Never Poke A Witch, a supernatural fanfic

Never Poke A Witch!

XXXXXX

"Oh, come on Sam, it's a crappy fair ground! There's only a couple of tents and a kiddie's ride. It's not gonna have any clowns," Dean huffed as he shouldered his reluctant brother onwards. "Thought you had gotten over all that with the clown therapy a few months a back. You know, at Penny's when I got you that cute clown doll as a reminder of your progress."

He stole a surreptitious glance at Sam. His brother's exasperated expressions never failed to amuse him; as did his patented reactions.

"You haven't seen any clowns in the Impala, have you?" Sam bitched back.

"Aw Sammy, I thought that was because you only pulled it out of your duffel at night to cuddle up to it."

Sam strode forward. There was a witch to be neutralized in that fair and at this point he would prefer facing up to another clown than having to put up with Dean's baiting.

"Fine," he flung back as he outstripped his brother. "But the next time we have to take a plane, it'll be payback!"

Dean smirked as he hurried after him. There was nothing more satisfying than baiting Sammy; he rose to it beautifully every time.

He dragged his attention back to the hunt.

It seemed this witch had been causing all sorts of problems since the fair had arrived in the little town about a week ago.

She had set herself up as a fortune-teller and when the clients came in she would get them to blurt out their moans and grumbles and then make them come true. She came over as more of a mischievous, petty type, than a hard-nosed black magic bitch but she had to be stopped just the same

On the positive side, nobody had actually died, but there were nagging wives who had mysteriously lost their voices, husbands who were stuck to their couch in front of the TV, kids who couldn't stop playing video games, dog-lovers with dogs that wouldn't stop barking, high school girls who had seen their envied long curly blond hair fall out leaving them with a billiard-ball smooth scalp etc, etc.

For the moment all lighter stuff but which in the long run could turn deadly.

Luckily enough for the locals, the Winchesters had randomly roared into town and had heard about the weird goings on at the local diner. It seemed that this 'fortune teller' had become pretty popular in town.

Go to her, get your gripes seen to!

Dean could appreciate the attractiveness in that, for he had plenty of gripes himself. He wondered if she could make his Baby suck less gas, for example!

The brothers sneaked round the back of the tent. There was someone inside along with the witch.

The boys exchanged glances; the plan was simple, Sam would slash the sheeting and Dean would jump in and deal with her altar. It was a small tent, the altar had to be in full view. It would be a walk in the park!

Dean counted down, three, two, one with his fingers and Sam's knife ripped through the plasticized fabric like a hot knife through butter.

The middle-aged woman who was deep in consultation with the witch, let out a rousing scream as the two men burst in.

"Consult's over, lady," Dean growled. "Get out," he ordered as the woman scampered away through the tent door.

Dean's eyes raked the place, looking for the altar. "Crap, where the hell is it?"

All it contained was a couple of chairs and a table with the usual fortune-telling accessories; a crystal ball and a couple of weird little figurines.

"Well, if it isn't the Winchesters," the witch drawled amused. "I wondered when I'd get to meet you. It's always nice when two hot guys like yourselves come to pay a girl a visit."

Dean felt Sam's reassuring presence at his back and he didn't need to see his face to know he was confused, because Dean was too. How did this chick know their names?

"There's no altar, Dean," Sam whispered.

"Thanks Mr Obvious," Dean answered, his eyes never shifting from the female figure in front of him.

The witch smiled, "I was really enjoying myself here before you burst in so rudely. I think you boys deserve a little lesson in good manners. Oh right, I forgot, your momma wasn't around to teach you now, was she?'" she snarked nastily and waved a hand.

"Why you sleazy bitch..." Dean began, but unexpectedly found himself cursing at a middle-aged couple who were walking past in the main street of the town.

"Uh, sorry, Sir, Ma'am," Sam blurted out as he yanked Dean away, leaving the astonished couple flabbergasted at the sudden appearance of the two men out of thin air.

"Dean, calm down, man," Sam soothed but Dean was on a roll. The witch had rubbed him up the wrong way and she was going to pay.

"Shut up,Sam! Come on, we're going back to gank her."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"You seriously think she's still gonna be there when we go back," he asked calmly.

Dean sighed. "No Sammy, I don't. But I wanna go back and see anyway."

"Okay then, but chill! How can a witch you've only seen for a minute ruffle your feathers like this?"

"I don't know, Sam. Maybe, it was the reference to Mom, maybe an instant antipathy, but she just rubbed me up the wrong way!"

