Author: Nickerbits
Disclaimer: They ain't mine, damnit! Although, come to think of it, I really don't think my husband would appreciate me keeping Jensen and Jared locked up in the basement.
This story deals with Rufus Turner, from "Time Is On My Side". I guess you could say it's the story of how Rufus got his groove back.
After I saw this episode, I'm afraid that the muse just locked on to my ankle and wouldn't let go until I actually wrote this. Not really sure how much it's worth, but here you go. Many thanks to Mousita and Medusa for all their help in making this readable. Thank you to Theresa for actually showing this non-computer savvy fool how to post this thing.
The first time it happened Rufus stood on his porch staring down at the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue on the step in confusion. Hunter instincts kicked in then and grabbing his favorite shotgun he quickly quartered his property but found no evidence of broken branches, disturbed greenery or footprints.
Damn, whoever had done this was good. Who would bring him a bottle of his favorite whiskey and why? Having turned his back on the rest of humanity years ago, the tall, black man didn't have a lot of close friends, and at about 200 a bottle Johnny Walker Blue wasn't something many folks he knew could afford on a whim.
Returning to the porch, Rufus bent down to pick up the bottle, starting momentarily when a small, yellow package dropped to the wood.
"What the hell?" The hunter grabbed the bag and smiled for the first time. "Peanut M&Ms! I remember these. Great take-along snack for the hunt. All the energy of chocolate and protein of peanuts with the candy coating so they don't melt. Haven't had none of these in a coon's age."
Ripping open the bag, the man smiled again as he crunched on a handful of the confections. "Probably not the smartest thing, eating these without checking them out first, but what the hell. "
"Now, let's go check the tapes, see who's been sneaking 'round my doorstep."
Retreating back into the house, Rufus carefully locked the door behind him and proceeded to the surveillance center. He sat down in front of the computer monitor and started punching up the surveillance feed from the last 12 hours.
"Damn! I know that bottle wasn't there when I did my final check last night, but according to the system, no one's been anywhere near the front door since then. How the hell did they do that? Who the hell would do that?" The grizzled man ran a hand over his face and sat back in his chair gazing tiredly up at the ceiling. "Okay, Rufus, think. Who would bring you an expensive bottle of scotch and why?"
"Ah, hell, I'm definitely gonna have to put some thought into this. In the meantime, let's take a closer look at this bottle."
Picking up the box enclosing the bottle, Rufus turned it over in his hands, examining it carefully from all sides. "Guess if I really wanna find out what's going on, I am going to have to open this thing up. Nothing ventured, nothing gained." The box top gave easily to the older man's questing thumb, popping up to reveal a small envelope as well as the expected bottle of scotch.
"Curiouser and curiouser. Let's see what we've got here." Ripping the envelope open, the ex-hunter read the enclosed note.
Hey, Mr. Turner –
Johnny Walker Blue is still your favorite, right? Thought I still owed you a bit for the help you gave us.
Hope you liked the M&Ms, too. Figured you probably haven't had any of those in a while. They're one of my favorites. You know, there is a 7-11 just down the street from you. You could walk down there any time you wanted to and pick yourself up a bag.
Maybe even meet one of your neighbors while you're there.
Enjoy!
There was no signature.
"Damn. This one's gonna drive me nuts for sure."
Five months later it happened again. The whole thing had nearly driven him insane. Rufus Turner was not a man used to not knowing things, but it seems that he was fated to not know this one. He'd spent months trying to track down every angle of the visitation that he could and had come up empty on any answers. Hell, he'd even made a trip to the local 7-11, thinking maybe he'd find some answers there since the place had been mentioned specifically in the note.
He'd struck out at the convenience store, although he did return to his house with a couple more bags of peanut M&Ms. He might have to make another trip to the damned store – he was almost out of the accursed candy, and his grocery delivery service didn't seem to carry it.
Rufus was busy, working on tracking down an item that another hunter wanted – something to help with this demon problem that seemed to be cropping up lately – when someone knocked on his door. His head snapped up immediately. The last time anyone had knocked on his front door was close to a year ago when Dean Winchester had come to see him, looking for Bela.
Heading over to his monitors, he was startled to discover that they were not showing anyone on his porch.
The knock came again, and grabbing his shotgun and a flask of holy water he headed towards the front door. Throwing open the portal, the hermit was startled to find a beautiful young woman in a bikini holding a pizza and what looked like another bottle of Johnny Walker Blue in her hands.
"Who the hell…" Unfortunately, the aged hunter only managed to get half his sentence out before the young woman, startled by the shotgun pointed at her face, dropped the bottle and the pizza and ran screaming from the front porch.
"Hey, wait a minute! Who are you? Who sent you?" Recovering from his momentary shock, Rufus vaulted off the porch, intent on catching up with the young woman before she disappeared.
