The Family Business 'verse
Season 10 - Episode 12 - About A Boy
"Man Enough"
"Do you really believe that?" Dean asked, gazing up at Sam from his place on the floor.
Sam scoffed, "Yeah, you're damn right I believe that."
Dean smirked. "You know, you also believed in the Easter bunny till you were 12." He turned a page in the heavy volume held in his lap.
"No I didn't." Sam protested making a face. "Look, I was 11."
"And a half." Dean added, eyebrows raised.
"And a half. Right." Sam sighed. "So?" He asked, trying to get Dean to get out of the bunker.
Dean closed the gigantic book across his lap with a sigh, "Okay."
Christine wandered down the hallway from the great room to the bedroom her and Dean shared. After her sweaty yoga session that morning, she wanted to refuel. She carried two green smoothies; one for her, the other for her ridiculously tall yoga partner. She reached the door to find Sam telling Dean about a potential case. Now Dean was teasing Sam about his child like faith.
"Okay…?" She asked, stepping into the room, passing off one glass to Sam. "Okay, you're staying here?"
Dean shook his head, a soft smile playing at his lips. "Okay, let's go check it out."
Sam took a drink of his smoothie. "Wow." He smacked his lips, thinking for a moment. "Is that, ginger?" He guessed.
"Really makes it." Christine nodded enthusiastically. "I know." She smiled. Sam pulled her to him in a friendly side hug.
"Thanks, Chris. This is great." He said, taking another drink, "We'll head out in about an hour?" He offered, moving towards the door.
Dean nodded, getting to his feet. "Sounds good." Sam raised his glass and closed the door behind him.
Christine busied herself with pulling out her duffel bag and stuffing it full of clothes and supplies for their road trip. Dean sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, watching her move about the room. She still wore leggings, a camisole and sports bra. Her hair sat piled up on top of her head, highlighting the redness of her cheeks and chest. "You and Sammy have a good sweat sesh?" He asked, the jealous tone of his voice betraying his cool, calm exterior.
"Yeah, it was good." She confirmed, looking distractedly around the room. "Where did I set-" She started to say, turning to find Dean had come up behind her.
"Looking for this?" He held up her green smoothie between them, pinning her against the door.
Christine took the glass from him, and knocked the rest of the green liquid back in a few gulps. "Thanks." She murmured, setting the glass in the sink. Dean came closer, pressing his body up against her, staring into her eyes. He looked a little angry, maybe even a tad green like her smoothie. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Winchester?" Christine quipped with a small smile. He was always so damn attractive when he got all flustered and jealous. She loved it. She reached up and fluffed his hair a little. "You jealous of the way Sammy gets to palm my ass," She reached around and grabbed his ass, "and twist my body around his while we breathe deeply and-"
"Enough." Dean growled, shaking her a little. "He might be your yoga bendy partner. But, you," His chest rumbled, "you belong to me." He moved to claim her lips in a fierce kiss, but met her hairline instead. She shrunk away from him, flinching at his touch. They would play like this before he'd turned into a demon. Key word; before.
Christine tried desperately not to panic. The way Dean looked at her when he said, 'you belong to me' she could have sworn his eyes were black. She fought back a sob, covering her mouth with her hand. Her mind was playing tricks, He was cured; this wasn't really happening.
The mark burned. Dean could feel the anger and jealousy coursing through his veins like fire. He took a deep breath. He straightened away from her, taking a step back. "Dammit," He cursed as she covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook a little. "Chris," He whispered.
Christine sniffled and let out a breath, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you." She whispered, wiping her hands on her leggings.
"I'm the one who should be sorry." Dean murmured, opening his arms to her. She stepped forward and buried her face in his chest for a moment, squeezing him to her. He was slipping. What he did to Charlie was pretty much unforgivable, yet she forgave him, just like Christine always did. He couldn't keep doing this to the people he cared about.
She sighed. "I need to grab a shower before we hit the road." She pulled back and leaned up on her tippy toes to press her lips to his softly.
