Chapter 2
"Do you see it?" Dean snapped as he straightened up with a groan.
"See what?" Sam replied as he blew out a breath. He and Dean had been searching the house for the last four hours and they'd yet to find even a hint of the creature. Though he was dirty, frustrated and very nearly exhausted he couldn't help but needle his older sibling just a bit.
"Sam," Dean warned, his tone making it clear he didn't appreciate Sam's ribbing.
Unafraid of his brother's bluster, Sam shrugged and adopted his most innocent voice, "Hey, I'm just saying I'm still not all that clear on what I should be looking for." Sam had been egging Dean on for hours now, trying to get the seasoned hunter to admit what he had seen.
"Argh," Dean growled as he faced his brother. "Fine, you know what? You win. Of all the stubborn-"
"Cut the crap and say it, Dean," Sam said with a smirk. "You know you want to. Just say 'We're searching for aaaa...'" Sam drew the last a out and waited expectantly for his brother to finish.
"A gnome, damnit. Is that what you wanted to hear? We're hunting for the friggin' Travelocity gnome in the middle of the damn suburbs."
Sam couldn't help but chortle as his brother went on a rant about how embarrassing it was that hunters of their prestige were reduced to chasing fairytales. "The brave and mighty hunter brought low by a gnome. You could sell your story to People magazine," Sam said with a snort when Dean finally wound down.
"Sam," Dean warned once more.
Years of dealing with his brother's prickly pride had left Sam more than able to recognize when it was time to push or time to back off and this moment definitely registered as the latter. In need of a change of subject, he thought back to Dean's earlier words. "What's a Travelocity gnome?" he questioned. Though he'd done some research on the mythic creature he was fairly certain that he hadn't found any classifications of different types.
"You know the Travelocity gnome," Dean reiterated. At Sam's apparently blank look, the green-eyed hunter rolled his eyes and explained, "Travelocity, that cheap-hotel website. They use a gnome in their commercials, red cone hat, full white beard, rosy cheeks...any of this ringing a bell?"
Sam was completely lost, it was like his brother was speaking a foreign language. As for marketing a gnome with a travel company, that one was beyond the youngest Winchester.
"It's like you're from an entirely different planet," Dean snapped at last, his words eerily echoing Sam's own thoughts. With a deep breath surely meant to fortify, Dean began to explain. "It all started from that roaming gnome joke. You know," Dean prompted.
Sam's headshake earned him another eye-roll. "Okay, see you take a garden gnome out of someone's yard and take it on a road trip. Then you photograph the statue in different locations, kinda like an 'I was here' deal. Then you return the little guy back to its owners and leave the pictures as proof of where he went."
"So, you steal someone's lawn ornament?" Sam questioned completely unsure of why anyone in their right mind would bother.
This time the eye-roll was accompanied by a 'humph'. "No, you're not stealing him, you're just giving him a vacation."
"A vacation? A vacation for an inanimate object?" Sam verified, completely sure that he was missing some kind of point.
"Duuuuuuude," Dean sighed. "You're just hopeless, what the hell did you do at college?"
Before Sam could explain that at college he'd had more important things to think about besides vacationing with a figurine, Dean answered his own question, "Oh, I forgot you spent your college years learning how to stuff things."
This time it was Sam that snapped, "Yeah, well you wanna talk about wasting time, you seem to be pretty damn familiar with this whole roaming gnome thing."
At his words, Dean's complexion flushed red and his brother broke eye contact with him. Sam couldn't help but crow at Dean's obviously uneasy expression. "You did it, didn't you? You stole someone's elf and took it for a joy ride."
"It wasn't an ELF," Dean hollered, his voice clearly audible to the whole neighborhood.
At Sam's look of irritation, Dean lowered his voice. "It was a gnome and I only did it once. It's not like I'm a card carrying member of the GGLF."
The initials immediately grabbed Sam's attention. "The what?" he questioned.
Again, Dean seemed to realize he'd said to much. "The Garden Gnome Liberation Front," he muttered.
Somehow, Sam found he wasn't at all surprised to learn that there was a group involved. It seemed now a days, given the informational society that they lived in there was a specialty group for everyone. "huh," was his only comment. Really, he was unsure of what else to say. The idea that Dean had wandered the country with a gnome tucked into the trunk was just a bit beyond belief. "I can't believe Dad didn't have something to say about it."
