Stop it! Stop it! Stop it with the plot bunnies! Those evil little mongrels are more persistent than herpes. They're harder to ignore than a younger sibling with a new electronic toy. They feel no pity, no remorse, and they absolutely will not stop until you write the story! STOP IT! I don't have much time for writing the one I have on the go as it is, and it's going to annoy me until it's finished... please, Death, come and put up a wall, I promise not to scratch at it...
Chapter 4
If you described the next sixty seconds in Sammish, you'd say: Dean had something akin to a panic attack, from the look of it.
If you described the next sixty seconds in Deanese, you'd say: Dean screamed like a little bitch. I mean, hey, naked – guy – in – the – BED!
If you described the next sixty seconds in Bobbyan, you'd say: That idjit made a noise like a gay weasel having its tail pulled. The kid aint got anything he hasn't seen before.
If you described the next sixty seconds in Castielsh, you'd say: Dean was extremely confused and disturbed when he awoke and discovered a naked subadult male human in his bed – he does not appreciate such intrusions into his Personal Space. In his confusion, he let out an involuntary vocalisation of surprise and alarm; it was loud, sustained, and quite high pitched, considering the levels of testosterone normally circulating in Dean's blood, which may go some of the way to explaining his preoccupation with fornication. However, Dean does not, as far as I am aware, fornicate with men – although since he has insisted that I do not attempt to observe him in any way during… Special Cuddles, I cannot say that with the absolute certainty of totally accurate observation, but given his heterosexual inclinations and barely concealed homophobia I think it highly unlikely – and the proximity of another naked male body added considerably to his discomfiture.
Let's go with that last one.
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Dean was extremely confused and disturbed when he awoke and discovered a naked subadult male human in his bed.
The naked subadult make was apparently also extremely confused.
The shrieking yodel of utter WTF that Dean let out was long and loud, the sustainment and pitch of a quality that would make the singer with a Hair Metal band hand back his microphone and leopard skin tights.
"Guuuuuaaaaaar," went Sam again, lowering his gun.
"AAAAAAAARGH!" Dean's brain might've continued screaming inarticulately on the inside, but his lungs were made of more sensible stuff, and made him pause to breathe. "SAAAAAAAAAAAM!" He yelled. "SAAAAAAAAAAM! NAKED! GUY! KID!"
"Uuuuuh, yeah," agreed Sam, feeling the gibbering rising. "Insofar as you have articulated your observation, I concur, there is indeed a, um, naked guy kid in your bed. Er."
"SAAAAAAAAAAAAM!" Dean howled, jumping backwards, "HE TOUCHED MEEEEEE! NAKED GUY KID TOUCHED MEEEEEEE!"
During this exchange, Naked Guy Kid sat looking from one brother to the other, an expression of good-natured confusion on his face. "Alpha?" he said again, looking back to Dean. "Alpha?"
Sam's jaw dropped even further. "Jimi?" He breathed incredulously.
Naked Guy Kid's face broke into a huge grin, and he bounded out of the bed, grabbing Sam in an enthusiastic hug. "Second!" he chirped happily.
"NAAAAAAAAAH!" Dean's eyes bugged again. "SAAAAAAAM, NAKED GUY KID HUG! NAKED! HUG! NAKED! GUY KID HUG NAKED!"
"OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGod," rambled Sam, not knowing where to put his hands, but settling for gingerly returning Naked Guy Kid's hug. "He got bitten, Dean, he got bitten!"
"NAKED! NAKED GUY KID NAKED HUG, SAAAAAAAAM! WHAT?" Dean's brain was clearly having trouble getting past the 'naked' bit, let alone following Sam's train of thought regarding the sudden appearance of Guy Kid.
"SHUT UP DEAN!" Sam shouted back, "IT'S JIMI YOU SCREAMING FUCKTARD!"
"NAKED, SAM, NAKED, NAKED HUG, GUY KID NAKED…. JIMI?" Somewhere in Dean's mind, a circuitbreaker tripped, and he sat, blinking, looking at the teen hugging his brother. "Jimi?" he said again, more quietly, looking around the room and noticing that there was no sign of the dog, "That's….. Jimi?"
"Does this look familiar?" asked Sam, indicating the collar that Naked Guy Kid – Jimi – was wearing. "It's Jimi's. It's his. This is Jimi."
"Jimi?" said Dean again, like a demented recording, "That's Jimi?"
"Alpha!" cried Jimi, happy at being recognised. He let go of Sam, and flung himself back onto the bed. He caught Dean in a hug and gave him a big sloppy kiss. "Alpha! It's Jimi!"
"SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM! NAKED HUUUUUUUG!" shrieked Dean again.
