Summary: What if Sam and Dean Winchester found Thor's hammer out in the desert?
Sam feels the vibration in the air, and from the way Dean's eyes narrow he knows Dean feels it too. They're way out in the middle of Nowhere, the nearest dusty little Bumfuck town miles past the horizon, according to the map. The sky overhead darkens, and there's a streak of lightning overhead, arcing down to earth. Impact is a mile away, give or take.
Sam's not surprised when Dean makes a u turn on the highway.
Sometimes they find hunts, sometimes the hunts find them.
O0o
"Uh, Dean?" Sam's surprised he sounds calm. He's actually freaked out as he stares intently at whatever-the-hell-this-is. "What the hell is THAT?"
Dean scowls as he circles the object like a wolf cautiously sizing up something unfamiliar. "Looks like a hammer."
"A hammer?"
"Yep."
The head of the hammer is embedded in the top of a large jagged rock four feet tall. The whole thing sits in the middle of a crater about ten feet in diameter. The broad sides of the hammer head are inscribed with symbols that look Celtic, but Sam's not exactly sure. The metal is silvery grey. The handle is wrapped in brown leather, and there's even a strap. Whatever the hell this is, it's sleek, solid, and a pretty impressive special effect. Industrial Light and Magic, maybe. Digital Domain. Spielberg, or that Cameron dude.
Dean steps forward, puts his right hand around the leather wrapped handle and pulls.
The hammer comes free. The sky overhead darkens, and the wind picks up. Thunder shakes the ground as dark clouds slide in overhead.
Dean freezes. So does Sam. What the hell is this? The air vibrates as thunder rolls again, but the brothers realize something's not right.
The thunder sounds like a voice.
It's a whisper. Low and deep, inside both their heads. It's the softest sound they've ever heard, and it's the loudest. The voice is whiskey smooth, deep, rumbling. Thunder overhead echoes the words.
Whosoever wields this hammer...
Dean stares wide eyed at the hammer in his hand. He looks honestly, totally scared.
…if he be worthy…
Dark clouds detach from the dark wall cloud above. They descend in the blink of an eye, swirling around Dean, brushing up against him, and what looks like pieces of silvery black metal attach themselves to his skin, over his clothing.
…shall possess the power of-
"D-Dean?" Sam stammers.
The clouds vanish.
Dean stares down at himself. Instead of battered brown leather and faded blue jeans he sees silvery black armor, sleek, functional, totally unlike anything he's ever seen before.
And he also has…a cape.
A damn cape. It's not sleek or cool, like Batman's. It's long, flowing, and blue.
Medium blue.
Dean sounds freaked out. "What…what the hell is THIS? What happened to my leather jacket?"
"Dude," Sam shakes his head slowly. "I got no clue."
Dean stares at the hammer in his hand as though the damn thing is going to sprout lips and start explaining. "What the hell is goin' on here?"
"Dean?"
"H-huh?"
Sam puts out his hand. "Can I-?" Dean stares goggle-eyed at Sam's outstretched hand as though he's never seen it before.
"Dude. The hammer. Can I see it?"
"Oh! Yeah. Yeah." Dean hands it over quickly and somewhat clumsily, as if he can't wait to get rid of the damn thing.
Whosoever wields this hammer...
Dark clouds and silver metal shapes flow around Sam's form, with the same result.
Sam's cape is purple. The youngerWinchesterputs one hand on his hip. He holds the hammer with his other hand.
"Sonofabitch." Dean's eyes narrow as he stares at his not-so-little younger brother. "Dude. Are you…are you posing with that thing?"
"What? Me? N-no."
"Yeah, you are."
"This isn't so bad." Sam squares his shoulders a little more. Nice. "Superman wears a cape."
"Superman." Dean crosses his arms over his chest. "Hmph."
"Batman wears a cape."
"That's not really a cape. It's an extension of his body armor," Dean says smugly.
"Sure it is, Deanna."
O0o
Of course, this weirdness does come in handy on the job.
A week later Sam goes toe to toe with a nine foot tall killer demon clown. They've both armored up, and Sam has the hammer this time. He has Dean's six; Dean is busy evacuating a bewildered family of five civilians (Mom, Dad, and three rugrats) out of the area.
Clown-boy misjudges the panicked look on Sam's face when Sam turns to face him. Bozo drops his needle-sharp teeth and claws and lunges at the armored pretty.
