hello again! wow, I am so happy at all the reviews I'm getting! You guys all rock!
choclate rules-LOL! you're right. I'm kind of making Sam seem like a jerk aren't I? I love the car too. Kind of hard to even write about it being kidnapped by leprechauns.
squidgle-yeah, I'm Irish too. Kinda gotta laugh at myself with this.
snchills-rofl! I'm starting to think I shoud've added that scene in!
note to everyone-I'm not meaning to put down the proud people of Ireland. I myself am Irish, wear green every St. Patrick's Day, etc. I am terribly sorry if anyone is offended by any Irish-related dialogue I give.
also-how many people are seriously creeped out by the blonde chick? lol.
quite sure how I'm gonna end this yet. I couldn't stand to actually hurt the Impala… and yet this green devil on my shoulder keeps saying 'do it…' so, who knows?
Hey, I just wanted to give props to Oldach's Dream. Through our conversations and collective sense of humor, most of the conversations in this story have emerged.
Dean had settled on it. He was going to step on every leprechaun, grind their bones into dust, then burn them, and finally cast their ashes down a sewer. Maybe for poetic justice run them over with the Impala. If he ever got it back, of course.
If… Oh, it was so agonizing to have resorted to just a chance that he might get his car back. He didn't care whether Sam cared or not, but the car meant a lot to Dean. Dean, in his line of work, had very little to actually hang on to. He couldn't get close to people, and he only stayed in a place until the monster was dead before moving on to kill the next monster. That car was something that he could say was his, that he could boast about (and use to get a hott chick in bed of course). The thought of loosing it was a painful one.
The brothers had made it out of the woods, mostly thanks to Dean's fall, which happened to be right near the road. They'd followed the road to a local diner, silent for almost the entire way. Dean had been rather red in the face from embarrassment and anger, and Sam had mercifully not made any ribbing comments. Sam actually did have an inkling of the Impala's importance to Dean, and he was apologetic that he'd been joking on his brother while he was in distress. But then again, Dean had sort of had it coming. Sam couldn't help it if Dean's karma included his car being taken hostage by leprechauns.
The comforting diner was a pleasant atmosphere change after the cold, damp woods filled with taunting little green men. Fortunately, Sam had had some cash in his pocket, so the brothers could at least get a warm meal in them before going back to the rescue mission. Dean had resigned himself to sitting in the booth, still sore from the short fall. Sam returned with two burgers and two cups of coffee, and a newspaper.
"I think I've got something useful," Sam said as he set the food down.
"Another plan that involves me falling off a cliff?" Dean asked grumpily, "'Cause that was so much fun last time. I especially loved the five mile hike after words."
"Remember how I thought the leprechauns had had their gold stolen?" Sam asked, ignoring him.
"Remember how I got lead off a cliff by a fucking leprechaun?"
"Check this out," Sam said, pushing the folded newspaper across the table.
Dean looked at the article, and the headline quickly peaked his interest. 'Local Man Comes into Fortune'. According to the article, a man named Charles O'Conner had suddenly cashed over a million dollars in gold. He made a vague claim about the gold being a family fortune that he just happened upon. When asked how he'd come upon it, O'Conner had simply replied: "I suppose it's just the luck of the Irish".
A confident smirk long missed finally crossed Dean's lips again. "This is the guy. It's gotta be."
Sam nodded. "But there's no picture or address. Probably to keep away people from coming out of the woodwork."
"Or the merry leprechauns that live in the woods," Dean agreed. "But they gave his name, so what good does it do?"
Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Dean, remember how I said there were a lot of Irish immigrants in this town?"
Dean thought for a minute. "Uh…not really. I think I was-"
"Making fun of the leprechauns and not listening?" Sam asked knowingly.
"Yeah," Dean admitted with no shame.
"Okay, well they have a phone book here and I looked up Charles O'Conner," Sam said, sort of avoiding the point.
"All right, so?" Dean asked, trying to figure out what the big deal was.
"There are seventy-three of them," Sam stated, waiting cautiously for Dean's reaction.
"So? I'll go to every one of them if it means getting my baby back," Dean replied resolutely.
Sam looked surprised, but wasn't really. He knew that Dean would do just about anything for that car.
Sam had known that it was a better idea to not split up. He'd known that Dean wasn't going to be especially friendly to the guy who was sort of responsible for his car being stolen. He'd also known that the two of them would need each other to bounce off of in order to convince Charles O'Conner to give up his new gold. But it had been faster for them to each take ten of the Charles O'Conners.
Dean had gone to his first address to find that Mr. O'Conner had died, hearing the choked words by none other than the man's distraught widow. This had led to a rather awkward 'Oh', followed by a quick 'Sorry for your loss' and a quick exit. The next Charles O'Conner lived in a rundown shack with five kids and a particularly mean Doberman that'd chased Dean for about three blocks before giving up when Dean was forced to expertly dodge past a moving bus to separate himself from the dog. Anyway, it looked like this Charles O'Conner hadn't just cashed a million dollars in gold.
On the third candidate, however, Dean was convinced he'd found his man. This Charles O'Conner lived in an apartment. However, a brand new black Jaguar XKR was parked right out in front of the building. The license plate read: LUCKEE.
Charles O'Conner, a young man with short brown hair answered his door to see Dean standing there, trying to look friendly enough to be let in.
"Hey, are you Charles O'Conner?" Dean asked.
"Friends call me Charlie," the young man replied out of habit, despite the fact that he was confused as to why this guy had knocked on his door.
"That car out there yours? The Jag?" Dean asked, using the subject of cars to get Charlie to talk with him.
"Uh, yeah," Charlie replied confusedly.
"Real nice piece of work. Kind of a car guy myself," Dean said.