Dean returned her kiss, but didn't go any further. She gathered a clean outfit and disappeared out the door, blowing him a kiss. They'd only had sex a few times since he returned to human status. The first time had been a real eye opener for him. She weeped a little, but kept telling him to keep going. It was probably the hardest thing he'd done short of letting her and Sam triple lindy into the Lucifer's box. He realized just how much of their relationship had broken down because of his actions as a demon. For a solid week, she had hardly let him touch her, forget about really kissing her. That wasn't until they were backstage at that silly fan fiction play in Flint, MI. Even then it was just a little short of make-out status, in response to the screwy situation around them.
"Son of a bitch," he swore, slamming his fist down on the nightstand. What was he thinking? A case? At least he had Sam and Christine to watch him in case he went off the reservation. He grabbed his duffle bag and headed for the garage. He'd give Christine her space. He needed to check on his other Baby anyway.
Pendleton, Oregon
"And then—then—then there was this bright light, and—bam—the dude's just gone. Nothing left but, uh…" A homeless man said, talking with his hands.
"Cheap suit and a pair of florsheims?" Dean offered. Christine hid her giggle behind her hand. They started canvassing at the bar where the last man went missing. The homeless man witnessed the event.
The man nodded, "Pretty much." He winked at Christine. She looked professional in her FBI power suit and pumps. Her hair was twisted up and away from her face, framing her cheekbones quite attractively.
Dean nodded, Christine looked away from him, trying to suppress her laughter.
"You see anyone else?" Sam shook his head slightly, exchanging a look with Dean. Christine was not focusing very well.
"No, sir, officer." the man answered. Christine choked a laugh into a cough.
Dean rolled his eyes. "And what about, uh, a chill? Or did you smell any rotten eggs?"
"What?" The man asked, "No, man. Uh… I smelled flowers, though."
"You smelled flowers?" Sam coached. The man stared at them blankly.
"What kind of flowers?" Christine asked, pinching her nose.
"Flowerly Flowers." The man answered nodding. Christine shook her head.
"Flowerly Flowers." Sam repeated, annoyed.
"Look. We all know what's" The man sighed, "going on here, okay?"
Dean closed his eyes, pinching his nose, "Don't say it."
"Aliens." The man said dramatically.
"He said it." Christine said, hiding another giggle behind her hand. Dean being abducted by aliens a few years ago was quite humorous considering it was Gabriel and his trickster alter ego.
Sam gave a tight smile, "Yeah he did."
The homeless man continued to ramble on, "Dude was abducted. Believe me, I know." He said matter of factly, gazing up at the sky, "May 2003. Those suckers, they grabbed me, and they probed me everywhere."
"Okay…"Dean drawled, giving Sam a look. He grabbed Christine by the elbow, leading her away from the man.
Sam nodded, "Thanks for your time." He followed them.
"I'm talking everywhere."
Christine and Sam both gave him a mocking 'thumbs up'.
"Yup." Sam said, clearing his throat.
"Well, the wheels just came flying off the bus." Christine mused as the brothers fell into step on either side of her.
"Yeah." Sam agreed, "No cold spots means it probably wasn't a ghost."
Dean continued their usual elimination tactics, "No sulfur means no demons, so that leaves us with what? Couple of little green dudes and a bucket of lube?"
"Or fairies" Sam scoffed, "Or…angels." Christine shook her head.
"Ugh." Dean groaned, "I'd rather have the little green dudes."
"Here, here!" Christine exclaimed in mock enthusiasm. waggling her eyebrows, earning a little grin from the eldest Winchester. Sometime the boys were all work and no play. She was that way once. Going to Hell, and back again, spending a year in Purgatory, makes you lighten up a bit. Well, at least it did that for her.
Sam turned to Dean. "All right, Christine and I'll go scope out J.P.'s place. You, uh—you ask around inside." Dean stopped walking.
"Or you know what? We don't have to split up." Christine offered, her hand resting gently on his forearm. Dean had a very concerned look on his face, like he didn't trust himself in a bar, alone, with the mark.
Dean noticed her noticing, and waved her off, "No, no, no. It's cool. I can handle a little 20 questions with the locals, okay?" Christine nodded, she knew Dean could handle himself. He was pretty good at getting information, even if it did come paired with a chick's telephone number.
"You sure?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, hey, look, it's a dive bar. It's my comfort zone, hmm?" Dean said, dangling the car keys in front of Sam's face.
