Random, but please forgive the formatting issues I had with the previous chapter. I don't know why I have that sometimes.
Stormysea-breaks: the chapter right when Dean has the Mark was supposed to be about how Sam and Dean take faith from each other. When one loses hope, the other gives it back to him. They just don't stay down. And Dean finds a little normality resuming his normal role looking out for a slightly self-destructive brother. I'm glad you liked the friggin' Winchesters chapter! I made them like superheroes because they really kind of are.
Shazza19: Thank you for all your reviews! You are so very supportive and it means a lot to me. Red Meat is one of my favorites too. Desperation, protectiveness, a willingness to do whatever it takes, general badassery, therefore 's so much there. I'm so jealous that you met Christian Kane!
So, this is mostly flashbacks, but corresponds to season 12, episode 22, Who We Are and one of the longest-awaited moments on the series. I hope you enjoy!
CHAPTER 18: Rule-breaking Lunatics
Normal, Illinois, 1955
"You can't do that, Henry. It's against the rules." Ted Bowman looked like an ordinary salesman or banker when he was in his suit, but Henry knew he was highly skilled in the arcane, and one of the elders of the Men of Letters, and thus both powerful and dangerous.
"With all due respect, sir, I don't care. The rules are wrong. Ms. Sands has an IQ of 156, and a spine of steel. She can be a huge asset to the Men of Letters, and you know it. She's already aware of the society. How on earth can we hold her gender against her?"
The Elder rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Henry, even though you're a legacy, if you choose her as your partner initiate, and the council rejects her, you'll be rejected too. Are you sure you want to hitch your wagon to this particular star?"
"There is precedent," argued Henry.
Ted looked at his young protégé fondly. This passion was part of the reason he knew Henry was the kind of initiate the order needed. "That was war. Just…be certain that this is a hill you're willing to die on." He sighed. "But I think you're a lunatic."
"Genius is often considered lunacy," smiled Henry, not worried.
Chicago, Illinois, 1957
"You can't do that, Campbell. It's against the rules," whined the vampire. "We have an agreement with the crime bosses. We don't turn anybody, and they let us have drifters and people they don't like. Only a lunatic would mess with that!"
"Since when do hunters play by the rules?" demanded Samuel. He had the monster pinned against the wall with a blade to his neck. "My rules say vamps die, no matter who they're in bed with."
The vampire, dressed in a dark suit and with his hair slicked back in a high coif, suddenly broke from Samuel's hold on his neck and pushed the other man back, knocking him to the ground. Samuel kicked the side of his leg, causing him to cry out and fall to his knees. There was a swishing sound, and the vampire's head came loose from him body and fell to the ground, followed a second later by the rest of him.
Samuel hid a smile and instead scowled up at the woman standing over him holding a bloody machete. "I thought I told you to stay back, Deanna."
She raised one eyebrow. "Be glad I didn't. Besides, hunters don't play by the rules, remember?"
Moores Mill, Alabama, 1970
"You can't do that, Mary!" Helen was shocked. The Campbells had stayed put long enough that Mary had some friends here, and they'd invited her to the local swimming hole, which doubled as the place for teens to hang out. There was a rope over the water, and the boys would swing out and splash into the cool water. The girls' role, apparently, was to sit on the water's edge and look pretty, and Mary was bored. And a bored Mary was not a good thing.
She didn't want to go off the rope, or she'd land right in the middle of the boys. Besides, it looked pretty dull. If she was going to spice things up, she was going to really spice things up. Her eyes drifted to a large tree that grew right on the edge of the water, with its trunk splitting so one hung out far over the water. Mary's eyes lit up.
"I have to go, Helen. I'm jumping in the water off that tree." Mary pointed and got up to do just that. Helen's horrified admonitions followed her up. Slowly, the other kids stopped talking until every eye was on her, but that didn't bother Mary. Reaching the split, she walked confidently out on the branch, grinning to herself as the whispers behind her grew in intensity. Without looking back, she whooped and did a cannonball. As she jumped, she heard someone exclaim with impressed horror, "She's a lunatic!"
"Hell yeah, she is," thought Mary. "But at least I'm not going to die of boredom."
Forest outside Hue, Vietnam, 1972
"You can't do that, Winchester! I order you to get back to safety!"
John ignored his superior's screamed command. After all, the guy had become his superior less than an hour before, when they'd walked headlong into an ambush and the old commander was the first casualty. Now, they were securely pinned and praying for rescue before they were overrun. And John was about to run right into the death zone, because his closest friend, Jerry "Julius" Anselm, was bleeding out in the middle of it.
John felt a pang remembering the nickname he'd given his fellow marine, claiming facetiously that he resembled Julius Erving. Since Jerry was about 5' 6" the other soldiers thought it was funny, and the nickname stuck. And starting that night, with one stupid comment, somehow the white kid from Kansas and the black kid from Detroit had become friends. Then, they became like brothers. It had been Julius who'd had John's back, who shared smuggled beers, who made him laugh on the darkest nights. And John wasn't about to let him die alone.
Giving a half smile to the hysterical "commander," John ducked out from shelter and went to drag his friend to safety. "You're a lunatic!" screamed the commander behind him.
In the end, Julius still died that night, but he died in the arms of a friend. John never was court marshalled, and he never once regretted his actions.
Tallahassee, Florida, 1994
"You can't do that, Sam. It's against the rules."
Sam's face fell. "But, Mr. Reynolds, the assignment just said we had what you gave us to get the toy car from the first table over the gap to the second table."
