The Great Gumball Affair
By: Maygin
Summary: Dean and Sam head south to deal with a thousand year old legend that no one will touch… perhaps because they're too busy laughing at it?
The Blah-Blah Section: I really have nothing enlightening to say other than this… okay so five minutes later I still have nothing enlightening to say… despite my best efforts and the sacrificing of many brain cells. …I tried. Sorry. It's just one of those days. BTW, AnickaMarie – I live in St. Louis, MO and they litter our neighborhood, so I know how your grandparents feel ;)
Chapter 2
"So seriously Sammy, why do you think it's Lyford?" Dean asked. He was feeling good being on the road. The sun was shining brightly despite the coolness in the air and they were quickly nearing their destination.
Sam lifted his head from the back of his seat, glancing at his brother and then the wide open scenery before them that was Texas. He shifted slightly. "Well… Liquidambar Styraciflua typically have a life span of about 150 to 300 years. But there's one in Lyford that's been there at least six hundred years according to local records. There's a good chance it's been there much longer though according to some samples that botanist's have taken to study at nearby colleges."
"Okay…" Dean was still waiting for the punch line. "And?"
"And what?"
"Why the hell didn't you just say that before?"
Sam's head tilted with a self- deprecating grimace, now feeling stupid for his reasons. "Cuz I was afraid you'd call me a gumball geek or something."
Dean snorted and chuckled, but didn't reveal his personal joke. "Yeah well… hey, remember that time you got thrown into a huge pile of those things?"
"Yeah, it hurt like hell." Sam justified, obviously not as fond of the memory as his brother. "Those things were like needles."
Dean laughed. "Oh man, I wish you could've seen yourself. You had like fifty of those things just sticking to you. …in your hair- God that was awful."
"You're gonna make a right at this next stop." Sam supplied.
The Impala slowly made its way down an old road banked by aged two-story shops and stores.
"Welcome to hodunk." Dean spoke; his eyes darting back and forth at the simple people strolling up and down the sidewalks doing their business.
Sam smirked. "The Bed and Breakfast's at the end of the street on the left."
"Whoa, wait a second." Dean frowned. "Bed and breakfast as in frilly, lacy, old lady type bed and breakfast?"
"Good, home-cooked food," Sam supplied, knowing it was a huge selling point with his brother.
Dean's head tilted as if weighing the options and then whined, "Yeah, but then she's gonna wanna talk to us."
Sam turned wide eyes on his brother. "Holy shit you're right," he said with all seriousness. "I mean who knows, she might even try to make you drink her tea!"
Dean licked his lips, looking completely un-humored as he took a left at the end of the street. "Bitch."
"This will be your boys's room." Said the very short, curly-white haired woman with a hunched back and large, thick glasses resting on her nose. She was the epitome of Grandmotherness. Her voice even shook slightly with age and had a southern accent lacing her words. Sam instantly liked her; Dean just nodded his head, not engaging in conversation or looking even remotely interested in engaging conversation.
The said boy's dropped their bags each onto a single bed and looked at their surroundings. Their little hostess continued to stand there with a smile on her wrinkled face, watching their reactions. "Well," she finally said happily when Sam smiled at her his approval, "let me know if you boys need anything. Dinner'll be in an hour or so. There's Lyford maps on the coffee table in the living room if you need em. But, rest- relax," she kindly demanded, "I'll bring you boys some tea later if you want."
Dean licked his lips before turning his head toward his brother with a smug look.
"Thank you Ms. Montgomery," Sam said ignoring his brother.
"Just call me Grandma Bee, short for Beatrice; everyone else does." Then she happily turned and shuffled away.
Sam suddenly found the flooring very interesting as he tried not to laugh, fully aware his brother was waiting for it. He finally conceded with a smile, "Alright, its a little hodunk."
"You owe me big time." Dean threw himself onto his bed, testing its agility and bounce meter. "You think she'd come runnin in here with a rolling pin if I started jumping on the bed?"
"Dean," Sam said tiredly as he unpacked, "don't piss off Grandma Bee." And he again had to stop himself from laughing.
"Dude, if she'd said Aunt Bea I would've lost it."
"Poor old lady, she's just trying to make a living for herself and you're up here making fun of her."
"Whatever, it's funny and you know it." Dean pushed himself up and leaned back against the headboard. "So what's the plan?"
"Well I figure we can do dinner in an hour and see about getting some information from our hostess about the tree while we eat. You know… pleasant dinner conversation?" Sam emphasized, giving his brother a good stare down before resuming his unpacking.
"You really think Grannie's gonna know anything about a thousand year old gumball tree?"
"In pioneer times they used the sweet, balsamic resin as a treatment for sores, chest colds… even dysentery."