"Dude, how many times do I have to tell you, I hunted on my own," Dean huffed in irritation. "You remember that house in Idaho, just outside Boise, eastbound on I-84?"
At Sam's blank look, Dean sighed and continued, "You know the one with all the lawn ornaments."
A vague recollection of a run-down house surrounded by every lawn ornament ever produced teased Sam's memory. "Yeah, I guess."
"Well, I was leaving Boise, heading for Texas and it was just sitting there staring at me. Dad was working a different gig and I knew I'd be back in the area in a week or two, so, I took him."
Sam said not a word, just shook his head slowly as he waited for his brother to tell his tale.
"So anyway, I threw Edgar into the front seat and drove down to the Wyoming border. I took a picture of him at the border sign. After that, it was kinda fun. Trying to figure out new places to take the little guy. I'm telling you I got this shot of him at the Chicken Ranch, in Texas and he's just perched right in front of that gingerbread fence grinning like crazy," Dean said fondly.
Sam's mind kinda stuttered at the idea that 'Edgar' had ridden in the Impala, and in his seat no less. He found himself with a mental image of his brother in the car, flying down the road with the radio blasting, his little buddy tucked into a seatbelt next to him. Before he could wonder whether he should seriously worry about his brother's sanity, the rest of Dean's words hit him.
"You took him to the Ranch?" Sam asked as memories of his own eighteenth birthday threatened to distract him. Forcing his thoughts back to the topic at hand, he asked, "So then you just returned him?
"Yup, left him and handful of Polaroid's on the porch and never went back."
Though he wasn't buying Dean's too innocent 'never went back' comment, Sam let it go and asked, "So, how does Edgar, the roaming gnome, fit in with our little problem here?"
"That's just the thing, Sam. I mean I saw a garden gnome, complete with rosy red cheeks. If everything we've read is any indication, actual gnomes...which don't exist... are most likely dirty little creatures that live in some remote hill in Germany. Whatever we're dealing with is not a gnome."
As Dean spoke, Sam's attention was caught by a tiny streak of red that was moving behind one of the largest piles of books. His eyes tracked that red spot, which if he were honest looked like the tip of a hat, as it moved toward the left and directly behind his brother. Sam shifted slightly and at last got an eyeful of what he'd only glimpsed earlier.
The creature, for lack of a better word, did indeed resemble just about any garden gnome Sam had ever seen. His cone hat was bright cherry red and sat firmly on his round little head. Thick white hair jutted out from under the hat and ran down his cheeks into a full beard. Beady black eyes and rosy red cheeks helped to give him a cheery look despite his one raised eyebrow and a cynical twist to his mouth. He was wearing large black boots and black pants that were nearly hidden by a light blue coat. A thick black belt with a bright golden buckle helped to cinch in his thick waist.
888
"...is not a gnome," Dean finished lamely as he noted his brother's attention was no longer riveted on him. Sam now appeared fascinated with something behind the elder Winchester. Given the topic of their conversation, Dean didn't have to work too hard to guess what Sammy saw. "He's behind me isn't he?" he asked in a loud whisper.
At his words, Sam's eyes widened even more and he nodded. Dean took it as a yes and braced himself to turn around slowly. Inch by inch the hunter rotated, doing his best to not startle the creature behind him. At last, he stood face to, well, knee with the little guy. To his surprise, the gnome was an exact replica of the roaming gnome that had been made famous by the TV commercials. Dean's mumbled, "Son of a bitch," was heartfelt as he studied the creature that stood before him.
"So's that a roaming gnome," Sam questioned as he stared at the gnome.
Dean had noticed his brother repeatedly rubbing his eyes as if to clear his vision. He really couldn't blame Sam as he had also found himself wondering if he was caught in the throes of some horrific nightmare. Maybe it was a concussion, he reassured himself or some sort of weird cosmic joke perpetrated by a trickster or a demon with a sense of humor.
"We're just dreaming," Dean said firmly as he watched the gnome roll his little black eyes.
Sam moved up to stand by his side and nodded. "Yeah, I thought of that," the younger hunter said as he reached out and pinched Dean on the arm.
The flare of pain was unexpected and had Dean cursing a blue streak as he rubbed the injured area. "What the hell, Sam?"
"He's trying to tell you you're not dreaming, dumb-ass," came a gruff voice from somewhere near the floor.
