Title: Who believes in the Tooth Fairy?
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: Sometimes the sweet things from your childhood? Well they end up not being so sweet. Set mid-season 6 post 6x14 Mannequin 3: The Reckoning. A stand-alone hunt. Some hurt!sam with a sprinkling of hurt!dean and a dash of that Winchester angst/comfort we all love so much.
Author's note: This fic came about because of a drunken comment from my Mr. while I was trying to decide what beastie to write about next. He said…or rather slurred: "What about an evil tooth fairy? Dude that would SUCK!" So here you are. Blame my honey.
This one is located where it is because while I was googling locations, I saw a picture of what passes for the center of town and the local diner, Kelly's. :D That was the name of my dog growing up so of course it had to be set there. He was named after my favorite Angel by the way. :P Charlie's Angels that is. Yes, I'm that old.
Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P
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CHAPTER 1
Jeremiah Gordon stood over his bed, staring at it and swaying. He took another swig from the whiskey bottle clasped in his right hand. He rubbed absently at the bandaged cut on his chest with the other.
"N…not gonna have no dreams t'nite." He slurred drunkenly. His bed had become his enemy the last few nights. Vicious nightmares hounding his sleep; mystery wounds he woke up with and last night one of his damn teeth had fallen out. He figured he must have swallowed it but with everything else, it was just too much. Tonight he'd crawl in a bottle and get some real sleep. He absently stuck his tongue into the empty space where his tooth had been and took another swig from the almost empty bottle.
Jeremiah flopped onto the offending bed and swallowed the last of the alcohol with a smile. He fell back, the bottle slipping from his fingers and let his eyes close on a happy, intoxicated smile. He felt himself drifting off to sleep. He thought he should get under the covers properly but decided he just didn't care. He lay there, floating numb in a whiskey sea, the mattress spinning gently beneath him with the rest of his room and just as relaxation finally found him, something changed.
He was far too drunk to jerk awake as he should have. He felt a sudden weight on his chest. It pressed him into the mattress. His breath began to choke in his lungs. At first he thought he was dying of alcohol poisoning but then he felt hands slide up his chest, arms slip around his shoulders. Jeremiah forced his eyes to open a crack, to look up at who…what sat upon his chest and if he'd had the breath to do so, he would have screamed.
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Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
"No really, Sammy. A Dude Ranch? Next time I'm picking the job. This is lame." Dean laughed at the disgusted, long suffering look on his brothers' face. "You see those 'cowboys' this afternoon? Sequins man. That's just wrong." Sam was somewhere near hitting him for all the Brokeback jokes during the drive in and Dean just couldn't seem to help himself. Six months of Terminator Sam had made him truly appreciate his little brother with his soul back; chick flick moments, mood swings, nightmares and all. Maybe especially the nightmares, he thought to himself. Just knowing that he hadn't slept the whole of the six months he'd been soulless was enough to make Dean's skin crawl. He could admit to himself that every time Sam woke him up with a nightmare, Dean smiled as it was just reinforcement he had his brother back all the way. Now if they could just not crash down the great wall of Sam, life would be good.
"Are you even paying attention?" Sam asked, kicking a pebble into Dean's leg.
"What? I'm here aren't I?" Dean grinned. "So, Sadie the spirit hooker."
"Saloon girl." Sam corrected.
"Like I said…hooker." Dean grinned. "Probably dog faced too, man you remember that scary chick in Sunrise? I swear, her mouth ate her own teeth."
"Ugh." Sam groaned and shook his head. "Focus, Dean." The ranch had been haunted lately by the amorous spirit of a Saloon girl. She'd yet to actually kill anyone, though she'd injured several. She seemed more interested in attempting to ply her old trade on the living men wandering the place. There were quite a few men, victims, who flat refused to tell anyone exactly what had happened. "The groundskeeper said her grave should be back here somewhere."
Dean looked out over the hundred or so tombstones spread out on a low hill beneath a twisted Joshua tree. "Fantastic. We'll let's find pretty woman's bones and get this done."
Sam snorted a laugh and tapped the barrel of his shotgun against his brothers with a light clang before taking off around the right side of the cemetery while Dean took the left. His flashlight bobbed along the stones as he walked, glancing over ever so often to see where Dean was. Many of the stones were hard to read, forcing him to squint to try and puzzle out the letters. Sadie was here somewhere.
Sam had chosen this hunt because the ghost hadn't killed anyone and didn't look to be close to doing so. After losing Isabel the way they had on the last job, he thought they needed something less life and death. Dean certainly needed a break from it. Oh he'd shoved his feelings down deep but the number of beer bottles piling around him each night were mute testimony to how much it was really bothering him. Even Bobby had taken to giving him looks about the drinking, which was a bit pot calling the kettle but Sam would never say. What they'd all survived, or not survived depending the last few years, a little alcoholism wasn't exactly a bad thing.