When the brothers once again came into sight of the fair, the fortune-teller's red, green and white-striped tent was nowhere to be seen.

Their questions to the other workers shed no light on the witch; all they knew was that she had come along, offered her services and been a big hit with the public, drawing people in, but nothing else.

"Well, that went well," Dean bitched as he threw his duffel into a corner of the room.

"Aw come on Dean, you're making too much out of this. She didn't actually kill anyone and her spells seem to have reversed themselves now that she's disappeared!"

"Yeah well. I suppose we can't win them all, especially where bitch-witches are concerned."

"We don't seem to have a great track record with them," Sam agreed. "They're as slippery as eels!"

"And twice as skanky," Dean added.

"Nothing more we can do tonight. That bed looks real comfy and I'm gonna crash on it," Dean said tiredly as he unlaced his boots and did just that.

Dean burrowed himself into the comfortable bed. The motel they were in was definitely out of the ordinary; at the price they were paying he would have expected the usual scruffy room and furnishings but it was a family run establishment and they prided themselves on pleasing their customers.

Well Dean was fine with that; the bed was heaven.

The creak of the door and the aroma of fresh coffee that immediately filled the room at Sam's entry made him even happier; a good bed; a great night's sleep and a little brother bringing him his coffee. Who could ask for more? Well, maybe he could think of an extra benefit or two that he would be fine with, but right now he was good with what he had.

"Dean, you okay? You're practically invisible under all those covers; you usually throw yourself down on the top of the bed."

Dean poked his head out from a corner of the sheets."What! I can't enjoy my rest however I want now? Is that coffee you've got there, Sammy?"

"Nah, It's a new coffee flavoured air-freshener, " Sam ironized as he carefully placed everything on the table.

"Dude, you're off your game this morning ; that was pukey!"

"I'm sorry that I can't think up a witty rejoinder every time, that meets with your approval," Sam answered dryly, sitting back in his chair sipping his coffee.

"You know Sam, sometimes I don't know why I still keep you around," Dean quipped, as he came to sit at the table across from his brother but they both knew the answer; love, brotherhood and family.

They sat in amicable silence, each dwelling on their own thoughts until Dean pushed back his chair and made for the bathroom.

Sam gave a casual glance at his brother's retreating back and...

"Dean, what's up with your back?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"Your shoulder blades look funny!"

"Funny as in 'Ha-Ha or funny as in 'What the Hell?"

"I'd go for the second option," Sam answered as he came to stand behind Dean, peering at his back.

"There's definitely some king of swelling on both shoulder blades, Dean. Take off your tee-shirt. Let me get a better look!"

"Hey, get your paws off the merchandise, Sam."

"Don't be ridiculous Dean. Let me see!"

"Sammy, I got urgent business in the crapper. Can't it wait?"

"Dean!" Sam insisted stubbornly. "Let me see!"

Dean gave in, none too gracefully, but when Sam went into stubborn mode, it was easier just to humour him.

He pulled up his shirt and his heart flipped a little as he heard Sam's horrified gasp.

"Sammy? Out with it, man! What's wrong?"

"Dean, I...uhh..Feathers!"

"Did you just say feathers? As in birds."

"Or angels or cherubs, " Sam supplied helpfully, too taken aback to be shocked.

Dean turned to face his brother, any urgency he had to visit the bathroom forgotten.

"You're saying that there are feathers growing out of my shoulder blades. That's gross!" Dean said disgusted.

He became aware of a strangled giggle coming from his brother and he eyed him coldly.

"What the Hell, Sam You should be freaked out by this, not giggling like a five year old."

"Sorry, but I can't help myself. The idea of you with a pair of fluffy wings just makes me crack up. That witch did say she'd make you pay"

"No Sam, she said she would make us pay so turn your ass round and let me have a look at you," Dean smiled wolfishly.

"What no," Sam spluttered, his hilarity disappearing as Dean manhandled him, yanking up his shirt.

"Well, well, well, what have we here," he announced triumphantly. "Cute little budding wings on your gargantuan body!"

"It can't be. I don't feel anything."

"Neither did I doufous," Dean replied. "It was you who noticed I had bumps."

"Come on Dean, we've got to find that witch. If these wings should grow bigger we're gonna be confined to a motel room forever. We won't be able to go anywhere," Sam replied panic beginning to set in!

"Don't worry, cherub," Dean smirked. "We'll find her and she'll learn that you don't mess with the Winchesters," he finished off before calmly entering the bathroom, leaving Sam trying to perform acrobatics to get a view of his own back.

XXXX TBC XXXXX