"All right." Sam agreed, grabbing the keys.
"Good. Great." Dean said, pulling Christine to his side for a moment, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Sam and Christine headed to J.P's place. They didn't find much. The guy was pretty much a lowlife, a nobody, somebody no one would really miss.
Sam phoned Dean to check in, while Christine piloted the Impala back to the bar.
"How we looking?" Dean asked, answering his phone.
"Not great" Sam sighed, running his hand along the open window sill, "Turns out J.P. was about three days from getting evicted."
"His landlord said the guy blasted Neil Diamond 24/7," Chrisitne piped in, "Major loser." She smirked. Sam had put Dean on speaker.
"Yeah, and that his bathroom was, "Like staring into the Devil's butt." Sam commented with a grimace.
"That's vivid." Dean murmured as he watched Tina leave the bar. He gave her a nod and a wave.
"And accurate. I saw it." Sam shuddered at the memory.
Dean shot back, "You saw the John, or, uh—" Christine could practically hear his self satisfied smirk.
"Don't." Sam huffed. Christine smiled; she did enjoy the boys bantering back and forth. It was good to hear Dean cracking jokes. Lately, he'd been so serious.
"So, you got anything?" Christine asked, holding out hope that he'd at least got information and not some chick's number.
"Yeah. I got, uh, jack with two scoops of squat." He sighed. "I don't know, babe. I think we ought to just call it a night and, uh—" He suddenly stopped speaking.
"And what?" Sam asked, "Dean?" He took the call off speaker, "Hello?"
"Sammy, I think I got something." Dean said, ending the call.
Sam looked down at his phone, a little perturbed at Dean's abruptness.
"What? What'd he say?" Christine asked, her voice rising a little.
"He thinks he's got something." Sam murmured. "Step on it."
Christine let her foot fall heavily on the gas pedal, and got them to the bar as quickly as she could.
They split up. Sam went inside while Christine walked around the outside. She picked around the perimeter of the building, scoping out the area. She ended up by the dumpster, where she caught sight of a boot. Kneeling down, she pulled it out, revealing Dean's prized ivory gripped pistol lying in the dust behind it. She carried one just like it. "Balls." She swore softly, picking up the gun. The barrel was covered in a fine yellow dust. She took a sniff. "Flowers."
Back at the motel, Sam popped open his laptop. He found Dean's jacket and cell phone behind the bar, much to Christine's dismay. That meant Dean was unarmed, and untraceable. The bartender wasn't much help, but had confirmed that he found the jacket by the dumpster. At least they had pinpointed Dean's last known location. Sam researched the yellow dust and came up with the idea that it could be yarrow. Yarrow was commonly used in rituals and spells, they were probably dealing with a witch.
A knock sounded at the door. Sam got up from his computer, drew his gun and cocked it for good measure. He pulled open the door, and Christine's jaw dropped. A young man stood outside, sporting an oversized hoodie and a baseball cap.
"Hiya, Sammy." She knew that voice. She knew that face. It was Dean's, just twenty years younger.
"Dean?" Sam asked. Dean pushed past him into the motel suite. He tossed his hat on Sam's bed and continued on into the room he'd called dibbs on for himself and Christine.
Christine shook her head, hand over her mouth to hide her grin of disbelief and delight. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling him move past her. She opened them again. Yep. Still only sixteen. Young Dean starred in many of her fantasies as a young tween.
Sam stammered, shutting the door. "W-wait a second. Y-you're a—"
"Uh-huh." Dean answered, winking at Christine. She looked absolutely delicious. Even at the ripened age of thirty four, she still turned all the boys' heads wherever they went. Hell, she still turned this old boy's head. She kept her golden blonde hair long, even after all these years. It tumbled down past her shoulders, and curled around her face. Her figured had remained intact, the yoga she did with Sammy really helped her keep in tip top shape. He took a deep breath. He could feel his arousal building at just the sight of her. God Dammit. Puberty sucked.
"How?" Christine finally spoke. He looked over at her, his eyes raking over her appreciatively. She could tell he was fighting back all kinds of hormones. She felt her cheeks burn. What, was she a teenager now too?
