Title: Boys And Their Toys
Summary: Most Human!Impala fics automatically make Baby into a young, attractive female. Why? So writers can give her a sexy tattoo. But what if the truth were a little different? Just a parody to poke fun at typical aspects of Human!Impala fics. Humbly dedicated to the Always Keep Fighting movement!
A/N: I just found out about the Always Keep Fighting candles that were lit at the Supernatural panel at comicon this year. I couldn't make it there, but I'd like to dedicate this story to the AKF campaign in the hopes that it might've made someone's day just a little bit brighter.
May continue this later, may not, I'm not sure yet. Let me know if you want this to continue!
Rating: M only because I'm scared of the rating police. I'd rather worry about over-rating than under-rating.
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural, and some of me is partially ashamed to own this story line.
Object-To-Human transformations can be tricky to deal with – after all, they were just ideas, and everyone knows that the human mind's version of an idea differs from person to person. Especially with kids. The random, small, middle-of-nowhere town was crawling with pink unicorns, dinosaurs, and giant robots brought to life. True, they poofed back into their original forms when sprayed with grape juice, but many of the toys didn't want to be turned back, despite the damage they were causing. You see, many toys didn't seem to realize that they were real.
"Gah! What the hell is this red stuff? Come on, give me my arm back so I can snap it back on!"
"But we're best friends Tommy! Why won't you play 'Shoot Your Sister' anymore?"
Although the worse ones were probably the toys that did realize their new state, but ended up being the type of humans that didn't really work well with kids.
"GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE BRAT! You wanted a tea party, and we are damn well going to have it, understood? Now sit in the goddamn chair and drink nothing and eat nothing! AND ENJOY IT!"
So, of course the Winchester brothers were taking a break from the normal angst and drama that unnecessarily permeated their lives, and going on a nice refreshing hunt that conveniently took them in the path of this random, small, middle-of-nowhere town.
"Why are we here, Dean? What are the chances that anything of interest is going to happen in this small town randomly selected in the middle-of-nowhere of an unnamed state?"
"The author told me to."
"What?"
"Um … Baby's got a bit of a rattle that I want to stop to check it out?"
"Oh … I don't hear anything."
"I wouldn't expect you to, Sam, it takes a finely trained ear to truly understand when Baby's speaking, isn't that right girl?"
"Dean, it's a car."
"He just doesn't understand us Baby."
When they reached the center of town, it was only to find chaos instead of the cheap, skanky motel they'd expected.
"This is chaos!" Dean yelled in frustration, honking the horn. The road was being blocked by a parade of men that looked remarkably similar in height and build, with not a single man under 6' among them, all clothed very conservatively with multiple layers, in a picket line with signs claiming that they will not be used. Some appeared to be shaking and trembling uncontrollably, some had an arm sticking out at odd angles. They appeared mainly focusing on blocking the local small-town sex shop, and let the brothers through without much issue.
Their next obstacle was a similar parade of women, all inhumanly curvaceous, mostly blonde, and none of them appeared capable of closing their mouths. They were parading outside the local small-town golfing club, and though they weren't actually blocking the road, it took a moment for both Winchesters to stop gawking long enough to drive by.
With the motel in sight, Sam and Dean were not happy when their route was blocked suddenly by a large amount of men crossing the road. They were marching, had old weapons strapped across them, and were painted entirely green. Including clothing, skin, and hair. Even the weapons.
Sam used his incredible intellect to determine what was going on.
"Dean," he said, waiting for the wounded men to finish crossing, "I think I've determined what's going on."
"Well?"
"The whole town's toys are turning into their real-life representations. There's probably a spell or a single cursed object responsible."
Dean thought for a moment, glancing at the green army man stuffed into the backseat ashtray suspiciously. "So, the girls outside the golf club were blow-up dolls?"
"And the men outside the sex store were probably dildos. I'm guessing that the spell's definition of 'toy' isn't entirely restricted to children's toys." Sam pointed out.
Dean frowned in determination, and turned Baby around in a perfectly-executed stunt driver illegal u-turn, conveniently headed for the local police station. "We've got to stop this, Sam. We can't let those innocent sex toys suffer any longer."
"I thought you wanted to check a rattle in the car?"
"Baby understands, she knows that we can't just sit here while poor, forlorn sex toys get humanized. We've got to save them. I'll make sure Baby's in perfect working condition afterwards."
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's obsession. "Dean, it's a car, not a person." He said in a completely non-forshadow-y way.
"Just because she's not made of flesh and blood doesn't mean I don't love her. It's okay Baby."
The car sputtered, and despite Dean and Sam's exclamations of surprise, slowed to a stop. Luckily for the Winchesters, other oncoming traffic was being delayed by a group of My Little Ponies that had started up an alfalfa tax on passing motorists.
