Holy Supernatural Batman 2.
Notes, notes, notes: Uh, a while ago I wrote Holy Supernatural Batman. And a shorter while ago I started this. Which is Holy Supernatural Batman 2. So yeah. There may be more. I'm not sure yet.
This is for my fellow jarpadawan!
"So…" Sam says one evening as they're chilling in the motel room. "Remember the time we met Batman?" Dean scoffs because yeah he remembers; he remembers that Batman is a total asshole. He remembers his inner Batman fan boy being dented so cruelly within the space of a few seconds.
"Yeah," he says dryly. "How could I forget." Sam eyes him warily and Dean rolls his eyes.
"Well he needs our help with a situation that's arisen in Gotham."
"No."
"What do you mean 'no'?" Sam is completely bewildered for some reason and Dean glares at him.
"Gee, I dunno Sam, what does 'no' usually mean!"
"Fine, I'll do this one by myself," Sam says with a pout and Dean rolls his eyes. Please, Sam's not going anywhere and he knows it. He shrugs and goes to grab a beer, figuring that Sam will get over it soon.
An hour later, he hears a revving sound and goes to take a look outside. It's the Batmobile. The fucking Batmobile. Sam brushes past him then with his backpack in his hand and Dean realises that Batman has come to get Sam. That son of a bitch. Sam doesn't even seem surprised when Dean slides into the backseat of the Batmobile.
"Uh, hi Batman," he says awkwardly and Batman grunts in response. Sam just snorts as Dean starts to fiddle with the consoles next to where he's sitting. Batman chooses that moment to start up the engine, sending Dean flying across the seat crashing into a large red button.
"What the hell is this thing?" he grumbles. "It damn near crushed my kidney."
"Ejector seat," Batman growls and Dean moves away from it swiftly. Oh, Batman would LOVE that wouldn't he? Asshole.He catches Sam smirking at him through the rear-view mirror and he flips him the bird. Maybe he'll steal Batman's cell and start his own friendship with Catwoman. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't say no.
It turns out that trying to pick up chicks in Gotham isn't as easy as Dean had hoped. He's going with the, "I'm a good friend of Bruce Wayne" angle and has been slapped twice, rejected six times and had three drinks thrown all over him. So he ends up back at Batman's house horny and alone as he watches Sam and Batman play chess. Chess. And to make things worse, Alfred has restricted his internet access and he can only access Google. There's only so many times he can look at pictures of crappy Batman lolcats without wanting to shoot himself. Which Batman would love so Dean's not going to give him the satisfaction. Sam refuses to hand over his laptop when Dean asks because he's annoying brat.
"Busty Asian Beauties gives my computer a new virus every time!" he whines.
"So?" Dean asks. "You can just fix it afterwards." Sam just sighs and walks off right after he hands Dean a DVD case. He glares at Sam's retreating figure because he literally has nothing better to do. Once Sam's out of eyeshot he looks down at the DVD. It's Smallville season 4.
For fuck's sake.
When Sam said that Batman needed help with ghosts in Gotham, he failed to mention that the ghosts were inside Batman's fucking mansion. Dean finds this out for himself after he's woken up at 4am by a loud shrieking noise. Of course he's staying in the room that's fucking haunted. Of fucking course. Before he can do anything, a black, dark figure bursts into a room.
"Dude, could you knock next time!" Dean says in an affronted tone as he pulls up the black bed sheets (apparently Batman LOVES his colour schemes). But Batman either ignores him or doesn't hear him over the shrieking ghost lady. And really, Dean has a fucking headache already.
"Jeez lady, would you stop with the noise!". Miraculously she does. She tilts her head to the side, and looks at Dean curiously.
"You can see me?" she asks and Dean rolls his eyes. Before he can answer, a bat shaped medallion goes flying across the room and she vanishes with a hiss. Dean turns to glare at Batman because seriously, what the hell was he thinking? Before he can say anything he notices what Batman is wearing. He peers closer and notices that the suit Batman is wearing is made out of silk.