"No clue." Dean answered, turning his attention to his hands, loading and unloading his gun, making sure it was in working order. "Some scarface-looking dude, bright light." He tucked the gun into his waistband at his lower back. "Next thing I know, I wake up looking like Bieber."
Sam spoke up next, "Why would someone turn you into—"
"Don't know. Don't care." He said, glancing around the room. "Hey, we got any grenades?
"What?" Sam asked, clearly not on the same page as Dean. Dean was apparently taking this all in stride. Sam, however, was taking a minute to catch up. Dean closed the bag he packed and made a move for the door. "Don't—Wait, wait, wait. Wait a second. Talk to me." Sam stopped him from leaving the motel room. Christine just stood by, observing the two men, well, man and boy.
"Really, Sam? Now?" He leaned in and murmured so Christine could barely hear him, "I got no grass on the infield, and a girl's gonna die. Sorry if I'm not in a chatty mood." Then he backed up a little, speaking a little louder. "Look, ya'll wanted me back in the game." He sighed. "I'm back in the damn game." He shouldered his bag. "Come on." Then he walked out the door.
Sam grabbed his coat and just shrugged at Christine. It was great that Dean was okay, it was just weird to have him back twenty years younger. She grabbed her gun and shrugged on her leather jacket, following him out the door.
"Ma'am," Dean stopped a woman from picking up her dropped room key. "Allow me." He bent down and picked it up. Handing it to her with a nod, he continued over to the Impala.
The woman smiled, shocked that he had such good manners. If she only knew.
The woman turned to Christine and Sam, who emerged together from the motel room. "Your son is so polite." She gushed, then proceeded to unlock her door and disappear.
Christine forced a smile, and nodded, "Thanks." Sam nodded as well, placing his arm around her as affectionately as possible. This was really starting to get weird.
They joined Dean at the Impala, he was comically perched on the driver's side with the door open, ready to slide into the driver's seat.
"Where are we heading?" Sam asked opening the passenger door.
"Tell you on the way," Dean said and they all climbed into the adjusted the front seat so he could reach the pedals.
Sam's legs suddenly were shoved up to his chin as Dean pulled the seat forward. "Okay, okay. Hey, hey, hey, hey. Wait, uh… maybe I should drive?" He asked with an awkward grin. Christine laughed out loud.
Dean looked over confused. "Yeah?" He sighed with realization. "Yeah."
"Okay. Seat. Seat. Seat." Sam sighed. Dean pushed the seat back, and climbed out. They switched spots and Sam got them on the road.
"Cake. Why would they give you cake?" Christine asked, leaning forward, resting her chin on the front seat.
"Well, don't know. It wasn't even good cake. Too dry." Dean mused. Sam scoffed. He kept looking at Dean like was was figment of his imagination. Feeling the tension, Dean asked, "What?"
"Nothing." Sam said Okay, not nothing. Look, this is bizarre. Even for us, Dean." Sam sighed, "This is insane. You—you're like—what, you're like 14? How does it even feel?"
"16," Christine murmured. He was definitely the same sixteen year old boy she'd crouched down in the weeds with behind Bobby's barn with while they watched a young couple kiss. 16. She sighed. God, did she remember sixteen. Hormones, zits, turning Joel down. Repeatedly. All in the name of her undying love for said boy in the passenger seat. Thank God she did get to the chance to fall in love with him properly. That part of her life at least worked out.
Dean sighed, "Well, I'm me. I'm—I'm old me, but I'm a kid." He took a quick breath,"It's freakin' weird, dude. And…" He trailed off, his gaze drifting out the windshield.
"What?" Christine asked, she wanted to hear his his thoughts. He seemed to be a little looser in the tongue than he'd been in his later years.
"There was a Taylor Swift song on the bus that I hopped to the motel, and, uh…I liked it, guys. I liked it a lot." He said mortified.
"Okay." Sam said, trying to encourage him. Teenage Dean was a little more touchy feely than normal Dean.
He threw up his hands, "My voice is weird, and I've got like nine zits, and I have zero control over this." He pointed down to his crotch, "I mean, it's up. It's down. It's up for no reason."
Sam sighed, "That's enough."