The Impala's form blurred, trembling, forcing Sam and Dean to leap out of the vehicle. It started to shrink, and waver, and generally reform itself into something … someone else.
Open black leather vest, a tight white crop top underneath. Fingerless black leather studded gloves.
Tight black leather bell-bottom pants with fringe, studded belt.
Heavy black boots, skull-and-crossbones bandana holding back shoulder-length hair.
An exceptionally hairy beer-belly.
"Hey dudes, this is totally rad!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air and revealing his extensive, greying armpit hair.
Dean looked on with no small amount of horror as Baby, his sweet Impala, was humanized into some old biker guy from the sixties. His mouth had dropped open in surprise and no small amount of fear. He couldn't seem to vocalize anything.
Sam had a little more composure. "Uh … Impala?"
"You got it Sammy!" The older man turned to face Sam, and Dean saw the Chevrolet logo in fading white on the back of his vest. "My name's actually Roy, but I'll totally answer to Baby. It's all cool."
Dean still could not vocalize. Breathing was first on the reboot list.
Roy turned around again to face Dean, and smiled fondly at the man. "Can't ch'ya dig it man? Now I can say it back! I love you too, dude!"
Dean's brain screeched to a halt. Brain cursed up a storm as communications went down – Logic wasn't responding to the paper airplanes, Fight's computer had crashed, and over in it's neglected corner, Flight was just running around in circles. Strategy wouldn't stop texting "WTFFFFFFFFF" over to Brain, and the Kill-It-Reflex Department was painting picket signs and tearing up their Collective Agreement with the Brain. Long story short, Dean fainted dead away in the street.
Sam ignored him. "You're … the Impala?"
Roy nodded as he went to prod at Dean with his foot. "Right on. Full name's actually D. T. Roy Impala the thirty-two thousandth, but that's a gnarly name, so Roy's good. Better than being named after my grandmother." Dean grunted a little, but was otherwise non-responsive.
Sam, not wanting to talk across the street for much longer (the Ponies were extending their blockade), dragged his brother onto the sidewalk. Roy followed. Logic finally submitted it's report to Sam's Brain. "This is because of the curse, isn't it? Dean sees enough of a toy in you that it's transformed you."
"Maybe. Don't really think of myself as a toy, man, but whatever floats his boat. I don't judge. Might'a had somethin' to do with that totally non-forshadowed army man you stuck in my ashtray, or the Legos Dean shoved down my vents. That was totally not cool – if I'm going to sound like a pack-a-day smoker, I should 'least get some good grass out of it." Roy lowered himself to sit on the curb beside the still-fainted Dean. "Still awesome though. And it's a witch, dude, that didn't want her kid to be lonely while she was out of town."
"How do you know that?" Sam resumed the kicking of his brother for the fun of it. "It seems awfully convenient."
"Don't over-analyze dude, just open your mind. It could be the author wanting to get the plot over with so she can get back to making fun of established fandom norms, or it could be that I'm more aware than normal toys because I'm a hunter's car."
Sam pondered, Sam shrugged, Sam said "Good enough for me." Sam's brain filed the necessary reports with the Threat Detection Department (Level: No Threat), the Odd Happenstances Office (Level: Orange Delta D), and the Dean Blackmail Center (Level: Never Let Him Forget). Sam continued kicking Dean.
Roy grinned. "Righteous, man! Don't be oppressed by the fourth wall."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Dean groaned, returning to consciousness. Rubbing at his eyes wearily, Dean wondered why he'd had such an odd dream, and why he appeared to be laying on cement, and why a purple horse was strolling down the street across from him. Further down, some kind of car-based robot appeared to be waging war on the My Little Pony brigade. Dean sat up. Dean saw Roy smiling brightly at him.
Dean squealed like a pig and scrambled backwards.
"Hey dude!" Roy awkwardly stood (not easy to stand from a curb with a large beer-belly and tight leather pants). "Back with the living, again, eh?"
Dean eeped. "B-B-Baby?"
The humanized Impala shrugged. "I can dig it. You're always sweatin' over me to make sure I'm good, so call me what you want. Free country, man, but I usually go by Roy."
Sam stood back and smiled at the happy reunion.
Dean attempted to vocalize again, starting something only to stop. Roy reached into his vest a pulled out a bottle of motor oil, settling in to wait for Dean to process.
Meanwhile, in Dean's Brain, most departments were bemoaning having upgraded from Windows XP in the first place. Logic had given up and was banging his head on the keyboard. Fight had thrown his keyboard at Flight, and was now stuck at an error prompt page: No Input Device Detected – [Y] to Continue, [Esc] to Return to Startup, [N] to Shut Down. Strategy finally managed to get a paper football to land on Logic's head, and Brain finally got the report that Baby had been humanized by the Deus Ex Ma – the curse. Definitely the curse.
"It's – it's really you, isn't it Impala?" Dean gulped.
