and the car swerved again.
“Well, none of us care about this unicorn’s dog counting game,” Castiel said haughtily.
“Is that what he’s counting?” Dean asked.
“Or your stupid landmark trivia!” Sam cried. “I just don’t care about any of it, and you’re giving me the worst headache I’ve had since back when I had visions!”
Castiel and the unicorn glared at each other, their faces crammed inches away over the front seat. “You’re giving Sam a headache,” Castiel hissed, and the unicorn responded by huffing pink and gold glitter all over the angel’s face. Castiel tried to snuff it away in a dignified manner and failed.
“What are you two even doing riding around with us?” Dean asked.
“It’s nearly time for Heaven’s End Game,” Castiel said somberly.
“Yeah,” the unicorn agreed. Everyone looked at him funny. “What?” he said. “I can’t be interested in the plot?”
When they got to the next motel, Dean went to the front desk to request a room and Castiel followed him dutifully. Sam hung back by the Impala, getting their bags together, and the unicorn pranced around the parking lot, swishing sparkles and candy at the other motel patrons who were unloading their cars.
“Will you stop making a scene?” Sam hissed at him.
“Whaaaaaaat,” answered the unicorn, flipping his unicorn hair so that caramel apple pops and Tootsie Rolls hailed down onto the hood of a nearby Camaro. Suddenly, his unicornly countenance shifted to thoughtful. “Oh, hey.”
“Wha-” Sam started.
And then without warning, he was standing next to the unicorn in a stately room decorated with Biblical paintings and buffet tables. Massive double doors led out into what looked like a garden beyond, and Sam thought he heard splashing and laughter. It was only when he noticed the harp in the corner of the room that he figured out it must be the heavenly green room Dean had talked about.
“Aw-c’mon,” Sam groaned.
“Sam? You’re not supposed to be here,” Zachariah said, appearing in the double doors. He was wearing floral swim trunks, a SURF NAKED t-shirt, and a pair of flippy-floppies. Sam buried his face in his hands, both out of exasperation and the desire to not see Zachariah’s weirdly youthful calves anymore.
“Hi, angel,” crooned the unicorn.
“Unicorn,” Zachariah growled. “I was trying to summon Dean here for a little pow-wow about Lucifer. This is your doing, isn’t it?”
“Well, duh!”
“But how-?”
“UNICORN,” Sam shouted at the same time as the unicorn, dropping his hands to his side. The unicorn gave him an approving look, and he added, “What’s going on here?”
“The garrison and I are having a pool party to celebrate the End Days,” Zachariah said, frowning at them. “You’re not invited. Now get out, or I’ll punish you.”
“Haven’t you punished our eyes enough with that outfit?” the unicorn spat back.
“What is it with you two, anyway?” Zachariah said, casting them a dubious look. “Sam and the unicorn. You two are always together. You’re just as bad as Dean and Gastiel.”
“Gastiel?” Sam said, furrowing his brow.
Zachariah smiled widely. “Yes, that’s what I’ve taken to calling Castiel since he rebelled against Heaven. It’s a fart joke. Do you like it?”
“Not really.”
“Well, you’re a human, so your taste is of questionable validity, anyway. Anyway, my point being, it seems like next time you check into a motel, you ought to ask for separate rooms - one for Dean and Gastiel, and one for you and the unicorn.”
“Me…and unicorn,” Sam repeated, his eyebrows rising into his bangs.
“Me…and Poo-burns?” Unicorn said.
The two of them looked at each other. For the briefest of moments - in the same foolhardy way he might consider changing the tape in the Impala to the Indigo Girls - Sam wondered what it would be like to kiss a unicorn. Sparkly, he guessed - and probably sugary sweet, like eating too much Halloween candy. He felt bile rising in the back of his throat. “No.”
“You’re already a donkey fondling yak fucker,” the unicorn pointed out helpfully. “What’s one more quadruped?”
“No! Dude, why are you arguing for this?”
“I’m so lonely,” the unicorn moped. Then he looked past Sam and yelled, “OOH! BUFFET!” and that seemed to end the conversation, as the unicorn plowed his face into the buffet table.
“Hey!” Zachariah shouted, hands on his hips. “I made that blueberry boy bait for the garrison!”
It was at that moment that Castiel and Dean appeared, looking miffed.
“UNICORN!” Castiel bellowed.
“You two are late,” the unicorn chided, his face stuffed full of blueberry cake.
Castiel frowned. “We had to stop and make out.” Dean cleared his throat, and Castiel added, “The way you’d gone. We had to make out the way you’d gone.”
“Whatever!” Zachariah announced testily. “Dean, we need to talk about your job performance.”
“Job performance?”
“It’s a euphemism. Your job is killing Lucifer. Have a burger, take a load off.”
“Uh…what burger?” Dean said.
Sam looked around. Both the buffet tables were already empty, and the unicorn was licking ketchup and frosting off his lips.
Zachariah’s face turned about five shades of red. “That is IT!” he yelled, and suddenly the doors slammed shut and a chair rose from the floor, ropes strapping the unicorn into it with a whump. Just in front of it, a TV rose on a gilded pedestal.
“Cover your ears!” Castiel cried.
“Why?” Sam said. “Is it going to play angel voices?”