"Yeah, thanks." Christine murmured. So she didn't imagine the look he had given her when he walked into the motel room. He'd looked like a boy on Christmas morning who'd just received his favorite toy ever.
"Uh, let's just call it puberty." Sam continued, trying to suppress his smile.
"Yeah, which sucks." He sighed dejectedly, "Again."
"Well, listen," Christine said, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. He jumped a little. "I checked out the alley where you got jumped, and I found yarrow." A soft sigh escaped his lips, and he glanced over his shoulder. He was a little afraid she wouldn't want to touch him at all if he was like this.
"Which means what?" He asked, clearing his throat, shrugging his shoulders a little.
"Means we're probably dealing with a witch." Sam explained, "Yarrow's a flower. They use it in a ton of spells." He elaborated, catching the awkward interaction between the long time lovers. He felt bad for Christine. She really got the shaft on this one.
"Okay." Dean said, thinking for a moment. "We still got some of that witch-killing crap in the trunk?"
"Hell yeah. So, we'll get you changed back, and then light Sabrina's ass up." He paused waiting for Dean to agree. No response. "Right?"
"Uh, yeah, about that. It turns out, this whole freak show has an upside." He pulled up his sleeve.
"The mark is gone." Christine gasped, reaching over Dean's chest to touch his now smooth forearm.
Dean cleared his throat. "You mind?" He teased, flashing her a shit eating grin.
Christine suddenly came back to herself. "Sorry," She cleared her throat, taking her hand back. "How?"
Dean nodded, "Well, I figure if this hoodoo slammed me back into the body I had when I was 16—"
"You didn't have the mark then." Sam said brightly.
Dean agreed, "Yeah, and if we reverse the spell—"
"Then it's gonna come back." Christine sighed darkly, her eyebrows drawing together.
Dean nodded, looking out the window. "That's what I'm thinking. So…maybe we don't."
"Wait a second. Are you saying you want to stay like this?" Christine exclaimed. Dean stuck twenty, well technically eighteen, years her junior. Oh dear God. That would be incredibly unfair. Life wasn't fair, but this would probably break her.
Dean whirled around, "No!" Then he let out a deep sigh, "No, but…if it's between being a psycho rage monster/borderline demon or a teenager, well…"
"Really?" Sam asked, he couldn't believe Dean would choose being a teenager over who he was now.
Dean turned to look at Sam, "Look, I'm not a fan, either, but…Sam, Christine." He flicked his gaze to the woman in the back seat. "This is problem solved. And I'm still me. I can still hunt. I'm just, you know…dewier." He sighed and settled back in the seat.
"Okay, look, y-you have a point, kind of, but, dude—" Sam said, gesturing to Christine in the back.
"I know." He grunted. He felt like he "knew" now more than ever. Letting go of his relationship with Christine would be hard, no pun intended. "Some good news, though—virgin liver." He smiled, "So, what do you say when we're done doing our hero thing, we take her for a test-drive?" He waggled his eyebrows at Christine in the rearview mirror.
"Yeah, sure. I mean…you can drink again in, what, like five years?" Christine quipped with a smile. She loved him. If this meant he was going to be free of the mark, then so be it. She could still poke fun at him in the meantime, maybe it would make the pain of losing him hurt less.
"That's not funny." Dean said, his brow furrowing.
Sam smiled, "That's kind of funny."
"That's not funny." Dean sulked. He glanced at Christine in the rearview mirror. She looked upset, but she was covering well. He wanted to still be what he could for her, but being free of the mark was too tempting to pass up. He could hardly touch her anymore without her flinching away or having to watch her fight against flashbacks and memories.
"Oh, come on, man. It's kind of funny." Sam laughed.
They arrived at the Witch's house under the cover of darkness. They mixed up a Molotov cocktail and slunk up the driveway. Dean motioned them over to the side of house.
"Looks like someone's home." Sam pointed to the light coming from what he guessed to be the kitchen.
Dean nodded, "Okay. Let's go in m. through the basement. Get Tina out first."
"All right." Christine agreed, and Sam nodded. Dean led the way up to the house. He crouched down and tried the basement window he previously crawled out of.