"You have a Batman-style pyjama suit?" he says in bewilderment.
"Fuck off," is all Batman says and Dean huffs to himself. Sam shows up then, looking all sleepy and shit like he was the one with the shrieking ghost in his room. Asshole.
"Who was that anyway?" Sam asks while concealing a yawn and ignoring Dean's glares.
"Catwoman #5." Alfred's shown up too and seriously, can't they do this in somebody else's room? All Dean wants to do is catch some Z's.
"Uh, what happened to the first four Catwomen?" Sam asks tentatively.
"They're dead," Batman growls. "They got too clingy." The look on Sam's face would be priceless if Batman hadn't just implied that he was some sort of serial killer. Not that Dean cares, he's tired. Plus he's got protection in the form of a knife. A big one.
Dean can't help shooting Batman one last curious glance as they finally start to vacate the room.
"What?" Batman says defensively.
"You know, dressing up as Batman in your house is kind of douchey of you."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"But I like wearing it."
"Uh-huh."
"It's uncomfortable to wear during sex though," Batman adds. "Maybe I should have the tailor customise it."
"Maybe you should consult your therapist," Dean says dryly as he shuts the door behind Batman. What a weirdo.
When Dean catches up with Sam, he's in the large home movie theater, eyes wide as he shoves popcorn into his mouth and stares at the screen.
"What you watching?" he says as he sits down next to him.
"Super Shark," Sam says, and then he breaks out into what Dean assumes is the theme song and he's pretty sure that he hears windows rattle and cats dying in the distance.
"I'm surrounded by freaks," he says miserably as he goes off to hunt down some food. Surely Batman has some pie here.
Naturally, they have to salt and burn the ghost lady's bones. Which should be straightforward enough right? Wrong. It turns out that there are over 500 cemeteries in Gotham. And halfway through digging through the third grave in cemetery number 3, Dean stops digging. Because seriously? Fuck this shit. He could be out there actually saving people instead of doing Batman's dirty work.
"But he's paying us 100 grand," Sam says. "Each." And he promptly resumes his digging.
Hey, Dean's more than willing to do Batman's dirty work for the right price.
They don't find the bones, or the grave. In fact Dean comes to the painfully obviously conclusion as he's getting a deep Thai massage back at the mansion.
"She's not dead," he says as Crystal - the masseuse - kneads his shoulders expertly. He'd rather that Sam didn't talk all the way through his massage but his kid brother has a fucking diploma in How To Be A Buzz Kill so he refrains from telling Sam to get the hell out for now.
"Or, she was cremated, burnt alive - anything could have happened."
"Didn't Batman say that she fell out of a window?" Dean asks. "I'm sure he would have mentioned an incinerator and her being burnt alive if that was the case."
"True," Sam concedes and Dean frowns as he sits up, grins at Crystal and turns to examine his brother. He's got a coffee cup in his hand and he looks a little...stoned.
"You need to lay off the SyFy movies," Dean says. "And your mocha-caramel-milky-sugary-pepperminty-sorry-excuse-that-you-call-coffee. It's not having a good effect on you." Sam clears his throat awkwardly,
"Actually this is a hot chocolate." Dean groans inwardly. His brother is a giant, sasquatch-sized girl.
"Bobby sent one of his special emails," Sam says and Dean can hear the uneasiness in his voice. This time Dean groans out loud. Ever since they discovered that they were characters of a cult book series Bobby had made a habit of sending them some of the ridiculous fanfiction he came across. The man seriously had way too much fucking time on his hands.
"God, what was it this time? Last time he sent me one where you got turned into a banana," Dean says. "I couldn't look at anything yellow for weeks afterwards."
"You were a girl!" Sam blurts and Dean pulls a face. But then he tilts his head to the side as he considers it. He'd be a smoking hot girl and he'd have—
"Hey, did I have boobs?" he asks loudly.
The only response Dean gets is the sound of the door slamming shut.
His brother is such a buzz kill.