AN: Well this last vignette took forever. Sorry about that!
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Joe Treemec was not the type of man you looked at twice. Too thin, stooped, with an overbite and bad skin, his nickname "Hollywood Joe" was painfully ironic. He didn't usually mind his looks, however, because they meant people often underestimated him.
Those big, plodding feet could move swiftly and silently. The mind behind the watery eyes was clever. Add to that unexpected, wiry strength and a proficiency with many weapons, and you had an exceptional hunter.
The only good foster parents Joe had ever had had been working toward adopting him when a vengeful spirit had thrown them out a window to their deaths. So his hatred of the supernatural was deeply engrained. And although he didn't play well with others, but he did keep an ear out in the hunter's underground.
So when a hunter named Gordon Walker put out the word that a different hunter had gone rogue and was consorting with demons, Joe heard about it.
Some months later, Joe was investigating what was certainly a large ghoul infestation in Mesa Alta when two men came into the diner where he was gathering intel. Despite their obvious exhaustion, they noticed Joe as quickly as he'd noticed them. Like Joe, they were dressed in hunter chic, and his practiced eye detected several weapons on each. They observed their surroundings, too.
Joe inclined his head toward the empty side of his table in silent invitation.
As they sat, he noted a certain stiffness to their movements that bespoke both injury and exhaustion. Given the state of their clothes, he figured the job was done.
"Joe," he said as they sat. "I take it you cleaned out the ghouls?"
"I'm Dean and this is Sam," said the shorter one, who still topped Joe by maybe two inches.
So this was the Winchesters, and the
really tall one was the one supposedly colluding with demons. He didn't look like a demon sympathizer to Joe. He just looked like a young, tired hunter with the same kind of too old eyes that Joe saw in the mirror every day. Still, he knew better than to judge a book by its cover. Still, if Walker's accusations were true, why would Dean still be at his brother's side? Joe didn't have any siblings, but that level of loyalty seemed a bit extreme.
"...not ghouls," Sam was saying. "Zombies." His lip curled a little.
"Job's not done, either," added Dean. "We've spent the last three nights wading through them, but the necromancer hasn't made an appearance yet." He broke off to accept coffee from the waitress. He and Sam both accepted the caffeine with a gratitude that further emphasized just how tired they were.
"Sammy says he'll have to show up tonight because we're thinnin' the ranks too much and it's the right time to make more."
Sam rolled his eyes, probably at the nickname.
"New moon," Joe mused. Most necromancers didn't have the power to raise zombies any other time. The Winchesters nodded, and he wondered if it had been a test. "Can I get in on this? I was lookin' forward to offing some ghouls, but zombies 'll do." And he really wanted to observe them some more. Their camaraderie, even affection, sure didn't feel like one or both of them were "demon-loving traitors to humanity" in Walker's parlance.
"Another pair of hands would be nice," Dean agreed.
Joe should contact Walker to let him know where the Winchesters were, if there was any chance at all that Gordon was right about them. But as Joe watched them alternately pester each other and cast worried looks at each other, he decided to wait a little longer.
There was obviously something heavy weighing on the brothers -- maybe Gordon's vendetta -- but they were both transparently concerned for each other.
Something didn't feel right. There was just something about these two...
The men looked a little better, or at least a little more rested, when Joe met up with them after dark. They were arguing.
"Just stay back, okay? You rip my stitches again and you're gonna find yourself in the hospital," Dean was growling, gesturing toward left side.
"Really you should stay back, given the concussion you're in denial about. Haven't you ever heard of CTE? Repeated can concussions can cause permanent brain damage, Dean." Sam stood with folded arms, not giving an inch.
"You guys sure you're up for this?" asked Joe, even more uncertain about Gordon's claims.
"We're fine," they chorused, perfectly in sync.
Joe just shrugged. Downplaying injuries was par for the course for hunters.
Despite Sam's complaints, Dean went into the cemetery first. Almost immediately, the first disgusting zombies appeared. Dean cheered, swung the machete in a circle above his head, and dove in.
There were more zombies than Joe had expected, especially considering that the brothers had been "thinning the herd" already. But Sam and Dean were good. They watched each other's backs, and Joe's too, and mowed down their adversaries with efficiency.
The last zombie dropped, and Sam pointed to the top of small hill on the other side of the cemetery. "There! It's --"
Dean had started forward at Sam's words, and the ground beneath him exploded upward, sending him flying into the mausoleum at the center of the cemetery. He hit with a crunch and fell bonelessly.
Sam yelled Dean's name, but Joe was distracted by what had emerged from under ground. It was huge, at least 9 feet tall, with black skin stretched tautly over its skeleton. Unlike the zombies, it was dressed in furs and armor and armed with a giant halberd.
"Draugr!" warned Sam, ducking under a swing of the axe. "It won't die until the necromancer does." He swung his machete and took off one of thing's hands at the wrist, but his eyes were all for Dean.
