A cetain amount of interwebs subterfuge, address manipulation and fannying about is required to get something posted in this category, and when it's finished, I won't be able to mark it as 'Complete' until The Ongoing Site Gremlins are exterminated. Nor is it possible to add characters, or change any of the properties. But, just like Celine Dion, we will not be stopped by the electronic iceberg that has crashed into our fanfiction site, tearing open bulkheads and letting in the seawater to sink various sites without trace, because we will find a way to hold on, Jack, hold on... Yooooooooooooou're heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere, there's noooooothiiiiiiiiing I feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeear and I knoooooooooooooooow that fanfiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiics will go oooooooooooooooooooooooon...
Okay, so we're all getting a little techy with the the FFN gremlins. Me, I need to clear some of these frigging plot bunnies that are hopping around under my desk, crapping on the carpet, chewing on the wiring... anyway, this one can be squarely blamed on whoever it was who wanted to see some more of Dean parenting at Jimi. I think this is as close as we can get without another werewolf bite.
DISCLAIMER: None of it is mine, that includes the Southpark quotes, except Jimi, and even then my plans to kidnap the adorable little munchkin he's modelled on have been thwarted since said adorable little munchkin has now grown to 120+ lbs...
TITLE: Teething Troubles
SUMMARY: Jimi the half-Hellhound is the Winchesters' faithful canine companion. Two years old, 150 pounds, he's finally an adult dog, and taking his Place in his Pack for the Hunt, because now he's all grown up... or is he? This is not going to be your average hurt/comfort. (Should be quite a bit shorter than my others, too.)
SETTING: A Jimi the Half-Hellhound story. Set after 'Just Like You', when Jimi is two years old.
RATING: T. Let's face it, neither of them is ever going to be invited onto Martha Stewart's show.
BLAME: Those frigging plot bunnies, and the merciless individuals (aka the slightly demented persons) who insist on encouraging me by reading and then reviewing. I hold you all personally responsible. You know who you are. Reprobates.
TEETHING TROUBLE - a Supernatural fanfic
Chapter 1
It started in the middle of an otherwise routine job. Well as 'routine' as one of the Winchesters' jobs could ever be. Dealing with an Okami that had been preying on visitors to a national park. Straighforward, right? Step one, grab fugly, step two, stab fugly with bamboo knife, step three,
"Profit!" grinned Dean. Sam rolled his eyes as his big brother insisted on singing his own take on The Underpants Gnomes song:
"Time to go to work, work all night,
Search for Okami, hey,
We won't stop til we gank Okami,
Yum tum yummy tum tay."
"If you insist on singing, it'll hear us coming, and run away," Sam told him, giving his older brother a shot of Bitchface #8™ (You Are Now Officially Talking Complete Shit, Dean).
"Time to go to work, work all night,
Search for Okami, hey..." continued Dean cheerfully.
In the back seat, Jimi made a whining noise that Sam had come to think of as his 'WTF?' noise. As Dean sang, Sam turned around, and shared a pained expression with the dog. "Dean, you're disturbing the dog – he has more sensitive ears than me, and he's too polite to tell you to shut the fuck up."
"...We won't stop til we find Okami..." Jimi made a face that no Rottweiler should be able to make. It conveyed so much with so little. You are my Alpha. I love you unconditionally. I would follow you into Hell. One day, I will die defending you. Also, please remember my ears are more sensitive than yours, and I am capable of tearing your throat out. Not that I would. Unless you keep making that awful noise.
"Of course, we could just get you to sing at it until it decides to gnaw through its own femoral artery to get away from the noise."
"You seem a little irritable, Sam," observed Dean in a solicitous-yet-suspiciously-Cartmanesque voice, "You got some sand in your vagina?"
"Right, that's it," announced Sam, "No more Southpark marathons for you. Ever. You're less obnoxious after watching porn. Try some nice European films next time."
