Chapter Twenty-Seven
"We gotta find the other women who won Most Popular awards, and destroy those damned doilies," growled Dean. He turned to the two dogs, and made a decision. "We'll take RJ with us – Lem will stay in the car with him, and you'll have that sneakin' little asshole of yours engage his Klingon cloaking device if need be." He picked up his gun, frowning. "We need to be quick, and quiet. Salt and lighter fluid should do it for the doilies, then…"
Both their heads whipped around at the knock on the door.
Sam moved silently to the peep hole, and peered through. "It's Fiona, and Rachel," he hissed, "From the organising committee. Rachel's the one who led the spell-casting, the one who looks like she's permanently cosplaying Magrat Garlick." He glanced back at the table.
Dean followed his line of sight. "I thought you said they were contained!" he hissed back, as the doilies continued to smoulder and the sigils glowed.
"They are!" Sam shot back.
"Yoo-hoo!" the knock sounded again. "Samantha? Are you in?"
Dean glanced at the dogs; both of them eyed the door, but neither of them growled, or showed hellteeth. "The noses for evil shit don't appear to be detecting, uh, evil shit."
"That could be because these women aren't actually evil," Sam posited, "But I don't want to take any chances. I want both the dogs keeping RJ safe, just in case." At a word from his Alpha, Lars hopped onto the bed with his brother and RJ, and snuggled closely in between them. The child and both dogs disappeared.
"You two watch him no matter what," Dean instructed the now-invisible dogs, seating himself at the table so that to the casual observer, he looked like an attractive woman sitting in front of a laptop, but he was actually between the door and his son. He nodded at Sam.
"Hi!" Fiona gushed as Sam opened the door.
"Oh, Fiona!" Sam smiled back, "And Rachel. What can I do for you?"
"Well, when you didn't show up at the mixer, we thought you must be getting ready to leave, since you're from out of town," Rachel said, "And we just wanted to drop in and say congratulations, and thank-you for your help."
"Oh, well, uh, thanks," Sam made himself smile back, "And yeah, we should probably get going, so…"
Fiona peered around Sam, and smiled at Dean. "Oh, hey, it's Dee, isn't it?" she went on. "ImpalaDude? Oh, I loved your AU story! I'm so glad you were recognised for it!"
"Well, thank you," Dean beamed sincerely, "It was a total shock, I've only ever done it just for a bit of fun…"
"Are you still working on it?" enthused Fiona, darting in the door as Sam let out a yap of alarm, "Oh, I hope you are, I really want to know how it ends!"
"Me too!" added Rachel, scooting in after the other woman, "Oh, I just can't wait to see Sam have to go out on deck, and walk to the brig, absolutely naked!"
They clustered behind Dean, trying to look at the screen, as Sam frantically sought a way to encourage them to leave.
"Is Becky going to try to grab his ass?" asked Fiona. "Please tell me somebody will throw her overboard. It's probably something that happens to her regularly, because she's so annoying…"
"Where exactly is the tattoo that's on his 'your…'?" asked Rachel avidly.
"She had to turn him into a werewolf to save him, didn't she?" asked Fiona excitedly. "When does he do his first shapeshift? Is he self-aware?"
"How did Gabriel get on board?" Rachel wanted to know. "Oh, God, having them both naked in the brig, that's so hot…"
"Please tell me you'll have Andrew and Ronnie get back together at some stage," pleaded Fiona, "They obviously had a fight when they first met, and there was a misunderstanding, but they are destined to be together…"
"And Dean has to get into a fight with Ronnie at some point, over his little brother," Rachel stated, "And his shirt will get torn off, and she'll grab hold of him, and force him to his knees, but he'll be totally defiant, and what with him being the Living Sex God, she'll look at him, and he'll do that angry lip-quivering thing, and she'll smile, and say, "Have this man washed, then tie him up and bring him to my cabin…"
"We have to see the She-Wolf and her crew in action!" Fiona declared, "Find out how she defeats ships that go after her so readily…"
"Oh, hey, what happens if Sam does something to challenge Captain Ronnie?" Rachel squeaked in anticipation. "And of course she has to assert her authority as captain, and her dominance as Alpha, and being on a pirate ship, he got… a flogging? Oh, all that skin, that back, and then, and then, there could be some serious h/c in the brig afterwards as Gabriel looks after him…"
Sam let out a groan on the inside; bespelled murderous women would probably be easier to deal with than a couple of Dee fans gushing over the purplest pirate prose ever produced.
"And when they encountered Lucifer's ship, the Perdition – will that bit stay in? Will Castiel have to confront his big brother?"