"Jimi. leave Dean alone, come on," called Sam. Jimi gave Dean another kiss for good measure, and bounded over to Sam, where he stood, doing something… wiggly.
"Second!" he said, grinning.
"Oh my God," moaned Dean, "Oh my God, he's waggling his ass at me, Sam, he's waggling his ass at me!"
"No he's not," Sam replied, figuring out the strange dance, "He's wagging his tail at you. At us, really. At everything. He's just happy."
"Yeah, well, I'm happy to see you too, but I'm not shaking my ass at you…" continued Dean.
"That's because you're not a dog," Sam explained. "Jimi is."
"Okay, okay," muttered Dean, "So, that's Jimi, who's a dog, except for right now, he's not a dog?"
"Yeah," concluded Sam. "That werewolf bite last night? It must've been deeper than we thought." He took Jimi's left arm, and examined the ugly bruised mark there – it was clearly teethmarks. "It's done something to him, flipped his, his, his personal shape settings… human gets bitten, turns canine on the full moon, half-hellhound canine gets bitten, apparently turns into human. Um."
Jimi looked down at his body, as if only just noticing something was different. "Taller," he commented, looking up at Sam. "I look like you, Second."
"He can talk?" said Dean in a dazed voice.
"Apparently so," replied Sam, regarding Jimi thoughtfully, "Although, really, if you want to be pedantic about it, I think he looks more like you. A lot more like you. Creepily like you, as a teenager, actually. If you were that age again, he'd pass for you in a pinch, or maybe a fraternal twin."
Trying to look without looking because, ahem, NAKED GUY KID, Dean studied Jimi. Sam was right: he looked astonishingly like Dean had around the age of sixteen, except his hair was a bit darker, and his eyes were a deep chocolate brown. "He's got your boyish good looks," Sam added.
"Yeah, but he's got his Mommy and Daddy's eyes," Dean decided.
"Alpha," Jimi turned back to him, "Why am I an Upright?"
"An Upright?" echoed Dean, bemused.
"I think he wants to know why he's woken up as a human," Sam suggested. "Jimi, we think this is because you were bitten by the werewolf, last night. Do you remember that? Do you remember what happened, after I took you back to the car?"
Jimi thought. "Our Pack Hunted," he said, "You and Alpha went casting for the Hunt, I stayed in the Den. Then the wolves arrived, hunting you. There were two, an Elder and a Young."
"A Young?" asked Dean.
"A Young," repeated Jimi, "Like me. Not an Elder yet, like you and Second. Learning. He hunted you. You wounded him, and the Elder intervened. I had to Cross, to warn you. You didn't know there were two." He paused, and turned on the most convincing display of Sammy Eyes Dean had ever seen from a human. "Apologies for leaving the Den, Alpha, but you didn't know! He hunted my Pack!"
"Leaving the Den?" Dean shook his head. "He's speaking English, but I'm not understanding all of it…"
"The car," guessed Sam, "He means the car. The one constant we have. The car is our home. His Den. It's okay, Jimi," he reassured the, well, teen, "It was an emergency. It's okay to, er, Cross, in an emergency like that, just so long as the rest of the time, you stay in the car – the Den – when you're told."
"Gratitude, Second," said Jimi, "I submit." He turned to Dean. "Alpha?"
"What? Oh, yeah, yeah, um, Crossing is allowed in emergency situations. You showed initiative and good judgement, and handled the werewolf well. Good job. Very well done. Good boy."
Jimi's face lit up with a happy smile, and he flung himself at Dean again with a happy cry of "Alpha!"
"Hey, I think he appreciates the feedback, bro," smiled Sam, as Dean held uncomfortably still in Jimi's embrace.
"Well, right now, I'd appreciate him putting some clothes on," he replied, disengaging from the hug. "Jimi, we need to you get dressed, okay? Put on clothes. Like these." He indicated his own t-shirt.
Jimi frowned, and looked down again. "No fur," he commented.
"Well, not very much, and certainly not enough to keep away the cold," Sam told him. "Or the arrest for public indecency. So, while you're, um, Upright, you'll have to wear clothes. It's the fur that humans – Uprights – put on and off."
Jimi eyed him dubiously, but nodded reluctantly. "I submit," he said.
"Right then," smiled Sam cheerfully, "Let's see what Dean has that will fit you."
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Dean's clothing turned out to be a close enough fit for Jimi, who was only a little bit shorter and physically smaller. Getting the clothes onto him wasn't all that hard, either – he had always been a quick learner.
The difficulty lay in getting him to leave his clothes on.
After three minutes, he was pulling at the sleeves of his t-shirt. "Can I undress this now?" he asked plaintively.
"Er, no, Jimi," replied Sam, "Uprights have to leave their clothes on."
