"Grown A*S Men."
Mystic25
SUMMARY: Tag to "And Then There Were None." There's always something tense about grown men sitting around locked in a room together. AU Mostly dialogue.
RATING: T for language, and sexual references and mentions of violence.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm trying to challenge myself by writing something short. I never really do that, I lack the discipline to. But, it takes skill to sum up a score of emotions into just a few words. Plus, "And Then There Were None." was one of my favorite episodes from S6, the dialogue, the action, it was so superb. And, it was the first time, that I was all: "Whoa, Sam and Dean are grown.I mean, seeing them, with Rufus and Bobby, all equal hunting partners, it was awesome.
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There was always something tense about five grown men sitting around not talking, and not talking loudly. All eyeing a burlap sack like it was a live hand grenade.
All stroking their guns like they were stroking other things. All of them looking at each other with the same phrase in their eyes: 'you go first'.
Samuel eyed Bobby. Pathetic Bearded kid in a dirty ball cap.
Bobby eyed Samuel. Rusted out unsalvageable trash, should've just blown out your knee caps when I first came in.
Rufus eyed Samuel too. Old bald headed cus; hair's gotta equal brains cause he's lacking on both accounts.
Dean eyed Samuel then Sam. Freakin' can't believe my brother's named after a pile of crap. I swear if he tries ANYTHING around Sam again they're won't enough of him left to bury in the ground-
And Sam, eyed Dean. Dean, DAMNIT, I told you NOT to kill him!
I never said that Sam!
At least pretend to TRY!
Out of all of them, Sam and Dean had the best in the "silent communication" department. They spoke entire conversations with their eyes.
"So, who's going first?" Samuel said this like a lazy summer day, like they were a group of school boys playing black jack behind the church.
"I'm kind of having a moment with my gun Samuel, so how about you?" Dean returned, his aim steady, ready to blow two, three, ten more eye holes into his grandfather's skull.
"You watch your tone with me son," Samuel said, in a whisper that would scare school boys out of their blackjack game and back into church. "I'm still your grandfather."
"You start up with that crap again, and I'm going to shoot that look off your face." The aim with the gun was like Sam's look, cold. He took a step closer to Dean.
Dean took a step closer to Sam, he could feel the anger radiating off his brother like a heat source.
"Enough!" Bobby waved the burlap sack like a weapon. He moved past Rufus, past the unit that was Dean and Sam, standing in the center of the room they were all locked in."Guns inside, now! Before this damn worm from Tartarus blows our fool heads off!"
"Not like you'd have anything under that ball cap worth saving Singer," Samuel Campbell's remark was cold, accurate.
"I don't recall anyone asking you what you thought Campbell," Rufus. "If any of us wanted to hear the thoughts of an ass we could curl up into a little ball right here on the floor, and shove our heads inside our own, and listen ourselves-"
Two guns moved.
First Samuel's, closer to Rufus' face then the last woman he slept with.
Then Sam's, maw pressed against the back of his grandfather's head. "Give me a reason Samuel. I swear I'll blow the back of your head to the front."
Samuel didn't turn around, smiled, slowly. "You're more like you were on your summer break then you know kid. All that cold sterility comes in handy."
"Shut up," Sam snapped.
"Why? Scared of the truth? Scared to turn out like Humpty Dumpty?"
"I said shut up!"
A swift turn, an upper cut, blood leaking out of the nose, then a solid sound of someone thrown into a wall, followed by a shot, and a clattering like broken plates to the floor.
"Sam!"
"Get up son," Samuel said to the fallen man. "You've had worse. It's just a flesh wound." calming words from the shooter, Samuel Campbell, to all the sudden guns trained on him as Dean Winchester knelt beside where his brother was grimacing and on the floor, clutching at a bloody jagged hole going through his jacket, and into his tricep.
Sam was grimacing, cursing, and groaning, beating his head against the wall to stop the pain. Dean's hand pressed on top of his brother's over the wound. Sam's pained face, brought out Dean's raged one as he turned around, gun aimed, and shot through Samuel's shoes, and into the flesh of his foot.
The older man screamed, and fell without anything to break his fall other than hard concrete.
Dean's gun was cocked, ready, standing over the fallen man, eyes gone murderous. "It's just a flesh wound Samuel, get up!" he grabbed the gun from where his grandfather dropped it, tossing it to Bobby. "Think Campbell here volunteered to be first to sign up for the peace movement."
Rufus was helping Sam up along the wall. "You okay son?"
"Yeah," a grunt of pain. "I mean, I'll live." He staggered over to Dean, with Rufus's help.
Dean's hand was on Sam's shoulder, and Sam's hand was on Dean's as they steadied each other.
The younger Samuel looked down to the crumpled one. "I think you lost the right to call yourself my grandfather." He would've kicked Samuel or stepped on his hand, or something to equal how angry he was for being shot at without any care, because Samuel was the real Sam who had no soul all along. But he was dizzy, and tired.