"It's all a bunch of tree-hugging hippie crap!" declared Dean Cartman.
"No, really, you'll enjoy it – try something French, lots of tits and ass and casual sex, and you don't speak the language, so there won't be any irritating quotes."
"Nah, dude," replied Eric-Dean, smirking, "Independent films are those black and white hippy movies. They're always about gay cowboys eating pudding."
"I could almost wish to remember Hell," muttered Sam, as the car came to a stop. "It might give me a little bright spark of hope to cling to when you get to be too much to bear..."
They approached the trail where walkers had been attacked. "Okay," said Dean, hefting his bamboo knife, "When it comes after me, you, Jimi, grab it, and you, Sam, help me stab it." The dog wagged his tail, and looked attentive. He was two years old now, finally grown into his full size. Allowed to take his Place with his Pack, he took it very seriously.
"Are we really going to have this argument again?" asked Sam incredulously, shifting his grip on his own Okami knife.
"Nope," answered Dean, "Because I am Alpha of this pack, so you will do what I say, because that is the way of things. Right, Jimi?" Jimi gave Dean an affectionate rumble, and nudged his head under Dean's hand for a pat.
"What is this death wish you have, O Great And Wise Yet Apparently Suicidal Alpha, that you have to be the one to trawl himself as bait?"
"Because I'm the type it likes," smirked Dean, "The walkers who've been attacked have been the handsome, manly types. It won't want a girly emo like you, Miss Polly Prissy-Pants."
"Unbelievable," sighed Sam, "You were born to be bait, weren't you? You must've been a rent boy in a previous life."
"I can't help it if I'm so hot that neither women nor fuglies can resist me," replied Dean in a plaintive tone. "The life of a Living Sex God is not an easy one. Keep an eye on Sammy until this thing shows, J-Man." Jimi exchanged A Look with Sam. I really hate it when he does this.
Dean strolled ahead along the trail, two pairs of eyes watching him anxiously.
Ten minutes later, Jimi let out his warning growl, the one that travelled through the ground rather than the air and was pitched specifically for his Hunters to hear. Thirty seconds later, he was moving before Sam even saw the thing, his eyes glowing the red of angry embers, slamming his full weight and his Hellhound heritage into the Okami as it leaped towards Dean.
Grab, stab, profit. Straightforward, right? Unfortunately, this Okami hadn't been reviewing the company mission statement.
However, it had been taking its vitamins, and eating the foods it hated but that its mother told it would make it grow up big and strong. It was big, like, 'Dude, WTF?' big. It made the Sasquatch look like a 99-pound weakling, thought a detached piece of Dean's brain as he barely dodged the Okami's attack.
Jimi sank his teeth into the thing, but it screeched and tore itself away, coming after Dean once more. The look of surprise on the dog's face was almost comical, but he was after the monster again immediately. In that sliver of time, Sam recognised the look of utter determination on Jimi's face: it was the one he'd worn as a small pup, utterly committed to launching himself high enough to crawl onto a bed or into a lap…
Jimi's jaws clamped onto the Okami again, and this time the thing howled in anger and pain, unable to dislodge the dog. Gouts of blood flew, it struggled and wrenched, but Jimi hung on, eyes crackling red, until Dean and Sam moved in to finish it.
"… Five, six, seven," counted Sam, as the Okami gave a final angry growl, and collapsed. Jimi didn't release his hold until it was on the ground and clearly dead.
"Shit," commented Dean, dusting himself off, "That thing was on steroids. Where would an Okami get steroids? I mean, look at it! It's Arnold Shwartzenokami. It's Hulk Okami. Hulk Hogan Okami. Titanic Okami – somewhere around here, Leonardo DiCaprio is turning amusingly blue as we speak…"
"Must be all the rugged, manly men it had been eating," suggested Sam. "All that lean meat, and testosterone."
