Title: Nuts
Author: 427-67Impala
Rating: T
Warnings: None. Just a little Winchester-vs.-squirrel violence
Word count: 6,871
Setting: Mid-late Season 6
The dead are rising - that's nothing new. But Sam and Dean have never seen zombies like this before...!
A/N: This madness began in the CW Lounge, and I blame EvilSquirre1 for setting this plot bunny on me! What started out as a humourous ficlet in response to news stories about crazy squirrels has degenerated into a 6,700-word saga, and I had an absolute blast writing it.
This was my first attempt at fanfiction, and reviews are much appreciated. :)
Beware the squirrels!
As we know, Sam and Dean belong to Kripke & co. - I'm just borrowing their toys...
Gatlinburg, Tennessee
As soon as Sam and Dean got in the door, they stopped to take in their surroundings. Even on the Winchester scale of horrendous motel décor, this room was bad.
Olive green and burnt orange paisley bedspreads, the once-tan carpet now more of a forest-floor brown and slightly threadbare in places, and grainy forest murals on the walls. An ancient TV with dials and rabbit-ears. A dilapidated Formica table - slightly more of a lime green than the bedspreads - in the pigeonhole advertised as a kitchenette, populated by an electric stove that looks more like an overgrown cigarette lighter than an appliance, and an old fridge that reminded Dean of an upended, yellowed Airstream trailer.
"So tell me again why we're here?" Dean sighed, dumping his duffel on the bed nearest the door. He opened up the curtains as far as he could, trying to get a little light into the room.
"We're here because there have been at least half a dozen unusual deaths around here in the last couple of weeks," Sam replied, as he flipped on the lights and set his laptop down on the scuffed kitchen table. The chair, which was older than he was, creaked and rocked on its uneven legs as he tentatively sat down. After a few tense seconds, when the chair didn't give way, Sam opened up the laptop and brought up the victims' obituaries.
"The victims are all young women. They died of massive blood loss, apparently due to 'hundreds of small bites and scratches', and the bodies were found surrounded with acorns and pine nuts," Sam continued, as Dean leaned over his shoulder to check out the screen, interest piqued by the pictures accompanying the victims' obituaries, resting this elbows on the back of Sam's rickety seat. The metal protested, but the chair clung together - when he was satisfied it wasn't going to collapse under him, Sam continued.
"All the bodies were found on the edge of town, almost on the boundary of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. They had leaf litter, twigs and stuff all over them, but there was no indication the victims had been in the park. One victim had on high heeled shoes, another was wearing a cocktail dress, and so on. Not hiking apparel, you know?" Sam brought up the newspaper's crime scene photos to illustrate his point.
"Well, whatever this is, it has good taste," Dean commented, an approving smile on his face. Sam ignored that, and continued.
"The best the local cops and the National Park Service have come up with is that these women were attacked by a raccoon or something," he said, pulling up the relevant articles on the local newspaper's website.
"And we think they weren't attacked by a raccoon...?" Dean asked slowly, after a few seconds' pause.
"We investigate alleged animal attacks all the time, Dean. Why not this?" Sam asked, looking over at Dean as he went and sat heavily on the bed.
"It just doesn't feel like our kind of thing, Sam," he sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. Sam knew what he really meant was I've been driving for days and I want some rest, a beer and a pretty girl. And not necessarily in that order.
"Look, there was a survivor after the last attack: Laura Turner. Let's just go talk to her - that's how we're going to find out if it is our kind of thing." Sam pressed, making his best puppy dog eyes. Dean, as usual, was helpless to resist.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- o-o-o
Dean's mood improved considerably when he laid eyes on the woman sitting at the hospital reception desk. "This hunt is looking up, Sammy," he whispered, not noticing Sam roll his eyes as he strode out in front of his brother and up to the desk.
"Hi there... Christina." He leaned over the counter to read her nametag, that megawatt flirting smile on full power. "I'm Agent Shaw, and this is my colleague Ranger Gowan." Dean gestured vaguely towards where he figured Sam was standing, his eyes never leaving Christina. She didn't even glance at the fake badge in Dean's hand - she was busy playing with her long blonde hair, and she couldn't quite seem to look away from his eyes.
"We're from the National Park Service, and we're here to see Laura Turner, the survivor of the latest raccoon attack," Dean drawled, his voice dripping honey.
"Oh, sure," Christina replied, and managed to put the name into her computer with shaky fingers. "Just go right on through those doors at the end of the hall, and up to the fifth floor. Room 514. Here, let me write that down for you..." Christina scribbled down the details, and her cheeks flushed pink as she handed over a scrap of paper and lost herself in Dean's eyes all over again.
"Thanks, Christina." Dean winked at her, and left the poor woman swooning as he walked off down the hall, Sam in tow.
"Maybe this town isn't all bad," Dean observed, a smile still on his face as he pushed open the doors.
"Dude, don't get me wrong - I'm glad you've found a little enthusiasm. It's just that if I have to watch you do that again I may literally throw up," Sam replied drily, only half-joking.
"You have to have a little fun with your work, dude. And that was fun." Dean chuckled, and Sam just sighed as he pushed the button for the elevator. He noticed Dean put the scrap of paper in his pocket, and shot him a quizzical look. "The room number wasn't the only one she gave me, Sammy." Dean grinned, but Sam just rolled his eyes.
When they found room 514 Sam took the lead, not giving Dean a chance for a repeat performance. He knocked on the doorjamb, even though the door was open and he could see a young woman in the bed.
