Beta: Platinum Rose Lady
Challenge issued by: YohKo Bennington
Happy Birthday YohKo!
Violence Against Flamboyant Animals
If it was a day for the races the stadium would fill with nervous energy as spectators prepared to wager on the outcome. Some would be to fearful to bet, choosing to abstain and just enjoy the sight of high powered engines. A solemn hush would fall on the crowd as the woman, in her leather jacket and mini skirt, stood between the two outfitted vehicles. Everyone would watch as she held the checkered flag high. With a wave of the flag, the competition would begin.
Sam and Dean did not have a stadium. They had one spectacular vehicle, but it was not outfitted for speed racing. They did not have an unusually attractive woman clad in leather to stand in between them. And as stunningly attractive as Dean might have been in his leather jacket, they were missing one other item. They did not have a checkered flag for him to wave.
But Sam had a plastic spoon that he had found inside a week old semi-empty Chinese carton. He smiled to himself as he looked out the rainy windshield of the Impala. He glanced over at the passenger seat where Dean was sound asleep. Sam felt for the spoon inside the cup holder. With one hand on the wheel and the other gripped tight on the spoon, he contemplated the chain of events he was about to unleash.
Beside him Dean snored, and his jaw fell open slightly as he drooled. Sam smirked at the sight, with his decision cinched. Determined to have no fear, he gently eased the spoon in between Dean's lips. Dean did not stir at all, as he continued to dream of small attacking midgets.
Sam bit his lip in an effort to control his glee. Fumbling for his camera cell phone he held it out, with one eye on the road, and took a picture of his brother. Dean's dream had reached an exciting climax, and as the picture snapped he had raised one eyebrow.
Sam smirked, satisfied with the evidence. He reached out to turn on the radio and blasted the loudest country song he could find. With as much gusto as he could muster, Sam embraced his inner Texan and began to belt out the tune.
Dean woke up frantic, spitting curses and the white spoon. There was a harmless little pinging sound as it clattered against the dashboard, but the signal was loud and clear.
The competition had begun.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The first official score had been won by Dean. Well, he assumed he was one leg up in the competition. While Sam was in the shower he had announced that he was going to the store and left before any evidence of his crime could be discovered. Dean looked down at his watch and figured right about now Sam was discovering he only had pink satin underwear to wear under his ripped jeans.
Satisfied for the time being, he resumed looking at his shopping list. Beside him, Castiel appeared with the shopping cart. Dean sighed. "About time!"
Castiel shrugged. "Do it yourself next time if you want it done faster. Agents of fate do not adhere to your mortal standard of chronology."
Dean rolled his eyes and pointed at the shelves in front of them. "Whatever. The list says we need salt." He eyed the warehouse's selections and gestured at the large bags. "Should we get Kosher salt?"
Castiel yawned and leaned on the cart. "Does it really make a difference?" he tried helpfully.
Dean looked confused. "Um…"
Castiel straightened up as he clarified. "Well, does it make a difference to use Holy water or regular water on demons?"
Dean nodded. "Good point. Let's get the Kosher salt just in case spirits have a preference."
Castiel picked up the salt with one hand and threw the twenty pound bag into the cart. "What else is on the list?"
Dean frowned at the list. "Milk… but we can scratch that if we just get beer."
Castiel pushed the cart forward. "Sam will be angry if you don't get milk, won't he?"
Dean sighed. "Fine we'll get the milk and, what the hell? There isn't any pie on this list."
Castiel turned down the next isle and snatched the list from Dean. "You can live without pie. Especially when we need laundry detergent and ammunition."
Dean groaned as he envisioned Sam back at the hotel room furious. He glanced around the isle and it's seemingly unending choices. "This is going to take forever isn't it?"
Castiel started to retort when Dean's phone rang. Dean grinned. "Yes! He's found it!" He patted his pockets searching for the buzzing phone. Recovering it, he held it up victoriously before answering it.
"Hello?" Dean said slyly. "What?"
Castiel watched as Dean's mile wide smile faded into a frown. "You serious?" Dean's brow creased. "What? No, wait…Sam! Sam!"
"Damnit, the phone died." Dean slammed the phone shut. He looked at Castiel with steel in his eyes. "We've got to get back to the motel. Now."
Castiel pocketed the grocery list and touched Dean's forehead. They appeared instantly outside the motel with all the groceries. Dean paused, as he noticed the large apple pie on top of the pile. Well, he thought, that's one way to avoid credit card fraud. Castiel and Dean charged through the motel door. Castiel moved faster. As the angel pushed the door open to see what was wrong with Sam a large bucket fell.
It had been precariously perched on top the door frame, but when the door was thrown open it was loosed. The bucket was generally used for making holy water, and was one of those large white industrial buckets made with hard plastic. Only minutes before, Sam had perched on a ladder to set his trap. He had filled it to the brim with soggy oatmeal.