Dean grimaced, but Grandma Bee missed it as she scooped out a large spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his place. She then did the same to Sam who smiled his thanks before the smile turned smug and was aimed at his brother.
"It was also made into a type of chewing gum… which is where you get gumball tree from." She was all old-lady smiles as she continued to dump home-made fried chicken and green beans onto their plates in heaping quantities.
"You don't say," Dean said with flat enthusiasm. "Well we heard there might be one here that's really old… like, a thousand years old even."
Grandma Bee laughed as she set the bowl of green beans down, wiped her hands on her apron and took her seat at the head of the table. "Yes, yes. That ole tree and I have been through a lot of years together," she laughed again. Sam found he couldn't help but chuckle along with her; her very spirit was uplifting and joyful; and it was refreshing to be in her presence.
"So you've probably lived here your entire life." Sam observed, trying to put her in a talkative mood; although it didn't look like he needed to put much persuasion into it.
"Born and raised."
"So is it really a thousand years old?"
"That's what them scholarly folk say. There's a lot of stories attached to that ole girl."
"Really? Like what?" Sam asked, knowing oh so well how to play this game.
"Oh just here-say really. But some people think it's possessed."
Score, Sam smirked. "Do you?"
"Good gravy, no." She chuckled. "Now why would a demon go possessing a tree?"
"That's an excellent question," Dean said pointedly, looking across the table at his brother.
"Well has anything strange ever happened around it?" Sam tried.
"Strange how?" She picked up the pitcher of tea and looked to the older brother, "Tea?"
Dean's forehead smoothed out and he shook his head, quickly covering his glass with his hand just for extra measure. She handed him the water pitcher instead.
"I don't know… just anything you can think of?" Sam hesitantly asked as he spooned some potatoes.
Grandma Bee picked up her fork and held it a moment, looking through her thick lenses out the dining room window a moment. "Grass," she said suddenly and then stabbed at a forkful of green beans.
"I'm sorry?" Sam asked, not sure he'd heard right.
"Grass," she repeated as she picked her napkin up from her lap and waved it between her crooked fingers for Dean to see before replacing it in her lap.
Dean looked at her oddly before hearing Sam clear his throat and then pointedly made a gesture of pulling an invisible napkin off the table and putting it in his lap. Dean awkwardly dragged his lacey napkin from beneath his knife and dropped it to his lap, sending an exasperated look to his brother.
"What about the grass?" Dean asked, trying to recover his dignity.
"Well, it's the strangest thing," she said wistfully, "ever since I was a little girl, they've had troubles growing grass around the tree."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's like every few years the grass around the tree just… burns up."
"Burns up."
"Yes." Then she looked at them with a conspiratorial spark in her eye. "We used to always think it was the Henderson boy's actin up, but they're long gone now."
Dean's head tilted slightly with a cautious smile, "Every few years huh?"
"Yes, very strange."
"Could it be… more like- every four years?" Dean tried.
Grandma Bee paused a moment, her aged, blue eyes looking back into her past. "It very well could be." And then she chuckled. "You have to remember son, I'm an ole gal. Not quite as sprite as I used to be."
Sam broke out into smile and took a stab at his green beans as he watched his brother give in to a grin of his own and then start in on his chicken.
"So?"
"So?"
Sam pulled a night shirt over his head with a grin. "Every four years the grass around the tree burns up?" He stood there waiting for the approval he knew he was owed.
Dean rolled his eyes and set his book down on his chest as he lounged on his bed. "It's a good lead."
"It's a great lead." Sam dropped onto his own bed with a content smile.
"We'll check it out tomorrow morning, and then maybe do a little digging around the local library."
Sam winced, "Eh, I don't think a town this small is gonna have a good library… more like a lending library than an information source."
"Alright well where do you suggest genius?"
"Maybe city hall? They probably keep quite a few records there. And I don't know- maybe we could visit the local college and speak with one of the botanists who were studying the tree?"
"Works for me." Dean reached over and set his book on the nightstand. Then after pulling the blanket at the end of his feet up to his chest, he paused and gave his brother a knowing look, as if chastising a child, "Sammy, did you remember to brush your teeth?"
"Dude," Sam tiredly stared at the ceiling, "lay off Grannie Bee alright? She's been nothing but sweet to you."
Dean chuckled, laying on a southern accent, "Well good gravy Sam, I didn't realize you like fried chicken so much."
"Shut up."
TBC…
(I swear the actual plot line will develop a little more in the next chapter. Don't forget to drop me a review if you think about it… they keep me occupied from reading too many spoilers on upcoming episodes -- alright, I fixed whatever the heck happened when I first loaded this chapter. Sorry bout that.)