Dean ignored his brother's audible gulp and turned toward the voice. "'scuse me?"
The small figure blew out a breath, the air ruffling his thick white beard with force, and folded his hands across his middle. "Tell me he's not the brains of this dynamic duo?" he asked Sam with what Dean would swear was a smirk.
Sam blinked hard once and replied, "Uh...what..."
His brother's voice just kinda trailed off making it clear to Dean, just how stunned Sam was to be having this conversation. Gathering his focus, he slowly reached behind his back and removed his gun from where it had been tucked in the waistband of his jeans. Careful not to make any sudden movements, Dean aimed the pistol at the small form and snapped, "Okay, enough of this shit. What the hell are you?"
"I'm a gnome," the little guy growled.
Dean shook his head and emphasized, "No, you're not. 'Cause there's no such thing as gnomes." Needing to believe his own words, he insisted, "Gnomes don't exist, and even if they did, they don't look like you."
Black eyes widened and the red-cheeked gnome snarled, "Is that right? What exactly makes you an expert on gnomes? Huh?" the little guy demanded as he stared hard at Dean.
For a moment, Dean drew a blank. All of his logical reasoning had flown out the window when faced with two feet of nasty attitude, topped with a cherry red cone hat. It was Sam that came to his rescue.
"Gnomes are dirt dwelling creatures," his little brother offered, in a voice that could very nearly be called steady.
"If you're a gnome, then where's your treasure?" Dean piped up grateful that some small bit, no matter how lame, of gnome knowledge had come back to him.
At their questions, the small creature in front of them began to fidget slightly, and his hands crept to his bright white beard only to tug on the end a few times. If Dean had to put an emotion to the little guy's actions he would have to say the gnome looked decidedly uneasy.
"I like dirt well enough," the gnome snapped, "and just cause I don't flaunt a treasure don't mean I ain't got one."
"Huh," Dean commented. He then turned to Sam and lifted a single brow. "Sounds pretty weak to me, Sam. What'd you think?"
Sam shook his shaggy head and replied simply, "Yeah, not real convincing."
"Okay, listen, you two smart mouths, I'm a gnome and I don't give a rat's ass if you don't believe me," the gnome ground out as he tugged hard on the tip of his beard once more. "All that matters is that you give me what I want," he concluded with a stamp of his foot.
Given the little guy's colorful language and his obvious irritation, Dean had no doubt now that what stood before them was no gnome. "Why would we give you anything? We're the hunters here, and whether or not you choose to believe it, you're the prey."
At Dean's words, the gnome seemed to swell up like a toad. The tiny buttons that marched their way down his tunic began to show signs of strain and his face went from slightly flushed to bright red. His little hands now gripped the end of his beard in a chokehold and he was jerking on it every now and again as he muttered under his breath. At first, Dean tried to make out what he was mumbling but after the first fifty or so curse words he gave up. He had to admit whatever this thing was it had a vocabulary that would make a sailor blush.
It was Sam that seemed to realize the fact that they might be in trouble first. His brother's, "Uh, Dean, look," had the elder Winchester taking note of their surroundings. Despite the fact that they were in a house a breeze had picked up, causing the stacks of papers that surrounded them to flutter. Then even as Dean realized that something was wrong, the breeze became a wind and sheets began to flutter through the air.
"Um, Sam?" Dean questioned as he began ducking things in earnest.
"Yeah?" Sam shouted against the wind that had now become a gust.
"You about ready to get out of here, before this place lifts off?"
Sam didn't even bother to hesitate as he dodged a lamp and headed toward the nearest exit. Dean put himself directly behind Sam, to help block some of the debris that were now flying and followed his brother. As they finally reached the door, he took a moment to look back at the gnome that stood unharmed in the middle of a tornado of junk.
As the brother's ducked out of the storm and into the quiet evening, they couldn't resist a last look at the house. Though they could detect a faint thump now and again as something heavy pounded against the door that was the only sound that suggested something was wrong. Otherwise, the house looked perfectly peaceful. "Well, that was strange," Dean offered as he shrugged and turned his back on the home. Conscious of the fact that dawn was breaking, he picked up his pace and headed down the road to where the Impala shimmered in the dying moonlight.
"You think?" Sam replied with a groan.
"Yup, I'm thinking a bit more research is in order," Dean continued.
"Probably not a bad idea," Sam agreed wryly as he picked up his pace.
TBC