Unfortunately, it seemed that his short hesitation had given his quarry all the time she needed to vanish. "Froze – just like a damned amateur. You ever did that when you were out hunting a Wendigo, Rufus and you would have found yourself hanging from a convenient cross beam somewhere dark and dank." Huffing in disgust, the man headed back toward his front door to find out exactly what he had been gifted with this time.
Johnny Walker Blue. Yup, certainly looked like the box for a bottle of the expensive scotch. Carefully opening the top, the ex-hunter was a bit surprised to feel a pang of disappointment when the carton contained only the alcohol, no note.
Turning his eyes to the pizza box, he pulled a grimace of disgust at the sight of sauce and cheese splattered over the immaculate floorboards. Carefully lifting the top, he couldn't smother a slight smile at the sight of an envelope attached to the underside of the lid.
Snatching the envelope, he quickly tore it opened to read the enclosed missive.
Hi, Rufus, how's it hangin'?
Thought you might need another bottle of your favorite. As for the pizza, well, that goes with everything, doesn't it? When was the last time you had a pizza delivered? Nothing like that gooey mozzarella and spicy pepperoni, especially when you don't have to cook it yourself. Frozen just doesn't measure up, anyway.
Hey, I had a bet with my traveling companion. Did you come running to the door with your shotgun out and scare poor Lisa (not her real name, I promise you) into screaming and running away? Hah! I knew it. Guess he's gonna owe me a wash and wax or two.
But, speaking of pizza, I hope you like this one. Roger Daltry has been nice enough to arrange to have a pizza delivered to you, all paid for, including the tip. Once a week for the next six months. That Roger really is a hell of a guy.
The delivery will be every Thursday around 7, just so you know to expect it. There's some hellishly good TV on Thursdays, and what could be better than chowing down on good pizza while watching great TV?
Unfortunately, Lisa and her bikini was a one-time thing. The rest of your delivery folks will be in plain, everyday clothing.
Hey, you know, while you're accepting your pies, you may want to speak just a couple words to the delivery men. They're just regular guys trying to earn a living and I'm sure they'd appreciate a friendly word from you. Who knows, you might enjoy it too.
Once again, there was no signature.
"This really is gonna drive me crazy. Guess I'll have to check out the pizza shop, not that I really think there's a chance in hell I'm going to figure out who's behind this."
Three months further down, Rufus did have admit that he'd gotten used to his pizza deliveries. Delivered pizza really was much better than frozen. He'd even spoken a bit to the delivery people. Okay, mainly he'd asked them to change the topping on the next pie, but he had spoken to them and nothing bad had happened. They didn't even seem to think he was crazy or dangerous.
When the ex-hunter opened his door that fine autumn morning, he could truthfully say that the last thing he expected to see on his porch was a blow-up sex doll holding a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. The ex-hunter turned on his heel and raced back to the surveillance room. The camera was showing Betty (or whatever her name was) lounging outside his door, bottle in hand.
Grabbing his favorite shotgun again, Turner ran back to the front porch, only to find he'd left the front door open. Stopping for a moment to draw in a deep breath, Rufus tried to settle his jangled nerves. He never, never left his front door hanging open. There were just too many things out there that might find their way in.
He did take his time carefully searching every inch of his estate, even though he knew he wouldn't find anything. He didn't.
Rufus stepped on his porch, and paused to examine Betty (he just decided the name fit). Typical, cheap, blow-up sex doll (lord, he hoped no one thought he was secretly into those!). This particular one was black with the expected wide-open mouth and embracing arms, which were bound together around the box for the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue.
"Well, come on, Betty. I think we need to head inside and see if we can figure out what's going on." Snatching the doll off the porch, he headed back inside his house, making doubly sure he remembered to close and lock the door this time.
He headed for the kitchen and set the doll carefully down on the table. "Okay, let's take a look here." Screwing his face up a bit in disgust, he first checked both of the doll's orifices carefully, only to come up empty.
"Okay, I guess that means it's the box then." Carefully, he enticed the sex toy to release her grip. "Come on, now, Betty. Let go for me, ah, there we go."
He set the carton down on the table, examining it from all angles before once again opening the box top. He felt a pang of disappointment when he realized that there was the expected note, but no bottle of scotch.
"Damn. I was out, too. Really coulda used another bottle. "
"Let's see what the note has to say this time." He carefully teased open the flap of the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper inside.
Rufus –
Have you been waiting to hear from me again? Have you been enjoying the pizzas? You like your little present? Not that I think you're into these things or anything, but I don't think you've been getting much lately, so who knows.
Anyway, you're probably wondering where your bottle of Johnny Walker Blue is. Well, here's the deal. There's this perfectly nice bar a mile or so down the road called Kellsy's Place. If you head down there Saturday after 9 PM and ask for Jim behind the bar, he might just have a little something for you.