Creepily, the draugr made no sound but took another swing at Sam's head. Joe used its distraction to chop its thigh. But he'd underestimated the strength it would take to cut through it. The machete stuck in place and was wrenched from his hand. The draugr's bony hand closed onto the top of Joe's head and he thought, well, this is it.
But instead of breaking Joe's neck, the draugr suddenly disappeared. Sam, who was apparently insane, had tackled the giant and somehow brought it down. Even as Joe got to his feet, a shot rang out and the draugr went limp.
Dean was somehow on his feet. His right arm hung at an odd angle, but in his left was a smoking gun. Joe stared. Even hurt, he'd hit the necromancer from a good 50 yards away.
Joe shook off his shock and scrambled over to Sam, who'd rolled onto his back. His stomach was bloody, and Joe jerked his shirts up. "It's fine," Sam groused, pulling the shirts down and curling onto his side. "They're shallow."
"Holy crap," breathed Joe. Sam's torso was covered in bruises and cuts. Most of the cuts were shallow, but one long one had been stitched, and the center four or so had broken when he'd tackled the undead giant.
How had he even been mobile enough to fight, Joe had no idea.
Then Dean was there, trying to get Sam to stay down. But he only had one arm, and Sam ducked away. "Dammit, Sam, let me put pressure on those!"
"Dammit, Dean," Sam imitated his brother. "Your shoulder's out again. I told you to wear a sling."
Not much surprised a long-term hunter like Joe, but he found himself asking, "Why the hell did you guys come out here if you were hurt this bad?!"
The younger men stopped arguing to give Joe identical blank looks. "The job wasn't done," they said together.
"At least let me help you get that shoulder back in."
"I got it," said Sam firmly.
"And I've got him," added Dean. "But if you're okay, could you stay and take care of this mess?"
Joe nodded, still a little stunned. These two, who put themselves at risk for a virtual stranger, who went up against zombies and a draugr and a necromancer while both seriously injured, were supposed to be in league with evil?
"How did this compare to the zombie nest in Topeka?" asked Sam, wiping his hands on his pants and feeling carefully around Dean's shoulder.
Joe smiled a little even as he started dragging zombie parts closer to the draugr so he could burn them all together. No wonder they'd accepted him so quickly -- they'd checked up on him first.
"This was worse. No draugrs in Topeka. Harris talk to you?"
"Ellen," Dean corrected, then broke off with a curse as Sam shoved his shoulder back in place. Somehow, Joe wasn't even surprised that Dean didn't pass out from the pain.
"She said you're an antisocial loner who is a pretty good hunter," said Sam, submitting to Dean's inspection with an air of resignation.
"Correction: I'm an antisocial loner who's a damn fine hunter," grunted Joe, tossing a leg onto the pile. He came to a decision. "Look, Gordon Walker is spreading some pretty serious shit about you two, and you know some morons are gonna believe it. Watch your backs out there."
"We know." Sam's eyes were serious and so earnest. "But thanks."
Dean added, "If you could put in a good word, it couldn't hurt."
"I'm just an antisocial loner, but I'll do what I can." Joe's mouth twitched. He didn't like many people, but he liked these two, and he meant what he'd said. "Maybe I'll catch up with you in the morning." He shook Sam's hand and nodded to Dean in deference to the latter's hurt shoulder.
He was amused that they were arguing about who was more fit to drive as they walked away.
Joe wasn't surprised that they were gone by morning.
A week later, Joe was at a bar with a couple other hunters he knew. They'd been surprised but pleased that he'd agreed to go out with them. Joe took a pull of his beer.
"I dunno if you guys heard, but Gordon Walker's gone totally off the deep end..."
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sfaulkenberry: It makes me just so happy that my writing has done something to cheer you up. I'm sorry work's been frustrating for you and hope it gets better soon. I didn't flesh these out, so I guess you get to decide for yourself what kind of monster was in the first vignette! :-)
IowaKat: Oh, thank you! I love that you're a book seller and that you use a word like hapitue! I'm so very glad that you like Elizabeth...I like her too.
printandpolish: I don't know if that's a good or bad comment but for whatever reason, it made me chuckle.
Lena: Elizabeth is a name I've always loved, because it is a family name. I'm glad you like the character...I do too!
Shazza: There are so many stories where the education system fails Dean that I really wanted an educator (administrator) who did a good job and saw beneath the surface. I'm so glad you're reading and appreciate your comments.
Timelady66: I like him too! Maybe I can make him show up again. Maybe Sam got in touch with him later or he somehow found out what the Winchesters do...hmmm...you see what you do to me? LOLOL I have to tell you that it makes me a little verklempt that you are writing fanfic after not doing it for a while, and that you feel I've played a role in that! I hope you get as much enjoyment from writing as I do!