Roy shrugged, and turned, reaching to pull down his tight leather pants. "I got a tattoo if you wanna-"
"No!" Both Winchesters shouted. Dean hid his eyes, while Sam leapt forward and held his hands out as if dealing with a mad suicide bomber.
"Really, man, that's alright. We believe you. Right Dean?" Sam cautioned.
"Yep! Really believing over here!"
Roy looked almost disappointed.
Sam continued, and approached cautiously. "Besides, don't we have a hunt to do? Dean, Roy conveniently knows everything we need to know, which is good because I think the local authorities are busy with that purple dragon over there."
Roy sighed, and nodded, turning completely to face both Sam and Dean, who was slowly standing. "You were right Dean, it is tragic. It's not just the dildos and blow-up dolls either. I have a trippy mental connection with all the toys, and there's a bunch of really frustrated former Barbie and Ken dolls too."
Dean rallied at the mention of the sex toys, and even worse, new human adults that couldn't have sex. Something had to be done. "Right. So … Roy … what's going on?"
Roy explained everything again, and added, "the auth – or, the witch watches too much Phineas and Ferb, so all the toys will be returned to normal with grape juice. But if we want to get all of them, dudes, we gotta find the First Toy. The witch's kid'll have it."
"Seriously man, enough with the fourth wall. Sam never gets it anyway." Dean hissed out the side of his mouth.
Roy burped loudly and put away his bottle of oil. "Dude's just repressed, Dean-o. He needs to find a chic and bring 'er back to me, like that Anna babe, she was cool. You know, man, I really thought she'd be a screamer. Guess you never can tell, eh?"
Dean paled and felt bile rising in his throat.
"Okay. Okay, so we're gonna need weapons, and grape juice. Which was in the … car." Sam paused in his pondering and looked over at Roy. Noticed that his brother looked on the verge of passing out again, but paid him little heed otherwise. Determined!Sam had gotten a job to focus on. Remembering the motor oil, Sam asked, "Roy, I don't suppose you've got our shotguns in your vest pocket?"
"Nah, man, not there. My vest has this wicked inter-dimensional rift with all the stuff you guys left under my hood and in my body, but not the trunk."
Dean, guessing where this line of thought was going, opened his mouth to interrupt Sam's next statement, but was too late. Sam asked, "so where's everything in the trunk?"
Roy grinned, reaching for the belt on his tight leather pants, just as Dean shouted at the top of his lungs, "NO! THE PANTS STAY ON!"
A herd of Cabbage Patch dolls walking down the other sidewalk gave the group some sideways glances, and the overhead flying car-robot whistled. Somehow.
"Dudes, chill! Everything that was in the caboose is still in the caboose, it's all cool."
"No, no it is not cool," Dean's voice was still a little hysterical, but he could get his message across. "We will find another way."
Sam's eyes widened at the realization that Dean had just saved him again. "Roy, do you really have an inter-dimensional rift in your ass?" He felt compelled to ask. Sam winced internally as he said it, as the comment was both out of the ordinary for him, and disgusting.
Roy scratched his impressively hairy belly. "No way, man, it's just down my pants. My ass is still my ass – Dean spent enough time rebuilding it, he should know."
Neither brother really knew what to say to that, though Sam was sure he heard a quietly whimpered "eep'.
"Nah, the exhaust has gotta come out somewhere, ya dig? What goes in must come out, it's the circle of life." Roy suddenly looked a little sheepish, and scratched his graying beard. "Dudes, it can be pretty gnarly, I warn ya …"
Sam took a steadying breath. "Okay, we can still do this. It shouldn't be too hard to find the First Toy and take it out, without anything that was in the trunk."
"Right. Thanks for saying that Sam." Dean moaned in despair at the approaching giant car-robot.
The robot slammed a foot down worryingly close to the Winchesters, making the ground shake and cement crack, leaning close and roaring. Somehow.
"Hey, man, not cool!" Roy shouted in anger. "Keep your tires off my boys!" Roy pounded a fist on his belly and let out a mighty belch. The Burp reverberated in the air, rising up to shatter all the windows in the car-robot.
The construct yelped and ran away, narrowly missing a paper biplane flying overhead.
"Roy," Dean said, staring up at the retreating robot. For now, he could forget that his car, his Baby, had turned into (and apparently was all along) a 45 year old biker dude, and just appreciate the manliness of the epic belch. "That was awesome. Ten out of ten, dude."
"Sweet," Roy grinned and took out his bottle of motor oil. "Now, the author's trying to end the chapter, so let's go hunt down the First Toy!"
Sam, having missed the first part of the statement while marveling at the new My Little Green Army Calvary, stipulated, "as long as we don't need any ass-rift guns."
If you guys want this to continue, I'll need toy suggestions. I hope this managed to make someone's fight a bit easier for the day. Always Keep Fighting!