Now as the bucket clattered down, as if in slow motion, Sam watched in horror. His fingers twitched on the camera, capturing a snap shot of the scene before everything went horrifically wrong.
The bucket hit Castiel with a large thump and splattered sticky oatmeal all over his face that trickled down onto his trench coat. The angel's knees buckled as he fell. Dean looked from the fallen angel to Sam and then back down at the angel. "Dude! What the hell!"
Sam set down the camera gingerly. "Oops…"
Castiel groaned. Both Winchesters ran to his side as the angel began to speak rapid Latin. Sam knew only a little bit of Latin, and it had all been memorized for exorcisms. He couldn't understand what Castiel was saying, but he could understand the tone. Castiel sounded very confused. Sam guessed he wasn't saying anything coherent. Dean lifted the bucket off of Castiel's head.
Castiel's eyes were hazy and unfocused. Sam helped him to his feet. Castiel looked at them, took one swaying step forward and nearly fell before the Winchesters caught him.
"Cas?" Dean held his elbow. "C'mon buddy, talk to us…
Castiel's dark hair was soggy and his bangs were flattened on his forehead. He turned to face Dean. "Obliviate frateus in ex fiedielum copius mortium." A sloppy grin spread across his face, as he said one last phrase. "Adios."
Sam and Dean looked at each other in wonder. To their dismay the images around them began to distort and everything suddenly began to turn black. Dean and Sam fell over unconscious. Castiel swayed unsteadily on his feet as he looked down on them, puzzled.
Then he too fell to the ground unconscious.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
When Castiel had been small, only one hundred years old, he'd often liked to watch his Dad work. Unfortunately, as with most young kids, he'd asked his Father pestering questions to no end. He was a miniature distraction, and one day as his Dad was assembling a mammal Castiel's curiosity got the best of him. The result was mismatched animal with a surly attitude.
The very same being was starring at Castiel as he slowly woke up with a pounding headache. For a moment, he briefly forgot what had happened and only remembered his Dad's mild disapproval mixed with sad humor for the unfortunate platypus. Then with suddenly clarity Castiel remembered seeing the look on Sam's face—how Sam's mouth had seemed to be shouting "Noooo…"—seconds before an odorous bucket had fallen on him.
His nose twitched vehemently and he squeaked.
Castiel's pitter-pattering heart reached fever pitch as he realized he'd just squeaked. An undignified reaction to any situation for an angel. He huffed a breath of air to blow his bangs from his forehead. To his surprise, the chocolate colored bangs fell back onto his head like a mop, obscuring his vision slightly.
He glared back at the platypus in the room and had a suspicion it was worthy of some blame.
"Wake up!" He squeaked urgently.
The platypus blinked rapidly as it woke up. It swung its head around the room in wonderment before finally settling on the chocolate brown guinea pig. It opened its large bill and bellowed, "Castiel?"
"Yes?" Castiel said indignantly.
"It's me! It's Sam!" The platypus, or more correctly, Sam smacked his tail against the ground.
"Why are you a platypus?" Castiel said suspiciously.
"Why are you a guinea pig?" Sam quickly retorted.
"I see we are at standstill." Castiel said as he contemplated life as a guinea pig.
As they eyed each other, searching for words a small blue green gecko, previously unnoticed, attempted standing on its two hind legs and came in between them. It walked in a zig zag pattern with one webbed hand held against its head. Moaning, it gave up on walking and fell flat in between them motionless.
Castiel scurried forward to inspect the strange lizard. He sniffed at it. The platypus waddled close to him. "Think its Dean?" Sam asked helpfully.
Castiel attempted to shrug, but with so much shaggy hair the gesture barely registered.
The gecko rolled over onto its back and looked up at them with unfocused green eyes. "Sam? Castiel?"
Sam shook his large duckish head. "It's us, Dean. You're a gecko."
Dean sat up slowly. Castiel made an odd series of squeaks and grunts that loosely passed for guinea pig talk. He cleared his throat. "Hey, Dean."
"Oh…" Dean scratched his head. "What time is it?"
Sam, momentarily distracted by his webbed feet, looked up. "Actually, I've no idea what happened after-"
"ALL CARS NOW ON SALE," The loud car salesmen on the television announced as the television sprung to life, "COME ON DOWN."
Sam jumped a foot in the air at the loud noise. Dean laughed. "Oh. It's two am."
Sam, still on edge from the mild scare, turned to him. "How do you know that?"
Dean muttered, almost inaudibly, "Because I set the t.v. to go off when you were sleeping…"
The platypus waddled away from Dean angrily, searching for a way to shut the T.V. off. Castiel had resumed trying to blow his bangs out of his face, unsuccessfully. Dean crawled closer to Castiel. "Um, Cas," Dean said, feigning nonchalance, "Do you think you could turn us back now?"
Castiel looked at Dean and blinked. Dean couldn't tell he had blinked, all he saw was Castiel's nose twitch and whiskers wiggle as the angel thought. "I did this?" Castiel said astonished.
