Based on the fairy tale The Three Billy Goats Gruff and a birthday present for colonialdncr on tumblr.
Once upon a time, in the fair city of Lawrence, a young billy goat stood at a bridge, preparing to cross.
He was a lovely young animal, broad of shoulder, with interesting hazel eyes and long chestnut colored fur. His name was Sam, of the clan Winchester, and he had much desire to cross the bridge over the River Lawrence, to the grazing grounds on the other side.
The ancient grazing grounds of Campbell had withered and died, and news had been carried to the clan, news of a new grazing area by the name of Singer, with promises of fresh green grass and wide shade trees, where a well-fed goat might take a long nap out of the hot sun.
It was with this promise of fresh grass that Sam of Winchester found himself on the bridge over the River Lawrence, clopping happily across, humming a wordless tune under his breath. The day was bright and sunny, and he was a very happy goat.
An ugly black troll, long of tooth and short of temper, jumped onto the bridge, halting Sam in his tracks.
"I am the troll, Fergus of Crowley! Who dares to cross my bridge?!"
"It is I, young Sam of Winchester. I am but a simple billy goat, looking to cross to the grazing grounds yonder."
"Well, goat boy, I am the Troll of this bridge. And I eat every little beast that crosses! Take one step onto my bridge and I will gobble you up!"
"Oh, you don't want to eat me. I'm all muscle. Sinewy." Sam flexed his shoulders, the muscle underneath his fur rippling. "I'd be a terrible meal for sure. You should wait for my brother. He'll be much tastier than me."
The troll considered his words. "All right then, boy, you may cross. I'll await your far tastier brother." A flash a red eyes and a plume of black smoke, and the troll disappeared.
Sam of Winchester finished his journey across the bridge, smirking to himself.
The troll had no idea what he was getting into.
A short time later, a slightly smaller goat, with bright green eyes and tawny spotted fur, set his hoof onto the bridge.
In an instant, the troll was upon him.
"Halt! I am Fergus of Crowley, troll of this bridge!"
"Well, Fergus of Crowley, I am Dean of Winchester, and I'm crossing your bridge." Dean of Winchester took another bold step onto the bridge, his eyes twinkling merrily.
"Take another step, little goat man, and I'll gobble you up! Your brother promised you'd be a tastier meal than him."
Dean of Winchester seemed to consider this for a moment. "Well, he might be right about that. He's a muscle bound mess. Seems a fellow like that might be hard to chew."
"Indeed. You look far softer 'round the middle. A fine meal you will make for me!" the troll crowed, advancing on the green eyed goat.
"Now look here, you sonuvabitch, I don't think I'd make a good meal either!"
"Oh yeah? And why's that boy-o?"
"Because I drink quite a bit of Jack of Daniel's fine brew. And I eat a lot of pie. I'm afraid a fine, handsome troll such as yourself would find me a poor meal. My friend, however, he'll be along shortly, and I can guarantee you will find his flavor far more awesome than mine."
The troll seemed to consider the young goat's words for a moment. "Fine! You can cross. But your friend better be the tastiest, yummiest piece of goat meat I've ever seen."
Fergus of Crowley withdrew in a flash of red eyes and puff of black smoke, and Dean of Winchester continued on his way, crossing the bridge.
He found Sam of Winchester grazing not far away, and the two of them laughed about the fate that was sure to befall the foul troll.
Another bold hoof stepped onto the bridge, and another slightly smaller goat appeared. This one sported very unusual markings upon his fur. He was a deep, dark brown in color all over, save for one very strange strip of bright blue down the front of his chest. His eyes were also a bright, intelligent blue, and he didn't flinch as the troll appeared in front of him.
"Halt! I am Fergus of Crowley, troll of this bridge, and you, my fine little blue-eyed friend, are going to make me a lovely meal."
The blue eyed goat tilted his head and squinted at the troll. He took two more steps forward.
"I said halt, goat-boy! No one crosses my bridge! Take another step further, and I'll gobble you up."
"You'll do no such thing," the goat growled, voice low and gravelly. "I will cross this bridge, as Sam and Dean of Winchester did before me, and no harm shall fall upon me. The same will not be said of you, if you attempt to impede my progress."
The troll's jaw dropped, as the goat before him pressed on. "Now, who in the blue bollocks do you think you are, little goat? I am twice your size, and I will crush you between my teeth!"
The little goat stood his ground, blue eyes narrowed. "I am Castiel of the Angels. And you will let me pass."
"The hell I will," the troll responded rudely.
"Then I shall set my hoof upon you, and you will thusly be smote from this realm!"
The little goat made good on his promise, surging forward, leaping into the air, bringing his hoof down upon the foul troll's forehead. There was a flash of bright light, an unearthly scream, and the troll fell to the ground, dead, his body nothing more than an empty shell.
"Nice work, Cas," the spotted goat called from the base of the bridge, "now come eat, the grazing's fine!"
A short time later, he sat curled with Sam and Dean of Winchester, relaxing under a great shade tree.
He took a bite of rich, green grass and smiled. "This makes me very happy," he said with his mouth full.
All three of them laughed joyfully, and they all lived happily ever after.