"Hey, Sasquatch!" Dean called. "Think I found her!"
Sam jogged over and saw his brother had indeed found the late Sadie's resting place. It was a simple stone, just her name and the date of her death. Dean slapped the top of it twice with a smile and dug his shovel into the dry earth. The night air was hot and still. Both brothers discarded their jackets over the headstone though it did little to relieve the heat.
"Drink, Sammy." Dean said suddenly, climbing from the hole to dig a water bottle from his duffel and tossed it down. He was pretty sure his little brother wasn't sweating like he should be anymore. The heat was oppressive. The last thing he needed was to have to carry a swooning giant back to the car.
"Thanks." Sam smiled and hastily swigged down half the bottle. The heat was beginning to get to him. His stomach had been churning for a half hour. The water, though warm, was immediately refreshing. He tossed it back up to Dean and started digging again, grinning up when his shovel thunked into wood.
"Yahtzee!" Dean clapped his hands together and grabbed his shovel up again.
"Dean!" Sam's shout was warning enough. He looked up to find himself face to face with an angry, over painted face. Sadie screamed, reaching out for Dean and dissipated in a rush with the report from Dean's shotgun. "Ok." He said, breathing heavily and smirked down at Sam. "She's not horsefaced. Dig faster. I got your back." Sam shook his head and began hurriedly trying to clear the top of the coffin.
Dean stood over the hole and his brother, gun raised and alert. Sadie appeared again, further away and he filled her full of rock salt again. "Man, you'd think they be happy we're sending 'em on!" Sadie was actually fairly attractive for a nineteenth century prostitute, slim and blonde and damn determined as Dean shot her again. "Hurry up down there!"
"Almost there!" Sam shouted up, now slamming the shovel into the rotten wood.
Dean grunted and pitched forward as something connected with his back. It was cold and hard and he rolled, losing his gun to find Sadie standing over him. "Sammy! Get a move on!" Sadie dropped to straddle him. "Oh hell no." The look that came over her face could only be described as lascivious. She ran ghostly, cold hands up his muscled chest and leaned toward him for a kiss as one hand trailed lower and lower. "Holy crap. Sam!" Her dead lips found his as her hand made him shout and try to roll away.
Dean startled at the sound of a shotgun and Sadie vanished again, leaving him gasping in shock in the warm dirt.
"Dude." Sam smirked, then laughed and pulled his brother up. "You sure you don't want me to wait a while?"
"Shut up." Dean brushed off his shirt and pants and refused to meet his brothers' eyes. "Let's burn this bitch."
Sam swallowed another laugh and let Dean pour salt and lighter fluid over the now revealed skeleton. He did it with such relish Sam couldn't help but snort another laugh, earning himself a scowl. Sadie reappeared as Dean lit a book of matches and dropped it in. The ghost gave a last scream and went up in her own ball of fire.
"That'll teach you to keep your hands to yourself." Dean muttered and grabbed his shovel again. "Sammy, I see one smirk on that screwy face of yours and you're getting clobbered."
Sam wiped a hand over his face, trying to put away the laugh bubbling there and cleared his throat. He just nodded, not trusting himself to speak and started shoveling dirt back into the grave.
"Uh-huh." Dean glared at him. "You just keep it that way." He gave a body wide shiver. "You see how you feel after a ghost grabs your junk."
Now Sam did laugh. "Dude. Been there done that."
"What? When?" Dean tossed a shovel of dirt at his brother, making him laugh harder.
"The Woman in White man." Sam laughed again and blushed hard. "She got all handsy before she tried to rip my heart out and you shot in her the face."
Dean stared at him and then shook his head, finally giving a deep laugh. "Trust you to get lucky before she kills ya." Sam blushed even harder and Dean's eyes started watering he was laughing so hard. "Oh man, she didn't?" Sam ducked his head, shoveling dirt with purpose. "Holy crap. I'm filing this one away for later use."
"You do and I'm telling Bobby about your personal time with Sadie." Sam growled, amused and hopelessly embarrassed.
"That's low, man. That's low." Dean shook his head and tossed another shovel of dirt onto Sam's back.
"Hey!" Sam returned the favor with a clod of dirt to Dean's face. Filling the grave quickly degenerated into a childish outburst of flying dirt and insults. When they were done, the grave filled…mostly, they returned to the Impala laughing and tired. Sam smiled, seeing some of the stress gone from his brother's green eyes, even if only for an hour and decided it was worth coming clean about his close encounter.
"I'm hungry." Dean announced and tossed the shovels and guns in the trunk.
"Dude, you're always hungry." Sam chuckled.
"Am not." Dean strode to the driver's side and got behind the wheel. "There was that time in '87." Sam snorted and brushed some excess dirt from his sleeve onto Dean's leg. "You're gonna be detailin' my Baby you keep that up." Dean warned and started the engine, enjoying the growl as he eased away from the Ranch with a smile. "I'm picking the next job."