"Still open." Dean confirmed. He lifted the window, peering inside.
"Tina?" Dean whispered. No answer. "All right, let's go." He held the window up, motioning for them to go first.
"Dean, I'm way too big to fit in that." Sam scoffed.
Dean smirked, "First time you ever had to say that, huh?" He chuckled.
"Big talk coming from the dude wearing underoos." Sam bit back. Christine choked her laugh into a cough.
"Okay, good one." Dean wiped his hands on his pants, "Here, why don't you go around back for another way in?"
"Yeah." Sam agreed. Dean nodded and went through the window, dropping out of sight.
Sam and Christine found a side door and picked the lock with practiced crept into the house, working their way towards the basement. Once they found the door, Christine let Sam go on in ahead of her. Big mistake. Sam disappeared down the basement staircase then she was promptly clocked over the head. She didn't even get a chance to cry out before the darkness overtook her.
"Christine?" A small voice asked, rousing her from the darkness. She sat up a little straighter, registering the wooden chair beneath her and that her hands were tied behind her back. "Are you Christine?" The girl asked, her brown wavy hair bouncing around her shoulders.
Christine blinked. The young girl before her was in the same predicament, tied up, and shaking. "Tina?" Christine rasped, swallowing thickly.
The girl nodded, "Yeah."
Christine gave a grim smile, "Awesome." She cleared her throat, "Yeah, I'm Christine." She let her head loll back towards the wall, eyes falling shut.
"Great." Tina whispered back, "Dean must be close by."
At the mention of Dean's name Christine's head snapped up, "Wait, how did you-"
Tina laughed quietly, "How did I know your name?" She giggled, "How did I know you're with Dean?" She sighed, "You're all that handsome hunk of man could talk about. Once we got drinking a' course." She winked.
Christine blinked. "Really, all he talked about, eh?" She said with a wry smile, wincing at the pounding at the back of her head. She squinted at her surroundings. TIna sat to her left, and a squat, redheaded woman hummed to herself while she chopped vegetables on the butcher block counter.
Suddenly Sam and Dean burst into the kitchen, guns drawn. Dean held up the molotov cocktail they'd mixed up in Baby's trunk. The witch snickered, "Well, our lost lamb." She sighed, "I thought we'd have to go looking for you. Maybe even abandon our home sweet home here. I never dreamt you'd be stupid enough to come back on your own." She chuckled, "Hansel, take care of them." She motioned with her knife to the giant of a man standing behind the hunters.
"Yeah, he's not exactly your biggest fan." Dean smirked, showing off the bottle he had prepared.
"Maybe you shouldn't have made him chow down on his sister." Sam offered, still pointing his gun at her.
The witch didn't flinch, "I never made Hansel do anything."
Dean looked confused. Suddenly Hansel grabbed Sam's gun and knocked him to the ground with his elbow. "Damn it!" Dean swore, frantically trying to light the cocktail.
Hansel pointed Sam's gun at Dean, "They're hunters!" He declared.
Dean's lighter sparked to life, but before he could light the wick, the witch shouted, "Rumpatur!" sending the molotov cocktail flying across the room. It smashed against the wall, Christine ducked her head to shield her face from the shattering glass. Dean's hands went up above his head in a sign of surrender as he kneeled between Sam and Christine.
The witch sighed and set down her knife, "Now, who's hungry?" She laughed.
While the witch prattled on about how scrumptious children were, Dean leaned close and whispered, "How's the head, babe?"
Christine nodded her head once, locking eyes with Dean. "Babe, huh?" She murmured, giving him a wink and a small smile.
Dean's eyes widened. He mouthed something to the effect of 'son of a bitch.' He directed his attention back to the witch just as she was declaring the difference between American rugrats and the world at large.
"Oh, so, you're a tourist." Dean concluded, locking eyes with Sam. Sam had managed to cut the ropes with the knife in his back pocket.
"No," The witch sighed, "It's business, not pleasure." She said with a grimace, "An old friend is causing trouble, and the Grand Coven asked me to take care of her." She scoffed, "Poor, stupid Rowena."
"Wait," Dean stood up, secretly passing the knife from Sam to Christine. "Rowena?" He asked, he took a step forward to cover Christine, "She got red hair, a thing for ritzy hotels?"