"Sam, you know you were supposed to build a bridge."
"Your rules didn't say that. My trebuchet – " Sam broke off as the teacher's face scrunched up into the especially unpleasant expression he took on right before getting angry.
"I will call your father if you continue to question me," growled Reynolds loudly enough that the other students started to look over and whisper between them. The teacher prized conformity over creativity or intelligence, and didn't hesitate to call parents over any problem, real or imagined. And to him, this ratty, brilliant child was an invader to his white bread suburban world. He belittled and degraded the youngest Winchester every chance he got.
Sam sighed again. He had put so much time into his project, and he'd really thought the teacher might appreciate his ingenuity, but he should have known better. He wasn't afraid of the teacher. He wasn't afraid of his dad either, not really. And he had a feeling John would side with him on this one, though he wouldn't like the attention.
"Next time use your brain," sneered the adult, and it was one too many insults. Looking him straight in the eyes, Sam reached for the trebuchet he'd painstakingly designed and built from popsicle sticks, paper clips, rubber bands, and glue, and pushed it off the table. As it smashed into a thousand pieces, he smiled. With uncommon wisdom, he said, "people like you will always be afraid of people like me."
The teacher's eyes bulged. "You'll pay for that, you little lunatic!"
Haddonfield, New Jersey, 1995
"You can't do that, Winchester. You can't make a play for my girl. This is my school."
Constantly being the new kid meant Dean was used to some hostility, some teasing, and lots of dirty looks and suspicion. It wasn't uncommon for the biggest bully to challenge him to a fight to try to keep his feeling of dominance, but that didn't end well for the bullies. Dean wouldn't seek a fight, but he sure didn't shy away from them.
But this was a new level of bullying. The prettiest girl at the school had been making eyes at Dean for three days, and had slipped him a note to meet him out by the football field after school. It didn't really bother Dean that she was supposedly "with" the star running back. If Tammi wasn't worried about details like that, neither was Dean.
It had been a set up. The girl wasn't there, but half a dozen members of the football team were. Two of them were holding Dean as Mr. Preppy Football Star made threats. Dean waited until he was at the height of his little speech, then he yawned. "Are you just going to talk me to death?" he asked in a bored voice. He'd tangled with angry spirits, poltergeists, werewolves, vetala and heaven knows what else. A jumped-up teenager didn't scare him.
"You got a death wish, Winchester?" asked one of the sycophants, disbelieving.
"Naw. Just, Colby there – can I call you Colby? – wouldn't know what to do if someone actually fought back. See, he's just a bully. You see the marks on Tammi's arms? The way the smallest kids at school cringe when he walks by? Hell, he probably kicks puppies for fun. Somewhere along the way, Colby got it in his head that hurting those who are smaller than he is would give him a bigger – " Dean's words were cut off as Colby punched him in the gut. As he bent, he caught a glimpse of eyes under the bleachers, which was odd, but he didn't have time to think more about it.
"See? But here's the thing. I'm not your normal victim. You can dish out a hit. But can you take one?" Dean saw the next hit coming, this one aimed at his face, and suddenly dropped his weight. This pulled the guys holding him forward, and one of their faces took the punch for him, as he'd planned. He used his continued momentum to flip the other guy holding him over one shoulder and into another meathead.
Then it was a mad melee of elbows and fists. Dean took a fair amount of hits simply because he was determined to get to the douche nozzle who'd started it all. As he broke Colby's formerly perfect nose, he suddenly realized that someone was helping him. It was a kid that he didn't recognize, his age or a year or two older. And while Dean could flat-out fight, this guy was just as good. After just a few moments, the football players were all on the ground.
"Time to make our exit, I think," grinned the stranger, licking the blood off his teeth. Dean sighed, but the other guys would be on their feet soon.
"I guess. Thanks for the assist." He stuck out his hand. "Dean."
"Leo." They started to jog away, and Dean evaluated his ally. The kid hid it well, but Dean would have bet money he was homeless.
"Why don't you come meet my old man? I think he'd like you." Dean glanced back and chuckled. "Damn, I needed that."
Leo laughed aloud. "You're a lunatic. I like you."
Lebanon Kansas, 2017
"You're lunatics!" cried Toni Bevell, British Woman of Letters, psychopath, and prisoner of the Winchesters, trapped in the bunker with them and probably about to die with them. Her reaction just made Dean's idea seem even better. "This is a colossally stupid idea."
"Yep." Dean caressed the grenade launcher. "Big, beautiful, and dumb. I've had this thing for so long." His expression grew fond. "Been waiting for the perfect moment to use it."
"The explosion could kill us all. You could bring the whole bloody place crashing down!"
Sam and Dean both grinned. "Yeah," chuckled Dean with satisfaction.
"Yeah," echoed Sam.
Toni was nearly apoplectic. "You're lunatics! Action move-loving, cheeseburger-eating, moronic American lunatics!"
Like any of that was a bad thing, Dean thought. As Sam dragged Toni out of the room, the brothers exchanged a long look. They'd had their moment of defeat, of wallowing, but they were in perfect accord here. If this was the end, if the bunker was going to be their tomb, they'd make it their own kind of ending. Blaze of glory, Butch and Sundance, the Friggin' Winchester brothers, doubling down on their final move. They didn't play by the rules, they didn't give up when all seemed lost, and they didn't shy away from the big play. They were the best kind of lunatics.
"Okay, beautiful." Dean took aim. "Yippee-ki-yay!"