“No, worse!”
The TV flicked on, and Tom Welling’s face appeared on it, frowning in a feat of bad acting.
“AUGH!” the unicorn shrieked, thrashing in anguish.
“Season seven of Smallville?” Dean said. Everyone else gave him a funny look (except the unicorn, who was busy screaming), and he shrugged. “I watch a lot of TV.”
“IT BURNS!” screamed the unicorn.
“Why would late-season Smallville hurt a unicorn?” Sam asked.
“To kill a unicorn, you must inflict the opposite of the unicorn’s essence upon it,” Castiel said. “Late-season Smallville is one of the few true ungoods in the universe.”
“MAKE IT STOP!”
Sam went to the unicorn’s side and tugged at the ropes. They didn’t budge. He took Ruby’s knife from his pocket and began to rip at them. Being angel ropes, they didn’t even fray. “Castiel! Angel mojo! Now!”
“Y’see?” Zachariah said, tutting. “Totally gay for the unicorn. Just like you and Gastiel.”
Dean snickered. “Gastiel. Like he’s full of farts - that’s a great one!”
“KRISTIN KREUK’S GAZE IS CORRODING MY SOUL!”
“Why should I help the unicorn?” Castiel said.
“Because!” Sam said, trying to yank the ropes over the unicorn’s head and dislodging a rain of Skittles from his mane instead. “He may be a dick, but he hasn’t done anything to deserve this kind of fate!”
Castiel sighed, and Sam knew the angel had been won over.
In a split second, the unicorn was gone from the ropes beneath Sam’s hands, replaced by Zachariah. Zachariah’s eyes went wide. “No-no, Castiel, you can’t!”
Castiel strode over BAMF-like, his trenchcoat billowing out behind him, and put one foot up on the chair to lean over Zachariah. “I just did,” he growled. “Now, we need some answers from you.”
“A-anything,” Zachariah said, the TV screen reflected in his wet, panicked eyes.
“Where is the weapon that will kill Lucifer?”
“I-in the umbrella stand,” Zachariah whimpered, and Dean retrieved it easily - a long, overcompensating sort of sword with rubies in the hilt.
“Where is Lucifer hiding?” Castiel demanded.
“I don’t-I don’t know! Turn it off, please!”
“He does too know!” the unicorn cried from the corner, where he was rubbing his eyes. “There were Doritos Special Edition Late Night Last Call Jalapeño Poppers in the buffet, I ate them!”
“Devil chips!” Castiel growled, leaning over the chair. “Where is he?”
“O-o-okay!” Zachariah stammered, starting to sob. “He couldn’t get enough of those stupid chips! He’s in Killingly, Connecticut, at the Frito Lays factory where they’re manufactured!”
“Well, that’s an oddly appropriate location name for Lucifer,” Dean quipped. “Almost like the whole thing was planned from the beginning.”
“Let me out!” Zachariah shrieked.
“Just one more thing,” Sam spoke up, leaning over him along with Castiel. “Why do unicorns and angels hate each other so much. I mean, nobody seems to remember where this feud started. Do you?”
“It was-it was-” Zachariah sobbed, his face streaked with tears, “it was the ancient nourishment of the angels - a unicorn ate it!”
“Ancient nourishment?” Sam said.
“H-H-Hot Pockets!” Zachariah sobbed pathetically.
“Hot Pockets,” Castiel deadpanned. “Ah, yes, I remember when those were purely for angelic consumption.”
“Steal other people’s food?” the unicorn scoffed. “That doesn’t sound like a unicorn at all! He’s obviously drunk!”
Everyone glared at the unicorn. Castiel sighed. “I guess it’s time to end this madness.” He snapped his fingers for dramatic effect, and the group - sans Zachariah, who was still tied up in front of a TV - were back in the motel parking lot.
Sam leaned against the wall of the motel, exhausted from the ordeal. “So, we’re really coming up on the end, aren’t we?”
“Guess so,” Dean said, fingering his sword.
“I guess it’ll be a relief to end it, whatever happens,” Sam said. “Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I let the devil loose.”
“It’s okay, Sammy. Y’know, actually, I’m kinda proud of us. We’ve held it together pretty well, considering.”
Sam smiled. His brother was proud of him - sort of. He hadn’t felt such a swelling of pride in ages. It felt like things had finally gotten back to where they used to be - with the notable exceptions of the unicorn, of course.
“And I’m kinda proud of Cas, too,” Dean added, smirking. “He hasn’t butchered a ‘your mom’ joke this whole time.”
“Oh, I forgot,” Castiel said, holding up a finger. He opened his coat and fished inside, digging out a sheet of construction paper, which he flashed in the unicorn’s general direction. It read “YOUR MOM” in macaroni and glitter. Below the letters was a crayon drawing of a unicorn with blood spurting from its neck.
“Yeah, well,” the unicorn spat, shrinking away, “you win this time, angel. But don’t get cocky!”
“I’ll get cocky if I want!” Castiel retorted, and looked to Dean for approval.
Dean facepalmed.
Sam smiled a little. They were facing the end of the world, maybe, and fighting Lucifer for sure, but he was beginning to feel like they had a good team with which to do it.
Sort of.
He guessed.
To be concluded by sockkiah.