Sam handed his bloody gun over to Bobby, who put it in the sack, along with Rufus's, and Bobby's.
Samuel clutched at his foot a minute later when Dean kicked it, and he screamed.
"We're all grown ass men here Campbell, so that makes it a 'you shoot my brother I shoot you' policy."
"We're family son," Samuel gritted out through hisses.
Another kick.
"You earn that right you son-of-a-bitch!"
"Dean!"
A hand on his shoulder.
A look. Damnit, I said don't! It's not worth it!
He touched you Sam! He freakin' SHOT you, that's worth everything!
Not your life!
It's not my life I'm worrin' about!
"Okay, you wanna share with the rest of the class?" Rufus's wit was razor sharp, looking at Sam ad Dean. "Cause that whole psychic connection thing you've got going on is starting to give me a headache."
Dean looked at Sam.
Sam looked at Dean.
Bobby looked at them both.
Rufus looked at them both again, harder: "Well?"
"Dean's not killing Samuel." Sam said.
"I never said that!"
"You don't have to, I did." Sam held out his hand to receive Dean's gun.
"Do I get a say?" crumpled Samuel said from the ground, watching blood leak out of his shoe like a river.
"NO!" it was a chorus, a grown ass men chorus.
Dean looked wary, from Sam to Bobby, holding the weapon like Salvation, but not his grandfather's.
All Bobby said was: "You heard Sam, not me."
The gun was in Sam's hand a second later, complete with enraged anger from Dean. "How's your arm?"
"Feels like I got shot."
Silence, then the sound of a dropping Colt into the sack.
"Merry Christmas I guess," Bobby said, hauling the sack out of everyone's sight, like they were bad children and would only get coal; no guns for them anymore.
"Sam's already red and green," Rufus threw out. "Kinda puts you in the holiday mood."
"Bite..me…" Sam gritted out from the gasp in his throat from Dean removing his jacket to get a better look at the wound.
"I would Sam, but your brother might shoot me," Rufus retorted, with his 'dry eyed, dry mouthed' deadpan.
Sam batted at Dean's hand when he probed the bloody hole. "Stop!"
"Dude, I gotta look," Dean argued, wiping away at the blood with the torn chunk of his own shirt. ""Why do you have to be such a bitch?"
"Why do you have to be such an asshole?" Sam's hissed again as Dean's shirt was wrapped around his arm like a scout badge.
"I guess I owe you five dollars Singer," Rufus said. "You're right, they do bicker like an old married-"
"Rufus, if the next word leave your mouth I'm going to shoot the mustache off your face!"
"Prove me wrong first Winchester," Rufus said to Dean, enjoying it too much that Dean didn't look like he was really denying anything, even in embarrassment.
"We done with foreplay gentleman?" Bobby asked, "Cause I'd like to talk about how we're going to get the hell out of this mess."
The looks began again. Bobby, to Rufus, to Dean, to Sam.
"Don't look at me, I've been shot." Sam said.
Samuel groaned and rolled over on the floor. "What about me kid? You're brother's aim sucks."
"Put a condom over your mouth before you speak Samuel," Sam snapped "I don't want herpes,"
"Guess we're stuck here until the 'Con Worm' gets up out of someone." Bobby said in defeat, he didn't like just hanging around with one injured son, one pissed off son, one old friend, and one ass who shot his boy.
"That sounds vaguely dirty Bobby," Dean said.
"I'd hit you boy, but Sam would cry."
"Hey! don't cry that much!" Sam agued. Looks from everyone. "Shut up all of you! Can't even catch a break when I'm losing blood…"
"How about we play strip poker?" Dean suggested. "Sam's already lost a few layers."
"We don't have cards," Rufus reminded. "Plus if I catch sight of Bobby in the buff I might go blind-"
"Pound it up your ass Rufus!" Bobby snapped.
"I don't do that anymore Singer."
"Hey, some people want to slowly bleed out in peace!"
"Shut up Sam!" Bobby and Rufus said together.
Sam huffed indigently, even with a bleeding shoulder wound, his grandfather, brought back from Purgatory, lying on the floor from a bleeding foot at his feet. He moved back along the wall until he was arranged in somewhat of a sitting position. "I'm going to take a nap, I guess, unless I bleed to death first."
Dean was crouched beside him a second later.
Sam looked at him: "What are you doing?"
"Making sure you sleep and don't die."
"Dean-"
"Shut up both of you!" Bobby snapped. "Sam lay down! I can't come up with a plan to get an evil Con Worm out of our life with you two fighting!"
"Told you," Dean said.
Sam flipped him off, but in the end, his head found his brother's shoulder, and his eyes closed wearily.
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Finished.
Just a bit of randomness, while everyone was shooting people and the like.
R/R please.
Mystic