Title: Odi et Amo
by hobous
Summary: Fun with latin. (Season 1)
Warnings/Spoilers: None, really. The rating is precautionary for mild violence. Ok, well, you might not want the litl'uns translating the last phrase that isn't English, but honestly, if the kid is old enough to read latin, I don't think they'll be terribly scarred by one naughty word.
Disc: I don't own the Winchesters, the Aeneid, the Catullus poem I stole the title from, or Tulsa, USA; just poor old Lester. Not profiting, either.
A/N: I think when I wrote this (it was a year ago), I was fuming about people who choose random, undeclined/conjugated latin words, insert them into a story, and say "Presto, demons be gone!" On paper, my rage turned out to be silly fluff. :)Enjoy!
Sam had barely managed a frantic gesture towards the duffel bag across the room when the man in the cowboy hat—the victim of possession whom Sam and his brother were trying to rescue—slammed him against the warehouse wall by his throat. Luckily, Dean was two steps ahead of his brother and had already dumped the contents of the bag on the floor and was shuffling through them. Dean knew exactly what he was looking for: a book with Latin in it. This would not have been his first choice, but it wasn't like he could just shoot the demon and be done with, since it was currently in possession of some supposedly mild-mannered teacher from Tulsa.
And so he dug through the pile of Sam's belongings and, after glancing up once and seeing his brother's increasingly purplish face, he came up victorious with what he hoped desperately was a book of exorcisms. The cover was blank, but when Dean flipped to the first page he saw the familiar all-caps text he had come to recognize (admitedly, in that blurry, possibly-concussed way). With a deep breath, he began to read in a deep, commanding tone: "Arma virumque cano…"
Unbeknownst to Dean, both Sam and the demon had been keeping track of Dean's actions, at least as well as anyone could while being strangled or strangling someone else. For two beings fighting to the death, they wore remarkably similar pained expressions when the eldest present Winchester began to read. Sam's wince was one of horror at his brother's selection, while the demon, currently in the body of a man named Lester, cringed in anticipation of the pain he knew enough to associate with Church Latin. Lester's body actually reacted to the first syllables so violently that Sam slipped a few inches down the wall and was able to take one glorious breath before the demon recovered.
Lester cocked his head to one side in confusion as Dean pressed on, "Musa, mihi causas memora, quo numine laeso", while Sam simply rolled his eyes and fought even harder, no longer confident in his brother's ability to rescue him. Granted, the older man was bleeding from numerous injuries and suffering from a head wound, but seriously, of all—
Sam's thought process was cut off as Lester's meaty hand shook him like a dog worrying a sock and then flipped him away from the wall and onto his back on the floor. "Progenium sed enim Troiano a sanguine duci audierat…" The landing jarred Sam's fillings, but he remained conscious and noticed off to his side a heavy-looking lunch box, left behind by some forgetful worker. The demon turned Lester's face to Dean and laughed menacingly, but Dean apparently took Sam's panicked flailing to mean "don't stop", and he pressed on with his reading. "Hic illius arma, hic currus fuit…"
The demon turned back to Sam and sneered, ready with some threat or taunt. Sam, however, was slightly more ready and let Lester have it with the piece of rebar the demon had considerately slammed him down on. He caught Lester just behind the left ear and struck him hard enough to force the irregularly large man off of his chest. The demon and Lester lay on the floor stunned while Sam hauled himself to his knees beside him, by now ignoring Dean's incessant intonation: "sic volvere Parcas."
Ignoring the demon's weak, half-conscious struggles, he rapidly made the sign of the cross over the prone figure with one hand and supported himself against the wall with the fingertips of the other. "In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti," he began and then rattled off a basic exorcism he had memorized some time ago. Luckily, he had discovered that, contrary to what most horror movies might lead one to believe, the rite did not need to be bellowed at the top of ones lungs or even in a full voice, as long as it was forceful and audible to the one being exorcised. His bruised throat was thankful for this.
He finished quickly and, after Lester had fainted again, rolled the man into a recovery position and sat back on his heals. Dean had just finished his recitation ("tantae molis erat Romanem condere gentem") and strode over. He looked Sam over, nodded, and helped him to his feet. "Way to steal my thunder, Sammy," he commented, giving Lester's loafer-clad foot a nudge with his own boot. "You know I had him."
"You—wha--?" Sam sputtered in coherently for a moment. "Dude, you were reading the Aeneid, for Christ's sake! Were you planning on parsing him to death next?"
Dean frowned, then recovered. "Latin's Latin. It was working, wasn't it?" He said smugly, and then turned to leave, sweeping his brother's bag and its previous contents up as he passed. When he reached the door, the hunter hesitated and then added, "Mater prolapsus."
Sam gaped at his back for a minute and then followed, shaking his head mournfully.
A/N: I know what you're thinking (no, the other thing), and yes, I have seen Crossroad Blues (although this story-let was written last December, way before it aired) and yeah, Dean speaking latin in his pseudo-italian accent... purrrr. Ehem. Kudos to Jensen Ackles. That said, it does usually seem to be Sammy doing the latinizing (albeit in a slightly less enjoyable, eigth-grader trying to pass an oral exam type fashion), so that's what I'm basing this on.
Not to justify my writing or anything.
Hope you enjoyed!