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"Okay what about this?" Dean turned the laptop to face Bobby. He was trying to find another job for them before Sam finished cleaning the front seat of the car. Dean smirked. He'd deserved it.
"That's not a job." Bobby declared, emptying his beer and going to his beat up refrigerator to grab another. "That's a bear."
"Could be a werewolf!" Dean argued. Bobby shook his head and came back, scrolling the page up slightly.
"See? Bear." He pointed and Dean growled, having missed the obvious picture below the article.
"Well hell." Dean went back to searching. He wasn't stupid. He'd figured it out, why Sam had settled on such an easy job. He smirked, easy job with an easy ghost. Sam was trying to protect him. That thought alone made Dean pause and close his eyes for a second. The image of his brother watching him be turned was slowly fading. This brother he knew would never let that happen.
"You takin' a nap, son?" Bobby knocked a beer against the back of the boy's head and set it in front of him.
"That's alcohol abuse." Dean answered and took a grateful pull from the bottle, eyes scanning the stories again. "I was just thinking."
"Anything I should know about?" Bobby asked. Dean's face had been so serious for a moment. They'd all had it rough but Dean, well he just didn't have the same coping ability of his little brother. Sam wore his heart on his sleeve. Sure it got stomped on more but he didn't bottle everything up like his older brother.
"Nope." Dean said shortly and gave his adoptive father a smile. He was definitely not in the mood for sharing. "Ok, I think I got one this time. This is too weird not to be our kinda thing."
Bobby swiveled the screen to himself and read. "Five people gone missin'. Four bodies turned up drained of blood and…" He read it again to be sure. "All missing a tooth?"
"Yep." Dean raised his beer in a salute and took a swig. "Friends and family say they were all having freaky nightmares before they went missing too."
"Devil's Lake, North Dakota?" Bobby raised a brow. "Well that doesn't exactly inspire confidence."
"What doesn't?" Sam asked as he came in the back door, went to the sink and started washing his hands.
"Found us a job." Dean replied with a grin. "Devil's Lake, North Dakota."
Sam dried his hands and pulled a beer out of the fridge, leaned against the counter and frowned. "Isn't that a bit like asking for trouble? Devil's lake?" Sam gave a nervous laugh. "We don't have the best luck with devil related things you know."
Dean winced and forced a smile. "S'okay. I can find something else." He turned back but Sam laughed again.
"No. Tell me what you found?" Sam pulled a chair over with his foot and sat, arms resting on the back. "What's the job?"
Dean studied him for a second, seeing nothing but steadiness in his blue-green eyes he nodded. "Whole lot of weirdness is what we got." He pulled the laptop away from Bobby and told Sam all he'd gleaned already.
"So, what? Evil tooth fairy?" Sam asked finally, making Dean laugh.
"Uh oh." Bobby said softly.
"Uh oh, what?" Dean turned a surprised face to him. "There's no uh oh here. What uh oh?"
"Didn't think of it til Sam mentioned it." Bobby said and rose. He went to his living room, which doubled as his library and started rooting around over full shelves looking for a specific volume.
"What? Tooth fairy?" Sam followed him in. "You're kidding right?"
"Sammy, I think Bobby's finally gone round the bed." Dean said sotto voice and nudged his brother. "Senility man. Old age is catching up."
"Boy you're not too big for me to take over my knee." Bobby warned him. Dean gave him his patented 'try it' smirk and Bobby chuckled. "Here it is." He pulled out an old, beaten up book. The binding was falling apart and the lettering on the cover in faded gold was some form of Gaelic. He leafed quickly through and then handed it to Sam.
"A Cailleach?" Sam said in surprise.
"A Kelly-what?" Dean looked over his shoulder.
"Cailleach." Bobby sat at his desk. "It's one of the oldest creatures of Faerie. Hell I thought they were extinct." He scratched his head. "Everyone did. No one's seen one of these for at least the last three hundred years."
"Fairies." Dean snorted and clapped Sam on the back. "I knew this was the job for you."
"Bite me, Dean." Sam said absently, reading the faded information on the age-browned pages. "Wait, so the whole thing about the Tooth fairy, that's based in fact?" He looked up as Bobby snorted.
"Isn't everything? Didn't I teach you idjits anything?" Bobby came and took the book back. "The Cailleach, well this variety of them anyway, would torment her victims for three nights running with nightmares, steal one of their teeth to bind them and then drain the poor suckers dry." He sat back down, thumping the book open on the cluttered desk. "It's why people leave coins under their pillows. It's not to attract the damn thing, it's too keep her away. Well it used to be." He turned a page and held it up. "They used to put wrought iron pieces under their pillows. Creatures of Faerie are vulnerable to it."
"So we know how to gank her then." Dean smiled. "What do you say, Sammy? Wanna go nab us an evil tooth fairy?"
Sam stared, shook his head. "Dude there are so many things wrong with that sentence."