Big mistake.
Sam has a death grip on the hammer. The sound of heavy metal against squishy fugly clown flesh is oddly satisfying.
Sam feels a lot better about clowns after that.
Huh. This is better than emo talk therapy.
O00
A week later it's Canton,New Jersey and a ghul with a taste for kids. Dean catches up with the fug just as it backs up against a parked school bus full of screaming kids. The ghul stares at Dean and snarls, wide and toothy. Dean knows it'll start killing before he can reach it. He stands there in his armor feeling stupid and suddenly awkward.
This isn't the way Dad taught them to hunt. But somehow, it feels so good, so right…
The ghul turns towards the bus and makes a grab for the nearest kid.
Dean throws the hammer. It's the only thing he can think of. He's never thrown it before.
Seconds later the ghul drops to the ground. Judging by the massive dent in its forehead, and the general lifelessness, it's pretty obvious that ugly won't be up and moving around. Not soon.
Not ever.
Dean puts his hand up and the hammer returns to him all velvety smooth and easy, like it always belonged there.
Sonofabitch.
O0o
Then there was that business about the tornado.
"All I did was twirl it." Sam manages to look wary and sheepish at the same time.
The winds finally die down. Car alarms up and down the street continue to blare loudly as the funnel goes back up into the wall cloud, and the sky gradually lightens. There's not that much property damage, just a few cracked windows and downed tree limbs. Some of the civilians come out to gawk at the damage and the cloudy sky and Sam hastily stashes the hammer underneath his jacket.
"Twirl it," Dean drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He leans forward and brushes loose grass out of his short spiky hair. "Yeah, you're such a girl, Samantha."
O0o
A week later there's a knock on the door at nine in the evening.
Well, actually, it's not a knock. More like pounding, the type of insistent "I know you're in there" pounding that the brothers have come to associate with law enforcement.
The pounding comes minutes after this weird, freaky funnel cloud with lightning flashes lights up the pitch black sky in the distance. The lights flicker. Sam frowns as he looks up from his laptop.
Demons don't usually knock. Or pound.
Dean sidles up to the window, fully expecting to see their favorite Eff Bee Eye Agent, one Victor Hendrickson and a heavily armed SWAT team outside surrounding the building.
There's only one person standing on the step, this big bruiser with long blond hair. He wears jeans, workboots and a tee shirt. He doesn't look like a cop.
Sam quietly slips the hammer into the closet. Dean slides his Colt 1911 into his back waistband, and opens the door a minute later.
"Yeah?"
Blondie stares hard at Sam and Dean, and the brothers glare right back at him.
"I am Thor," he says gravely. Thor stares at the closet. He raises his hand and the hammer smashes the cheap wooden door into kindling as it comes to him.
Blondie's street clothes disappear. The whole thing is just too damned familiar: dark clouds swirl around the dude's form, replaced by sleek silverfish black metal that fits his body perfectly.
His flowing cape is red.
"Crap," Dean whispers.
"You should not have been able to lift Mjolnir." Thor stares at the hammer in his hand. "We will go to Asgard to speak with my father."
O0o
I won't scream, Dean thinks to himself twenty minutes later. I won't.
He yelps a little when lightning forks the sky overhead and the dark grey funnel cloud comes twisting down right at them. Dean, Sam and Thor rise up at breakneck speed, and the only good thing about that is the trip lasts less than a minute or so.
Heimdall the Gatekeeper views the brothers with guarded amusement.
There's no point of reference for what they see when they step outside Heimdall's guardpost. Thor indicates the sprawling, futuristic cityspace with a majestic wave of his hand.
"Welcome to Asgard, Sam and Dean Winchester.
Sam looks dazed.
Dean is speechless. His smartass trigger's busted, for one of the few times in his life.
O0o
The Great Hall is filled with hundreds of people. A stately old dude with a silver eyepatch sits on the throne. That armor of his looks very familiar.
After a moment's hesitation Sam bows regally.
Dean doesn't. He finally bows (just a little) when Sam pokes him in the side and hisses at him. "Dean!"
"Quit it," Dean rumbles.
"Father, may I present to you Samuel and Dean Winchester. You are in the presence of Odin, the Allfather."
Odin nods in acknowledgement.