"The worst part is the size of the hole we're going to have to dig," decided Dean glumly, his gaze shifting to Jimi. "That was a good save, Jimi, I thought you'd lost him there for a minute… Jimi…?"
Jimi sat, his muzzle and front legs covered in blood, pawing at his face. He turned a pair of mournful eyes on them.
"Awwww, Jimi, don't tell me you're freaking out because you got a bit of blood and guts on you?" grinned Dean, "In this pack, Francis here is the one who squeals like a little bitch if he gets so much as a speck of goo in his hair." His grin faded, as the dog made a distressed whimpering noise. "Hey, hey, show me," he said, kneeling down next to Jimi, "Have you hurt yourself? Show me, fella…"
"Dean," started Sam in a thoughtful tone, "He's left interesting bite wounds on this thing."
"How 'interesting'?" asked Dean, examining the dog's face. "Interesting as in 'Wow, I never knew that was anatomically possible or even legal, and I'm dying to try it out next time I meet up with an equally broad-minded lady with the required flexibility' or interesting as in 'Wow, I've never seen that before'?"
"Neither, exactly," clarified Sam, glaring at Dean with Bitchface #6™ (I Wish You'd Let Your Upstairs Brain Drive More Often). He bent down to examine the wounds Jimi had left on the Okami's remains. "I have seen bites like this before."
The tone of Sam's voice prompted Dean to look more carefully at the Okami. "Er, okay," he agreed, "That's… unexpected. Messier than your average dog bite. A lot messier. Even for a dog bite with Jimi's jaw strength behind it." He glanced up at his brother's thoughtful face. "Where have you seen this?"
"On you," answered Sam bluntly. "When your deal came due. Hellhounds leave this sort of a mess."
"What?" Dean stared in confusion at the Okami, then at Jimi. "That's not possible. He's half-Hellhound, sure, but he got his teeth from his Mommy."
"I'm not so sure about that anymore," replied Sam, nodding at Jimi as the dog let out another yelp. Dean knelt beside him again – the blood on his muzzle was fresh, Jimi's own blood. He caressed the big square head.
"Hey, fella, what's happening?" he said quietly, as Jimi pawed at his mouth again. "Have you hurt yourself? Show me, big guy, come on, open up," he coaxed, as Jimi pulled away, "We have to see what's wrong before we can fix it… FUCK!" He let out his own yelp of pain, jerking his hand away. The sharp-edged cut at the base of his thumb looked pale, as if it had been made too sharply to damage the tissue, but then it turned red, and began to bleed copiously.
Sam was in action immediately, grabbing Dean's hand to inspect the damage. "What the hell?" he mused, pulling a gauze dressing from a pocket and wrapping it hurriedly around the wound, "Jesus, that looks like it was done with a scalpel blade!"
"His mouth, Sam, check his mouth, right now," ordered Dean, grabbing hold of the bandage, trying to stop the bleeding.
Sam knelt by Jimi, a suspicion growing in his mind. The dog's eyes went all the way past 'intense pathos' and through to 'abject misery' as they turned to him in a silent appeal.
"I know, Jimi, it hurts, doesn't it?" he said gently, "Now, just show me where it's sore."
Jimi was reluctant to open his mouth, but at Sam's careful insistence he did so. Sam peered at the dog's canine dentition. "It looks like there's a wound on his lower jaw," he relayed to Dean, "But there's a lot of blood in here, it's hard to see exactly... yikes!"
Without warning, the cause of Jimi's pain and Dean's thumb wound popped suddenly into view.
A long, curved Hellhound tooth, the size and sharpness of a butcher's boning knife, slid smoothly out of Jimi's gum. The dog yelped again, and the tooth retracted.
"What is it, Sam?" asked Dean worriedly, "What's wrong with him?"
Sam sighed. "I don't think anything's actually 'wrong' with him, Dean," he said resignedly, patting the dog's head. "I think he might be teething."
Every time you leave a review, an iceberg crashes into Celine Dion in an alternative universe...