"Oh, hey, what if, what if, the She-Wolf was carrying an exotic cargo from far-flung places, and in the hold they have this, like, a gigantic barrel of chocolate, and at some point Sam falls into it…"
"Does Ronnie double as the ship's blacksmith? Because if they're a ship of waifs and strays, crew members might have to double up on jobs they do. And she could come to think of Sam as her 'pup', and she starts showing him metalworking stuff…"
"If he did that, he'd get really hot and sweaty, wouldn't he? Working at a forge? So, he'd have to take his shirt off, and we could watch his muscles work while he was banging away with a hammer, all sweat-slicked, and bulging – oh, and Ronnie too, I've got a friend who really likes to think about watching her arms…"
"Or maybe Dean gets really annoyed when he sees how well Sam is fitting in on the She-Wolf, and he has a big fight with Sam, who hasn't decided whether he wants to take the potion that will unwolf him…"
"Yeah, and then, they get into a fight over it, and they fall into the barrel of chocolate and they both get covered in it…"
"There has to be a happy ending!"
"And hot make-up sex in the darkness of the hold!"
"I love the idea of Crowley as a parrot!"
"I love the idea of Sam as a bottom!"
"You'll just have to wait to find out," Dean grinned as infuriatingly as he knew how, while Sam made small noises of horror, whether at the presence of these two avid fanfic fans or at the idea of being covered by chocolate and then by his brother would be difficult to ascertain. The offending intruders made good-natured noises of disappointment. "But if you've got all these ideas, why don't you go and write your own takes on how it should happen?"
Both women gasped. "You… you wouldn't mind us doing that?" asked Rachel in a hushed tone.
"Course not," Dean smiled broadly, "We're all just doin' it for the fun, right? The more, the merrier! It can be an AU-AU!"
Sam had seen it written before, but he thought this might've been the first time he'd genuinely heard a couple of women actually go 'Squee!'.
"And I think you're totally right," Dean added judiciously, "It's not my thing, but if you're into a bit of, ahem, brotherly love, then Sam would totally be the bottom."
"I'm gonna start writing tonight!" declared Fiona, beaming.
"Sooner you go, sooner you can start," Dean smiled back.
"That is SO generous of you!" yipped Rachel, chunky jewellery clunking as she leaned in to give 'Dee' a hug. "I'll never write a well as you do, but…" her voice trailled off as she noticed the doilies sitting in the middle of the wardings. "Oh, are those runes?" she asked, taking an interest in the warding designs.
"Sigils," Sam yapped, "And it really would be better if you didn't…"
At that point, three things happened at once:
With the sort of insatiable curiosity typical of humanity, the sort that asks questions like 'I wonder if this stuff is flammable?', 'What happens if I mix this with that, and shake it vigorously?', and 'What does this button do?', Rachel reached out and picked up one of the doilies.
The doily underneath it, which had been smouldering at the edges, began to smoke, and char the paper beneath it.
One of the warding sigils burst into flame.
And Winchester luck kicked in.
Okay, so four things, really.
Rachel whirled around, face snarling, "You think you're so talented, so popular," she hissed malevolently.
"Huh?" Dean looked up, eyes wide, then ducked as she threw the smouldering doily at him. "Dafuq?"
"The containment's breached!" yelled Sam, as Fiona turned and swung her tote at him with surprisingly swift viciousness, "The spell's kicked in! Oof! Jesus, what have you got in there?"
"People who write self-inserts are attention-seeking bitches!" shrilled Fiona, demeanour completely changed from gushing to rage.
Since the spell had not activated to inspire murder until the women were already in the room, they had not come prepared to kill, and so they were reduced to looking around for anything that might be wielded as a weapon. In Fiona's case, that was what she had immediately to hand, which happened to be her bag, and she swung it with diabolically-enhanced anger and strength.
"Ow!" Sam yelped, seeking for a way to stop the angry woman before him without hurting her, "OW! Hey, careful, you got knitting needles in there!" On the next swing, he grabbed the bag, and gave Fiona a hard shove, sending her against the wall, eliciting a harpy-like shriek from the bespelled woman.
"Burn 'em!" yelled Dean, pushing away from the table and grappling with Rachel "Burn the damned doilies! OW!" He added, as he copped a ceramic necklace in the eye.
"You think you're so much better," sneered Fiona, springing to her feet.
"Just because you got the most upvotes," growled Rachel, flinging another doily at Dean.
"How?" Sam yelled back as Fiona leaped at him again. "I drop my guard, I'll get bagged to death!"
"Well, I'm here to tell you that you're not popular with me!" Fiona yowled, hefting the bag again.
"Well, you aint popular with me!" Dean snapped back, landing a punch on Rachel that sent her reeling, "Because I read your stuff, and I know why I got the doily – hell, I got two! Because your writing sucks, you hear me?"