Thor bristles at the sight of the tall woman in the metallic green armor. "Hela."
Sam frowns. "Who?"
"She is the Goddess of Death."
"Huh." Dean eyes the giantess warily. "That's not good."
Hela stares at the newcomers and rolls her eyes. "Why am I not surprised, All Father? It's those damn Winchesters again."
"Watch your mouth, skank," Dean snarls.
Odin smiles. The audacity of this human!
Hela shakes her head. "Do you see? They are rude. Disrespectful. They disrupt Creation on a cosmic scale. The eldest brother has cheated Death so many times my reaper brethren call him 'The One Who Always Gets Away'."
Dean smirks.
"And as for the would-be Boy King, Azazel's Chosen One, well, don't get me started on him."
Sam scowls.
"Well," Odin says briskly, "I think we have much to discuss then. There is only one Mjolnir. The fact that it chose the two of you is unusual, to say the least. We shall have to come to a decision about this. You're hunters on Earth. Warriors. You've done many good deeds down there. For now, you are both welcome to the Realm Eternal. Asgard."
O0o
The banquet hall is packed. The brothers have never seen that much food in one place. Fruits, vegetables, roasted meat, deserts of all kinds.
"These are my companions," Thor says gravely as he walks up to the main table.
Jane Foster primly introduces herself. Darcy Lewis stares Sam up and down and she can't stop smiling at him.
Sam blushes a little.
The older dude is Erik Selvig, and Sam and Dean are all too familiar with the wary look Selvig gives them. Dude looks like he wants to call 911 on them, quick, fast and in a hurry.
After he sits down Dean watches the way Thor and Jane act with one another. Jane's definitely a fox, and Dean's a dog, of course, but he's a hound with principles. Jane and Thor are involved, so Dean immediately decides that Jane's off limits.
Sam's shocked.
During the meal Darcy's hand somehow brushes up against Sam's knee.
Twice.
Later on that evening the Winchesters meet the Warriors Three, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg. Sam sees that mischievous sparkle in Dean's eyes.
Sam shudders. Dean opens his mouth and Sam knows what he's going to say: "Jackie Chan, Robin Hood, and -"
"I am the Lady Sif."
Dean gulps. She's tall, regal, jet black hair and intense blue eyes.
One look at her and Sam can tell his brother is hopelessly lost. The last time he's ever seen that look in Dean's eyes was with Cassie. Dean's hooked, and Sif knows it.
Sometime later she and Dean excuse themselves from the reception.
Dean doesn't come back to the royal guest suite until the next morning.
Sam bitchfaces, but Dean barely notices.
O0o
A couple of days later Sam gets a voicemail from Bobby: "Just checkin' on you boys. Haven't heard from you in a while. Give me a call, will ya? Idjits."
An hour later the sky over Singer Salvage darkens, and Dean and Sam Winchester appear in a blaze of thunder and lightning, resplendent in shining armor.
Bobby takes one look at the capes and snickers.
O0o
A week later the Winchesters have an audience with Odin and Thor.
Sam stands straight and tall, nods respectfully at the Asgardians. Dean does the same, without the hesitation he displayed before.
"My brother and I have decided to renounce any claim we have on Mjolnir," Sam says solemnly.
Odin nods.
"May I ask why?" Thor asks quietly.
Dean shrugs. "We don't want to step on your toes, you know? The hammer's yours, and we're fine with that. All we do with it is smash stuff. You can call down lightning and fly." Dean shakes his head. "I'm not a big fan of flying. Besides, we want to honor the way our dad taught us to hunt."
That last remark brings a smile to Odin's face. "Well said. Spoken like a true warrior. I would expect no less from you." The AllFather quirks an eyebrow at the brothers. "And you are noble warriors, even if you do not think of yourselves in that way. So be it."
O0o
The next morning Odin and Thor look on, bemused, as the Winchesters leave Asgard.
Dean closes his eyes, hums "Some Kind of Monster" under his breath just as Heimdall activates the gate.
Everyone present politely pretends not to notice.
O0o
Things have changed, but they're still the same. Sam and Dean continue the family business, saving people, hunting things. Dean refuses to give up his baby, and yet, sometimes he does miss wearing his armor.
But he doesn't miss that cape.
Not one damn bit.
Sam grumbles a little, because now that Sif's riding shotgun, he has to sit in the back.
-30-