"How long?" asked Jimi, suddenly sounding a lot younger than sixteen-ish.
"We wear clothes all day," Sam explained, "Because we have no fur."
A look of utter horror crossed Jimi's face.
"All day?" he gasped, pulling at the sleeves again, "No! It's scratchy!" He pulled the shirt over his head, and yanked down his sweatpants and shorts, getting them stuck on the sneakers on his feet. He growled in frustration.
"Jimi," said Dean, "Pull your pants up again right now."
Jimi performed a spectacular pout, and reluctantly hitched his pants back up, turning the Sammy Eyes up to 'intense pathos'."
"Good," Dean told him, "Now leave them there."
He did.
For another three minutes.
"This is itchy!" wailed Jimi.
"Jimi, you pull those back up and leave them up," ordered Dean.
"No!" howled Jimi, shuffling away from Dean, hampered considerably by having his feet tangled in the pants around his ankles.
"When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it," Dean growled at him. Jimi cranked the eyes up past 'intense pathos' to 'martyred misery', and slowly did as he was told.
"Shirt," instructed Dean, watching as Jimi reluctantly complied.
"It's scratchy, Alpha," he complained.
"You'll get used to it," Sam said, "And you have have to wear clothes any time you go outside."
"Why?" asked Jimi, genuinely curious.
"Er, so people don't see you, um, naked," Sam answered.
"Why?" Jimi asked again.
"Because it's... impolite," Sam finished helplessly, waving his arms. "You just... do. It's just what humans – Uprights – do."
Jimi nodded in understanding. "This is the way of things," he said, looking resigned.
"Yes, exactly," added Dean, "So, no more striptease act, okay? Leave your clothes on."
"Yes, Alpha," sighed Jimi, sounding very convincingly like a put-upon human teenager.
"We should go eat," Dean said to Sam, "I guess we'd better feed him like a human for now."
"I'll get onto Bobby as soon as we get back," Sam decided, "He may have some idea about what the hell has happened here. And, more importantly, how the fuck we undo it."
"Amen to that. We still have to figure out how to deal with the Young werewolf," Dean reminded him. "It's the first night of the real three-day full moon tonight – it'll have to change. We just gotta find it... what's he doing?" Jimi was standing by the external door of their room.
"I need to go outside," he told them. "I have clothes on," he added.
"Oh. Oh," said Sam, realising what the problem was. "Er, Dean, your... teenager needs to go take a leak. You'd better explain to him how humans deal with it."
"Oh God, it is totally too early in the day to be dealing with this," moaned Dean.
"Alphaaaaaa," whined Jimi, pawing at the door with his hand.
"Jimi, look, while you're human like us – Upright – you'll have to learn to do certain things like an Upright," started Dean, "Like wearing clothes, and... and... going outside.. inside."
Jimi cocked his head, and looked confused. "Alpha?"
Dean sighed. "Maybe it's easiest just to demonstrate what's required," he said, with a forced grin. "What do you say, Sam? Toss you for it?"
"You're on your own with this one, Alpha big brother," grinned Sam, clearly enjoying Dean's discomfort.
"Right. Right. Okay. I taught you to do this. It won't be a big deal." Dean took a deep breath, and put a hand on Jimi's shoulder. "Okay, you come with me," he steered the boy into the bathroom, "And I'll show you how humans take care of this. It's... the way of things."
The door shut behind them.
There was a moment of silence.
Then Jimi burst back out of the bathroom, a look of horrified disbelief on his face.
"Jimi, what's wrong?" asked Sam worriedly.
"Second! Second!" Jimi quavered, pointing back to the bathroom, "Alpha just peed in the water dish!"
Whenever you post a review for a fan fiction, the act of leaving feedback will invariably bring a sense of accomplishment to the author, who may have a limited number of sources of such enjoyment in his or her life, and in fact through this act of charity, you will also benefit yourself with the knowledge that you have done something to bring another person happiness - I use the word happiness, but the receipt of reviews may result in something closer to joy, enrapture and wordless elation, as the author falls upon the feedback with inarticulate noises of gladness and enjoyment. This sort of generous exchange between members of the fanfiction community is an example of the mutual support possible when humanity is acting on its most noble impulses, and inspires and encourages both readers and authors to enjoy this harmless pastime,it's particularly encouraging to know that there is no actual fornication involved although there are some stories containing disturbingly detailed accounts of such iniquitous behaviour, of course when I say 'harmless' I do not mean to imply that too much time in front of the computer is not detrimental, nor is it wise to seek 'inspiration' from alleged occult beings who are supposedly fuelled by cocoa bean extracts compounded with milk solids and sugar, especially when spending time sitting doing nothing more than typing I'm speaking Castielsh again, aren't I?