The witch stopped stirring the soup. "How do you know that?"
Christine almost had the knife worked through the rope tied around her wrist. Suddenly Sam sprung up and punched Hansel in the face, knocking him to the ground. Dean tackled Hansel while the witch came at Sam with the butcher knife in her hand. Sam knocked the knife out of her hand, but before he could pick it up, she threw him against the wall with her powers. Meanwhile Christine had cut through her restraints. She decided to leave Tina tied to the chair, it was just safer for the girl to be out of the way. She charged forward at Hansel, attempting to slice through the rope around his neck. Sam was trying to get up and stop the witch from opening the oven, he didn't get very far before he stumbled to the floor again. Christine sliced through the rope holding the pouch around Hansel's neck while he was busy using Dean as punching back. She let go to pocket hex bag and subsequently allowed the giant to elbow her in the face.
With the oven door fully open the witch shouted, "Now you'll burn!" She cried, waving her arms over her head toward Sam, giving him another blow to keep him on the ground.
Hansel gave Dean a final punch and the man turned boy slid down the wall to the ground. "Stay down, boy." He ordered.
The witch cackled and sneered with satisfaction. "Turn them!" She ordered, motioning to Sam and Christine.
As Hansel turned around to face her, Christine rolled the pouch through his legs to Dean. Hansel reached for the pouch around his neck to fulfill the witches orders, but he came up empty. "The hell?" Hansel asked, spinning around to face Dean.
Dean struggled to his feet, and held up the hex bag for Hansel to see. Then he squeezed The hex bag, and a bright light filled the kitchen. Now an adult, Dean charged forward, picking up the knife at Hansel's feet. WIth one smooth motion, he plunged the blade into Hansel's chest. Christine crept up behind the witch and grabbed her upper arms. Dean crossed the room and stuffed the hex back into the witch's mouth. Then the pair maneuvered the screeching witch towards the open oven door. Christine stepped back from the oven and let Dean shove the witch inside. They closed the heavy door, the witch's screams intensified, then died away with her fading life.
Dean, in his haste, stupidly shoved the hex bag into the witch's mouth before turning her into a piece of charcoal. They broke the news to Tina, but she took it in stride. Her optimism sort of made Christine sick to her stomach. Dean's blind rage was most definitely a result of bearing the Mark. They dropped Tina off at a bus station, still very much her fourteen year old self. Just before Tina went inside the bus station, Christine pulled her aside and gave her fake FBI card with her real cell phone number on it. "You ever need anything, you just give us a call, okay?" Christine insisted, pulling the girl in for an affectionate side hug. Tina nodded, and slipped the card into her pocket. She gave a small wave and disappeared into the building.
Dean watched as Christine hugged Tina and handed her a card that, no doubt, had her personal cell phone number on it. They'd learned that trick of the trade from their fathers. It always seemed that if a person had one encounter with the supernatural, they were bound to have another. It helped to have a hunter's phone number in your arsenal. Even if said hunter couldn't come to your aid, they probably knew of someone in the area that could.
The hunters loaded up, Dean in the driver's seat, Sam took the passenger seat. Christine settled in the back, chin resting on Dean's shoulder. She reached over the front seat and clicked on the radio. Shake it Off by Taylor Swift filled the cabin. She rolled her eyes and went to change it, but Dean's hand stopped her fingers, entwining them with his. He gave her a shit eating grin, and a shrug. Christine couldn't help but smile. Who knew becoming a teenager would allow Dean to open himself up to the occasional dose of T-swizzle? Then he let go of her hand, slammed Baby into gear and peeled out of the parking lot.
From the author's desk…
Man Enough - Def Leppard - A little tongue and cheek British humor for you there...LOL. Plus the irony is awesome. Love this tune, the vibe, the humor. Check out DL's new release, self titled, 'Def Leppard.' Finally.
*Whew* What a ride! I loved this episode last season, and I've been wanted to do a version with my OFC ever since. Such fun! I hope you enjoyed it. Leave a review if you're inspired to do so. Don't forget to check out the other stories in The Family Business 'verse. Until next time….
xoxo
Lumora The White