You know, there have been two drinks pre-paid for you. You might want to stick around and enjoy them before you leave.
Cheers!
P.S. – Jim has seen your picture, so don't try conning the pizza delivery guy into picking up the bottle for you.
"Damn! I haven't been out to a bar in years. Gave those up the same time I gave up hunting. Can't stand being around all those idiotic folks." Rufus scowled as he scratched at his beard in consternation. "On the other hand, it is a 200 bottle of scotch, and an extremely limited production of it, too. Hate to see something like that go to waste."
"Hell's bells! Guess I'm gonna be makin' my way out to that bar come Saturday. I wonder if they have Johnny Walker Blue at that bar. Might be worth staying for one of those free drinks if it is."
Six months later, Rufus Turner could admit to himself that he was starting to get a bit impatient waiting for the next visit from his mysterious benefactor. The pizza deliveries had stopped three months ago, but he'd grown fond of fresh , hot pizza, so he still called occasionally. Hell, he'd even gotten the Chinese place in town to deliver once or twice.
He did draw the line at going to the 7-11, but he'd managed to talk one of the pizza delivery guys into stopping on his way and picking up M&Ms –for a suitably large tip of course.
He'd picked up his bottle at the bar and was shocked to discover that they did have Johnny Walker Blue. Jim explained to him that the same person who had dropped off the bottle for Rufus had left a second bottle with Jim, with instructions that it be served to no one other than Rufus. Jim couldn't just give the bottle to the other man either. His mysterious benefactor had been very clear on that point.
Try as he might, Rufus could get absolutely no information from the bartender about the man who had set the whole thing up. Jim just smiled and said, "Sorry. There's absolutely no way I can help you. He did a huge favor for me once, taking care of a little spook problem I was having if you know what I mean. I owe him. There's no way I'm going to betray his confidence."
So, that's where it stood. He'd had his two pre-paid shots at the bar and then avoided the place until his bottle had run out. Now, he found himself stopping at the bar occasionally when Jim was working for a bit of liquid refreshment. He'd even spoken to Jim a couple of times and discovered that he actually kind of liked the man.
Rufus stopped by the surveillance room for a quick look at the monitors and was surprised to see another bottle of the scotch sitting at his front door with a large envelope resting against it. The ex-hunter didn't bother to grab his shotgun this time. He just walked up and opened the front door.
The first thing Turner did was to check the Johnny Walker Blue box. Good, the bottle of scotch was there. Anything else was just a bonus.
Picking up the items off the porch, he headed for his kitchen table and sat down with a hot cup of coffee to see just what he had. The envelope was one of those big, manila ones with a string tie holding it shut. Swiftly untying the string, he upended it over the table spilling the contents across the surface. There was a folded piece of paper that read, "Read me first!" There was also package of photos and what looked like one of those folders you got when you booked a trip through a travel agent to hold all your documentation.
Salutations, Rufus –
Have you figured out who it's been bothering you yet? C'mon, it's me, Dean! Dean Winchester! Have you forgotten me already? When you told me basically how lonely and pathetic your life was and how I would be fated to the same, I just had to show you that it didn't have to be that way.
Now, I know you heard all about me and my deal. You may not know this, but it actually did come true for a little while. Let me tell you, that was definitely enough to convince me that you need to take the chance and live life to the fullest. Hiding away from the world in your house really isn't much better than waiting for the year to be up so you can go to hell. Believe me, I'm trying to take a little more control and enjoy life a little more. Can I convince you to join me?
First of all, it's probably driving you nuts how your surveillance cameras never showed anyone on your porch. Well, you have my geek brother to thank for that. He hacked into your internet connection and into your computer through that. After that it was just a simple case of creating a continuous loop to show your porch as empty when we needed it. I told you he was a geek! A nerd, too.
Anyway, open up the photo package now. I'll wait.
Setting aside the note momentarily, Rufus flipped open the packet and saw a picture of Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer and a very tall, brown haired man grinning like idiots with their arms around each others' shoulders. The fact was that the words, "This is the geek – my brother Sammy" with an arrow pointing to the tall man provided an identity for the third person.
Picking the note back up, he continued to read.
Now, the travel packet – that's the exciting thing here. You see, Sammy and Bobby and I have decided that we'd like to spend a long weekend in Vegas and thought maybe you'd agree to join us. You'll find airline tickets and hotel reservations at the Bellagio (what can I say, Roger's friend Pete Townsend is just as generous as he was).
What do you say – a few days of sun, fun, great food, gambling – what more could you want.
Hope to see you there.
Dean
Rufus Turner smiled to himself as he set the note back down on the table. That Winchester pup might just have a point. He really wasn't doing much living at the moment. Maybe it was time for that to change. He'd have to check his busy schedule, but a long weekend in Vegas did just sound like it could be a lot of fun.