Disclaimer: the characters from Supernatural and Twilight do not belong to me. Tongue in cheek and just for fun guys. I'm not sure who came up with "Sparklypoo" - cheers whoever it was.
"We had to do it." Dean crouched down beside the small heap of ash that had once been the worlds oldest high school kid since the original cast of Beverly Hills 90210. "I mean come on Sammy - he was a vampire. Just 'cause the dude did the whole "I'm a monster put me out of my eternal torment", doesn't give him a pass on the whole blood sucking thing."
"Yeah Dean, I know." Sam's chocolate brown eyes scrunched together beneath his huge forehead. Leaning against the sleek side of the Chevy Impala, he let out a heavy sigh. A sigh that was filled with the unspoken longing for normal life he would never be granted. "It's just…"
"He spent like a hundred years having girls throw themselves at him and never once got it on? What's up with that?" Dean kicked the still smouldering pile of ash in annoyance. "Man, if you had a torso made of sparkling marble, eyes like topaz and hair like a frightened squirrel then why the hell wouldn't you bang every girl who was mesmerised by your pale perfection? Who the hell plays the piano to try and get a chick in the sack anyway?" he said, shaking his head with the grace of a duck flicking water from its feathers. "If you ask me, the dude had issues of the guy kind."
Sam glared at his brother in disgust, his floppy dark hair caressing the toffee coloured freckles on his nose. "Playing the piano doesn't make you gay, Dean."
"Yeah? Tell Liberace that."
"Dude!" Sam crossed his huge arms over his chest, frightening several small insects when a couple of buttons popped off his shirt. "Edward Cullen was a romantic - hell he followed Bella everywhere and tried to keep her safe."
"Don't talk about hell," Dean snapped, his mesmerising green eyes alight with the fire that can only be fuelled by being tortured/ torturing others/being tortured by the memory of torturing others for several decades. "You have no idea what the hell is."
"Well I had to hear about the guy tearing a kid out of that girl's uterus," Sam snapped back. "That's pretty close."
Dean was silenced. How he wished that they had never borne witness to Edward Cullen's last confession. True, that Swan chick had been a few cards short of a full deck, but having a guy break into your bedroom every night and not even have to decency to ask you if you wanted to get it on was just plain wrong. Sighing, he ran a weary but attractively muscled forearm over his eyes.
"He did it for Bella's own good."
"He stalked her for months, impregnated her with Renalienesme and turned her into the most perfect vampire ever!" Sam said in outrage, his massive torso sending half of the small town of Forks into shadow when he moved into the light. "Didn't her dad say that she used to want to go to college once? Instead she's brainwashed into thinking she's in love with something that kills her and makes her run around the forest in inappropriately tight dresses before getting called up to Hogwarts with that Renzilla thing and the paedo-wolf."
"Sparklypoo will keep them under control," Dean replied. How well he remembered the sight of the scarily perfect mother, daughter and obsessed teenage werewolf being picked up by the previously unheard of flying unicorns and taken off to their own private sorting ceremony in the English castle. Apparently the wizarding world had decided to acknowledge mary sues as an oppressed minority and created a new house at Hogwarts school after the original sorting hat refused to make up anymore poems about the physical attributes of the exchange witches that had suddenly been flooding in. Initially hostile to any sort of witchcraft, Sam and Dean had been glad to relinquish the problem of Bella, Rensatsquatch and paedo-wolf to the kindly care of the wizarding school. Killing them would have been more hassle than either of them would have liked, and given that the vampire that used to be Bella Swan had a magic shield of love, the Winchester boys thought it best to let Professor McGonagall sort things out. Even if Dean had tried and failed to bang her.
"Yeah, I guess, but Edward…"
Dean gave a heavy sigh, a perfect crystal tear catching on his long eyelashes and threatening to betray the fragile man beneath the permanently hungry, slightly misogynistic front.
"He'd already tried to whack himself once," he said, busying himself with clearing up the detritus of their latest hunt. "Public sparkling in Italy. Didn't work because, seriously, the f.."
"Yeah, but he and Bella got back together then," Sam interrupted, gazing morosely at the small pile of cinders that had once been a dazzling vampire. "All because he couldn't watch his wife and Rentaghost twentyfour hours a day.
"Hogwarts' magical wards don't let any old person sneak in, oil the hinges of their object of obsession's bedroom window and peer at them all night," Dean grumbled. "Not even Sparkypoo house. The guy came to us asking for an end to his pain and we did it, ok? End of story."
"Yeah, you're right." Turning away, Sam walked to the side of the Impala and slumped onto the passenger seat. "Come on Dean, it's still a two hour drive to the motel and there's half a dozen fanfic writers waiting for plot bunnies. Slash fic doesn't write itself y'know."
"Yeah, I know." Dean raised his head to the heavens but saw nothing but turbulent grey clouds. Obviously Castiel wasn't going to make an appearance so tonight would be just another Wincest night.