Charlie nodded. "Um, yeah, I guess I am too…"
"I've got this real nice 1967 Impala. Had it for five years now, but she still purrs like she's brand new. "
Charlie raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Really? An original '67 Impala? That's a real good car."
"You've got no idea," Dean replied, half-serious.
"Uhm, is that why you knocked on my door? Or are you selling something?" Charlie asked suspiciously.
"Oh, sorry. Name's Dean Smith," the other replied as he sort of pushed his way through the door.
"Okay… Can I help you, Dean Smith?" Charlie asked, a little dumbfounded that this weird guy had just walked right into his house with no explanation.
Dean turned to Charles O'Conner, hands in his pockets. Good, he'd gotten in. Now it was time to get down to business. "Well, I'll get to the point. Bottom line, Chuck, is that we know how you really got that car."
Charlie furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you-"
"So just give us the gold back," Dean went on, "And we won't have any trouble."
Charlie blinked. "Gold?"
"The gold you stole. From the leprechauns." Dean wasn't going to let this guy play coy.
"The gold I stole from the leprechauns…" Charlie repeated slowly.
"Yeah," Dean affirmed matter-of-factly.
"Uh huh…" Charlie said, slowly backing up toward his phone. "Well, I'm gonna call the cops…"
He started to pick up the phone, but Dean strode over and pressed his fingers down and disconnected the phone from the cradle. "Uh, no, you're not. You're giving us the gold back."
"What gold?" Charlie asked blankly as he backed away from Dean.
"The gold. The gold you took from the leprechauns," Dean insisted, getting tired of the game. "Come on, how many times am I gonna have to explain this?"
"Look, I won the car in a radio contest, all right?" Charlie explained, rather nervous.
"What radio gives away a hundred thousand dollar car?" Dean questioned skeptically.
"Buddy, I think you need-"
"No," Dean said, cutting him off, "What I need is to get in my car and drive away from this shithole town, wishing a potato famine on all the fucking green things in the woods. The only way I can do that is by you giving up the fucking gold."
Charlie opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Dean's cell phone ringing. Dean looked over at Charlie for a minute before answering the cell.
"Dean," San's voice came over.
"Kind of awkward moment to interrupt, Sam," Dean said irritably.
"I've got the right Charles O'Conner," Sam said rather excitedly, "Charles James O'Conner. He just bought this huge house. I'm there right now. You wanna come meet me before I go in?"
It was one of those moments where your mind goes blank as to how to react to new information. "Really…" Dean said looking worriedly over at Charlie, who looked like he was seriously considering jumping out a window to escape from Dean, who had undoubtedly appeared as a nutjob. "Well, that's just great," Dean said tersely as he squeezed the bridge of his nose.
There was a pause on the other end as Sam picked up the tone in Dean's voice. He'd known it was a bad idea to split up. This was confirmed by a scared voice in the background asking, "Hey, uh, are you going to, um, leave soon? Like, without hurting me? 'Cause that'd be just super."
Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in an incredibly similar way to the way Dean was. "You've already asked someone to hand over the stolen leprechaun gold, haven't you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yup," Dean admitted miserably.
"You didn't make any death threats, did you?" Sam asked, dreading the answer.
"Not explicitly," Dean replied.
"Okay…well, uh… How about you come meet me at the right address and try to leave without getting arrested on the way over?"
"Yeah. I'll do that," Dean said as he hung up. He turned back to the terrified Charlie. "Uhm…" He forced a grin. "Sorry, uh, Joe hired me for a prank," he explained, hoping to God he sounded truthful and not like a lunatic.
"I don't know a Joe," Charlie replied with a wrinkled brow.
"Well, uhm… He knows you," Dean said quickly as he left.
Sam was waiting patiently outside the O'Conner estate, leaning casually against the brick wall surrounding the enclosure, when Dean walked up.
"Don't say anything," Dean growled, "Not a word."
"About what Dean?" Sam asked, feigning innocence.
"I mean it," Dean said pointing at him sternly as he approached the speaker box by the wrought-iron gate, "Just shut up. It never happened."
"What," Sam said, "You mean you never almost got sent to the looney bin because you just walked up to a guy and demanded he hand over leprechaun gold?"
Dean replied by not-so-lightly punching Sam in the shoulder. He moved to press the call button on the speaker box, but Sam stopped him. "Why not let me take this one, Dean? Your people skills have been through enough today, don't you think?"
Dean scowled, but moved aside to let Sam try his luck. After Sam pressed the button, there was a short pause before a crackling response came back: "Hello, how may I help you?" The voice was elderly, and had an Irish accent.
"Yes, we're reporters from the Times, and we were wondering if we could interview Mr. O'Conner about how he came into his recent wealth," Sam said courteously, shooting Dean a look as if to say 'That is how you get people to cooperate'.
But they were both very taken aback when the voice came back rather shrilly, "The Times? Bullocks to you Protestant bastards, twistin' the media with yer lies bout Ire!" Then the speaker snapped off and there was a pause of shocked silence, with the Winchesters staring dumbly at each other.
"What the hell was that all about?" Sam asked incredulously, staring at the speaker box like he expected it to bite him.
Finally, a triumphant smirk spread over Dean's face. "Not so easy, is it, Sammy?" Sam scowled as Dean leaned forward to press the button. "Allow me, little brother."
"Fine, go ahead," Sam said, stepping back. He refused to believe that Dean could have more success than himself.
"Sir, there's been a misunderstanding," Dean said politely, "We're from the Irish Times." And with that, he clicked off and waited. He turned to Sam. "There. Problem solved."
Sam shook his head. "The Irish Times?" he quoted, "Dean, there's no way that'll actually work-"
But he'd spoken too soon, because right on cue, the gates creaked open.
more to come! luv my reviewers!