"What the hell are you doing?" yipped Sam in horror – even as the words came out of his mouth, he recognised the behavioural pattern: Dean was provoking the bad guys to draw them to himself.
Snarling like rabid dogs, the women turned to Dean.
"Yeah, you heard me," he said, his cockiest sneer on lips perfectly glossed with a shade called 'Scarlet Whore', "I got upvoted because I am better than you. I write better, I dress better, I got flawless skin, I got a cleavage that could hide a kitten, I'm talented and drop-dead gorgeous and I got two doilies, bitches, and I'm more popular than you!"
With that provocation, they both flew at him, hands outstretched like claws.
Sam scrabbled after the doilies as Dean did his best to draw the women away from him, but they were relentless, it was two against one, and the two were given unnatural strength by the spell – the started to land blows on Dean, who swayed but stayed on his feet, as Sam snatched up the last doily from the floor, getting a savage kick in the ribs for his trouble, then looked around for the trash bin. He dropped the doilies in, then fumbled a lighter out of his pocket, flicking at it desperately as the miserable thing refused to light.
There was a screech of triumph as a ringing slap snapped Dean's head backwards. He stumbled back, his legs hitting the edge of the bed behind him. Another punch sent him toppling back, stunned. He managed to kick out at Rachel as he fell, sending her to the floor with a thump, but Fiona let out a bestial yowl, grabbed up the ugly bedside lamp, and prepared to bash in 'Dee's' skull.
Then three things happened:
Two Cockapoos and a small child suddenly materialised on the bed next to Dean.
RJ smiled widely, and with his war cry of "Titi!", reached up and treated Fiona to a bilateral nipple cripple that would've done the most appallingly outrageous frat house hazing ritual proud.
Fiona screamed, dropping the lamp, and fell to the floor, clutching at her chest.
Sam's lighter finally caught and he dropped it into the small bin.
Okay, so four things, really.
There was a sudden strange silence as the doilies burned with a cold red glow, broken only by the combatants gasping to get their breath back. And Fiona's pained whimpers. "Oh, my chest," she moaned.
The two women sat up on the floor, looking bewildered. "What… what happened?" asked Rachel, looking lost.
"Gas leak," said Sam firmly.
"A gas leak?" squeaked Fiona in a worried.
"Definitely," Sam went on with great certainly. "One moment you were just discussing ideas for Dee's story, the next, you all just kind of fainted, and face-planted. Or, uh, in your case, Fiona, you chest-planted." He opened the door and making shooing motions. "So, there's obviously something in here that caused it. Most likely, it's a gas leak. So, everybody out."
"A gas leak?" Rachel echoed Fiona's tone.
Dean recovered magnificently, staggering to his feet and picking up RJ. "Oh, yeah, you'd be amazed at how often it happens in these cheap places," he intoned ominously. "Come on, get outside in the fresh air and everything will be fine."
The Winchesters ushered the women out, chatting reassuringly about how there would be no harm done because they'd only gotten a small exposure to the leaking gas, and they should maybe go home and rest and do something non-strenuous, like maybe work on their next fanfics, while they alerted to management to the problem. Still looking somewhat bewildered, Fiona and Rachel made their goodbyes, and left.
"Dean, are you okay?" asked Sam as soon as their visitors were out of earshot.
"Sure, Sammy," Dean grinned as he gave the women a last wave. "Thanks to RJ here – good timing, little dude."
"Titi!" piped RJ, waving as well, then pausing to eye his parent's bust. "Titi?" he asked slyly.
"Hey, look, just that once it was okay," Dean said sternly. "But unless it's in the cause of saving Daddy from having his brains smashed out, no chest-grabbing, okay?"
"Meh," humphed RJ with an adorable pout.
Sam bent to pat the dogs, who sat grinning at the Winchesters' feet. "You did a great job, guys," he praised them, "But now we'll need you to watch RJ again, because we gotta head off to find the other doilies and burn them before…"
The dogs suddenly started to growl, and their eyes glowed intensely red. Sam straightened up and looked around. "What is it?" he asked.
"Something's tripped the noses for evil shit," muttered Dean, "Come on, let's tool up for…"
"Before he could finish the sentence, the two Cockapoos extruded their hellteeth, and shot off around the building.
"Hey!" Sam called, setting off after the dogs, rounding the corner just in time to see them dash into the shrubbery behind the motel without slowing. "Jesus, what have they found?"
Dean turned, about to issue an order to grab weapons, when they heard an outraged female voice from the foliage.
"What the… oh, Lucifer's bum, what the hell are you doing? Let go! Let go! OW! This is expensive fabric, you bloody things, don't you dare… oh, bollocks…"
...But we all knew that was coming, didn't we? The expression we use Down Here is 'sprung bad'.
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