"Laura Turner?" Sam asked, when she looked up from her book at the two men standing in the doorway. She was pretty, if a little pale, and her face was marked with a myriad of little bites and scratches which were only just now starting to heal and fade. What Sam could see of her arms and chest under her pyjamas was still mostly covered in light bandages, but she didn't seem to be badly injured.
"I'm Ranger Gowan, and this is Ranger Shaw, from the National Park Service," he went on as he and Dean flashed their fake badges in perfect synch, well-practiced at the ruse. "We're in town looking into these raccoon attacks. Are you feeling up to a few questions?" Sam said, silky smooth, as he and Dean moved in to stand at the foot of the bed.
"Sure," Laura replied, marking her place then putting the book on the nightstand.
"Thanks, Laura. Why don't you tell us what happened?" Sam got out his notepad, and Laura took a deep breath.
"I was walking home from a bar in the middle of town - I'd had a few drinks with my coach after training that afternoon. I'm a competitive water-skier, and I'd been training all afternoon on the lake in the national park," Laura explained, and out of the corner of his eye, Sam noticed a smile spreading across Dean's face; Sam knew without a doubt that his brother was imagining Laura in her skiing outfit. As usual, he completely ignored Dean and moved on.
"How did you get from the middle of town to the park?" Sam asked, and she sighed.
"I don't know. When I woke up I was laying under the trees, covered in leaves and nuts and everything, with all these scratches and bites all over me." She spread her bandaged arms. There were even bites on the palms of her hands.
"Did you see what attacked you?" Sam asked, gently.
"I got a glimpse, yeah," she replied, somewhat reluctantly.
"And?" Dean pressed, sensing she was holding something back. Laura looked hesitant, but she went on anyway.
Neither Dean or Sam was prepared for what she said next.
"Squirrels."
The Winchester boys stared back at her, dumbstruck. "Squirrels?" they asked, in unison, now reasonably sure Laura had a screw loose. Maybe a few screws.
"I know that sounds crazy. But I saw them when they first came at me on the street - a big group of squirrels, and I swear they had red eyes. I couldn't even run, they were all over me before I knew what was happening. The next thing I remember is waking up under the trees." Laura, obviously not encouraged by Sam and Dean's incredulous expressions, sighed and rubbed her eyes.
"Look, I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's true. My friend Travis saw them - he'll be back from the cafeteria any minute, and you can ask him." Laura laid back into her pillows, waiting for the next question.
"We will. Um -" Sam began, but was interrupted mid-sentence by a voice from the doorway behind them.
"She's telling the truth about the squirrels."
Sam and Dean turned around to see a young, sightly dishevelled blonde guy holding a tray full of cafeteria food standing just inside the door.
"This is Travis. He's the one that found me," Laura explained. Travis came over and set the tray down on her table then sat on the edge of the bed.
"And you saw the… ah, squirrels?" Dean asked Travis, who nodded.
"The ones that weren't attacking Laura came after me. They leapt up off the ground and bit and scratched and - wow, I hope they didn't have rabies or something!" His eyes went wide at that thought.
"Was there anything... strange... about these squirrels?" Sam asked, pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer.
"I'll say! I've never seen squirrels move like that! They were like freakin' Jackie Chan, dude!" Travis' response was accompanied by a demonstration; he jumped up off the bed into a kung-fu stance, and proceeded to imitate the squirrels. Sam and Dean looked at each other, not quite able to believe what they were hearing. Or seeing, for that matter.
"So they were, like, ninja squirrels?" Dean asked, slowly.
Travis nodded, sitting back down on the bed by Laura. "It sounds dumb when you say it out loud like that, but... yeah. They were faster and stronger than any other squirrel I've ever seen around here, man! They were leaping like, five or six feet off the ground and swiping at my face with their hands - they moved like animated ninjas in old Hanna-Barbera cartoons, you know?" Travis was, again, making kung-fu motions with his hands as he was talking.
"Like Hong Kong Phooey?" Dean asked, a smile spreading across his face.
"Exactly, man!" Travis grinned, recognising a fellow fan.
"I used to watch that show every Saturday morning!" Dean laughed, ignoring the look Sam threw his way.
"So I think we have everything we need. Thanks - both of you." Sam practically dragged Dean out of the room before he could get into a debate about Saturday morning cartoons.
Neither Sam nor Dean said another word until they were alone in the elevator. "Well this is something new. Squirrels. Homicidal squirrels. Homicidal ninja squirrels." Dean smiled a little, nudging Sam with his elbow. "But I'm still not convinced it's our kind of thing, Sammy," he added, more seriously.
Sam looked over at his brother, eyebrows raised. "So a drey of homicidal, red-eyed squirrels doesn't sound odd to you?"
Dean chuckled, still obviously getting a kick out of having a conversation about homicidal squirrels. "It sounds plenty odd, Sam, just maybe not our kind of - hey, wait." Dean paused, realising what Sam had just said. "A what of homicidal squirrels?"
"A drey."
"What?"
"A drey, Dean. D-R-E-Y. The noun for a group of squirrels." Sam looked over at his older brother, slightly exasperated.
Dean sighed, shaking his head. "You are such a nerd," he replied, a teasing smile on his face.
"Bite me, Dean."
Dean just smiled, watching the elevator count down the floors. "I'm thinking we swing by the spot where they found Laura on the way back to the motel. See what we can see," he offered. That was Dean's version of an olive branch, and Sam knew it was as close as he was going to get to an apology.