"Yes." Dean said firmly. "You did. And we would, I would anyway, really appreciate it if you could… y'know… turn us back."
"Maybe." Castiel said half heartedly. "My head is still a little fuzzy."
"Ah." Dean sat down next to Castiel on the floor. He waited for a minute, as silence settled between them. Out of habit, he looked at his watch-less wrist and gave a low whistle. Dean looked up excitedly. "Feeling better now?"
Castiel sighed. "Fine. I guess I could give a try."
Behind them, they heard a small crash. The TV was silent, a broom was broken and several books were scattered and fallen on the floor. Platypuses were very creative creatures, and Sam was no exception.
"Now please." Dean said, fearing what else Sam would do with four webbed feet, one flat tail, and a bill.
Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"Well that's mostly better." Sam said reluctantly as he looked up at Dean.
Castiel looked at him. "Which one are you?"
Dean ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. He blinked his hazel eyes and raised his hand. "I'm Dean, just so we're clear."
Sam popped the collar of his trench coat. "Sam, here."
Castiel scratched his blonde head. "Why'd I get the short one?"
Dean, in Sam's body, scowled. "Cas, do you think you could get it right this time?"
"Gee, Dean maybe this wouldn't be so hard," Castiel growled, "if someone hadn't dropped a bucket on my head!"
Dean held up his hands defensively. "No need to get touchy." He looked over his shoulder at the bathroom and grinned to himself. "Look, I gotta use the can. We'll deal with this when I get back."
Dean walked off with a suspiciously pleased look on his face. His drummed his fingers on the side of his leg as he hummed something. He slammed the bathroom door shut. Castiel scratched his head and wondered what Dean was up to.
As Dean disappeared, Sam stepped away from Castiel. He took off the trench coat and began to concentrate. Castiel turned to watch as Sam began to flex his arms. Sweat began to pour down Sam's brow. His fists were curled into tight balls, and his nails were digging into his palms. "What are you doing?" Castiel said, almost afraid to ask.
"This thing's got wings, right?" Sam grunted, turning bright red as he continued to try forcing Castiel's wings to appear.
"No, I do." Castiel clarified.
"Gah!" Sam let out a deep breath and glared at Castiel. "Spoil sport."
Castiel's green eyes twinkled mischievously. Sam started to say something, but stopped he looked over at the bathroom door. "Hurry up Dean! Stop messing with my body!"
They heard the toilet flush and the sink run. Minutes later, Dean reappeared. "Don't get your panties in a twist," he said coolly, "I wasn't doing anything unusual."
Castiel looked at them. "Are you guys ready for this?"
Dean took a deep breath as he steeled his mind for the possibilities that could ensue. He didn't like the prospect of living his life as a toaster much. But if he got turned into a gun- he figured that'd be okay. As long as he didn't shoot blanks.
"Ready." Dean said envisioning a pearl handled revolver.
Sam took a deep breath as he contemplated the possible outcomes. He figured he'd be fine with anything as long as he didn't turn into piñata again. That one time at Stanford (during an experimental solo hunt freshman year) was enough, and he still wasn't ready to tell that story to Dean yet. Not sober, anyway.
"Ready." Sam agreed as he decided to start protesting violence against flamboyant animals.
Castiel held out his hands and there was a bright flash.
Sam looked at Dean's body. Dean was shorter than him, had blonde hair and green eyes. "Dean?" Sam said tentatively.
"What?" Dean snapped.
Definitely Dean. Sam looked over at the stocky, blue eyed brunette. "Castiel?"
Castiel squinted at him. "Yes?"
Definitely Castiel. Sam looked at them. "I look like me, right?"
"Yep, still freakishly tall." Dean smirked. "And not nearly as handsome as me."
"Then we're all normal!" Sam cheered.
Castiel rubbed the bump on the back of his skull. "No. My hair still smells of oatmeal."
Dean pointed to the bathroom. "There's a shower in there. I think you can figure it out."
Castiel scowled and muttered something about angels preferring bubble baths as he stalked off towards the shower. Dean looked at his watch. "Well, it's nearly three am. I'm going to bed."
Dean laughed to himself as he walked off towards his bed. Sam watched him go suspiciously. Seeing himself alone in the bedroom, he began to undress. He undid his jeans and stepped out of them. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. As he got into bed he looked down on his torso. He choked back a scream as he saw that on his chest, in sharpie, a very vivid and detailed drawing of a clown had been sketched.
Sam heard the water turn off in the bathroom and wondered how much it would take to bribe an angel.
He had a feeling Dean hadn't spent enough time today as a gecko.
The End
Bonus Treat, a Demtri Martin quote!
Enjoy these words of wisdom:
"I like parties, but I don't like piñatas because the piñata promotes violence against flamboyant animals. Hey, there's a donkey with some pizzazz. Let's kick its ass. What I'm trying to say is, don't make the same Halloween costume mistake that I did."
Go party safely and enjoy your birthday!